Through His Eyes

61 | The Epilogue

❥Through His Eyes✿

J A M I E

— Six months later —

I was awoken by a sudden loud crack, decreasing to a low rumble. Silver trickles of water draw on the windows. I already anticipated the night to be dark and dreary, as any other rainy night.

Searching my side, I frowned at the emptiness. We had cuddled to sleep last night, but he's no where to be found. The bathroom is awfully quiet, a sign he's not in the bedroom.

Quietly, I scooted up and out of the bed to check on my babies, they were lying relatively still, wrapped up in a thick clothing. 

When I finally had the opportunity to check my phone, the time read 11pm. I noticed I received several missed calls from my Mom, Dad, and Pa. I ultimately knew that was not a good sign.

With everything we had going on, from Mr Luke Abbott's death, I did not want to know what must have recently occurred. I was hesitant to ring them back, and decided to do that later in the day.

Everything had felt weird and nothing felt  real when I heard Mr Luke Abbott had left this world. I was at home with the twins and my husband was with him that day. He refused to allow any tears to be released from his eyes. I had to be there for him.

Seeing everyone dressed in black was really daunting and depressing, his mom couldn't register what was going on. She was scared of him, even when he laid still.

Everything about that day was depressing, but it wasn’t normal depressing. This depressing was completely different; it was a feeling I couldn’t describe. The entire melancholic atmosphere directly affected me from all the black clothes to the dry tears.

I shuffled down the stairs, to the kitchen. He was seated at the kitchen island with Gareth offering him a hot cup of coffee and a packer bottle.

"Hey love."

He quickly shove the bottle towards Gareth. He looked pale, with his hair sticking against his face. His grey eyes landed my side. For the first time tonight, they were missing the usual warmth.

"I didn't want to wake you." His voice was low and cracked to be heard. He stretched out his hands in the wrong direction for a hug. I nestle myself in between his legs and almost immediately he wraps his arms around my waist.

"What happened baby? How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine honey." Gareth extends the packer bottle to me and left the kitchen.

"You don't look like it". I examined the packer bottle. "Vitamins? What's going on?"

He sniffed. 

No!

"You aren't feeling well love. Vitamins won't do anything to it."

"Do I need help?” he whispers hoarsely, shivering inside the wool undershirt and nuzzling deeply in my neck.

"I can't tell if it's a fever. I'll come check your temperature, go upstairs and rest up sweetie."

He nodded disapprovingly. "Are you coming?"

I kissed his forehead. "Hm, let me prepare something hot that will calm you for a while."

Infection rates were ramping up again, the first uptick in the dramatic spike we’re seeing now. The day before, 53,000 people had been diagnosed with fever and it's gotten extreme and had claimed lives. I chopped up some potatoes and carrots for an improvised dinner. Just this morning, he was hale and hearty, charged and elated for work.