Page 3 of Dear John

But now I was here, in an underground bunker with no sunlight.

Sure, I was allowed outside. It wasn’t like I was a captive, but I wasn’t at my home on the island. There were no palm trees, no ocean breezes, no sunlight that touched my skin and made me feel alive. I was just…blank.

The door opened and my mother walked in. That teary-eyed look was enough to send me into a deep depression. She was happy I was home, but what she didn’t understand was that I didn’t want to be here. Nothing about this was right. I couldn’t even grieve the loss of my husband without them suggesting I see a therapist. Didn’t they understand they’d ripped me away from the one man who truly cared for me?

He’d saved me when I was lost. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he showed me the truth of it, opened my eyes to all I was missing out on. When he brought me home, sure, I fought it. But it only took a few years for me to really understand all he had done for me. And now my mother was trying to strip that from my memory.

“Sweetie?”

I stared with a blank expression at my mother. Yes, I was happy to see her. It had been years since we were last in the same room together, and a part of me was happy for the reunion, but not at what it cost me.

“Hi,” I said, faking the smile on my face.

“How are things today?”

“Good,” I lied, getting up from the bed that was not really mine.

“Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

The thought of eating anything turned my stomach, but it had been months since I was released from the hospital. If I didn’t start showing signs of improvement in their eyes, they would lock me up. Or worse, make me talk to someone. It had been suggested multiple times, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree to be dissected by some shrink who didn’t really understand me.

“Sure.”

I could push fruit and eggs around with the best of them. Susan, the woman who lived here with us, was a great cook. I managed to swallow down just enough food to keep everyone from looking too closely at me.

My mother opened the door and led me down the hall of the bunker to the grand kitchen. I liked to eat at the dining room table like I did at home, but my mother always tried to get me to eat at the small kitchen table. Today, I went for the dining room table, much to her chagrin.

“It’s just the two of us. We can eat in the kitchen.”

“No, thank you,” I said politely, taking my seat in the same position I would have back home. I glanced to my left where my husband should have been, doing my best not to let grief take over and strip me of all life for the day. It happened way too often, and then everyone around me watched me like a hawk, sure I was going to fall apart and slit my wrists.

Claire sat across from me, eyeing me carefully. “There’s no need to be so formal,” she said lightly.

We will behave like civilized people and eat at the table.

I closed my eyes as I remembered my husband’s words that he ingrained in me from the start. “No, it’s better this way.”

“Why?”

My head snapped up at her pleading. “Because we’re eating and this is the dining room.” My harsh tone made her balk, butshe said nothing else. Susan came fluttering out of the kitchen moments later, her arms laden with dishes for us. All of the food was overwhelming. I didn’t want any of it, but I smiled anyway and told her how delicious it smelled.

Thankfully, I was saved from being scrutinized when the door opened and a dark figure appeared. But I wasn’t nervous around this man. Maybe it was because he reminded me so much of my husband with his strong presence. Or maybe it was his unnerving stare, the way he seemed to know exactly what my thoughts were before I spoke them.

My brother. Knight. He pulled out a chair and sat in the seat that should have belonged to my husband. I pursed my lips, but said nothing, knowing it would only draw out more questions.

“Morning,” he said gruffly.

“Good morning,” I replied, adding as much cheer as I could muster.

He shook his head at my chipper response. Again, he already knew I was faking it. When the door opened a second time and my father walked in, I nearly groaned, but managed to hold back.

“Look at that,” Knight muttered. “A family reunion. Aren’t we lucky,” he said to me, shooting me a wink that was so unlike him. Perhaps he was just as uncomfortable as I was. But he dug in, grabbing the dishes and scooping out portions for himself and for me. I stared at the large heap of eggs on my plate, my stomach roiling at the sight of all the food.

I was never hungry on the island. Well…not when I behaved. Ebarardo made sure I was always fed. That wasn’t the issue. I just didn’t have an appetite for anything since I was released from the hospital.

“It’s good to see you,” Michael said, forcing a smile.

God, we were going to go there today, all of them tiptoeing around me. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? Didn’t they understand that I didn’t want them hovering?