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“So, all those embers are still burning?” Josiah’s voice was soft but, in the perfect stillness of the cold night, it cut through like a sword.
“I guess so.” Damon sighed. The candy cane lights Patti had put up on the railing around the deck did very little to pierce through the utter darkness, but they provided enough illumination for him to see his brother’s face.
“Do you ever—” Josiah pursed his lips and looked down at his hands. Damon waited patiently, eyes on his brother. Josiah took a breath. “Do you regret staying and taking on all the duties that were supposed to fall to me? Do you blame me?” His words came out in a rush, and his shoulders slumped once he’d said it, as though this had been weighing on him for some time.
With a start, Damon turned to fully face him. Shame was etched into the corners of Josiah’s eyes, and his mouth was turned down. As strong and resilient as he’d always been, he looked as if he might cry now.
“No,” he said the word firmly, with conviction. “How could you even think that? The accident wasn’t your fault. Being paralyzed wasn’t your fault. You didn’t choose any of this.” They’d never been a huggy family, not even when they were young boys, but Damon leaned forward and put an arm around his brother, giving his shoulders a strong squeeze. “No,” he said again. “I don’t blame you or regret anything. I didn’t have to stay. I wanted to.”
At first, that hadn’t been true. He’d stayed to help his dad out with the ranch out of a sense of duty. His brother had always been the one who was going to take over as their father got older, but after his truck rolled and he wound up paralyzed, Damon had felt that it was his responsibility to stay and help instead of going off to college with Valerie as planned. It had hurt like nothing else to watch her leave, but now he believed he’d made the right decision. He loved the ranch, and it made him proud to be there for his brother, his family, and this legacy.
Josiah’s eyes were damp, and he seemed to be trying to tamp down on his emotions. Damon could never understand how Josiah had adapted to being paralyzed, and he respected the strength he’d showed in doing so and making the best of his world, regardless of the circumstances that were forced on him so unfairly.
“So, now that she’s back here for the time being, what will you do?” Josiah asked, pushing a fist over his eyes and looking away. Changing the subject to something safer, for him at least. For Damon, it wasn’t a safe subject at all. The ache he carried in his chest wouldn’t go away for a while. He knew that from experience. Slowly, he shook his head, gaze out on the snow around them.
“She’s made her decision, Josiah. She got offered a job she really wants. I can’t ask, and wouldn’t want her to stay if she’s not happy here. God knows, Harmony wasn’t truly happy here, and look how that turned out.” He sighed, remembering the divorce. It had been a stark, gray day with heavy snow drifting down past the window as they sat at the city courthouse, a retired judge mediating a few things before they signed the paperwork that ended their union. They hadn’t spoken to each other since that day. It was as if their marriage had never been, except for the thoughts that whispered through his mind that he’d made yet another mistake, and there was yet another woman who didn’t love him enough to want to stay.
“Are you sure? Maybe”—Josiah shrugged helplessly, and Damon appreciated that Josiah wanted to provide him with something on which to grasp and hope—“maybe she’s having second thoughts about accepting now that she’s been here a while again, as an adult. You never know. You should at least talk to her.”
“I’ll think about it.” That really meant no, but Damon wouldn’t cut down his brother’s ideas when he was just trying to help.
Josiah breathed a long breath out, and they spent several minutes in silence, staring up at the intensely dark sky, the stars standing out like beacons of fire far away.
“Are you going to the church event with us tomorrow?” Josiah asked.
Damon didn’t want to; he’d have to see Valerie and feel impossibly inadequate again. Gaining a friendship and more with her as an adult, only to have the same painful scenario repeat. Except this time, he wouldn’t watch her get into a plane and fly away.
“Yeah, of course. It’s a family thing we always do. I wouldn’t miss it.” He bumped Josiah’s shoulder with his own, gently enough that it didn’t cause any issue to his brother. Josiah smiled faintly.
Damon got to his feet. “Let’s go in. It’s cold, and we should get some rest.” He wanted to reach out and wheel his brother around, but independence was highly important to Josiah, so he simply waited with the door open for Josiah to turn the wheelchair around and head inside.
Patti had left the tree lights on for them. The tiny, brilliant pricks of light together causing soft, pale-blue tinted light to seep over the room while seasoned cedar and pine cracked and popped in the fireplace. Damon took a second to gaze at the scene. While they’d been outside, Patti must have hung the stockings. Each name was delicately embroidered on them, his mother’s careful work.
Whatever the next few days would bring, he had people to love dearly who loved him back, and always the promise of tomorrow.