Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 22

He couldn't have heard correctly. Ulric had to be mistaken. Over and over, the words Ulric had spoken replayed in his mind, tormenting him as he raced to his parents' home. The rain stung his skin and pelted against him by the screaming wind. When they arrived, he was numb with cold. He threw the front door open and marched into the house, intent upon proving Ulric wrong. Mother was not dead; she couldn't be.

Esmund leaned against the wall outside their parent's room upstairs, sniffling and wiping at his cheeks. His red-rimmed and swollen eyes spoke louder than any words could have. Gunnar's heart thudded dully in his chest as he slid to a sudden stop, ran his hands through his hair, and closed his eyes.

Water dripped from him in a continuous stream, pooling at his feet and striking the silence as loud as gunshots. He turned around, intent on leaving, unable to bear entering the room and seeing the truth for himself, but Ulric stood behind him and blocked his escape. Screams tore at his throat, and blood rushed in his ears, muting all other sounds.

Tears stung his eyes as he faced the door and slowly reached out a trembling hand to the cold brass doorknob. Upon opening the door, he found his father sitting in a chair by the bed, running a hand over their mother's blood-stained curls.

Gunnar clenched his teeth, fighting back sobs, and allowed his eyes to rest on the unnaturally still form of his mother. Her gown was soaked with blood, staining the quilt she rested upon. Blood streaked her face, although it appeared an attempt had been made to clean it.

It was the first time he had ever seen her entirely at rest. She usually flitted about, like a hummingbird, from one activity to another. A ragged, sniffling sob at his left alerted him to Nora's presence, where she sat in a chair in the partially shadowed corner.

She lifted tear-filled eyes, her chin wobbling when she whispered, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

He nodded, swallowing the emotion that tightened his throat and prohibited him from speaking.

Ulric and Esmund entered the room, standing on either side of him, wiping tears from their faces as they all paid silent vigil. He didn't know how long he stood there, feeling that he had stepped into an alien world, and it wasn't until his father stood that Gunnar's grief-stricken mind began to accept the full magnitude of the scene before him. Vernon wiped his tears with the cuffs of his shirt and turned to face his sons, unable to hide the desolation that shined within his eyes.

His voice, when he spoke, shook with the force of the emotion. "She would hate for us to be standing around, crying over her." He paused and blinked back more tears. Clearing his throat, he raggedly continued, "Esmund, boil some water so that I may bathe her...she never cared for cold baths. Ulric, go to the barn and choose some of the cherry wood planks to make her casket. Neeners, change into dry clothes, then go out and help Ulric."

"Yes, father," they all mumbled in unison.

Vernon turned gentle eyes on Nora, swallowed, and said, "Nora, would you select a gown for her?"

She nodded and wiped her cheeks, "Is there any dress you'd prefer?"

Vernon's eyes clouded with tears. He clenched his teeth, offering a sad smile when he shook his head, whispering, "Green was her favorite color, but she'll look beautiful in anything you choose."

Ulric and Esmund left the room, and Gunnar turned to follow after them, blinded by tears. Quickly going to his old bedroom, he closed the door, leaned back against it, and slid down to the floor, covering his face with his hands as he wept.

Almost twenty minutes had passed when he heard Esmund return with the water and speak quietly to their father before leaving. Gunnar cleared his throat, wiped his eyes, and hurriedly changed into dry clothes. When he joined Ulric in the barn, he saw he was not the only one who had wept freely in solitude. They didn't say a word as they nodded to one another before preparing the coffin.