Under the Northern Lights by Stephens S. C

Author:Stephens, S. C. [Stephens, S. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Suspense, Travel, Adult
ISBN: 9781542093545
Amazon: 1542093546
Goodreads: 42184323
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2019-04-30T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

It was difficult to be around Michael after that day. Not because of what he’d said, not because of his thoughts on humanity, but because . . . I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. I also couldn’t stop thinking about his wife, a woman he was still in love with, bound to for eternity by guilt and regret. I couldn’t believe that his wife would want him to be this closed-off person, though. She’d want him to live, to be happy, to love those around him, not to hide away from everyone and everything. Hearing Michael’s views broke my heart, so I had to believe it would have broken hers too.

It made me miss my sister even more. I wished I could talk to her, ask her advice. She occasionally worked with veterans and had experience dealing with PTSD, and that seemed to me to be the closest thing to what Michael was going through. He’d been ripped open by a traumatic event, one he hadn’t even been present for, and the wound went deep; there was no sure way to stitch it, except time. And that was part of the problem. This isolated life that Michael was living—it was like being stuck inside a bubble of time. The seasons changed here, but nothing else. Every time the sun rose, it was like hitting the repeat button, and while the simplicity of that was refreshing, I had a feeling that it was also prolonging Michael’s grief. Without feeling time moving forward, there was no real way to heal. He was killing himself here. But I didn’t think I’d ever convince him of that.

In Michael’s mind, the outside world was an empty, cruel, heartless place . . . a war zone, one he didn’t wish to return to. If I felt the same way, I could understand and support his decision, but he was oversimplifying the human race. For every ounce of vileness, there was an equal—if not greater—amount of goodness. Sometimes you just had to look harder to find it. For some reason the negative aspects of life were abundant, prevalent. It was almost a daily assault on the senses: Here are all the horrible things you missed while you were away! You had to reach through the garbage to find the golden nuggets of pureness and light. I truly wished it were the other way around, but human beings tended to be intrigued with grief. While good deeds were praised, then forgotten, horrific deeds were forever etched on our psyches.

But that didn’t mean we were a lost cause. Like wayward children, we just needed . . . guidance. And I desperately wanted to be that shining light for Michael to follow. I just didn’t know how.

“How are you doing?” Michael asked one afternoon, his light eyes inquisitive. I was helping him with the trapline today, like I usually did when I didn’t have enough chores to keep me busy for a full day. Michael had asked me

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