Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) by A American (learn to read books TXT) 📕

She wiped her nose with a rag she fidgeted with in her hand. “I’m so very thankful my family wasn’t hurt.” She broke down and started to cry, “But I can’t believe she’s gone.”

I rested my chin on her head. “I know. Of all the people. I would never have imagined this kind of thing would happen to her.” I thought back over the years. Danny and Bobbie had been a constant part of our lives. For as long as I’d known Mel, I’d known them. Our kids grew up with the two of them and were thought of as part of our family. Their house was always a safe and happy place for our girls.

“I’m going to go check on the girls,” I said as I stood up.

Mel nodded and crawled up onto the bed. “Okay. I’m going to lie down for a while.”

I looked back at her from the door and saw her holding the rag to her face as she cried. I felt so horrible for her, but the only thing that could help this was time. I quietly closed the door and went into the living room. The girls were sitting closely together and I leaned over the back of the couch.

“You guys ok?” I asked.

Little Bit looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “Is Aunt Bobbie dead?”

I gently rubbed her head. “I’m afraid so, sweetie.” Lee Ann and Taylor both sniffled.

Little Bit started to cry again. “I don’t want her to be dead.”

I leaned over and kissed her head. “I don’t either, baby.”

“Am I going to die?”

“No baby. We all die eventually, but you’re not going to die, not anytime soon.” Trying to get her mind off it, I asked, “What are you watching?”

Sniffling, she replied, “The Sponge Bob Movie.”

I tried to smile, but it was forced. “I like that one. I have some things to do and I’ll come back and finish it with you.”

“Okay,” she whimpered.

“You guys take care of her,” I said to her sisters.

Taylor looked up; she’d been crying as well. “We will. Where’s Mom?”

“She’s resting.”

Turning her attention back to the cartoon, she replied, “Okay.”

I went outside and stood on the porch, wiping my eyes. The dogs could sense something was going on and whined, thumping their tails on the porch. I sat down on the bench and all three tried to put their heads into my lap. I patted their heads and scratched their ears for a minute. But there was an unpleasant task that needed to be addressed, and waiting wouldn’t make it any better.

Going over to Danny’s, the porch was crowded with people. The mood was naturally depressed and I didn’t speak to anyone as I went into the house. Danny was sitting at the dining table as Doc tended to his hand. It was a mess. The pinky and ring finger were gone, as well as part of the palm. Doc was trying to stitch it up as best he could.

But Danny wasn’t there. He was someplace else entirely. I know what Doc was doing had to hurt, but he never so much as flinched. Maybe it was shock. Of course, it was shock. Who wouldn’t be in shock after something like that?

I could see Thad on the back porch with Kay and Mary, and I went through the door. They were talking when I came out and looked up at me. I nodded at Thad, “I think we need to take care of this right away.”

“We were just talking about that,” Kay said.

“I’ll get the shovels,” Thad said as he stood up. I was happy to see he’d changed clothes.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Still in the truck,” Mary replied.

I nodded and went back into the house. Doc was finishing what little he could do and I pulled a chair out and sat down beside Danny. “Hey, buddy. Thad and I are going to take care of Bobbie. Is there any place you’d prefer?” There was no right way to ask such a question.

He looked at his bandaged hand and stood up, “I’ll show you. I’m going to do it.”

Doc reached out and grabbed his arm, “You can’t use—” he paused and rephrased what he was about to say. “Your hand needs some time for the wound to close.”

Danny looked at his hand again and replied, “I have to do it.”

Doc looked at me and I shrugged. He shook his head and said, “Let me take another look at it afterwards.”

I went out the backdoor with Danny and into the yard. Near the pond was a birdfeeder that had been there as long as they had lived in the house. It was one of the first things Danny had put up, so Bobbie could watch the birds when she was in the kitchen or sitting on the porch.

“Right here,” he said, pointing to the ground in front of the feeder.

I nodded, “It’s a good place.”

Thad came around the house with a couple of shovels. He held one out to me, but Danny took it, Thad looked at me, and I replied with a look that didn’t require any further explanation. He set to work breaking the ground. Initially, Danny tried to break the earth as well. But with only one hand, he couldn’t very well. Instead, he and Thad got into a rhythm of Thad breaking the new ground and Danny scooping it out as best he could.

I offered once to give him a break, but Danny refused, determined to bury his wife. So, I left them and walked over to the shed where I found a flat shovel and returned to help. By the time I got back, Danny’s bandage was soaked through and blood from his hand dripped into the grave we were digging. It was almost symbolic in a way, part of him would be there with her.

We worked for some time to get the hole deep enough and perfectly shaped. The sides were clean