SaraSara spread out the curtains Ian had bought for the bedroom windows. They weren’t bad at all. She might have picked them herself, if she’d been able to shop. She rubbed the thin material between her fingers. The design was light gray with darker gray flowers and white accents embroidered in vertical rows.Maybe she wouldn’t have chosen these, after all. They looked and felt expensive. She would’ve certainly taken the price tag into consideration while shopping.Sara didn’t have expensive tastes. She wondered if Ian did or if he’d just thought she would like them. She did like them. The room was dark with its wood-paneled walls, but the gray was light enough to brighten the small space. They were also thin enough to let the sun shine through. She liked to wake at sunrise on days when she didn’t have to be at work.She missed her job. She’d been working for Memphis Mission before she’d gotten the phone call from Andrew. That call had changed the trajectory of the life she was livin
IanIan followed Sara into the house. She moved into the kitchen, and he followed her. She wore no makeup, and her hair hung loose over one shoulder.Everything he wanted to say to her had built up inside of him. He wanted to tell her he was sorry and that he loved her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her like he should have done years ago.He tapped his knuckles on the table three times. Their code would have to change from touch to sound until she trusted him again.Sara gifted him a closed-lip smile and tapped her knuckles once on the counter.When he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he breathed, “I never wanted to let you go.”Sara nodded and bit her bottom lip. “Me either.”All the things he’d been dying to hear from her were meaningless. Those two words were enough for him.Ian fought to control his voice as he said, “Everything that happened between us—and everything that didn’t happen—feels like forever ago, but then, it feels like yesterday.”In truth, nothing felt
SaraThe next morning, Ian brought more than just a rug for the living room. He brought a few decorations and more groceries too. All of her favorite foods were pulled from grocery bags one by one, including more butterscotch candies.“You didn’t have to do all this,” Sara said.Ian glanced at her with a smirk. “Yes, I did.”She pulled the contents from the next bag. “You brought pancakes too?” The tray was from The Line, her favorite diner in town. He’d been stopping by there a lot this week.“Of course.”“You know I can cook, right?”Ian chuckled. “I know you’re a good cook. I just don’t want you to cook if you don’t have to.”She felt a rush of warmth in her chest. This was the Ian she’d known, and her heart didn’t ache so badly now that he wasn’t throwing darts at her. He knew that she’d spent her childhood taking care of a dad who hadn’t appreciated her. Cooking had always been a chore to her—something else that had to be done.They sat down across from each other at the small, w
Sara didn’t have to look far for the blankets. There was one on the couch and one on the bed that she’d been throwing over her feet at night.She stepped out the back door onto the porch to find that Ian was right. The wind was blowing, and the early spring breeze slashed at her cheeks like knives. She wrapped the blankets around her shoulders and surveyed the backyard. The trees were still leafless, and only faint patches of sky shone through the forest canopy.The rebirth of spring hadn’t taken hold here yet, but it would come in the next few weeks. Until then, she could brave the cold winds for this view. Surrounded by trees and far away from anyone she needed to hide from, the woods held a comfort she craved. Had Mr. Garrison played out here as a kid?Sara turned to examine the deck, and while it seemed sturdy enough, there wasn’t anywhere to sit. She stepped back inside and grabbed an old chair from the living area. It was wooden with scrolling arms and padding on the seat and ba
Twelve Years EarlierLiz finished scrubbing the pot she’d made the chili in earlier. She’d have plenty to freeze since Dad didn’t come home for supper and Ian was on vacation with his family. It didn’t look like anything was missing from the surplus she’d made.The old house was quiet, save for a few creaks here and there. Her phone dinged with a text, and she pulled it out of the pocket of her sweatpants as she passed the back door. Her dad’s filthy boots caught her eye, and she tucked the phone back into her pocket. It was Ian. No one else texted her. Right now, she needed to get those boots cleaned off and outside.She scrunched up her nose at the smell of chicken manure and grabbed the top of the boots as she opened the door. She kept a wire bristle brush by the back door, and she sat on the cinderblock step and held her breath against the stench to brush the bottoms.Mr. Garrison’s back porch light was on. He always left it on… for her. The old busybody knew she snuck over to Ian
IanIan’s insides churned as Sara continued her story. It took everything he had not to vomit in the bushes beyond the deck railing.Sara went on. “The cops came, and I remember hearing them at the door and screaming until my lungs hurt. They got my dad and Kenny, but Owen wasn’t there, and even with my testimony about what Trisha had told me, he wasn’t convicted. There wasn’t anything to tie him to what happened, except Trisha’s word.”Standing, Ian leaned against the deck railing to face her. He’d been quiet throughout the story, but every emotion warred inside him. Anger, rage, disgust, fear. What had happened to her was worse than he’d imagined.She was beauty from ashes, a flower rising from a crumbled ruin. She was resilience in human form, and it was a miracle that her small shoulders could bear the weight of the pain of her past.“The cops finally took me home after I gave statements, but I asked them to take me to Mr. Garrison’s house. I couldn’t go home alone.”Ian let his c
IanThe silence of the last few days had been eradicated. Sara told him about high school while he installed the new countertops in the kitchen, and he told her about their old friends over lunch. They moved the furniture in the living room, and she started painting the walls while he finished up in the kitchen. The rooms were close enough that he could read her facial expressions when he looked her way.Ian’s phone rang at 4:30. It was Sissy, and she barely let him answer the call before she started in on him.“We’re having lasagna. Be here at 5:30, and please don’t be late because I had no idea how hard it would be to make lasagna with a toddler and an infant.” A crash in the background was followed by a childish scream.“I’ll be there.” He’d forgotten, but he refrained from thanking his sister-in-law for the reminder that he’d promised to stop by for dinner.“Good. Bring some rolls. I’ll throw them in the oven when you get here.”“Yes, ma’am.”Ian caught Sara averting her gaze as h
The next morning, Sara woke before the sun. After a dreamless night, she jumped from the bed well-rested and ready for the day.After showering and adding a little makeup, she started a pot of coffee. She was moving furniture around in the living room to get started on her painting for the day when her phone rang. It was Trisha.“Hey, stranger,” Sara said with a smile as she placed the phone between her ear and shoulder.“I know. Sorry it’s been so long. Were you up?” Trisha sounded tired but happy.“I was.” Sara looked around at the house Mr. Garrison had grown up in—the house she was living in until further notice. “I don’t even know how to begin to tell you where I am.”Trisha sighed. “I need to unwind, so start at the beginning.”Trisha had taken the stand and testified against Kenny, Owen, and Sara’s dad after her kidnapping, but Trisha hadn’t let it break her. She’d moved to France with her mother a few months after the sentencing, and she’d entered the criminal justice field. T