Ian turned to look at Lyana. She gave him her best pleading look, but it wasn’t necessary. Still looking into Lyana’s eyes, he said, “I’m sure it will be fine. We probably could use some help with all this land.” He reached over and placed his hand on Lyana’s.

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” said Kelly. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, then hustled off to her car.

  Ian rolled up the window and they followed Kelly down the driveway.

  They had found their home.

  Five

  The last of the boxes were almost unpacked. Summer was coming to a close and the children would soon start at their new school. The previous six weeks were a blur of packing and making all the arrangements for the move, followed by the unpacking of boxes as they settled into their new home. Lyana could hardly believe it had all been done, and with surprisingly little stress considering Ian had spent most of those weeks traveling and lecturing to promote his latest book.

  There were moments when it still didn’t feel real, even though she saw all the empty boxes she had packed (and unpacked) mostly by herself. But as Lyana stood in her new kitchen, floors littered with the remnants of bubble wrap and old newspapers, she was finally able to take a deep breath.

  They had really done it. What seemed like a pipe dream only months ago was now a reality. In the midst of all the change, it was hard to stop and enjoy it with the mounting to-do list, but as she grabbed her great grandmother’s necklace in her hands, holding it tightly to her chest, she paused.

  There was something familiar and yet stirring about this place. As much as she wanted to keep her eyes focused on the new life they would build here, she felt a pull that kept bringing her back to everything she would have rather left behind.

  She cried out “Stop!” to stay in the here and now, the word rolling off her tongue with nobody to receive it. She had everything she could have ever wanted right in front of her, they had all come so far to get to this place, the last thing she wanted to do was lose sight of that. The past still hurt too much.

  She slowly opened her hands, looking down at the piece of jewelry that had served as a constant reminder of her history, and the family she left behind.

  A faint whisper came from down the hall, too soft to make out any words.

  Is someone here?

  She hesitantly looked around the corner but saw no one.

  But there it was again. This time, the voice whispered her name. Lyana.

  Trying to follow the voice, she found herself in the empty pantry. Looking around the barren room, her heart began to race. As she caught a glimpse of herself in the pantry mirror, her grip loosed on the necklace. It slipped through her fingers as all the tension in her body released.

  Everything went black.

  Lyana is nine years old. Her parents have only recently divorced. A daddy’s girl, Lyana reminds her mother so much of him that when he left, the bitterness and anger her mother felt toward him was redirected at her. She is on the receiving end of all the broken dreams and feels like everything is her fault. She knows deep down that it isn’t. She has no control over him leaving, just as she can’t control her mother’s actions towards her.

  There are moments she wishes he had taken her with him.

  Why leave me here? With her!

  Lyana is in middle school now. She is a straight-A student, always responsible, a dedicated learner. She participates in after-school activities and is active in her church youth group. She took up music at a young age and shows so much promise. It is the one outlet she has away from it all, where she can just disappear for hours. Music makes sense in her painful world. So does her sincere, young faith. Those two things keep her grounded. But as much as she tries to be perfect, her efforts are never enough. She wants nothing more than to be seen and loved by her mother, but always falls short of her acceptance. It is a never-ending cycle.

  She and her younger sister Eliza believed everything would change when their mother met Stan. It was a chance to start over and be a happy family again. Or at least a happier one. Instead, things only got worse. The yelling, the abuse. Everything bad that had ever happened to her mother is now being directed toward her. The very act of her breathing ignites a storm of rage. Now, she is not only the target of her mother’s discontent, but a target for Stan’s as well.

  Because of Eliza’s chronic health problems, Lyana has become her protector. She takes care of Eliza when her mother is preoccupied, something that’s been happening a lot lately. She cooks for the two of them and makes sure Eliza is fed and kept safe. She knows if she doesn’t take care of Eliza, it is likely she won’t make it. Eliza’s many surgeries and all that time spent in the hospital have left her both physically and mentally stunted. She is destined to spend the rest of her youth simply trying to catch up to others her own age. This prompts Lyana to take the brunt of Stan’s abuse, intercepting anything targeting Eliza to keep her from further harm.

  The first time Stan throws Lyana against the wall and pins her to the floor with his enormous body, it is like watching a movie in slow motion. She knows it is happening but feels like she is having an out of body experience. He is hovering over her, seething through his teeth like an enraged animal. This isn’t supposed to be her life. She is the perfect student. The girl with so much promise. What has she done to deserve this? What is so wrong with her that her own mother won’t even come to her defense? And why does she allow this to happen over and over again?

  Lyana is seventeen years old. For seven years she has endured her mother’s disappointment and Stan’s physical outbursts, and each time the anger would swell inside her like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

  She is so excited she can barely contain herself as her steps turn into a brisk run back to the house. Earlier that day, she learned she had been selected to participate in a songwriting competition. If she did well enough, she could qualify for the national competition and gain exposure that could literally change the course of her future.

  She and her music instructor spent a few hours after school working on a new arrangement of a song she had been writing for months, and she is excited to show Eliza and her mother, even though she knows her mother isn’t likely to offer the kind of reaction she longs for. For a split second, she has a glimmer of hope that maybe this will be the moment that softens her mother. But it is a fleeting thought, and she quickly lets it go. She knows from experience not to set herself up for that type of disappointment.

  “Eliza! Eliza! You are never going to believe what happened today,” she blurts out as she comes running into the house.

  It is a modest house. White with dull red shutters. Single story. Three bedrooms. Two bathrooms. It hasn’t been updated since the mid-Seventies. She runs through the living room and into the kitchen where Eliza is sitting at the table doing her homework.

  Eliza’s face lights up, but then just as quickly retreats to a cautious expression. She nods toward the living room, then shakes her head twice to signal to Lyana that the news will have to wait until the girls are alone. But Lyana doesn’t catch Eliza’s cues quickly enough and a squeal of excitement slips out of her mouth.

  It’s too late, Stan has heard them.

  He storms into the kitchen like a raging bull, stopping just inches from Lyana’s face.

  “I told you kids that when I’m home I expect you to keep quiet!” he shouts. There are only shouts these days. Lyana steps in front of Eliza, who remains sitting at the table. Lyana’s petite frame is all that is standing between her sister and her stepfather’s six-foot, three-inch, muscular body.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?!” His voice echoes off the walls and he lunges for Lyana. She can smell the alcohol on his breath as she cowers, using the sheets of music she has spent hours working on as a shield even though she knew they wouldn’t protect her from his rage.

  He grabs the song she’s been working on, the song she is so proud of, from her hands and, just like the first time he pushed her all those years ago, she watches in slow motion as he rips her dream to shreds.

  Satisfied with his destruction, he laughs and tosses the torn strips of paper at her feet.

  “That’ll teach you,” he slurs. Then he stumbles away, back to his chair and the lukewarm beer that was likely waiting for him in his dark cave of a living room.

  The girls quickly and quietly collect the pieces of torn paper, then Lyana takes Eliza by the hand and runs to the nearest place that feels safe. The pantry. They sneak inside and lock the door behind them.

  Lyana falls to her knees sobbing, holding the shredded pieces of paper that only moments earlier represented hope and a chance to leave this place. Now, as she holds tightly to the jagged edges, they remind her instead of her broken family and all the hurt she has bottled up through the years. Like a puzzle she was never able to figure out. She could tape the pieces back together, but that would never erase what had just happened, what had been happening for years.

  The sadness and anger are too much to bear.

  She vows it will be the last time he hurts her.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  Zach was standing in front of Lyana holding a glass of water, looking down at her with concern in his eyes. It was only then that she realized she was huddled on the floor in the corner of the pantry.

  She picked herself up, brushed off imaginary dust and offered her best “everything is fine” smile. “I’m okay, Zach. I … I’m here. I was … I was just having a moment.” Zach was a smart and observant kid. The concerned look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. But a moment later, he shrugged, took a long sip of his water, then started to walk away.

  She went back to collecting the pile of trash on the floor. Gathering it in her arms, she called out to Zach, “Come help me, this house isn’t going to unpack itself!” He paused, then spun a perfect 180 degrees on one foot—which brought an awkward smile—then returned to the kitchen.

  The two of them laughed as they worked together to clean up the mess. Time with her son served as a good distraction for Lyana. The haze of her unbidden memories quickly dissipated, and she returned fully to the present. She tossed an armful of bubble wrap in the air and she and Zach danced around it, laughing even harder.

  There was freedom in her laughter. It had taken her years to learn to laugh again.

  As she lay in bed later that night, Lyana paused, thinking back to the strange moment in the pantry, to the memory of that day when she was seventeen. It was like a magnet had pulled her back in time, forcing her to relive the emotions that consumed her. It was a day she would rather wipe from her memory altogether, one of so many days from her childhood. But that one was different. That one changed everything.

  She reached across the bed to feel Ian next to her. His presence always calmed her restless thoughts. Her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.

  Six

  “Mom, he’s doing it again! Make him stop.”

  The house was abuzz with activity as Zach and Ariel were getting ready for the first day at their new school. They were running around putting last-minute items into their backpacks, grabbing something to eat for breakfast and trying to get it all done before it was time to go.

  Lyana was making coffee when Zach ran into the kitchen.

  “… 7, 8, 9 …” Zach’s voice trailed off.

  “Tell him to knock it off,” Ariel yelled as she followed Zach, shielding herself using the kitchen island. Zach lunged at her from the other side trying to grab the pencils she was holding. When he missed, she made a face at him and pleaded with her mother.

  “He keeps doing it and it’s so annoying!”

  While she was distracted, Zach grabbed the pencils out of her hand and went back to packing his backpack.

  “… 10, 11, 12. Perfect! All accounted for.”

  Ariel grabbed a granola bar and huffed off, shaking her head at her brother. “Are you sure you have all twelve?” she called back, a subtle sneer in her voice.

  Zach looked troubled for a moment, but Lyana reassured him that he’d counted correctly. She was used to the two of them bickering at one another. They argued like most siblings do but had just as many moments being best friends, although the two of them couldn’t be more different.

  Ariel had always been outgoing and easily made friends. Like her mother, she had a captivating presence about her. She was always the center of attention with the popular crowd and was involved in as many activities as possible. Zach was more of a loner. He had always been unusually sensitive from the time he was a young boy. Lyana and Ian knew he was special.

  They first noticed his unique behavioral tendencies the first time the family took a vacation to the beach. Most kids his age were running along the dunes, in and out of the water, accumulating sand between their toes, behind their knees, and anywhere else the tiny granules could find a home. But for two-year-old Zach, the gritty feeling was too overwhelming, and would send him into a state of panic. What started with sand, moved on to the seams of his socks, then loud noises in crowds. For him, those things were almost unbearable. While his intense sensitivities made him more in tune with the world around him and aware of the emotions of others, they ultimately left him isolated in most social situations. He ached to connect and fit in, but the more he tried, the more it seemed to push others away. He learned sooner than most that kids could be so cruel about things they just don’t understand.

  Making friends didn’t come as naturally for Zach as it did Ariel, but Lyana was hopeful that a new school would open opportunities for him to start fresh, meet new people, and make new friends.

  Ian emerged from the study and greeted Lyana, pouring his coffee into his favorite rocket ship travel mug.

  “Five-minute warning,” he said. Ian was the designated driver for school drop-offs.

  Zach and Ariel grabbed their backpacks, making a mad dash around the house to ensure they didn’t forget anything, then raced to the bathroom to brush their teeth after being reminded of that morning ritual for the hundredth time.

  Lyana followed Ian and the kids to the garage. Zach looked back and quickly returned to his mother for one last hug, apprehension and excitement battling for prominence on his face. Ariel, bold and brave as usual, waved and yelled out, “Love you, Mom!” as she pounced into the front passenger seat, “Shot gun!”

  Lyana stood in the doorway, watching with more than a hint of anxiety as they pulled away.

  She shut the door behind her and turned back to the kitchen. Slowly sipping her coffee in the stillness of her new home, she let out a deep breath and leaned on the island her children had just been fighting over. Her serene view out the bay window in the breakfast nook overlooked the expansive front yard. The morning dew twinkled on the grass. She squinted at the sunlight reflecting off the car windows as Ian and the kids drove away.

  Please let today go well for them.

  Realizing she had forgotten to have breakfast, she scoured the pantry for something to eat. As she reached for the box of Strawberry Pop-Tarts, she paused to look at herself in the old, weathered mirror that hung on the pantry wall. She studied the lines on her face, then watched them slowly fade away. As the years began to vanish, once more she felt an unsettling tug toward the mirror as the image of her kitchen in the background disappeared.

  She blinked.

  Lyana is seventeen again. The pantry surrounding her is stale and lifeless. Years of use have scuffed the fading white paint and left several of the wire shelving units crooked. This tiny room holds all the secrets and shame that she has known. Her infinite tangle of bottled-up emotions could more than fill the mostly-empty shelves.

  She glances in the mirror at the kitchen behind her. The once pale walls are bright, new, as if they’ve just been painted. Custom wood cabinets call to her with the promise of white plates and cobalt blue glasses and laughter-fueled family dinners. The drop lighting hanging above the glass cabinet doors bounces off gold cabinet hardware. The stained white tile floor, the place where she has spent so many moments curled up crying, morphs into a stunning black and white checkered pattern. As she looks up, the popcorn ceiling that reminds her of a bad art project turns into magnificent, aged tin square panels displaying an ornate fleur-de-lis pattern.

  It is beautiful in every possible way. She reaches out to touch the mirror …

  Lyana looked at her hands. She was holding the box of Strawberry Pop-Tarts. She glanced at the old mirror that they’d half-considered removing from the pantry and was puzzled by what she saw. The kitchen was just as it had been since the day they’d arrived. And her face—her face looked tired. She tried to shake off the strange feeling that lingered in the periphery of her brain.

  “It must be exhaustion,” she said aloud to her reflection.

  She took a deep breath and thought about what she’d just experienced. The more she sat with it, the clearer everything became. The vision was so detailed and breathtaking, the complete opposite of the home she grew up in.

  And just like that, she knew exactly what to do.

  Seven

  As the school buses passed by the diner window, Lloyd Warner glanced over at his patrons sipping their coffee, some of them parents of school-age children. The smiles on their faces meant summer was coming to an end. The community pool would be closing soon, and all the adventures that begin with kids riding their bikes would be put on hold until next June. As in other small towns, the locals readily celebrated the first day of school each year as it marked life returning to a predictable normal.

  “Did you hear someone bought the Goodpasture place?” Toby Williams’ deep voice was unmistakable.

 

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