The Half That You See by Rebecca Rowland (best summer reads .TXT) 📕

finger at him. You did this to me, the boy seemed to say. The wordsburned in his mind.

Inside, the cabin was small but comfortable. A fire crackled in the corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of gingerbread permeated the room. A log in the fireplace popped like a gunshot, making him jump. To the left, he heard the clattering of pots and pans. He followed the sound to the kitchen, where a woman poured hot cocoa into mugs.

“Excuse me. I think I’ve lost my way.”

The woman looked up from her task and smiled. All he could make out of her face were the crow’s feet around her eyes; the rest was out of focus. It was like trying to read with a headache. No matter how he tried to concentrate, he couldn't focus. He could see that she wore a flour-covered apron and that she was short and round. Her braided hair was piled neatly atop her head.

“Lost your way? Well, that is unfortunate.”

“I don’t remember how I got here.” He yawned, stretching his arms overhead. To be honest, he really didn’t remember much at all. Not since Zack’s funeral, anyway. Everything since was nothing but a painful blur.

She smiled again, her teeth flashing peppermint white. “You were in quite a state when you arrived. You were mumbling about death, and someone named Zack.”

He rubbed the back of his head and grimaced. “Yeah, I think I was dreaming…about my son.” He pulled his hand back and wiped clammy sweat on his jeans. It was always the same dream. The third time he dreamt it, he knew it must be true. Zack blamed him. It shouldn’t have been a surprise; he blamed himself, too.

She nodded. “Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable by the fire? I’m almost finished in here. I’ll come sit with you in a minute.”

He went back into the den, stopping to admire the set of antlers that hung above the fireplace. Red stains oozed down the wall behind them. Rust from the nails? The shadows from the fireplace must have been playing tricks on him. He used to love hunting before the accident. Before the sight of blood brought to mind things that he didn’t want to remember.

Near the fireplace, a cheap plastic clock hung on the wall, the type where each hour chirped the call of a different bird. He grinned, checking to see what sound the next hour would bring. The yellow warbler would sing in about twenty minutes, at ten o’clock. He’d always loved bird-watching. He had feeders with seeds and suet cakes. He used to point out the different types to Zack, who had affectionately nicknamed their yard “Bird Central Station.”

In the corner, there was a Christmas tree. Most of the ornaments hung on it looked homemade. The snowflakes looked to him like spider webs, and the snowmen like skeletons. He shook those thoughts away. He wouldn’t let the darkness follow him here. They were snowflakes and snowmen, and that was that.

He settled into the recliner. There was a crocheted blanket folded over the back. It smelled of cinnamon and cloves. He pulled it around his shoulders and peered out the sliding glass door to his right. He could see the forest just beyond and the moonlight reflecting off the snow. It had started to fall in earnest. Just enough to be decorative.

Zack would have liked this cabin. It didn’t seem fair to be here, enjoying this night. It was disconcerting to be living his life when Zack couldn’t live his. There was no reason death should have taken his son and left him behind. It’d have been better if we’d both died.

The woman entered the room with a tray of cocoa and fresh gingerbread cookies. She set the cocoa—a giant Santa mug, topped with whipped cream and a cinnamon stick—at his place at the table. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had company.” The Santa painted on the mug glared at him. He rubbed his eyes. He was seeing things. He hadn’t slept well since the nightmares began.

“I…I’m Jeff. Thank you for your hospitality. I’m sorry, but if you gave me your name, I forgot it.”

She chuckled. “I know who you are, Jeffrey. I used to know your momma, but I haven’t seen you since you were a young man. Got into some trouble back then, as I recall. You worried your poor momma sick.”

He squinted at her, trying to remember, but the more he concentrated on her face, the more it blurred. Damn, I’m exhausted. Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I wasn’t a good kid. But I turned it around.”

“So you did. But now you’re here, and you seem troubled. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I honestly can’t recall how I got here. The last thing I remember was dreaming about my son. I might be dreaming still, for all I know.”

She chuckled, her face lighting up. “Could be, could be. Tell me about your son? If you want to, I mean.”

He took a sip from his mug and scalded the roof of his mouth. “Zack? He’s a great kid. Was, I mean, a great kid. He liked math and history. He loved the stars. We took him to the planetarium last summer. God, he loved that.”

“We?”

“Oh, right. My wife and I took him. She’s Susan. We’ve been married for twelve years. Susan is a great wife. Was a great mom, too.”

She nodded, urging him on.

“Zack, he…there was an accident. It was my fault.” He took another sip of cocoa.

“I see. Now I know why you’ve come. You’re troubled. You need to relax. Put your feet up for a while.” She crossed the room and adjusted the fireplace logs. Jeff noticed stockings with embroidered snowmen and candy canes dangling from the mantle, woven together by a large spider web. No, not a spider web. It was cotton, meant to look like snow.

“Your momma used to come see me when she was troubled, too. She always said