My heart nearly burst.
And there he was.
I blinked. Yes, it was them. No dream, no nightmare, no memory. Flesh and bone.
He strolled down the corridor, happily sucking on a lollipop. Brandon was by his side, Finn’s plush Otter tucked under his arm. Finn’s sweet smile deepened when he spotted me, too.
I tottered to him, ignoring the pain that screamed in my ankle.
“Mommy!” he screeched in his happy sing-song way. He waved a casted lower left arm.
My feet couldn’t get to him fast enough. I knelt and threw my arms around him, his skinny body foreign but familiar. Twelve days had been twelve days too long. I kissed his cheeks repeatedly. I cried into his flaxen hair as I inhaled his little boy smell. It was like holding my newborn baby for the first time again.
He was alive.
“Oh, my Finn.”
“Ick! Mom! You’re sliming me!” Finn cooed. He didn’t pull from my embrace though.
A deep, guttural cry of relief broke free from the dam as I allowed the tears. I quaked with the insurrection of emotion.
Brandon shone with relief.
“Thank you,” I said to him, hoping he understood the gravity behind those words. For all I knew, he’d been through hell, too.
I looked past Brandon as I stood upright. Reid was nowhere to be found. I swallowed and hugged my brother.
“Where’s Reid?” I asked, pulling back slowly.
Brandon said, “He went to check on his sister. Wanted to give us some time alone.”
“Okay,” I said with a nod, turning with him as we returned to Will’s room.
****
My usually clean-shaven brother was scruffy from days of travel and sported an almost shaggy hairdo. “Brandon, I don’t know how to thank you. What you endured,” I said. “Will you tell me?”
“AJ…”
“Brandon…I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
He sat beside me on the bed.
“It was an adventure!” Finn said, whizzing past me, touching all the equipment in the room.
“Finn, honey, please play with your bag of rocks, there,” I said to his gift-shop bounty spread out on Will’s bedside table.
Brandon drew me over to the window, where we both sat in the chairs. “Like I said, we had made it to Denver. We were in a newer terminal of the airport when the earthquake occurred. We managed to stay under cover.”
“That’s when Finn broke his arm?”
He nodded.
The need for details gnawed at me. “And?”
“One of the passengers waiting to board the plane was enlisted air force. I chatted with him before we were supposed to board. After the quake, he helped me pull as many people as we could from the rubble. It was chaos. Anyway, we snagged a ride with a military convoy to Schriever. Some of the injured were sent to local hospitals as well. It took us a few hours to get to the base. We spent the last week and a half hunkered down at the base, eating snacks and playing games. My cell phone hardly worked. I couldn’t even get through to Sarah the entire time we were there.”
“I had lots of candy, Mom!” Finn added.
“That’s it?” I prodded.
“Uh-huh.”
Well, that’s what he admitted. I could only imagine the pandemonium. I didn’t buy all of Brandon’s story, which tasted quite sugar-coated. My son was alive and well, and that’s all that mattered. I was certain he’d divulge more details of the story to me in time.
Brandon squeezed my hand. “You would’ve done the same for my girls.”
I smiled back.
An hour later, the boys were already back to their normal routine of goofing off in Will’s bed with the rest of their gift-shop trinkets. I tapped a finger on my thigh. Reid had not come up to see us yet.
“I’ll be back in a few,” I said to Brandon. “Can you watch them?”
He nodded.
I left to check on Reid. When I reached his sister’s room, he wasn’t there. Her ventilator droned. I glanced around the room. His backpack wasn’t there either.
My heart sank when I saw the two lollipop wrappers pinned under a cup of now tepid coffee.
“No,” I said aloud, tears finding their way to my eyes again. I was tired of crying. I unfolded the wrappers, and this time it had been written with a pen instead of a permanent marker, the words tiny and neat across both wrappers.
Audrey Jane, the serious woman with a serious name.
I’m so sorry. There’s not enough space for me to express my regret. If you do find it in your heart, I would value your forgiveness. It’s best if I leave now. Say goodbye to Will for me. He’s an amazing kid, and you’re an incredible mom.
My home address and phone number are below. I’ll be your friend or more, any way you’ll have me, when you’re ready. I’m heading to Austin, TX, first to check on a friend.
And, Audrey Jane, there is no forgetting that night. It was sweeter than one of my lollipops. I’ll cherish it.
Affectionate, grateful, and truly sorry,
R.
I tucked the wrappers into my back pocket. I approached Lily and brushed a swath of hair off her forehead. “Be at peace,” I said, turning from the room, my heart swelling with a vast sense of loss.
I picked up the coffee and sipped the bitterness of it, sweetened a tad, just how I liked it.
****
I dialed Reid’s number a third time on my trudge back to Will’s room. No connection. Nada.
I reached the room to find it empty. Before even asking as I poked my head out, the nurse at the desk responded, “They went to the gift shop.”
“Again?”
She shrugged.
“But Will’s IV?”
“We removed it.”
I dialed again. Gift shop, I thought with a smug smile. I plopped into the seat by the window. As if one trip hadn’t been enough. Those kids and their trinkets.
The walkie-talkie lay there still. I picked it up, turned it on, and found an open channel. I swallowed, finger lying on the transmit button. I listened to the static for a few minutes. It was the top of the hour again, ironically, and Reid had never returned the other walkie-talkie.
Reid’s voice came through and startled me. In the words of my lovely Finn, I said, “Seriously?” Odds were finally in my favor.
“…not sure you can even hear me now. But somebody’s listening. So, consider this my confession. God, I hope it’s you, AJ. It’s on the hour now, maybe you turned it on…” Crackles.
“Anyway, here goes. I should’ve been upfront about Lily, but after you told me about the way Harrison died, the guilt I thought I’d worked through crippled me once again. I made the worst kind of mistake, and I live in daily atonement…I had to atone by placing one foot in front of the other for as long as it took—even if it meant hitchhiking across the entire country. Then you came along. I felt tested. You know by now that I’m not a deeply religious man, but I do believe the universe—or God or some powerful being—brings us choices. You came. You and Will trusted me. I felt needed again. I was given a second chance. Fate, maybe?”
Crackles. My finger still hovered. My heart pounded in my skull. “Oh, Reid,” I whispered to myself. “Just do it, just do it,” I cajoled myself. My finger danced. I listened with anticipation.
“That night in Missouri…I never took a drop. That was all true. I’ve stayed sober for five years. I’m sorry I freaked you out.” He paused. “But I did lie about one thing. I was following you. I was worried about you and Will. Perhaps it was Lily telling me to keep tabs on you. She would’ve done anything to help you two, especially Will.”
Silence. My finger danced. I clicked, but no words came out of my open mouth. I unclicked.
“I don’t even know if you can hear me. You’re a great woman, AJ. I also know you will do more than survive. You will live. You will…”
Garbled words. Crackles.
His voice grew quieter. I was unsure if it was from distance
or something else.
“…I could never replace your Harrison. I’m a guy on his own questionable path. I allowed impetuous addiction to destroy not just my life, but my family. But I am so, so sorry. Please forgive me.”
I exhaled. My pulse and breathing raced against each other.
“Thank you, AJ. You brought sunshine to my darkness. I must forgive myself. I’ve journeyed through purgatory for far too long. Thank you. Be safe. Be whole. Just be. Try not to worry too much about your boys—Will is going to make it. Both of you will rise up from this.”
I couldn’t wait any longer. I clicked the transmit button. “Reid.”
Static. Crackles. Muffled words.
“Reid?”
Radio silence.
****
I hesitated in my journal. What day was it? I was tired of counting days. Instead, I wrote:
The End: The day I was found
Gratitude comes in many forms. It smacks you. It trickles in. It’s a slow burn.
I wrote a few examples of those “wow, we were lucky” moments from the past nine years as a parent. Good grief, there were many. I prayed a wholehearted thank-you to God for those moments. They were wake-up moments indeed. And this journey to find Finn. I did it. Albeit, with help, but I’d found my son. Luck had finally found me. Unless it was really God or fate.
I also found faith again. Trust was tested, shattered, but reaffirmed.
I flipped to the next page of the journal, which said “World’s Best Mom” across the top in Will’s cute scrawl. Geesh, that boy.
My mantra returned to me: I try, I love, I survive.
I live.
I live.
I was wrong earlier about questioning that.
I paused and reflected.
Despite it all, my heart is full.
Maybe it wasn’t Finn who’d been lost after all.
“More coffee?” Brandon asked.
“Huh?” I tore my concentration from my journal to find my brother hovering near me.
“Coffee,” he said.
I capped my pen. “Thanks.”
Will and Finn darted around me, making blaster sounds as Finn wielded his casted arm like his own personal wand.
“I’m going to finish here, then go. It’s been a few days, and I am eager to get home,” I said, tapping my pen to the journal. “We got cleared this morning from the doctor. No more seizures. Our asthma is in check. She told us to take it easy on the drive home and to follow up with Will’s doctor.”
Brandon handed me a white paper bag. Prescription bottles rattled inside. “Meds for Will, in case, and they refilled your prescription, too. And some inhalers.”
I took the bag. “Thanks.” I shoved it in my handbag. Even though I had gotten through the journey having depleted my supply, I knew it was okay to still need the pills. Help in friend or pill form was okay. And I was going to be all right. Maybe one day I wouldn’t need them.
“I’m happy to see you writing,” Brandon said as he sat on the bed.
“Did you finally get through to Sarah?”
“Yeah. They’re okay. I’m going to catch a ride with another military convoy to California tomorrow.”
“You sure you don’t want us to drive you?”
“AJ, you’ve driven across the country to get to us…I know there’s no stopping a determined Audrey Jane Sinclair. You have a long haul home. I can’t ask that of you. Unless you want to take me up on the offer to come stay with us for a while?” He raised thick brown eyebrows at me in earnest.
I sipped the coffee. “No, it’s okay. I need to go home. I may visit Patsy on the way.”
He nodded. “You should. She’d be happy to see you. I know it’s not the same as having Mom, but she does care for you. You sure you’re ready for the drive?” He pointed to my bandaged ankle.
“Yup. It’s okay to drive on. I’ve let it rest enough. I’m ready for anything life throws at me.”
It was time to begin again. I had a lot more living ahead of me.
The boys’ playing turned into an argument about something life-altering, like whose wand hit the other first. I rose to intervene. Brandon stopped me. “Finish what you’re writing. I’ve got this. You get to deal with battles on your two-thousand-mile drive home.”
“How’s the car?” I asked.
“All set. The mechanic Reid found took care of it. You’re damn lucky that a tow truck was able to get it here, and they put your bikes on it, too, but you had three. Two adult ones?”
I nodded. “Yeah, one was Reid’s.”
“Ah. They’ve started clearing the main highways, but the mechanic suggested going south. You’ll need a Guard escort out of Pueblo, but Route 25 is cleared for traffic heading south because they’ve been relocating people to New Mexico. Oh, here. Forgot I had this,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He placed the compass in my hand.
I stared at it as the needle swept back and forth until it found its bearing. This compass had traveled the world with Harrison and me, and now with us on this journey.
By this point, my thin journal was nearly half full. Admittedly, wary of the drive that lay ahead, I was content in the moment and decided to write another passage. I opened the journal, already bent at the edges from use.
I had my son. I had both my sons.
I had gained the most unlikely of companions in the span of two weeks…a friend along the way. Again, I’d pushed somebody out of my life due to my own battle against inner demons. Maybe that’s why Harrison had worked himself weary—to escape me. Had I pushed him away, too? Why else would Reid have left without a formal goodbye?
Maybe Reid had been more than a friend. I may never know. God, I missed him already.
I didn’t blame him for leaving.
I adjusted myself in the chair to stretch my bandaged ankle. The journal slipped off my lap and tumbled to the floor. It fell open. I leaned over and picked it up. I was about to turn to the page I had left off on, but paused. There was writing toward the end, about ten pages in from the final page. I flipped to the page, anticipating another map or cat drawing from Will. He already completed his map at the beginning of the journal.
I didn’t expect to see the note from Reid. The rush of anticipation filled my cheeks, like a schoolgirl reading a note from a childhood crush, absurd as the comparison might be.
I read it with unsteady hands.
“There is no other day. All days are present now. This moment contains all moments.”—C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce
R.
P.S. Don’t worry, I didn’t read your journal.
I contemplated. How had he…?
That night when he left to find Finn…had he come in here and written in the journal, too, when he helped Will fix the compass?
Reid, I don’t hate you, I said in my mind.
I closed my journal.
I had no more words.
Epilogue
Finding Home Again
After parting ways with Brandon, the boys and I left for home in my fueled, repaired, and restocked SUV. My plan was to travel south first, and then east toward Virginia. I knew why I drove south first, well, other than the regulations by the National Guard.
Perhaps…he was long gone, but I could hope. Austin, Texas, was on the scenic way to Virginia. I didn’t think the kids would mind a short detour.
When I saw the sign for New Mexico, I kept driving. Goodbye, Colorado.
Ever observant, Will said, “Don’t we need to take a road north to Maine, Mom?”
“You’re such an astute navigator, Will. We’re going to see Grandma and Grandpa Sinclair in Virginia. Plus we have to go south first.”
Finn and Will both released happy shouts. “Yippie!”
“Gram always lets me eat an extra cookie,” Finn said, glowing. I watched him in the rearview mirror. God, how I’d missed his enthusiasm.
“Mom, we don’t need to go through Texas to get to Virginia,” Will observed.
“Scen
ic route,” I said. I released a sigh but fastened a smile on my own face. It was time to see Harrison’s parents. Patsy would never be my own mother, and George, well, he reminded me of Harrison. They were my family now and forever. I loved them. The boys loved them. Patsy would embrace us with her usual courteous hospitality. It was time to move on in the next stage of grief together.
If I happened to drive through Austin, Texas…
I also decided I was going to visit Cynthia, the mother of the young man who killed Harrison—Clayton Attwood—there, I said it. I knew too well the grief Cynthia held for a love lost, for a son lost. I had to forgive and move on.
We drove across the Colorado border, the boys laughing in the back seat. Finn poked Will, Will poked Finn, they giggled, and they shared stories. I stuck my hand back, palm upward, in our familiar gesture. Each boy squeezed my hand. God, how I missed doing that.
A welcoming horizon greeted us, the rising sun fighting its way through the gray obscurity that hung in the air. The round orb poked its nose above the hills ahead and brightened the dark world with life. I no longer drew my gaze to the rearview mirror, except for watching the boys goof off together. No more ash—although it still draped over the countryside in a heavy charcoal blanket—but the roads were cleared enough for safe travel. No more frantic searching.
The journey to find Finn had been my compass’s north. I had found my way across the country. The atlas had helped. Reid had helped. My own perseverance had helped. Hope had led me to my Finn, like the beacon of a lighthouse, directing lost sailors in a tossing maelstrom. It had also led me to my absolution. Although my wounds from Harrison’s death would never fully heal, the strips of repair were growing like scar tissue. That scar was a reminder of my loss, but it was healing. I would prevail. I would not let this world break me. Like the world, I would rise from the ashes.
Finn had not been the one lost. It was me. Somewhere along the way, I’d found myself again. A stranger who hardly knew me had restored my faith and brought the flicker of life back to me.
I didn’t know what twists or bumps awaited me on my parenting journey with two special boys. I would be okay. Will and Finn would be okay. We would not fade away. I wouldn’t allow it. Just like our world would not relent in the wake of modern man’s largest natural disaster.
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