Days of Love and Blood

certainty. If either of my parents had been alive, they surely would have stumbled upon the people camped out on the Fielding’s front lawn. You couldn’t miss them.
    “Okay, babe. I need you to hang here for a little bit. You know the drill.”
    “I do.”
    “Let me put on a movie for you.”
    “Are you going to be that long?” His voice winced.
    “No, but just in case. No matter what I find, I’ll come right back out and tell you. Okay?”
    He nodded and I loaded one of the animated movies f or him. With the long drives we incurred an enormous collection of kid movies, pilfered during my many raids. Keeping a six-year old child preoccupied was an absolute necessity.
    I didn’t bother to put on my normal gear for lack of patience. Ronan sat by the window and watched me leave rather than the movie.
    The porch was littered with dirt and field debris. I stepped slowly, lightly up the steps and examined the evidence of abandonment. The unlocked doorknob turned easily and, without any noise, I opened the door into my past.
    The house hummed underneath me, signaling working mechanics. I didn’t dare turn the light on. I would search each room, one at a time, before I checked the electric and water utilities. The house looked immaculate. Exactly the way it had before I left. At least, the foyer did. There was no smell of death, only the sweet smell of cedar from the paneled walls. The entry table still had its white lace doily in its perfectly centered position with pictures of Mom and Dad, an old picture of me in grade school with braces, and a family picture with me, Ritchie and Ronan at the beach.
    The living room and dining room were much the same. The china was perfectly preserved in the hutch and the living room looked ready to receive guests with neatly stacked picture books on the coffee table and afghans artfully draped over the corners of each couch. I checked the closets and the bathroom before creeping into the kitchen.
    The first thing I saw was the not epad lying on the kitchen table with a pen sitting atop it. I noticed it because it was the only thing there aside from a misplaced family photo taken years ago in its familiar glittery frame. The picture was my mother’s favorite photo, showing Mom and Dad with their arms wrapped around an eleven-year old version of me in the summertime. It was taken during our vacation to Martha’s Vineyard and we were on the ferry from Boston. The picture was out of place from its normal lofty placement on the fireplace mantle. I inhaled deeply and walked over to the pad of paper, already knowing what this was.

    Dear Carson,
    I doubt that you will ever read this but I leave it here now in case you were able to make it home, alive. Your father was taken away from me the morning after we last spoke. It has been eleven days and nights. There is no one left but me, it seems. I haven’t seen your father since they took him. I haven’t seen anyone.
    I know he is gone. I know it with all my heart and soul. He was my soul mate, you see? One knows when their other half is gone, and when it is time to move on. I cannot remain here without him.
    I rest underneath the family tree and I only hope that I will find you, Ronan and Ritchie during my slumber. If you are reading this, I have made a terrible mistake. I only hope you can forgive me.
    All my love , Mom.

    I sat down in the chair and buried my face into my knees. They were both gone. My parents were gone. I knew it long ago but the note shoved my fears into reality. I felt my chest contract and an immediate pain took the place of the air in my lungs. For a second time in a few short months, I felt the enormity of loss.
    I was alone. I could weep. And I did.
    After my emotional tirade, I was confident no one was in the house. If the sound of my outburst didn’t bring any resident homicidals looking for me, it was safe to say the house was clear. Yet I quickly searched each room to be sure, including the basement and attic.
    A few minutes later I brought Ronan into the house and explained that his grandparents were gone. His calm expression told me he expected this as he put his tiny hands up to my face.
    “ It’s okay, Mommy.”
    Those two words made my lips purse and nose crinkle while a few tears escaped from the corners of my eyes. I put my hand on his shoulders and pulled him toward me so that I could kiss his golden head.
    “I love you so much,” I whispered.
    “I love you, too, Mommy.”
    I pushed him