Come to Me Quietly(21)

I climbed down onto my knees and dug my arm deep between the mattress and the box spring of my bed. My fingertips grazed the book, and I maneuvered my hand around to pull it free. Sinking onto my butt, I rested my back against the bed. It took me a couple of seconds to get the courage to open it. My grandmother had given it to me when I was young, right before she passed. She’d told me to save it for something that meant the most to my heart. The old hardbound pad creaked when I lifted the cover.

His face was on every page. All except for what I’d drawn that night.

I traced my fingers along the lines, studying what I had seen then. Though the years had hardened him, his eyes were not so different now than they’d been during those days.

Sighing, I tucked the book into my bag and walked back out to the kitchen. I came up behind my mom and wrapped my arms around her waist. “Love you, Mom.”



Her expression was tender when she glanced at me over her shoulder. “Love you, Aly.” Then she frowned. “Is everything okay?”



“Yeah.” I shook my head as I twisted up my mouth. “I’ve just been tired.”



She nodded, but it was more in appraisal than real acceptance. I could tell she didn’t believe what I’d said. Mom knew me well enough to see when I was lying. “You know I’m here, whenever you need me.”



“I know, Mom.” I squeezed her again before I stepped away. “I’ve got to run.”



She blew out a breath of disappointment. “Fine, then, leave your old mom here all alone with your stinky brother.”



I laughed because Mom never seemed old.

I opened the door. Mom’s voice called after me, “And let me know when you’re off from work next so we can go shopping.”



“I will,” I promised before I shut the door behind me.

The sun stood proud at the center of the sky, its heat soaking me through in a matter of seconds. I walked back toward my car, but I passed it by. My attention drifted two houses away and across the street to the one that had been Jared’s.

Making a quick decision, I turned and strode down the sidewalk, to its end where the rickety fence still stood. I’d be late for work, but today, they were just going to have to wait. Sweat pebbled up on the nape of my neck, and I pulled in a breath as I ducked down and wedged myself through the small hole in the fence that had once seemed like the center of my universe. Wood splinters tugged at my shirt, and I twisted so I could fit through.

On the other side, I straightened as a slow chill crept up my spine. Weeds grew high across the vast expanse of the vacant lot. In the distance, a fence rose to enclose another neighborhood to the south of ours, but in between were six acres of uninhabited land where we’d spent so many hours as children. The trails our play had tracked were no longer visible. The trees that had once housed our fairy tales now seemed out of place, tall and full in the backdrop of this barren desert. Stickers pricked at my legs as I trudged across to our tree. I hadn’t been out here in so many years.

I stood beneath the rotting wood, the small pieces of two-by-four that had been nailed to the trunk still offering their escape. I found my footing on the lowest one and gripped a branch as I hoisted myself up. Tentatively I took the next step, and the lower level of our fort came into view.

I yelped when the third step gave, but I managed to hold myself up on a solid branch, pulling myself up the rest of the way.

I settled onto the stretch of plywood that we had so carefully hammered into the safety of the tree. This little fort had seemed so massive when we’d built it. I drew my knees to my chest and rested my head back against one of the large branches that grew up from where the trunk had segmented into four.