- Pierce Simms    The damp January fog seeped into my bones as it drifted slowly across the desolate churchyard. The simple, dilapidated church kept vigil over the mismatched gravestones. My sister’s grave had just begun capturing frost buds on its pile of raw earth. I glanced at the stone behind me and shivered at the memories of our father. I’d left home at sixteen, after his beatings became intolerable, but Lizzie, she had stayed. What hell had she endured in my absence? I didn’t remember Dad ever beating her, and in the handful of months I’d stayed with her recently, she swore he never had. I sighed, trying to ease the tension bunching my shoulders. Soon, I’d have to pick up my nephew and niece from day care. I was supposed to take them with me. Dang, I dreaded that meeting! Oh well, thank God Lizzie had arranged for day care and had a good enough life insurance policy to keep it going after her death. It hadn’t been a huge policy, but it’d truly helped. The kids as much as me. I barely knew them, both under four years old. The consistency of day care was a godsend. I checked my phone for word from my attorney, Sam. She’d assured me she could make it to the meeting. Luckily she’d taken the case after I’d learned Lizzie had chosen an ex-boyfriend as their guardian. With all that was going on trying to acclimate to being a parent after losing my only sister, this was a complication I could’ve done without. Sam, ever my friend and advocate, had talked me off the proverbial ledge the day Lizzie’s will was read and I learned I’d have to fight for custody of my niece and nephew. “He’s not their dad, so even if he gets in touch, you have a strong case for guardianship,” Sam had assured me. “But I barely know them,” I whined, causing Sam to rub my shoulder before continuing. “You’ve got a valid excuse for having stayed away. Your father was abusive, and there’s plenty of evidence to support that.” I clung to her confidence but had an uneasy feeling it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing in my life had ever been easy. Sam had known me since I was young. Fresh out of law school, she stood up for me when my dad turned up at the shelter. I hated to think about what would’ve happened without her and the Beacon Light Shelter. Death, probably. I shivered again as I headed to my car. Everything, including saving my own life, had come at a cost. I didn’t really know my sister any longer. Her kids were strangers, and I hadn’t been back to Wilcox in more than a decade. But even after everything the old man had done, even after I’d run away, he’d left me the farm. Lizzie had kept the old place up. No actual farming had been done for a long time, from the looks of things, although it was clear that over the years, Lizzie had at least kept the weeds mowed down. Had she not, it would’ve been a total disaster. Shortly after coming home to help, I’d asked her why Dad hadn’t given the farm to her. She refused to speak of it. Wouldn’t even answer the question, only changed the subject. Assuming she wanted to keep our last days together positive, I didn’t push her for answers. Our father was a jerk of epic proportions. I couldn’t blame her for not wanting to think about him or his hateful motivations during her last days of life. I glanced at the graveyard from my car, almost able to make out the mound of soil that had yet to settle into my sister’s grave. We’d only had six months together before the end. Sadness poured over me. How was it possible she was really gone? I started the car and began to ease out of the parking lot. I guess I will never know if it was fate or luck that led to my tech job ending just weeks before Lizzie called with the news she was sick. The decision had been easier than I expected. I gave notice on my apartment, packed my stuff, and pulled up stakes in Portland.