Reunion by Meli Raine Page B

fading out to the inner glow of knowing Amy’s going to be safe.
    Safe.

Chapter Twenty- Three
    We’re in a field of wildflowers, the Queen Anne’s Lace poking up above the buttercups and the purple blossoms, asserting itself with authority. I’m little, running like the wind, my cotton dress billowing with the wind and the speed of my freedom.
    I am invincible.  
    Daddy scoops me up and I’m on his shoulders. He’s running, and da n delion seeds float on the wind, brushing against my face like tiny kisses. I’m giggling, the sounds traveling like fairy dust. Daddy’s big hands keep me in place so I can fly.
    I’m safe.
    I know this because Daddy will keep me safe.
    He slows, the field changing, thinning out until we come to a river. T he river bed is beautiful, with a waterfall that shines like diamonds. The flow is powerful but also unthreatening. I am barefoot and wade in to the water below, my hands eager to find the right rock.
    Daddy sits down behind me and calls out, “Skip one! You can do it!”
    I turn to look at him. His blonde hair is like spun gold, his eyes so happy and content.
    And then Mommy appears. She looks like me, but all grown up. I run to her and hug her knees, crushing her. She smells like cinnamon.
    “Honey,” she says, bending down to kiss my head. Her soft hand strokes my hair. She meets me at eye level, her dress like mine. The wind carries it in a silky ribbon behind her, like a train on a wedding dress.
    “Mommy! You’re here!” I say, laughing with delight. “Daddy! Daddy! Come look!”
    Mommy lets go of my hand. She lets go because suddenly, Daddy and Mommy are hugging.
    And Daddy is laughing, too.
     
    I wake up, my skin covered in goosebumps, my bladder screaming, my mind filled with a bliss that feels permanent. The sound of my own gasps is all I hear at first. The hospital room is quiet. Even the beep beep beep of my heart monitor is off. I’m released to go home in the morning.
    Home.
    Wherever that is.
    I look over to the chairs where my guards normally sit and am astonished to find Mark asleep in one of them.
    “Mark!” I rasp, my voice still not back. It’s been over a week since I was admitted, and while parts of me are healing, I’m still pretty fragile.
    His eyes open like a soldier on duty and he jumps to his feet, hand on his gun.
    “Carrie! What’ s wrong? ” His eyes shift to and fro as his face stays close to me. He’s scanning the room for danger. I look around. It’s just me and Mark.  
    No more guards.
    Then again, he is my guard.
    The only one I really want.
    “Nothing,” I rasp.
    “A dream?” He holsters his gun, shrugging his shoulders to release tension. He’s wearing a suit, his dress shirt open at the collar, the top two buttons undone. I see a tie on the arm of the chair he was resting in. It’s a sedate burgundy. His suit jacket is wrinkled in the back. His hair is mussed and a day’s growth of beard adorns his face.
    He is perfect .
    “Yeah.” I burst into tears. Seeing him, finally, is what I need, and yet so many emotions are stirred up by his sudden presence.
    “Shhhh. Shhhhh,” he croons. I’m in his arms and he’s so careful with me. He reaches up to stroke my hair and I flinch.  
    “Did I hurt you?” he asks. “I’m sorry.”
    “No. Not pain. It’s just...” I reach up and rub my head. A week’s worth of hair is growing in. I wonder what I look like right now. I must be hideous. One of the day nurses covered the mirrors in my bathroom. When I asked for a hand mirror, she urged me to wait another week. Between the black eye, the long scrape, and my other injuries, I figure I look like a bald Cabbage Patch doll with bruises and casts.
    “It’s what?” He pulls back and looks at me with confused eyes. Then he takes me in, really looking at me. Cataloguing my injuries and absorbing the details.
    “It’s this. How I must look.”
    “Oh, Carrie. No. No . You’re beautiful,” he insists.  
    I snort. It hurts. I