Some Quiet Place (Some Quiet Place #1)(88)

She’s already shaking her head vehemently, her blond pony tail swinging from side to side. I smile at her kindly, nodding. “Good.”

I turn away, disregarding her completely, and squat down in front of Morgan, blocking her view of the TV. Her watery gaze focuses. I realize how much she looks like Sophia. Two such different girls.

We study each other, and though she can’t possibly recognize me with this face, I get the sense that somehow, she does. I sigh. “Morgan, I can’t change your parents, and I can’t change your sister, but I can help. What you choose to do after this is up to you.” I reach up, pressing the heel of my hand against her forehead. I close my eyes, concentrating, using all the power I have to straighten, organize, smooth. Her mind is not completely altered, and it never will be, but with fresh Life flowing through her veins, she’ll have more understanding. She won’t have to struggle so much, and she’ll be able to speak for herself. It’s all I can do.

I lean back on my haunches, place my palms flat on my thighs, and jump to my feet.

Morgan sits there, blinking, tasting the new vibrancy of the world around her. She blinks up at me. Her voice, when she speaks to me for the second time ever, is loud and wondering.

“Thank you,” she says.

I smile at her, touching her chin. “You’re welcome, Morgan. I’ll come back to visit you soon, all right?”

She smiles back at me guilelessly, her pasty face glowing. I go to the door, remember the babysitter, and face her again. She’s still cowering in the corner.

“Goodbye. I really hope I don’t have to see you again.”

Eyes wide, she watches me go out the door. I leave it open, just to remind her I was here, lest she forget too soon.

Moments later I’m standing on the driveway, looking up at the big house. It’s beautiful in this light, the sun rising behind me. There, I think. That’s done.

Now I have just one more person to see.



I watch him for hours. From behind a tree, I can see the sweat seeping through his jacket as he helps his father harvest the near-worthless crops. They waited too long. When darkness falls I expect Joshua to follow his dad inside, but he still isn’t done. He goes into the barn, takes care of the animals. The place where he told me he loved me, the place where we kissed, the place where I was ripped from him.

And as I watch, I’m tormented. Should I go to him? Should I disrupt his existence again in an attempt to give this boy closure? If I leave him alone, will he be able to move on, live his life, be the normal person he needs to be? Or, if I leave now and never touch him again, will he flounder, sink deeper and deeper into dark waters? I think of our kiss, of his

gentle hands, of his glowing eyes as he looked at me. He wants Elizabeth back, and she’s gone forever. But he doesn’t deserve nothing. He deserves a goodbye. I remember Courage’s words again. You will need that boy in the end.

Now he needs me.

There’s no way to deny it. I used him. He was just a key to the door, and even knowing that, I let his feelings for me grow. Now he’s suffering for it. There’s nothing I can do to bring his joy back, because I can’t belong to him. I grip the tree bark, digging my fingers in until it hurts. Dry leaves respond instantly to the touch, becoming more vibrant hues of red and orange. Joshua wheels the barrow around the side of the barn, and at that moment I remember how Susie Yank was looking at him in the hallway. I think of possibilities, maybes, somedays, all the things I am still struggling not to avoid.

As I linger by the tree, Guilt shimmers into view, so close that I can smell her: a combination of sweat and … grease? She claps her hand on my shoulder, grinning, and I give her a baleful look. “Don’t be like that,” she purrs. “Just doing my job.”

“Well, you’ve done it,” I snap quietly, hating the flood of feeling that grips me. “Now go.”

With a smirk, she vanishes.

The sounds of the night are all around. Joshua still doesn’t go to bed. He tinkers at a workbench, building what looks like a birdhouse. Wind whistles through the tiny cracks in the walls. The gentle light Joshua has on stretches over the hay and out the doorway, toward me.

If we don’t take any risks, then we won’t find the things worth living for.

The words he once shouted at my back haunt me. It feels so long ago.

It’s as I’m watching him work, replaying that sentence over and over in my head, that I make a decision. Joshua is strong. So much stronger than I ever was, and unlike me, he is the kind of person to take risks for happiness. I treated him badly, but he doesn’t need my touch to appreciate life. I’m going to leave him with two things. A single memory of me as thanks—words on a page that he can reread as many times he wants—and a way to give him the future he’s constantly looking toward.

I run back to the car, hunt down a pen in the glove box. There’s no paper but an old receipt to be found, so I write on the back of it. When I’m done, I stick the receipt in the Hayes’ mailbox.

Dear Joshua,

I wish this was easier. I wish things were different. You are an incredible person, and you deserve to have everything you want.

I’m sorry for the way things ended. I want you to know that I really did care about you.

There are things I need to do. You don’t know everything about my past, and there are still so many unanswered questions.