Dare Me(80)

An hour later, I stroll down to the creek where I know Saige has disappeared to. But the boulder sits empty where I expected her long body to be perched. Instead, I find her across the creek, sitting at her father’s headstone. I contemplate leaving her, but I’ve left her long enough. I need to know that she’s okay.

The creek is shallow and large river rocks poke up from the bottom so I’m able to step across, jumping into the tall grass on the other side. “Hey,” I say quietly from behind her.

Her elbows rest on her knees and her head is propped in her hands. “Hey,” she responds, barely audible.

“Mind if I sit down?” She shakes her head from side to side, and I sit down next to her. “You okay?” I ask her, resting my hand on her thigh.

“I am,” she says unconvincingly, turning her head to me. Her face is splotched with red patches, and the remnants of her tears, but her eyes are dry. “I just needed to come here and talk to him.”

“I’m glad you did,” I admit to her.

“Did you watch them knock it down?”

“I did.” I nod once, watching her carefully. “It’s done.”

She sniffs and nods, wiping her sad eyes. “Amazing how quickly something that holds decades of memories, decades of anger, and decades of history can be resorted to a pile of trash in just minutes.”

I swallow hard, still worried for her. “The good thing about memories and history is that you remember them here.” I tap her forehead. “And the good thing about anger is that you can leave it at the bottom of that pile where it belongs.”

She huffs out a small laugh and leans into me. “Thank you for bringing me here.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “I was just telling my dad how much he’d love you.”

I smile, finally feeling hopeful. “You think so?” I ask, glancing at the headstone with “Michael Phillips” etched into the gray granite.

“I know so,” she says, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

And that’s where she leaves her anger, her fear, and her hurt—buried at the bottom of that barn, in a heaping pile.