Ethan Greywater's Arc

Chapter 13 of 17

Ethan stood with his hand in the glow. Margaret's fingers hovered an inch from his. She had forgiven him. The door was open. Still nothing pulled him through. He drew his hand back and stared at it. Something held him here, something he had never named. "I don't understand," he said. "You forgave me. Why can't I come?" Margaret studied his face. "Then it isn't me," she said softly. "It's something you haven't let go of." She stepped back into the light, but left the door open. Ethan turned from her and walked into the haunt. He passed the sagging house with its broken eaves. He went farther, to the small boarded home where he grew up. He climbed through a gap in the nailed planks. The air inside was cold and still. He did not know what he was looking for. He only knew the house held his beginnings. He knelt in the dust and searched the floor. Under a loose board he found a white envelope, sealed, never opened. His name was not on it. His brother's was. He heard a scrape at the door. Sammy stood there, thin and hollow-eyed, the photograph of the boy still in his hand. He had grieved Ethan for years as a good man. The truth had broken that. Now he lingered near the haunt, unable to leave. "I felt you come back here," Sammy said. His voice shook. "I always feel it now." Ethan held up the sealed letter. "I wrote this. I never gave it to you." Sammy's eyes dropped to the envelope. "Then read it to me." Ethan could not touch it from beyond. But Sammy could. His brother crossed the floor and lifted the letter. He broke the seal and unfolded the page. Ethan remembered it as the ink appeared. He had written it the night of the yard. Before the curse. Before the stone. He had meant to leave it if he died protecting them. "'If I'm gone,'" Sammy read, "'know I chose to stand between you and the dark. I could not save our parents. I swore I'd save you. Forgive me for the fear I kept hidden. I was always afraid I'd fail you.'" Sammy looked up. Tears ran down his face. "You never failed me." Ethan felt it then. The thing he had never named. Not his guilt toward Margaret. His fear that he had not been enough for Sammy. The one he swore to protect and left alone to mourn. "I'm sorry I left you," Ethan said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there." "I know," Sammy said. "Go to her. I'll be alright." The cold in the house lifted. Ethan felt lighter, as if a hand had let go of his chest. He understood now what had bound him. Not the dead. The living brother he could not release. He turned toward the glow of the far door. For the first time, it pulled.