9

Mr Armitage stood up tall and stepped over to put another log on the burner outside. He was finally ready to speak to Mrs Careen, mummified in two of his thickest blankets. He'd put on a fleece. Calum had gone back to bed. The lad would be exhausted for years.

“I've been thinking about my girls all day. No more than usual, I suppose. But Conor told me this morning that Ella had run away, too. It terrified me. Though now I wish she had."

"What happened, Phil?" Mrs Careen pressed. "Please tell me."

"She killed her Dad, Ellen, more brutally than you could imagine, and she has Conor."

They sat then, gazing into the flames. Mr Armitage watched the underside of the log he had placed blister. He watched the drops of white gold fall and join the sea of ashes. His body remained there by the fire with Mrs Careen, though she knew to wait for him. He’d travelled inward, visiting the sisters' field - his prayer of comfort.

There in his deep, Mr Armitage reached for his shovel again. The calloused hands dug the great hole they had so many times before. He stepped in. He raised his great arms and began to gather the mud and dirt around him, filling his shoes, down his sleeves, and into his shirt. He got as much as he could in and waited for them. The three of them arrived quickly, as they always did. They palmed the remaining dirt he’d piled over. He marked the tallest mound in the three sisters' field, and as they covered him with the remainder of the dirt, filling his eyes and mouth, he moved through to that warm dark. When he could no longer see, he returned to Mrs Careen.

"I miss the girls every day, Ellen."

They sat together in silence for a long while. Mrs Careen looked over his shoulder and out to the section of the bloody diamond that was still reflecting light from the moon and stars. She thought of what Calum and Mr Armitage had seen that day. Her darkest imaginings were but dim reflections of the reality. She looked back at Mr Armitage. She loved him when he stood tall. She thanked God for him in the quiet of her heart. Remembered all the ways he had been steadfast through her life. She was a selfish woman; she knew that. Mr Armitage begged for this world he imagined. He had been a man of great yearning. That was why he had never desired her - a woman who owned warm, comfy things.

She reached her hand out to him. He looked at her. A stab in her stomach when he did. She observed that he was in appalling pain. He met her hand, and their fingers interlaced. He gripped her hand tightly and rubbed the side of her thumb with his own.

"None of this is your fault, Phil."

"I'm afraid it all is," he winced.