His words make no difference now. What does it matter if he cared when he disappeared without an explanation?
"I'm tired," I say. "I think I'm going to rest now."
He shakes his head, his eyes pleading with me.
"You can't stay here, Isa. It isn't safe. Not until we know what's going on."
"Nowhere is safe," I reply. "Not when I have no idea who to trust. What difference does it make if I'm here or at home? At least here, nobody can get in from the outside. Not unless I let them."
"You don't know that," my father argues.
"I'm not leaving. This is my home now. Where Javi lived. That's where I will live too."
He still wants to argue. But he doesn't. And I know my father well enough to know that he will probably have at least a few armed guards surrounding the place when he leaves here tonight.
"Just think about it, Isa," he says. "Think about coming home."
I walk him to the door.
"The funeral is on Friday," I tell him. "If you want to come."
Chapter Forty
Ithoughtthat maybe this would help. Maybe it would give me some closure to bury Javi. To lay my torment to rest. But the only thing I have learned from this gloomy day is that nothing can lay those feelings to rest.
He is so alone in this cemetery. And I worry that I am doing the wrong thing. Perhaps he should have remained at Moldavia instead.
Only my father has come. Not even River made an appearance. This place feels so cold. So desolate.
At the last minute, I lunge forward, desperate to stop them from laying dirt over him. Over my heart. My father halts me.
"You are doing the right thing, Isa.”
It doesn't feel that way. It feels like he is dying all over again. But I don't move. I don't fight. I remain paralyzed. Long after they have finished. Long after night has settled over the earth and into my bones.
"Let me take you home," my father says.
He means his home. But that isn't home to me anymore.
"Take me to Moldavia," I tell him.
He doesn't like it. But he does it anyway.
Autumn creeps in slowly, and then all at once. It seems that overnight, everything has gone crisp.
I have a routine now. The same routine every day. I work on the nursery. I write my music. I record. And I visit the cemetery.
Each day, I lay a red rose on Javi's stone. And each day my belly grows. With it, my strength does too.
I can feel him.
I can feel him with me. In the air around me. In the scent of the wild roses that now bloom in the conservatory again. Moldavia is full of his energy. But oddly enough, this place isn't. And yet I come here every day. I read him my lyrics. And today is the last song that I have to read him.
When I close the pages of the journal, I know that it is time. I am ready. I drive into the city. Straight to Luke's office. I know he's here because the stench of his alcohol hits me before I even step foot inside. I knock twice, and he answers, more haggard than I've ever seen him.
"You," he growls. "What do you want?"
"I'm ready to come back," I tell him.