Nicholas stood, using every ounce of his will to leave Noelle sitting on the floor. He helped her stand, Carol still clutched in her arms, her eyes so incredibly numb that it was a miracle she was still moving. He felt his breakfast surge in his throat, his stomach in knots, his heart beating irregularly.
Nicholas kept a hand on Noelle’s back as she descended the stairs after Beatrice, the woman’s back ramrod straight and her shoulders squared. Noelle looked much more defeated, her shoulder curving in toward the girl, as if to shield her from Beatrice’s sight, as if she could hide her until the Sister forgot about her. Her usually fiery red hair was suddenly dull, the color of her skin paler than the snow outside. Nicholas willed some of his strength into her, begging God that it would be enough to save his wife from absolute devastation.
Beatrice stopped on the porch, turning to them, and reached her arms out in expectation. He clenched his jaw, almost snapping at the woman. He knew she wasn’t as cruel to children, and that she did not necessarily mean to be this cruel to Noelle, that anger blurred her empathy in the slightest, but it still angered him. The woman’s jaw was also set in determination, or rather, maybe she was trying to keep her emotion separate from this. Nicholas almost thought there was hope, but then she opened and closed her fists in impatience, and the hope dissipated like snow in the sharp morning sun.
Noelle’s hands started to quiver, her shoulders started to shake, and Nicholas knew he’d have to help. His wife wasn’t weak; not in the slightest. Because it took a certain strength to offer your child up to someone to take them away—against your will or not. She needed him now, needed him to take this final step and help her where she could just not let Carol go completely.
Nicholas supposed it also had to do with the symbolism of it—that Noelle giving Carol to Beatrice would signify she was giving her away, that she no longer wanted her. And while his wife was obeying Beatrice’s command to surrender Carol to her care, this was the last bit of defiance she could show her. The last bit she could prove to Carol that this was not her choice, that she was not unwanted. So he stepped forward, shoving his own heartbreak aside, and grasped Carol from her.
Nicholas took Carol from Noelle, so that she might know that her mother had not given her away. But that she’d been taken, and that Noelle would never willingly give her away to anyone, no matter what. Nicholas swallowed his tears, the burning in his throat. He clutched the girl tightly, whispering to her. “I love you baby girl.”
He handed Carol to Beatrice, willing his eyes to convey his every emotion as they met Beatrice’s. He could have sworn he saw regret flicker there, but he must have been mistaken. Nicholas released Carol, stopping to plant a kiss on her forehead before he stepped away completely, leaving his daughter in the arms of the woman that just broke apart his family. His heart stayed there, on that red spot on her forehead, forever to be carried with her where she went, just as she carried Noelle’s heart with her.
Carol reached for Noelle, the Sister placing a hand under her arms to keep her from falling. Sister Beatrice shrugged the rucksack higher on her other shoulder, suddenly avoiding all eye contact as she started her trek back towards the buggy. Noelle fell to her knees, sobbing fully now. Hoarse gasps escaped her, “Please. Please Sister Beatrice—I am sorry!”
Carol was crying profusely, her face scrunched in his sadness. The scars on her cheeks were wet with tears, her small hands clutching at the air in desperation. Her mouth open and closed, silent sobs, words unable to break through the thick barrier of heartbreak and betrayal. And Nicholas knew that was what she felt—she was too young to understand that Noelle had no choice, all she knew now was that she was returning to the orphanage, she was betrayed. And while Nicholas knew it was not the truth, she did not. And she would not until she was old enough to understand. This day would stick with them forever, the trust and hearts that were broken.
Nicholas felt his own knees threaten to give in, the sound of her begging a horrid sound to his ears. It was so broken, so filled with despair, that even Beatrice hesitated, stopping dead in her tracks. She did not turn, but Nicholas knew she was witnessing the heartbreak Noelle felt. It was strong enough that Nicholas thought even the fall of snow stopped, that one word loaded with so much desperation and devastation that even nature stopped to bear witness to this moment.
It harbored so much love, that Nicholas swore the angels in heaven stopped to bear witness to its existence. Carol wailed again, Noelle sobbing, “Please! I’m sorry!”
But Beatrice walked again, placing Carol in the closed back of the buggy. Noelle begged and begged, but Sister Beatrice left her there. Nicholas crouched next to Noelle, pulling his wife into his arms as she begged the woman to bring back their daughter.
Nicholas’ own heart strained, finally shattering when the buggy disappeared from view, Carol reaching towards them from the back, before she disappeared from view, and from their lives. Noelle bowed, her forehead laid on her hands on the porch, her body shaking with sorrow. He closed his eyes, cast his face skyward, and granted himself the moment to feel.
Despair made his stomach hurt, his throat and eyes burn, made him feel like he was helpless in this world. They’d lost their daughter, despite trying everything they could to keep her. He saw Carol’s face flash before his closed eyes, her smile, and heard her laugh echo in his ears. He saw the puffy red dress he’d worn, and hoped Beatrice had packed it as well. She loved that dress, and she deserved to keep it.
Nicholas opened his eyes, pulling Noelle back into his chest as he sat back against a pillar of the wood porch. He drew its strength into him, its unyielding nature, and siphoned it into Noelle. Her hands were wrapped around his arms, her face buried in the crook of his elbow as she struggled to process this loss.
“Please,” Noelle begged, her voice hoarse. But it was no use, her begging fell on the snow like phantom snowflakes. Her please went unheard, and unfelt. Beatrice was gone, and so was Carol, and all they had to do now was ride the storm until it passed. Nicholas squeezed her tighter, Noelle turning to sob into his chest.
This was the hardest thing Nicholas had ever had to witness, the most soul-shattering experience he’d ever gained. Seeing his wife in pieces, seeing his daughter reach for them, it was torture. There was no other word for it.
Nicholas was angry at this whole situation. Angry at himself for allowing it, angry at Noelle and himself for putting them in this position, and angry at Beatrice for not having a heart. He was angry at the world for ripping this away from him, for ripping Carol away from Noelle, and leaving his wife broken once again, after she’d just healed herself.
His father had always asked him what kind of man he wanted to be. And, being just a boy, he’d never understood the question. To him at that age, there were only two kinds of men—good men and bad men.
Very obviously he’d answered that he wanted to be a good man, incredulous that his father would even consider something else. But now, he understood that the question encompassed much more. Would he be the man that sat back and allowed this, or would he be the Godly man his church and faith taught him to be—a provider, a protector, a good man.
He had made mistakes, had sinned, and had forgotten to stay true to who he was. And while he hadn’t done this intentionally, or with bad intention, he still did it. But would that define him as a man from now on? Or would he pray for forgiveness and return to the path of righteousness?
Nicholas was at a forked road. One path leading him to hopelessness and a lifetime without Carol, always left with a vast emptiness that she’d once filled. And the other led him down a road of solutions, Carol coming home, himself returning to his faith, their family reunited and happy.
He stared down the road, particularly at the bend around which his daughter had disappeared what felt like hours ago. He allowed himself to feel her absence, the sting that came with the disappearance of her smile, and her light from his life. And then Nicholas steeled his resolve.
He kissed Noelle on the top of her head, his wife still sobbing relentlessly.
“We’ll get her back,” he vowed to her, to Carol who was not here to hear it, and to himself. “We’ll get her back no matter what. I promise you.”
He spoke the promise to Carol, praying that the cold winter wind would carry the words to her, prayed that God would plant the word in her heart, and allow her to know just how determined he was. Just how loved and cherished she was, is, and still will be.
“You hear me?” Nicholas asked, lifting Noelle to look him in the eye, her face red and swollen. Her eyes were filled with tears, the blue light with sorrow. “We’re going to get her back home, Noelle. I don’t care how long it takes. We’ll bring her back home.”
She fell back against his chest, her cheek laid against him as she stared at the same bend he did. They stayed there for hours, the cold seeping into their bones, soothing the raging emotions inside them, a welcome balm to the scalding fire of heartbreak.
They sat there, Noelle in the V of his legs and pressed tightly against him, Nicholas seated against the pillar as if it might keep them grounded. They watched until the snow became more, the sun became dimmer, and the night enveloped the road. It was as if they expected her to return, as if Beatrice had played a cruel joke on them and wanted to test how much they truly wanted Carol. But they never came back, and Nicholas and Noelle were forced to pick their broken hearts up and return to the warmth of the home.
However, even though it was heat that enveloped them when they entered, the house still felt colder than the porch they’d been seated on for the past however many hours. Noelle’s hand was clutched in his own, both of them paused on the threshold of the home and scanned the spaces before them.
Traces of Carol were everywhere—dolls, books, torn newspaper strips as a result of one of her crafts. She was everywhere, but she also wasn’t. Her laughter didn’t fill the hallway, her dolls didn’t litter the steps, her little feet didn’t echo off her upstairs bedroom floor. She was gone, and Nicholas wasn’t sure if she’d be back soon enough for them to still experience these things with her in her childhood.
It would take years to reestablish that trust with the orphanage, and they didn’t have years to spare with her.
Noelle came to the same conclusion, her face crumbling again. Nicholas swept her up into his arms, cradling her like a baby against his chest. He took her upstairs, placing her in the bed before climbing in beside her. Nicholas held his wife all night, soothing her tears when she was awake, and calming her when she awoke through the night, her very own nightmares replaying her separation from Carol. He held her until the morning hours, never leaving her side, even when his own sadness pressed on his chest, and he struggled to breathe.