I woke to my stomach flipping upside down, and the bile was already on its way up my throat when my grandmother handed me a bucket. It had been a long time since I was sick last. I forgot how terrible it felt. My whole body convulsed to rid my stomach of the poison in it, and afterwards, every muscle felt weak and sore from being overworked. 

Luckily, I felt just terrible enough to not care about my grandmother watching me retch out my insides. As I tried to gather my strength and breathe again, she pet my forehead with a warm cloth, which fought off the chill that threatened to shake my bones. Once I was sure it was safe, I put the bucket down and yanked the blanket back up to my shoulders.

“How do you feel?” my grandmother asked, handing me the cloth so I could tend to myself. 

I groaned. 

“Yes, well. Remember that next time you find yourself wanting a drink.” 

She was disappointed, but there was a smugness in her expression as well. As if she was well aware I was receiving enough punishment for my actions already. She left the room to dispose of my sick. I thought to call after her with my appreciation, but I was scared that opening my mouth might tempt another round. 

I was in my bed with an extra quilt on top of me. The dark sky outside my window suggested it was well past evening, and I could feel the alcohol still lingering in my blood, but the sweet numbness of before was long gone and was replaced with a pulsing, spinning illness in my skull and stomach and veins. 

When my grandmother came back into the room I mustered a voice. “How did I get here?” 

My grandmother’s smugness became even more noticeable. There was a glint in her gaze. “The boy found you.”

I sat up in surprise. “Jack?” I regretted the movement immediately, laying myself back down as my gut protested. I remembered him from my dream, his voice in my ear that seemed almost too real to be just imagined. Not tonight, Violet.

She nodded, then the glint grew stern and motherly again. “Out in the stables in the middle of a storm, blackout drunk. Where did you even find the whiskey? What were you thinking?” 

I groaned again, feeling thoroughly foolish and embarrassed. I buried my face in the pillow to hide my shame. “I wasn’t.”

It hadn't been like the day I slit my wrist, when I was strangely calm and calculated with my decision. When I was already dead anyway. This was a mistake made in hysterics. One that had almost killed me before I intended. 

She scolded me with her gaze. “Well, you’re lucky he found you. God forbid you were left out there to freeze.” 

Her tone hurt, but I knew she was only concerned about me. From under the blankets, I reached out my hand and took hers. “I’m sorry, Nan.” 

The frown on her lips eased up. She reached out to the tall glass of water she had prepared by the bedside. “Drink this. I’ll make up some soup for you to eat, it will help get rid of the alcohol faster if you eat something. And come down when you’re feeling alright. He’s in the den waiting for you and won’t leave until he knows you're OK.” 

I sat up quickly once again, surprised a second time. “He’s here still?” 

As she turned back, the glint had returned. “Has been all afternoon.” 

I downed the water as quickly as I could, drowning the ill feeling in my stomach. It helped, but my body still felt weak and feeble from the lingering alcohol. 

I laid back down to let my stomach settle a bit longer. I was anxious though, and it showed in my fidgeting fingers. I turned to reach for my journal on the bedside table, but when it wasn’t there, I remembered I’d left it out in the stables. I cursed myself and my foolishness. 

This was not how I wanted things to go. If things had gone badly, I could have possibly died out there, which was not what I wanted. I didn’t want it to be an accident, especially an accident that could be mistaken for intentional. How irresponsible was I, that I almost killed myself with a bottle of alcohol? It would not happen again. No more brushes with Death until it was time. 

I managed to get out of bed, wrapping the top quilt over my shoulders to bring with me. I used the railing as I shuffled down the stairs, scared my wobbly legs would give out. He sat in the big arm chair, my grandmother’s usual spot, an elbow on the armrest and his cheek propped up in his palm. His eyes were closed, looking like he was on the brink of sleep. I cleared my throat, and he opened them slow, like a tired dog coming back to consciousness. 

A smile hit his mouth almost immediately. “Violet. You’re alive.”

“Barely.” I tried to joke, but the word came out a little more serious than I intended it. It didn’t feel right to joke about life and death, considering the secret he knew about me.

“You’ll feel better soon,” he said, standing and allowing me to take his place. 

As I settled down, adjusting the quilt, he took the spot next to me, on the end of the matching loveseat. He held a smile the whole time, but he seemed tired. It was obvious that both him and my grandmother had been through an ordeal because of me. 

“Thank you. For finding me,” I said after a silence between us, fighting off the shame creeping up from under the blanket and onto my face. I thought to tell him I was looking for him, I thought to say that if he had only been there a little bit sooner maybe none of this would have even happened, but I held my tongue. 

He nodded in reply, no words necessary. 

I wiggled deeper into the cushions of the soft chair and watched him for a long while as he sat there, until he leaned over to curl his arm up on the armrest and lay his head down. 

“You look tired,” I commented, watching the black circles under his eyes as he glanced back at me. 

Laugh lines appeared. “Keeping you alive is proving to be harder than expected.” A joke and a toothy grin, then his gaze fell back to exhaustion. It was out of place on his features, I realized. Normally he was so full of life, despite his skeleton physique.

I let the silence sit again, the ticking of the grandfather clock counting the seconds. Eight, nine, ten. “It’s so strange that you’re here now.”

He blinked at me again, curiously. 

“I had a dream, while I was out. We were sitting together in the grass and you said something to me.” 

“What did I say?” 

I bit my lip, watching his gray eyes, which were particularly silver with the purple under them. “You said, ‘Not tonight, Violet.’” I waited, but he didn’t reply. He just stared at me with innocence, so I continued. “It seemed so real. I felt the rain and the cold after, I think. It was almost like you, the dream you, brought me back to reality.” 

He hummed, smiling again, but there was something else there. It was that knowing look I had caught before, like he was aware of something I wasn’t. “I guess neither of us could stand to see you go yet.” 

I blushed, wrapping the blanket around me more tightly. 

“I found something of yours, by the way.” He pointed to the chair I sat in, and I shifted a little to look, catching a glimpse of my journal sticking out of the seat cushions. I snatched it up immediately, hiding it with me under the blanket. I worried it was too late to keep it from his prying eyes though.

“What’s the list for?” He confirmed my suspicions, and I cursed to myself under my breath. 

“It’s nothing.” I didn’t want to tell him.

He didn’t push it, leaning his head back down on his folded arm, but somehow his content silence broke my defenses. It was like he knew I was going to tell him, like he didn’t have to fight for it, and somehow he was right.

“It’s just, things I want to do. Before.” 

“A bucket list?”

I shifted in my seat. “Of sorts.”

“And these things on your list. Are they mandatory?” Jack asked a lot of questions but this one in particular was far more intentional than usual, and it was noticeable. 

I narrowed my eyes. “If you plan on interfering with the listed things in attempt to delay me, then you’ll be wasting your time. I already have a date set. I’ll do it regardless of whether I finish my list or not.” 

“OK,” he said, barely reacting to my accusatory tone. Just a grin as he stored away the information I gave him. I realized maybe that was all he wanted to know, and I just willingly gave it to him. He was sneaky like that. 

***

When my grandmother was finished with my food, she invited me into the kitchen and Jack took his leave. I wished him a good night sleep, and while he nodded a thank you and returned the sentiment, I caught him concealing a secret look again as he put his jacket on. 

I thought about his dark circles and how I hadn’t been able to find him, but then somehow, he’d found me. I thought about his innocent words and wondered how many of his questions and answers had really been so innocent. I thought about the way he put the crow to sleep and if he could have made it wake up just as easily.

I was nearly done with my soup when my grandmother sat across the kitchen table from me, dragging me away from the curiosities consuming me.

“Are you going to tell me what all this was about?” She took on a stern, motherly voice that I remembered from when I was a misbehaving child. She wasn’t scolding me, but it told me she was serious, that I had to answer some questions.

I didn’t object; I owed her an explanation. It took me a moment to gather the courage and admit to the reason though. I didn’t know how she would react to me reading her personal documents then confronting my mother over the phone about it. Instead, I played with the spoon in my bowl for a bit.

“I saw the court notice. I called Mom and talked to her. I tried to reason with her, but she just… She doesn’t listen to me.” 

My grandmother looked like something stabbed her in the chest. She flinched, then put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Flower.” I heard the crack in her voice. 

“I’m sorry, Nan.” 

She reached out, patting my hand as it rested on the table. “Don’t apologize over something out of your control.” She put her face straight again, concealing her real reaction. She was always the strong one, the rock who didn’t show the family her emotions, but I suspected she was losing her grip on them. Just as I had earlier that day. 

I turned my palm over and took her hand in between mine, gripping her old fingers firm. She offered a pained smile, before it turned down hard and she covered her eyes as the tears came.