Leah POV
The saddest things in our lives are the things that we have to let go of, and sad is I will have to let go of my future and my parents.
I'm sitting on our porch, my father's attorney, who has just explained to me what important things I and my siblings inherited, who has told me about the house deeds which are in my name now, and who has given me my father's letter said that is a big tragedy that we lost our parents so early before he left 10 minutes ago.
I am sad because I lost my parents, I am sad because now there will be no more memories of them and I remember so many things about them.
I remember at the beginning, before Maddie came, there was always my dad and me, my mom.. Well, my dad told me only that one day she had just decided that married life is not for her, that she had wanted to see the world and the firefighter working almost 50 hours every week and a small baby girl were not what she had wanted.
So she packed, and she was gone.
After that, she has never tried to contact me or been interested in keeping in touch with me. I don't miss her, never have, probably because I don't remember her. Not unlike my dad, with him, I have so many memories.
I remember my dad was working a lot but also was smiling a lot. He took good care of me. He taught me how to be brave and how to be kind. He gave me so many reasons to be happy and so many good memories.
I remember he liked fried chicken, and he baked from time to time, of course not well, but still, it was always an adventure to clean the kitchen after his baking. He used to tell me ghost stories and made the best pancakes ever.
I remember he hated the pink color, and instead of buying me toys, he preferred to take me into the woods. My dad loved woods.
We spent many days there, he used to take me hiking and trekking almost immediately after I learned how to walk, and he spent hours with me in the woods every weekend, and I loved it.
I remember he bought a cabin in the woods about an hour from the city we lived in when I was four, and we spent many days, nights, summer weekends, and winter breaks there.
I loved woods, I've always felt safe in woods, and after all, it was woods that gave us Maddie.
I remember the day she came into our lives.
I was eight, and it was winter, and my dad and I were in our cabin. I think there was a blizzard, so much snow, and so strong wind, but I felt safe. I always felt safe with my dad. It was an evening, my dad was cooking, and I was trying to read a book when I heard some kind of noise, like whimpering and slightly scratching from beneath the floor.
I was a curious child, so I stood up and went to see if there was something in our basement, probably.
And it was, it was a wolf, a shivering and bleeding wolf.
When I saw her, I thought that wolves should have been scary, but that particular one wasn't scary at all. I remember she looked scared, helpless, and in pain.
She must have entered our basement through one of the small broken windows she had broken to enter. She looked desperate, desperate for help, desperate for shelter, desperate for warmth. She was lying on the floor in something that looked like a pool of blood and melted snow shivering and whimpering.
Honestly, I had no idea what I should've done. My dad always told me that injured wild animals should be put away from their misery, but for some strange reason, I felt that I wanted her to be safe and comfort her.
Dad heard the noise and came down to the basement. I looked at him and started begging:
"Daddy, please don't kill it; it's beautiful."
But dad didn't look at me, and he didn't listen to me. His eyes were wide open, and he suddenly became so pale. I turned around to look in the same direction, and there was no wolf anymore.
There was still blood on the floor, there was still snow coming through the broken window, and there was still whimpering but no wolf. On the floor was lying a woman, naked and injured woman, she looked at my dad, and there was so much despair and sadness in her eyes when she whispered:
"Please help me, help my pups..."
I think the only reason my dad didn't run away with me was that there was a blizzard outside, and because of that, we were pretty much stuck inside the cabin. I have no idea how long he stayed there holding my hand and just looking at the stranger on our basement floor, but after some time, he snapped out of it and rushed to help her.
He took her upstairs and put her in bed. She started screaming and trashing in bed, and I remember her huge belly and all the blood and water coming from between her legs.
She gave birth that night. She gave birth to two small boys. My dad looked after her, helped her to give birth, cleaned the babies, and wrapped them in clean towels. And kept saying she was safe, that he wouldn't hurt her, that he wouldn't hurt her babies.
I remember she growled a little like a wild animal, like a scared animal. She watched his every move, making sure that he or I were no threats, the desperation in her eyes. At some point, she passed out because she was exhausted, starved, and because of blood after the delivery.
And my dad was calm all the time. I think it was his firefighter's spirit, his instinct to help whoever was asking for help. She slept for many hours after giving birth.