beach. Climbing out as calmly as I could on legs still shaking with fear, I threw the phone in the ocean. Flattening Sean’s tires and destroying his credits cards had filled me with an immense satisfaction--one I hadn’t experienced in years.
Driving straight through, I pulled in some thirty hours later, and nothing had ever looked as good to me as their house. I sat in the car, taking in the two stories of grandiose architecture. A thousand memories of our family roamed around inside those walls, and I needed the comfort it provided. A few years after they built the house, Daddy built a stable with its own drive and acres of flat grazing land. The horses were Daddy’s pride, more so than the house, less so than my mother and us kids.
Daddy was big and strong, smarter than anyone else I’d ever met. He wore designer suits for his day job, investing money for wealthy clients around the globe, but wore cowboy boots every other moment of the day. Because of his penchant for riding horses into town, they’d installed a hitching post in front of the coffee shop, the bank, and the hardware store. My mother, in contrast, yet complement to my father, epitomized the idea of motherhood. She cooked, baked, and drove the car pool, never lost her temper, and always dispensed The Waltons ’ style advice. Most of the time, even though she was a psychologist, she said she winged it when dealing with her own family, but I didn’t buy it. She was the glue holding our picture perfect family together.
As I climbed out and came around to get Kieran out of the car, my father stood on the front porch, waiting for me. He met me, then smiled as he took Kieran from my arms. “How is he?”
“He’s quiet.” I whispered the words as I pushed his hair back to show my dad the stitches on his face. My baby had a rough couple days. I only hoped he would find his way through the darkness to be the little boy he’d been before Sean destroyed his innocence.
Dad hefted Kieran higher onto his shoulder and threw his other arm across my shoulders. “I’ll get your stuff after we get this boy into bed.” He pulled me toward the house. “Your mom has coffee for you.”
Ah, coffee. The gift of the gods and my mother’s go-to problem solving medicine. I resisted the urge to crumble, to let my parents pick up the pieces. Instead, I sat with my mom, pouring out the story in a flat monotone, the same voice I used to protect myself from Sean’s wrath. I didn’t tell them the worst parts, only the parts I’d immunized myself against.
Each word hardened a new part of my heart. It beat less rapidly as I neared the end.
The sun peeked over the horizon before I crawled into bed with Kieran. Holding on to him, I sobbed softly for all he’d seen, all he’d been through. I prayed God would replace his memory, or at least let him block it out. He didn’t stir as I whispered promises of protection. If I ever saw Sean again, I would kill him for what he’d done.
Sleep eluded me. Too many worries whirled in my mind. Sean would undoubtedly find me. Because of the way small towns worked, almost the whole of Storybook Lake would close in around me, pulling me into a protective bubble, but he would never give up. He often told me I would never get away. It was part of the reason I stayed. The threat behind his words… I couldn’t imagine how I would ever be safe again. After the noon sun streamed in my window, I crawled out of bed. Coffee would have to be enough to get me through the day.
“Did you sleep well?”
I smiled at the familiarity behind her words. Every morning, probably since birth, she asked the same question. I nodded, thinking a wordless action less a lie, and smothered a yawn. “Where’s Kieran?”
“In the barn with your dad. He’s looking at the horses.” I walked to the French doors leading out to the back patio. As I turned the knob, she stood up quickly and covered my hand with hers. I’d been out to the barn a thousand
Driving straight through, I pulled in some thirty hours later, and nothing had ever looked as good to me as their house. I sat in the car, taking in the two stories of grandiose architecture. A thousand memories of our family roamed around inside those walls, and I needed the comfort it provided. A few years after they built the house, Daddy built a stable with its own drive and acres of flat grazing land. The horses were Daddy’s pride, more so than the house, less so than my mother and us kids.
Daddy was big and strong, smarter than anyone else I’d ever met. He wore designer suits for his day job, investing money for wealthy clients around the globe, but wore cowboy boots every other moment of the day. Because of his penchant for riding horses into town, they’d installed a hitching post in front of the coffee shop, the bank, and the hardware store. My mother, in contrast, yet complement to my father, epitomized the idea of motherhood. She cooked, baked, and drove the car pool, never lost her temper, and always dispensed The Waltons ’ style advice. Most of the time, even though she was a psychologist, she said she winged it when dealing with her own family, but I didn’t buy it. She was the glue holding our picture perfect family together.
As I climbed out and came around to get Kieran out of the car, my father stood on the front porch, waiting for me. He met me, then smiled as he took Kieran from my arms. “How is he?”
“He’s quiet.” I whispered the words as I pushed his hair back to show my dad the stitches on his face. My baby had a rough couple days. I only hoped he would find his way through the darkness to be the little boy he’d been before Sean destroyed his innocence.
Dad hefted Kieran higher onto his shoulder and threw his other arm across my shoulders. “I’ll get your stuff after we get this boy into bed.” He pulled me toward the house. “Your mom has coffee for you.”
Ah, coffee. The gift of the gods and my mother’s go-to problem solving medicine. I resisted the urge to crumble, to let my parents pick up the pieces. Instead, I sat with my mom, pouring out the story in a flat monotone, the same voice I used to protect myself from Sean’s wrath. I didn’t tell them the worst parts, only the parts I’d immunized myself against.
Each word hardened a new part of my heart. It beat less rapidly as I neared the end.
The sun peeked over the horizon before I crawled into bed with Kieran. Holding on to him, I sobbed softly for all he’d seen, all he’d been through. I prayed God would replace his memory, or at least let him block it out. He didn’t stir as I whispered promises of protection. If I ever saw Sean again, I would kill him for what he’d done.
Sleep eluded me. Too many worries whirled in my mind. Sean would undoubtedly find me. Because of the way small towns worked, almost the whole of Storybook Lake would close in around me, pulling me into a protective bubble, but he would never give up. He often told me I would never get away. It was part of the reason I stayed. The threat behind his words… I couldn’t imagine how I would ever be safe again. After the noon sun streamed in my window, I crawled out of bed. Coffee would have to be enough to get me through the day.
“Did you sleep well?”
I smiled at the familiarity behind her words. Every morning, probably since birth, she asked the same question. I nodded, thinking a wordless action less a lie, and smothered a yawn. “Where’s Kieran?”
“In the barn with your dad. He’s looking at the horses.” I walked to the French doors leading out to the back patio. As I turned the knob, she stood up quickly and covered my hand with hers. I’d been out to the barn a thousand
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