{"id":298,"date":"2013-07-22T13:06:40","date_gmt":"2013-07-22T13:06:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/?page_id=298"},"modified":"2013-07-22T13:19:22","modified_gmt":"2013-07-22T13:19:22","slug":"chapter-75","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/story\/chapter-75\/","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 75"},"content":{"rendered":"

Chapter 75<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Faith.<\/i><\/p>\n

It gives us meaning and purpose.\u00a0 It strengthens and comforts us.<\/i><\/p>\n

It also blinds us.<\/i><\/p>\n

Faith means believing in what you can\u2019t see.\u00a0 But sometimes you believe in something so badly, you don\u2019t see the truth that\u2019s right in front of you.\u00a0 Sometimes you don\u2019t want to see.\u00a0 The truth can be a hard thing to face.\u00a0 The truth hurts.<\/i><\/p>\n

Faith helps us heal.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHear my cry, O GOD; attend unto my prayer;<\/i>
\nFrom the end of the Earth will I cry unto Thee, when my heart is overwhelmed;<\/i>
\nLead me to the rock that is higher than I;<\/i>
\nFor Thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy.\u201d<\/i>
\n(Psalm 61: 1-3)<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Thursday, October 4, 2012<\/b><\/b>
\nWeek Twenty-Four<\/i><\/p>\n

The Georgia countryside, with its rolling, red hills and thickets of towering cedars and oaks, was a mere reflection in the rearview mirror, and as the pick-up truck rounded a curve in the road, the Atlanta skyline loomed ahead through the dusty windshield.<\/p>\n

\u201cCountry roooooads\u2026 take me hooooome\u2026 to the plaaaaace\u2026 I belooooong\u2026\u201d<\/i> Brian crooned along to the John Denver tune blasting out of the truck\u2019s speakers.\u00a0 The song was more than appropriate for their journey; still, he couldn\u2019t help but make a few slight modifications to the lyrics.\u00a0 \u201c\u2019Lanta, Georgia\u2026 mountain mama\u2026 take me home\u2026 country roads\u2026\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cNick\u2019s rubbing off on you.\u201d\u00a0 Brian looked over at Gretchen, sitting shotgun beside him.\u00a0 She was grinning.<\/p>\n

\u201cNah, if I was like Nick, we\u2019d still be playin\u2019 \u2018Thriller,\u2019\u201d he replied.\u00a0 \u201cThis stuff is more my speed.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Gretchen\u2019s iPod had finally run out of juice, they\u2019d perused the music collection left behind in the glove box by the truck\u2019s former owner.\u00a0 He must have been a good ol\u2019 boy; it was mostly all country and folk music.\u00a0 Gretchen wasn\u2019t a fan, but Brian had enjoyed listening to John Denver, Willie Nelson, James Taylor, and Johnny Cash \u2013 artists his Kentucky-born father had listened to, the kind of music he\u2019d grown up with.\u00a0 The words and melodies were familiar, and he\u2019d sung along, his Southern-tinged tenor well-suited to the style of the songs.<\/p>\n

It was almost possible to pretend he was going home, even though they wouldn\u2019t make it as far north as Marietta, let alone his native Kentucky.\u00a0 That was okay, though.\u00a0 He never wanted to see Marietta again.\u00a0 There were too many memories there.\u00a0 Even the familiar landscape outside Atlanta was marred by reminders that he could never go home again \u2013 abandoned vehicles clogging the freeway, downed road signs and power lines that no one had bothered to repair, animal carcasses that had been savaged by hungry zombies rather than speeding cars.\u00a0 The stench of death was in the air from all the rotting bodies still roaming around; they could smell it even with the windows rolled up.<\/p>\n

Brian wouldn\u2019t have thought it possible, but the trip back up to Atlanta seemed to have taken even longer than coming down had.\u00a0 The lanes leading to the city seemed even more jam-packed than the ones coming out of it, a fact which Brian found odd, until Gretchen pointed out, \u201cI bet people were trying to get to the CDC.\u201d\u00a0 The Center for Disease Control\u2026 naturally, the sick would have flocked there, once it became clear the virus was an epidemic.\u00a0 Of course, by that point, it was too late for the poor people desperately seeking treatment; they had died on the way there.<\/p>\n

But the traffic jams weren\u2019t the only things blocking the roads.\u00a0 They\u2019d also had fallen tree limbs, telephone poles, and power lines to contend with, souvenirs of the powerful storms of hurricane season that had not been removed, for who was left to clean up the damage?\u00a0 Parts of the interstate were impassable, and whenever Brian and Gretchen weren\u2019t able to move the barricades themselves, they\u2019d been forced to backtrack.\u00a0 It had taken days for them to meander through Florida and into Georgia, using good old-fashioned road maps to find alternate routes and back roads when the main ones led to dead ends.\u00a0 They stopped often to stock up on supplies and fuel, loading the truck bed with cans of gasoline and refueling when it was safe.\u00a0 Neither of them wanted to get stranded again, like they had before.\u00a0 They were wiser this time, more cautious, and as a result, the trip had been long, but uneventful.<\/p>\n

Driving into the city, they passed a faded billboard advertising a concert that was to have taken place at Philips Arena at the end of April.\u00a0 Over five months ago,<\/i> Brian thought, feeling dejected as he realized the concert had never happened; the tickets had never been used, and the people who had bought them were probably all dead or undead now, past the point of caring.\u00a0 As he looked again at the date on the towering sign, it occurred to him that he didn\u2019t know the current date.\u00a0 The days had blended together, and somehow, over the course of their trip, he\u2019d lost track.\u00a0 \u201cWhat day is it?\u201d he asked Gretchen suddenly.<\/p>\n

Even she had to consult the road map, on which she\u2019d marked the passing days with tallies.\u00a0 Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her counting on her fingers, just like the children she had once taught.\u00a0 After a minute, she said, \u201cIt must be Thursday.\u00a0 October fourth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKevin\u2019s birthday was yesterday,\u201d Brian realized, feeling guilty for forgetting it.\u00a0 He thought of his cousin, out west with Nick and Riley.\u00a0 \u201cI wonder what they did to celebrate it.\u201d\u00a0 He glanced over at Gretchen again.\u00a0 \u201cYou think they\u2019re okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope so.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure they are\u2026 Kevin knows what he\u2019s doing, and Nick and Riley are both tough.\u00a0 They\u2019ll be fine,\u201d she said with a confidence Brian didn\u2019t feel.\u00a0 Gretchen had seemed overly optimistic this whole trip, convinced she was going to find either her husband or at least some word from him waiting for her at home.\u00a0 Brian wasn\u2019t so sure.<\/p>\n

It was a slow crawl through the city.\u00a0 The undead residents of Atlanta roamed the streets, which were congested with cars.\u00a0 Gretchen set aside her map and tried to navigate by memory, but it wasn\u2019t as easy as knowing which streets to turn on.\u00a0 They had to scope out the streets first, make sure they were passable and not overrun with zombies.\u00a0 Brian was reminded of one of those traffic jam puzzles.\u00a0 One move at a time, they forged a long, zigzagging path to Gretchen\u2019s neighborhood, in an older section of the city.\u00a0 The streets were clear there; most of the cars were lined up neatly at the curb or parked in driveways and under carports.\u00a0 The houses were old and small and spaced close together, and weeds had erupted from the cracked sidewalks and tiny, overgrown lawns, but aside from the zombies shuffling aimlessly about, Brian found the neighborhood rather charming.<\/p>\n

Gretchen looked out the window as he drove, her face pressed close to the glass, feeding him directions about where to turn as she searched desperately for signs of life \u2013 specifically, signs of Shawn.\u00a0 But as soon as they turned onto the street she said was hers, Brian could tell something was wrong.\u00a0 The houses on one side of the street looked especially ramshackle; siding was peeling off, bricks walls had bowed, roofs were caving in.\u00a0 They looked distinctly burned and blackened around the edges \u2013 unmistakable signs of smoke damage.\u00a0 \u201cThere\u2019s been a fire here,\u201d Brian said, easing his foot off the gas pedal.\u00a0 He looked out in awe as the truck crept forward.<\/p>\n

\u201cKeep going,\u201d Gretchen urged.\u00a0 Her voice sounded quivery.\u00a0 \u201cOur house is a few more down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian had a bad feeling, but he gave the truck some more gas, and they rolled on.\u00a0 The damage to the homes got worse and worse, until they reached a crumbling bungalow whose roof had been blasted half off.\u00a0 The glass in the windows was completely shattered; the front door was off its hinges.\u00a0 Gretchen drew in a shuddering breath, and with a sinking sensation, Brian realized it had to be hers.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh god\u2026 oh my god,\u201d Gretchen whimpered, her breath coming in quick little gasps.\u00a0 \u201cWhat happened??\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLightning, I\u2019d guess,\u201d was Brian\u2019s initial reaction, but then he added, \u201cLooks more like an explosion, though.\u00a0 Maybe the gas line?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh god,\u201d Gretchen said again, shaking her head in disbelief, as Brian pulled up to the curb.<\/p>\n

Letting the truck idle, he turned to her.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t expect Shawn to be here.\u00a0 The house is uninhabitable; it doesn\u2019t look safe.\u00a0 But maybe he\u2019s been back and left you a message.\u00a0 You wanna check it out?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded quickly, as he\u2019d known she would.\u00a0 He shut off the engine and reached for the two rifles stowed behind the seats.\u00a0 He handed Gretchen one and held onto the other as they got out of the truck.\u00a0 \u201cTake it easy, now,\u201d he warned her.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t forget to look and listen before you go runnin\u2019 in there.\u00a0 For one thing, it\u2019s not structurally sound; I don\u2019t want something collapsing on you and you gettin\u2019 hurt.\u00a0 And some of them could be hidin\u2019 anywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gretchen nodded again.\u00a0 She crept ahead of him, leading the way up the crumbled sidewalk to the house, her gun held out in front of her.\u00a0 He followed her up the uneven front steps to the concrete patio, which had a big crack running through its middle.\u00a0 Whatever had happened here, it had been forceful enough to rock the house right off its foundation.<\/p>\n

Gretchen rushed ahead to the broken front door, and Brian saw her check behind it, poke around underneath it, fumble with the knob, and trace her finger around the perimeter of the narrow window, which had held a single pane of glass, now shattered at their feet.\u00a0 He knew she was searching for a note.\u00a0 She found nothing, though, so she went on inside.<\/p>\n

Brian was nervous about going into the house, worried about the floor beams buckling or the roof falling in on them.\u00a0 But it didn\u2019t seem too hazardous on the inside.\u00a0 The living room furniture was singed, but still in place, as far as he could tell.\u00a0 There was still a tattered book lying on the couch, a partially melted flashlight and an overturned bottle of wine on the coffee table.\u00a0 Gretchen made a slow circle around the room, looking at everything.\u00a0 Brian hung back, keeping watch at the doorway.<\/p>\n

When she didn\u2019t find what she was looking for in the living room, Gretchen moved on into the kitchen, which looked like a war zone.\u00a0 The cupboards had been blasted open; the wooden table and chairs had been reduced to mere kindling.\u00a0 The floor tiles were blackened and broken, and there was only a hole where the ceiling had been.\u00a0 There would be nothing from Shawn in this room.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m gonna check the bedrooms,\u201d Gretchen said shakily.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll stay here and keep a lookout.\u00a0 Be careful,\u201d Brian replied.\u00a0 He waited, watching her walk down the hallway and disappear into the back of the house.<\/p>\n

She was gone a long time.\u00a0 For awhile, he could hear her fumbling around, and then, an eerie silence filled the ruins of the house.\u00a0 Brian wasn\u2019t worried about zombies; he knew he would hear their hungry moans if any had gotten in.\u00a0 Still, the longer he stood there, the more apprehensive he felt.\u00a0 \u201cGretchen?\u201d he finally called softly, following the path she had taken down the short hall.<\/p>\n

He found her in the master bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the dresser, her face buried in a navy blue hoodie.\u00a0 She must have heard his footsteps, because she looked up when he stopped in the doorway.\u00a0 Her face was red and tearstained.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnything?\u201d Brian asked hesitantly, though he already knew the answer.\u00a0 She wouldn\u2019t be crying if she\u2019d found a message from Shawn.<\/p>\n

Gretchen shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, maybe\u2026 maybe he just hasn\u2019t made it back here yet.\u00a0 Or maybe he did, but thought you were gone for good, with the house in the shape it is.\u00a0 Maybe he\u2019s still out there, looking for you,\u201d he suggested.\u00a0 He knew he shouldn\u2019t be encouraging false hope, but he wanted to say something, anything, to console her.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think so?\u201d Gretchen asked, her voice rising hopefully.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

Her face crumpled.\u00a0 \u201cI never should have left \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t have much of a choice, did you?\u201d<\/p>\n

She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the sweatshirt.\u00a0 \u201cI didn\u2019t have to go so far away\u2026 I could have come back sooner\u2026\u201d\u00a0 Her voice was filled with regret.<\/p>\n

Brian shifted his weight awkwardly, wondering if she blamed him for taking her all the way to Tampa.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t regret it; his choice to try the Air Force base had been the right one.\u00a0 That much he was sure of.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do that,\u201d he chided Gretchen.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t go back and cycle through all the \u2018what ifs.\u2019\u00a0 You could have done a lot of things differently, but you might not be alive today if you had.\u00a0 You\u2019re alive, Gretchen.\u00a0 Remember that.\u00a0 You survived, against all odds.\u00a0 Don\u2019t you think Shawn, wherever he is, would be happy about that?\u00a0 Don\u2019t you think that\u2019s what he would have wanted?\u201d<\/p>\n

He cringed inwardly as he heard himself slip into past tense, but if Gretchen noticed, she didn\u2019t react.\u00a0 She just nodded, staring down at the sweatshirt in her lap.\u00a0 \u201cThis was his,\u201d she murmured, holding it up for him to see.\u00a0 He recognized the big yellow M on the front as the University of Michigan\u2019s emblem.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo Wolverines,\u201d he said dully.\u00a0 \u201cDid he go to college there?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded.\u00a0 \u201cUndergrad and med school.\u00a0 That\u2019s when I met him, when he was finishing med school and I was teaching near Ann Arbor.\u00a0 We were so boring our first year of dating; all we did was study \u2013 well, he studied, while I graded papers.\u00a0 The only times we went on actual dates were on the weekend, if he wasn\u2019t on call at the hospital.\u00a0 No going out on school nights.\u201d\u00a0 She smiled tearfully.\u00a0 \u201cI miss those days.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian could relate.\u00a0 He thought back longingly to the early years of marriage with Leighanne, before the twins, when life was simple and carefree.\u00a0 They would have celebrated their eight-year anniversary just over a month ago.\u00a0 Instead, he was a widower, at the age of thirty-three.\u00a0 \u201cMe too,\u201d he told Gretchen.\u00a0 \u201cI miss Leighanne and the girls more than anything.\u00a0 But I know they\u2019re in a better place now, a much better place than we are.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wonder where Shawn could be,\u201d Gretchen sighed, missing his point \u2013 or perhaps just choosing to ignore it.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m going to leave him a message, in case he does come back here.\u00a0 And I want to pack up some things to take back with us.\u00a0 I\u2019m going to take this\u2026\u201d\u00a0 She raised the sweatshirt to her face and inhaled deeply, closing her puffy eyes.\u00a0 \u201cIt smells<\/i> like him.\u201d<\/p>\n

To Brian, everything in the house smelled like smoke and soot.\u00a0 \u201cDo you need some help?\u201d he offered.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d\u00a0 Gretchen stood up slowly and looked around.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019d rather do it myself.\u00a0 If you\u2019d like, you can go out back to our tool shed and look for a can of paint.\u00a0 I want to paint a big message, something that he won\u2019t miss.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a good idea,\u201d Brian agreed, thinking not just of Shawn, but of any other survivors.\u00a0 \u201cMaybe we can take it with us and paint other messages on our way back, anywhere we stop along the way.\u00a0 That way, if there are any other survivors we missed, they\u2019ll know where to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gretchen nodded vaguely, clearly preoccupied with thoughts of how to contact her husband.\u00a0 Brian had a feeling it would require a s\u00e9ance \u2013 not that he believed in such things.\u00a0 No, he doubted Gretchen would ever communicate with her husband again in this life, but she would see him on the other side \u2013 just as he would see his own wife and children.\u00a0 And Kayleigh.\u00a0 He had faith, once more, that he would see them all again in a place where the undead were not zombies, but resurrected souls at peace.<\/p>\n

Leaving Gretchen to pack up her things, with a warning to keep her ears open and her gun handy, Brian snuck back outside and around the house, to the tiny backyard, where a neat little shed stood.\u00a0 The door were not locked, so he opened them wide and let himself in.\u00a0 He kept his gun in one hand while he looked around for paint.\u00a0 The shed was well organized, and it didn\u2019t take him long to spot a few cans sitting on a shelf above the lawnmower, below some plant fertilizer and insecticides.\u00a0 He grabbed the closest one in reach and found a screwdriver to pry the lid open with.\u00a0 The small can was still full of paint, a creamy shade of butter yellow \u2013 good enough, he figured, as long as they painted on a dark surface.\u00a0 He found a wide-brimmed paintbrush nearby and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans.<\/p>\n

The shed itself had light gray siding and a dark gray shingled roof \u2013 the perfect canvas on which to test out the paint.\u00a0 Brian dragged a small ladder out of the shed and set it up next to the exterior.\u00a0 He perched the paint can on top and climbed up carefully, holding his gun in one hand and trying not to look down.\u00a0 Thankfully, the shed wasn\u2019t very tall; he\u2019d always had a fear of heights.\u00a0 He reached for the paintbrush in his pocket and dipped it into the yellow paint, using long, sweeping strokes to spell out a message across one side of the slanted roof.<\/p>\n

SURVIVORS @
\nMACDILL AFB
\nTAMPA<\/p>\n

Just as he put down the paint and leaned back to admire his handiwork, Brian heard an ominous moan.\u00a0 He looked down in time to scramble further up the ladder and out of the way as a lone zombie swiped at his ankles.\u00a0 Clinging frantically to his rifle, he pulled himself up onto the roof and straddled its peak.<\/p>\n

His heart was pounding with adrenaline and fear, and his palms were sweating, but he managed to get a good grip on his gun and take off the safety.\u00a0 Aiming was more difficult; his hands shook, and he couldn\u2019t seem to keep the barrel steady.\u00a0 He fired one shot and missed.\u00a0 The zombie scrabbled wildly at the ladder, looking almost agile enough to climb it in its soiled, gray jogging suit, even though it was decomposing badly.\u00a0 Thankfully, it seemed to lack the coordination, not to mention problem-solving skills, to actually do so.\u00a0 Brian took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, steeled himself, and shot again.\u00a0 This time, the zombie collapsed in a heap on the grass, mottled brains showing where the top of its skull had been blown off.<\/p>\n

Brian\u2019s relief was short-lived.\u00a0 The sound of gunfire had surely alerted the other neighborhood zombies to their presence, and soon, the whole mob would come stamping into the backyard.\u00a0 It was time to get Gretchen and go.\u00a0 He shimmied back down the ladder, bringing the gun, paint, and brush with him, and jogged up to the house.\u00a0 He took one last look over his shoulder at the shed and was glad to see that his letters were only slightly smeared; the message was still visible.\u00a0 He hoped someone still capable of reading would see it, even if Shawn never did.<\/p>\n

\u201cGretch!\u201d he shouted, as he entered the house.\u00a0 \u201cWe gotta go!\u00a0 I just shot one of your zombie neighbors.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gretchen emerged from the back of the house, dragging a big suitcase on wheels behind her.<\/p>\n

\u201cGot everything you need?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

She shrugged listlessly.\u00a0 \u201cHow do you decide what to take with you when you know you\u2019ll never be back?\u00a0 I packed our photo albums, some clothes, a few of Shawn\u2019s things.\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian nodded.\u00a0 \u201cSounds like you put in just the right stuff.\u201d\u00a0 He wondered what he would pack, if they ventured on to Marietta.\u00a0 It didn\u2019t matter \u2013 he didn\u2019t want to go.\u00a0 Having his own family\u2019s albums, mementos of Leighanne and the girls and the good times, would have meant a lot to him, but they weren\u2019t worth the trauma of entering that house again, where he\u2019d left the three of them to rot on the floor.\u00a0 He shuddered, forcing the memory out of his head.\u00a0 \u201cC\u2019mon, let\u2019s get goin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait\u2026 I need to leave a message for Shawn\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI already did.\u201d\u00a0 Brian explained quickly about the roof of the shed, showing her the can of paint he\u2019d used.<\/p>\n

Her eyes filled with a fresh batch of tears as she looked at the label.\u00a0 \u201cLemon Chiffon\u2026 this is the paint we picked out for the baby\u2019s room.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2026\u201d\u00a0 Brian\u2019s heart sunk.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sorry\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo\u2026\u201d\u00a0 Gretchen sniffed, wiping her eyes.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s okay.\u00a0 I\u2019m glad it went to some good use. \u00a0You know, I think I\u2019m still going to write a quick note, just in case he doesn\u2019t look in the backyard\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Brian forced himself to wait while she found some paper and a pen and scrawled a quick note.\u00a0 She left it on the coffee table, using the wine bottle as a paperweight.\u00a0 She plucked the book off the couch and added it to her box of stuff, saying vaguely, \u201cThis was my mom\u2019s favorite.\u201d\u00a0 Then she wandered outside.\u00a0 Brian followed, worrying about the state of denial she seemed to have slipped back into.\u00a0 He blasted a few more zombies out of the way, while Gretchen loaded her box into the back of the truck, almost frighteningly calm.<\/p>\n

She was even quieter than usual as he drove them back through the city, the John Denver CD still playing softly on its third or fourth repeat.\u00a0 It wasn\u2019t until they were on the freeway, outside the city limits, that the breakdown Brian had known was coming actually came.\u00a0 \u201cLeaving on a Jet Plane\u201d had come over the speakers, and all of a sudden, Gretchen started to sob.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s never coming back, is she?\u201d she choked, crying so hard she could barely get the words out.<\/p>\n

Brian slowed the truck to a stop, right in the middle of the lane, and shifted into park.\u00a0 He took his hand off the gearshift and placed it on Gretchen\u2019s, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.\u00a0 \u201cNo\u2026 I don\u2019t think so,\u201d he told her honestly.\u00a0 \u201cBut I know you\u2019ll see him again when you get to Heaven.\u00a0 His soul will be there, waiting for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head, too overcome to speak.\u00a0 The tears poured from her eyes, and this time, she made no attempt to wipe them away.\u00a0 She cried messily, her shoulders shaking, her lips quivering, her face breaking out in red splotches, like hives.\u00a0 And still, the music played on, the folksy voice singing, \u201cSo kiss me and smile for me\u2026 Tell me that you\u2019ll wait for me\u2026 Hold me like you\u2019ll never let me go\u2026 \u2018Cause I\u2019m leavin\u2019 on a jet plane\u2026 Don\u2019t know when I\u2019ll be back again\u2026 Oh, babe, I hate to go\u2026\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n

It alarmed Brian to see her so distraught.\u00a0 Not sure what else to do, he unfastened his seat belt and leaned across the front seat to take her in his arms.\u00a0 He held her close and let her cry against him, running his hand down the side of her head, smoothing her hair, as her tears soaked his t-shirt.\u00a0 And though she never saw them, his eyes brimmed briefly with tears of his own, as together, they took a time out to grieve for the loves they had lost.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

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Chapter 75 Faith. It gives us meaning and purpose.\u00a0 It strengthens and comforts us. It also blinds us. Faith means believing in what you can\u2019t see.\u00a0 But sometimes you believe in something so badly, you don\u2019t see the truth that\u2019s … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":8,"menu_order":75,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"onecolumn-page.php","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"footnotes":""},"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/298"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=298"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/298\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":315,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/298\/revisions\/315"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/8"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/dreamers-sanctuary.com\/undead\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=298"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}