Becoming Calder (A Sign of Love Novel)(84)
I looked at her, feeling wild, like I was reeling, like my eyes would bug right out of my head at any second. "Whose fault is it then?" I asked, too loudly.
"There is no blame here."
"Brother . . ." Xander said, stepping forward from beside the doorway where he'd been standing, offering support with his presence.
I looked away from him, pulled free of Mother Willa and stalked out the door, my feet leading the way, until I found myself down at my and Eden's spring. I stood there looking around dazedly at the place that had only ever brought me happiness and joy. In that moment, I needed to be there. Grief enveloped me. How would I go on without Maya? I loved her so deeply. I had never been apart from her for one day my whole life. I fell down on my knees on the grass and put my head in my hands and sobbed, letting the tears fall for my big sister.
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Maya's body was laid to rest in Acadia's burial ground, a quarter mile or so to the west of the river. The ground was hard and rocky, and it took my dad and me half a day to dig Maya's grave as Mom and several other women anointed her body with oils and dressed her for burial.
Hector led the funeral procession through desert wildflowers to her grave. The rest of our family came to pray for Maya's safe journey to the afterlife. Eden stood to Hector's side, a look of utter sorrow on her face. I glanced at her once, but my longing for her was too much, and I couldn't look back again. I needed her so desperately that even looking at her was too painful of a reminder of what I couldn't have when I needed it the most: Eden's loving arms around me, her warmth, her comfort. I saw she was trying to catch my eye, and I was sure she was confused by my lack of attention, but I had to remain stoic or I would crack. It was as simple as that.
I was even more desperate to leave Acadia now. There was nothing for me here. My mom and dad wouldn't understand, but I had to live my own life. And they had each other. They had the life they'd chosen. They had Elysium.
As Maya's funeral procession made its way back to the main dining hall where all the workers, Maya's family, would gather over food and drink, I saw Hector lead Eden away, back to the main lodge. The other council members, only two were there, followed behind them. I saw Eden glance back several times out of my peripheral vision, but I didn't look her way. I couldn't.
As I sat in the corner of the dining hall, watching the gathering go on around me, I talked to my sister in my mind. Maya, I don't know how this all works, but if you're able, help us . . . help us get out of here safely.
If Maya heard me, she gave no indication. I felt utterly alone despite being surrounded by people I considered family.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Eden
I felt like my heart had shattered into a million jagged pieces. I couldn't go to Calder, I couldn't offer comfort, I couldn't hold him or take away any of his sadness. And I grieved for the girl I'd never know, the girl who had such a large piece of Calder's heart. I saw the stark misery written all over his face, a look of sheer devastation. Yet he wouldn't look at me. I didn't want to be selfish; this wasn't about me. But I didn't understand why Calder avoided my eyes when I attempted to get him to look at me. I was hurt and confused and I felt completely helpless.
I thought about writing a note and leaving it in the bushes in front of the main lodge for Xander, but I knew he wouldn't come looking for it and it would sit there, possibly creating the risk of being found by someone else. And so I wandered through the days—existing as best as I could—praying for the hours to pass by more quickly, to bring me closer to the day when I would hear that bird call outside my window.
Every morning, I had a moment of peace before the hole inside would start throbbing and I would remember even though Calder was close, he was so very far away.
Hailey hadn't spoken to me since our conversation about me being in love with Calder. It sat heavy in my heart; I had lost her, too. Despite what she believed, I loved her. Not quite like a mother, but like an older sister, or an aunt, and her rejection stung.
Three weeks after Maya's burial, Hector called me down to his office, and I knocked quietly.
"Come in," he called in his deep voice, and I entered the room.
Hector motioned me to a chair in front of his desk. I sat down and crossed my legs at the ankles, my hands resting in my lap. I couldn't help but notice Hector looked more unkempt than I'd ever seen him look before. Hector had always been meticulous in his grooming. But today his hair was uncombed, his shirt slightly untucked, and there was a small piece of food at the corner of his mouth.