Page 176 of A Courage of the Chosen

In spite of the sadness clutching me tightly, I laugh. Erin has been talking about Elsie’s birthday dinner non-stop since Paul let slip what was happening.

I sober quickly. “We’re gonna have to pause that dinner for a wee while.”

“Why?”

“Because Elsie is . . .” How the fuck do you explain this to a child?

Erin lowers her pictures into her lap, running a finger over the stick figure carrying a bouquet of flowers.

“Is she with Dhia now, too?” Erin asks softly. A painful reminder that this sweet little girl has experienced too much sadness.

I’m quick to set her straight. “No. She’s just in a . . . really deep sleep.”

“So, let’s wake her up?”

I open my arms to her. “Come here.”

Erin snuggles into my chest, playing with the buttons on my shirt.

“It’s not as straightforward as waking her up,” I explain. “You remember that Rachel is sick?”

Erin’s head bobs against me.

“Well, Elsie tried to help Rachel and something went wrong, so now Elsie is sick as well.”

Dhia fucking help me, I’m terrible at this.

Erin draws back, brows puckered and bottom lip wobbling. “Will Elsie be okay?”

“I hope so, soldier. I really hope so.”

She nestles back into my chest and I let her ground me. There’s something so pure about children and the way they view the world. They’re inherently resilient and always look for the positives. A bit like Brodie.

Maybe that’s why he irritates me so much, because he never really grew up.

“Why are you laughing?” she asks when my shoulders shake.

“I was just thinking that Brodie is a giant man-child.”

Erin giggles once. “Yeah. But he’s fun.”

“He is. Why don’t you sketch some more pictures for Elsie that you can show her when she wakes up? I know she’d love that.”

Erin climbs off me, and hands me the one of us getting married. “Here. You put this one next to her, as a happy memory to see when she wakes up.”

“Thank you.”

“And can you send your mum back? She’s nice. Oh, and can I still have dessert-dinner?”

Biting back another grin, I promise Erin whatever she wants.

Chapter 52

Callahan

Inspired by Erin, over the course of the day and through the night, I sketch by the glow of the lamp. My eyes flick up to Elsie every few seconds, and at some point I drift off for a couple of fitful hours of sleep in between.

I draw like I haven’t since I was a boy, and all of the images are of her. Moments that shine brightly when I think of them. When she told the people of Morven who she was, and when she silenced the court with her power. Ones that she probably wouldn’t care to remember either. Battered and exhausted, when she came back from being prisoner; the anger that consumed her after Màiri’s funeral. I catalogued all of it for reasons unclear to me at the time.