Chapter 497

Nathan

I held the door open for Olivia as we stepped into the funeral home. She almost seemed to float past me with a faraway look on her face, and could only seem to mumble out a faint “Thank you” as she walked past.

This was how things had been for the past three days. It felt as though both of us were moving in a fog, or maybe even a thick mud, ever since that delivery room had been filled with the sound of silence rather than the hearty cries of our son.

Alvin.

The name felt like a curse now. First our dear friend, and now our baby.

Over the past few days, I had begun to wonder if Jenifer’s hex was the culprit, or perhaps the final nail had been struck in the proverbial—and now literal—coffin when we had chosen that name.

But deep down, I knew that it was just another stroke of bad luck. Another moment of pure chance. Another drop of misery to add to the bucket.

“Good morning. Mr. and Mrs. Ford, yes?” the funeral director, a wiry old man with a slight hunch in his back and a pair of thick, circular glasses on his face, said.

“Yes.” I stepped forward and put my arm around Olivia’s shoulders. She just stood there, blinking at the funeral director.

She didn’t stiffen when I touched her, but she didn’t lean into me, either. She always leaned into me when I put my arm around her shoulders, but not lately.

Something had severed between us when we looked at our stillborn son that day. Some sort of connection. We would reconnect again, I was sure of it, but we had… other things on our minds right then.

“Ah. I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Ford,” the funeral director continued. “Please, follow me. The coffin you ordered is ready.”

We followed the funeral director into a separate room, and I felt Olivia’s breath catch. In front of us, a tiny, ornate coffin sat on top of a table. Far too tiny.

Olivia was the first to walk up to it. She reached out with a trembling, pale hand and gently ran her fingers along the wood. There was a long, silent moment as she stared down at the coffin, and as I stared at her.

“The corner pieces?” she asked suddenly, whipping her head around to look at the funeral director. “Where are they?”

The funeral director nodded and pulled a box out. He opened the lid and held it out to us; four brass corner pieces sat inside, one for each corner of the coffin. A crescent moon, a rose, an oak tree, and a sparrow.

New beginnings, love, strength, and hope.

But none of those things had saved our son.

…

“We are here today to lay to rest a small, but mighty, soul…”

The priest’s voice was loud and clear across the quiet cemetery, but it sounded faint and far away to my ears. My body was here, standing over my son’s grave, but my mind was somewhere else. Somewhere in another universe, maybe.

Beside me, Olivia stood stoically looking out over the cemetery. Her gaze wasn’t cast down on our son’s tiny casket, but was rather looking out at the horizon, over the waving treetops as though little Alvin would come out from behind the clouds at any moment.

The service was a blur. Even when the priest gave us our white roses, and even as we placed those white roses on Alvin’s casket, I felt like I was moving through a thick haze.

“Too tiny,” Olivia muttered beside me. “It’s too tiny. The casket’s too small.”

Even then, I hardly heard her; she was right, though. No casket should ever be so small. No light should ever be snuffed out so quickly.

Only when it was finally over and I felt a firm arm wrap around my shoulders did I finally snap out of my trance.

“Nathan, my boy.”

I looked up to see Clint standing next to me, his weather-beaten face giving way to clear, sorrowful eyes. Sometimes it was hard to believe that this hunched old man used to be a sturdy sailor, but it was times like this, times when his presence was like a lighthouse in a squall, that I could see the young man underneath.

“Clint,” I said. “I…” My voice trailed off. I had something to say, I was sure of it, but it had faded from my mind just as quickly as it had come.

“It’s alright.” Clint, noticing my confusion, gave me a squeeze. “Walk with me?”

I nodded stiffly. Clint led me over to the path that led through the cemetery, and together we began to walk just a little ways away from the group. Once we were out of earshot, he cleared his throat.

“The others put together a meal back at the villa,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Uh, sure, that’s fine,” I said. “But I’m not sure if I can really eat at a time like this.”

Clint stopped and turned to face me. He clasped both of my shoulders in his hands and looked at me with a square gaze. “Nathan, you have to listen to me,” he said, softly but firmly. “You are the man of the household. The Alpha.”

I furrowed my brow. “How can I possibly be… that right now? When my son has—”

“I know it’s a hard pill to swallow,” Clint said. “To be strong, even when you feel weak and tired, is a feat in and of itself. But your children need you. Your pack needs you. Olivia needs you.”

At the mention of her name, he gestured toward where Olivia was standing; she was still next to Alvin’s grave, with Angela holding her tightly. No tears escaped her hazel eyes. She just stood there, unblinking, still staring at the treeline.

It hit me then; I had been distant toward Olivia. Not out of malice, no, but out of… necessity. As though my mind had decided that if I just shut myself off from everyone, even from my wife, that things would somehow be alright.

But they weren’t. And I had failed her.

“Clint, I…” I swallowed and blinked back the tears that threatened to come as I returned my gaze to him. “I don’t know how to be strong. I feel so lost.”

“It’s alright to feel lost,” Clint replied slowly. “I felt that way, too, when I buried my wife all those years ago. Lost in a storm.”

“How did you overcome it?” I asked. “How did you navigate the storm?”

“I didn’t.” His eyes seemed to glaze over, misting with tears as he recalled a time from long ago. “But eventually, boy, the wind passed. The rain lessened. But I…”

He paused again and drew in a shuddering breath. “I lost myself in the bottom of a bottle, Nathan. I was a coward, and I hid from reality. I nearly lost what little I had left.”

My eyes widened at Clint’s revelation. “Clint, I had no idea…”

“It was a long time ago,” he said with a shake of his head. “But Nathan, you mustn’t follow the same path that I did. Go to your kids, to your wife, to your pack. Hold your chin up, even if it feels like the weight of the world is pushing you down.”

As Clint spoke, my eyes once again wandered over to my wife. Her shoulders had begun to tremble, and her face was buried in her hands. The tears had finally come, and it was all Angela could do to guide her toward the car without falling.

“Go to her, Nathan,” Clint said; but he didn’t need to, because I was already there, rushing toward her.

I put my arms around my wife without hesitation, shooting a grateful nod toward Angela. And in that moment, I felt Olivia lean into me for the first time in days.

But at the same time, from across the cemetery, a distant silhouette standing beneath a tree caught my attention.