Light Over Water by Noelle Carle

lights
glowing through the windows, but, she reasoned, there wouldn’t be.  Sam ran
from the house while it was midday.  “Please, Sam, be here,” she murmured as
she tried the door.  It swung open and she had to grab its edge before the wind
pushed it back against the wall.  She closed it carefully for it seemed wrong
to make any noise in here.  It was so silent.  Alison drew in a slow breath,
inhaling the familiar scent of old wood, slightly mildewed curtains and lemon
oil.  Reverend Whiting liked to light the candles sometimes, so there was a
more subtle smell of candle wax and lamp oil.
              Walking slowly
through the cloakroom, Alison lifted her lamp high.  The sanctuary was very
dark, almost forbidding, made more so by a whisper of sound she could now hear
after shutting the door.  Someone was moving in the next room.  Alison tiptoed
in, even as she was thinking there could be no subterfuge with her lantern held
up before her.  Ahead of her there was no one, but off to the side was a darker
shape.  Turning, she recognized Sam, huddled in the pew furthest back, his arms
crossed in front of him, leaning on his knees.  His eyes had a startled squint
and she lowered the lantern as she hurried over to his side.
              “Here you are!” she
sighed, then “Sam?” as he turned his face away and leaned his forehead on the
seat in front of him.
              Alison set the
lantern on the floor, and slid in beside him, her heart thumping with alarm. 
She unfolded the blanket and spread it over his shoulders, which were shaking
slightly.  “You must be frozen,” she said in a low voice, her head next to his.
              He made no movement
or sound.
              “Your father and
Esther are worried about you,” she continued, her hand slipping across his
shoulders.  He tensed slightly, but didn’t draw away.  “You just ran off…and
they don’t know where you are.”
              “They don’t want to
see me,” he breathed in a low strangled voice.
              Alison’s hand inched
up the back of his neck and further up into his thick blonde hair.  This was
how she comforted her younger brother Davey by rubbing his head and soothing
his neck.  But her own heart beat harder and the cords in his neck were hard
and stiff under her cold hand.
              “Of course they want
you home.  Why wouldn’t they?” she persisted, speaking softly.
              He drew himself up
straight and shook off her hand.  The blanket slid off his back as he shrugged
it off.  “Because I killed her,” he cried, turning to grasp her shoulders. 
“Don’t you understand?  It’s my fault!”
              His words filled the
room and seemed to echo over and over as Alison stared at him, shaking her
head.  The light from the lantern made shadows on his face, which looked
ravaged and unfamiliar.  He stared back at her, and then he seemed to crumble
inside and his hands loosened, sliding down her arms.  She picked up his hands
and gripped them tightly as she asked, “Why do you think that?  Because I know
what happened to her, physically.  No one could have stopped it or made it
happen, for that matter.”
              Confusion spread
across his face as he answered.  “I enlisted.  I told them last night.  I leave
for training in two weeks and I heard her crying all night.”  His voice broke. 
He started to pull away, but Alison put her hands onto either side of his face
and drew him back until he was looking at her.  In the lamplight his eyes shone
with tears, and she swallowed back her own grief.
              “My father told me
what happened.  The afterbirth came out first, and they couldn’t stop the
bleeding.  It was that way from the start, Sam.  You couldn’t cause that.”
              Then he closed his
eyes and tipped his head back, tears trickling down onto her fingers.  A