“God struck down those he loved all the time for disobedience. He wept each time in the same way I weep over Sam’s death, but remember that Sam is rejoicing with the Lord in eternity. And if he should decide to journey to earth once again, he will have another chance to learn what he didn’t learn this time around and expand his consciousness.” He quickly glanced at me before putting his eyes back on the road. “I’m not asking if you understand any of this or even agree with it. You don’t have to agree with me. Again, the question is, Do you trust me?”

I nodded not because it was true but because I wanted him to leave me alone.

“You know we speak truths out loud.”

“Yes, I trust you,” I said, crossing my arms on my chest.

“That’s my girl.”

I wasn’t his girl. Not anymore.

We gathered around the fire in our new space, except nothing about it felt new or fresh. Abner had led us down backcountry roads that wound their way through the mountains until we ended up at an abandoned RV campground. The concrete slabs were broken, weeds and stubble growing through the cracks. Every smooth surface was spray-painted with graffiti. The space was old and decrepit, cluttered with pieces of other people’s lives. We’d quickly set up camp and built a fire, collapsing around it exhausted and emotionally spent. I cringed when Abner got up to speak. I was hoping he’d stay quiet tonight.

“It’s unfortunate that Bekah’s body was unable to sustain the complications of labor. It was tragic and unbelievable. Our grief will last a long time. It will affect all of us differently, and I ask that we treat each other kindly, no matter how one’s grief chooses to express itself.”

Sol caught my attention from across the fire and frowned. He’d been furious when Abner came out of the birthing tent, and he’d come at him swinging. It took three guys to pull him off. I shrugged and quickly looked away before Abner saw me. I might be angry with him, but I wasn’t stupid.

Abner walked over to where Jane stood holding Bekah’s baby. We’d all been taking turns caring for him. He wasn’t adapting to the formula yet, spitting most of it up within minutes of finishing the bottle, but hopefully some of it was getting into his system before he rejected it. Abner scooped the baby from her arms and lifted him up, cupping his neck to support his head. “Bekah left us with the most precious gift. I was there when she died, and she begged me to take care of her baby.”