That was the last time Owen spoke Ellie’s name aloud to anyone, but he refused to forget her. The memory of her cautious smile and sweet blue eyes were with him always. She was with him when the kids at school made fun of him. She kept him company when he was sent to bed with a heavy heart and an empty stomach. She was there when he bore the pain of every fist, belt, or shoe that made contact with his body.
The memory of his Ellie was the one thing no one could take from him. The one thing that kept him strong.
1998 - 2005
The following year, Edward’s business took the family to Seattle, Washington, and the transition was difficult for Owen. Though he had no friends his own age to speak of, he was anxious at the thought of leaving the Langfords behind in Chicago. He’d already come to realize that their presence was one of the few reasons his mother went a little easier on him at times. Mary was a doctor and had been trained to spot signs of abuse, so Vera had been careful not to leave marks prior to their visits. Owen also noticed that his mother was more cautious about the words she chose when the Langfords were around. She wasn’t as spiteful and manipulative, though of course at age six, he didn’t truly understand her tactics.
With Edward busy at work and without the Langfords to act as a buffer, Vera’s cruelty toward her son reached new heights. No matter how hard Owen tried not to provoke her, she seemed to find endless reasons to get angry with him. His grades were perfect, his room was spotless, and he was always polite, so when Vera couldn’t find fault in his behavior, she punished him for accidents.
He’d once unintentionally dropped his backpack while walking in front of her, causing her to trip over it and break the heel of her shoe, and she’d yanked him up the stairs by his hair, leaving him with a headache that had lingered for days. He would get beatings for spilling things, for forgetting to say thank you, for waking her up when his nightmares made him cry out… The steady rise in Owen’s anxiety levels caused new problems as well. He developed a slight stammer when he spoke to her, and he wet the bed a few times. She’d punished him harshly the first time it had happened, and when he had tried to hide it by changing his own sheets, the consequences had been even worse.
Owen was relieved when, less than a year after the move to Seattle, Mary completed her residency and accepted a fellowship at one of the city’s larger hospitals. The Langfords moved into a house in Kirkland, just a few neighborhoods away from the Monroes, and it was impossible for Vera to keep Owen from them without raising suspicion and thus risking damage to her reputation.
Eric was now eight, and although he was still a boisterous child, his behavior had improved greatly. The two boys got along as well as could be expected considering their two-year age difference and the fact that Owen did everything he could to avoid drawing attention to himself. Mary had hoped that they might grow closer than they’d been in Chicago, but Owen was careful to keep his distance.
It was around the time of their move to Seattle that the Langfords adopted their second child, an infant daughter they called Julia. Although Owen liked her instantly and felt a strong desire to protect her from Vera, he also envied her. He wished more than anything that he could have been adopted by the Langfords as well.
“Owen, do you want to hold the baby?” Mary asked one afternoon when he and his mother were visiting. Owen’s eyes darted nervously to his mother, gauging her reaction. Her expression was one of false sweetness, and she nodded stiffly.
“Yes, please, ma’am,” he replied in a voice that was quiet but still clear. Vera had trained him to speak correctly and with confidence, but never with too much volume.
Mary was accustomed to his uncommonly perfect manners, and she smiled kindly as she showed him how to cradle the tiny infant in his arms. Owen watched Julia’s face intently, hoping that he wouldn’t be punished if she started to cry. He unconsciously turned his body to shield the baby from his mother, careful to keep supporting her head. The women talked about the baby and her routines while Owen stared into her dark eyes.
Only once in his life had he ever seen anything so sweet and pure. That little girl had been just as vulnerable as the one he now held in his arms. He longed to test the softness of her bronze skin with the tip of his finger, but he was afraid to move either of his hands too much. He settled for lifting her toward his face ever so slightly so that he could breathe in her unique scent. She smelled like heaven. Like soap and baby powder and something else that he couldn’t name. Owen wanted to kiss the top of her head, but he didn’t know if that was allowed.
“She smells good, doesn’t she, Owen?” Mary asked, having noticed his actions. He nodded silently and gave the pink bundle a tiny smile. Mary’s heart skipped a beat as she realized that it was the first time she’d ever seen the boy smile, even just a little. In the two years since she’d met him, Owen had begun to catch up to other children his age in terms of size, and his sandy blond hair was growing steadily darker. But his somber expression had remained unchanged. “You’ll have to come back and visit her again. She likes you.”
Owen looked at her in confusion, uncertain as to why anyone would like him, but he didn’t respond. He could feel Vera’s sharp eyes on him, and he was afraid to do anything that might earn him a punishment later. After a few more minutes, Mary returned the baby to her cradle and offered Owen a snack. Again, he looked to his mother for permission, and he was unsurprised when she vetoed the idea.
“Actually, Mary, we need to be going. I’ll stop by this weekend sometime and drop off those permits for the charity auction.”
That evening, he was sent to bed with an empty stomach as punishment for a mess he’d supposedly left in the kitchen. Owen had done no such thing, but he didn’t bother to defend himself, knowing that he would end up with far worse than hunger pains if he did so.
As the years passed and the Monroes and Langfords socialized more frequently, Owen watched the Langford family with a keen eye. There was a blatantly obvious difference in the way Mary treated her children and the way his mother treated him. He never witnessed Mary raise her voice or her hand to her children, and she never said cruel or hateful things to them. Eric and Julia didn’t have bruises from a paddle or welts from a leather strap. They seemed truly happy, and they made friends with other children quite easily. Even when they were in trouble, they were only ever sent to timeout or perhaps grounded from the television.
It was all too easy to compare his life to that of the Langford children, and the discrepancies were numerous. But Owen didn’t spend time feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t hate Eric or Julia, and he didn’t resent the Langfords for being better parents than Monroes. He wasn’t bitter or angry about any of it.
He hated himself too much for that.
His most fundamental understanding of himself was that he was unworthy of a family like the Langfords. His first mother had spent most of his life pretending - and no doubt wishing - that he didn’t exist. His second mother despised and abused him. The only father he’d ever known rarely glanced in his direction. Although Owen had no idea what he’d ever done that had been so terrible, he assumed that the grownups knew something about him that he didn’t.
The pattern of his life clearly implied that he deserved what he got, and when the pattern did eventually change, it was not a change for the better.
Chapter 4
November 1996
The afternoon sun did little to warm the patrons of Seattle’s Fall Festival as they squealed over carnival rides and indulged in fair food. Nathaniel Gardner stood amongst a long row of parents, resting his arms on the metal barrier that separated them from the petite, spinning carousel. His eyes were fixed on the dark head of the small girl whose purple horse lifted her up and down in slow, gentle movements. Unlike the other children on the ride, who were smiling and waving to their parents, her expression was almost blank. She gripped the brass pole so tightly that her little fingers were pale with the effort, and although she was making sure to keep Nate within her sight
s at all times, she didn’t return his encouraging smiles or waves.
Nate sighed, wondering now if bringing his daughter back to the festival had been a good idea after all. Ellie had enjoyed it the year before, when it had been the three of them strolling through the exhibits and laughing together, but the child on the carousel now bore almost no resemblance to the happy three-year-old she’d once been.
Never, not even during his years in the Air Force, had Nate felt so anxious and exhausted as he had in the month that had passed since Celia’s death. His mind replayed his discussion with Ellie’s therapist following their last session, clinging to the meager hope that the man had been correct about the resiliency of children. Ellie had broken her silence and begun to speak again after they’d returned home from Chicago, but she was still very reserved. She rarely let Nate out of her sight, hated to be in the car after dark, and suffered from night terrors that gave him chills. He worried for her with every breath he took and prayed nightly for just one glimpse of her sweet smile, anything to prove that her light had not truly been extinguished.
It broke his heart that life could be so cruel to one so young. He was all she had now, and vice versa. Even with three parents, Ellie had not been blessed when it came to extended family. Nate’s own parents had died within months of one another several years ago. Tom’s parents had disowned him for marrying Celia, whom they had considered to be unworthy of him.
Celia’s father had abandoned her and her mother when she was young, and her mother suffered from a mental illness that had eventually left her in need of full-time care. Nate had always gotten the impression that Celia’s easy acceptance of his proposal had had a lot to do with having grown up in a situation like that. She’d spent her childhood wishing for a father and hadn’t wanted her own daughter to suffer in the same way. Of course, Celia’s opinion on that subject had apparently changed at some point since she’d left Nate a mere two years after their wedding. He’d made his peace with the fact that he’d never have the opportunity to ask her about it, and he’d apologized in his prayers for whatever part he’d played in the failure of their marriage.
Ellie had no uncles or aunts, and now she wouldn’t have any siblings either. Nate wouldn’t be able to give her any, which meant that he was, for all intents and purposes, the only family she had left. They may not have been related by blood, but they were certainly related by love. He was determined to be there for her in whatever way she needed, and what she needed was a father. A parent. A guardian in every sense of the word. He’d never felt more protective of another human being, and the feeling was even stronger now than in the moment he’d first held her in his arms and realized that he wanted to be her daddy.
Like all daddies, Nate wanted to give his Ellie the world, and he was more determined now than ever to do so. Their lives had changed so much in the past month. He’d taken a leave of absence from his job as a commercial pilot, and he would soon be accepting a position at Boeing that would allow him to keep a normal work schedule. Nate knew that the salary at his new job would not be enough to sustain them in the long term, so he’d decided to go back to school for his master’s degree in business administration. He would take classes at night, apply for student loans… He would do whatever it took.
The bigger problem will be getting her to trust a babysitter, Nate sighed inwardly as he moved into the carousel enclosure and plucked her from atop the immobilized purple horse. Her little arms went immediately to his neck and wrapped themselves tightly around it, but she remained silent. He found an empty bench and eased them downward, setting her small bag next to them.
Nate drew her back slightly to look into her eyes, hoping to coax a hint of a smile from her, but all he could see was vulnerability in her wide, blue eyes. They showed the evidence of another night spent crying in her sleep. Typically, once she’d woken from the nightmare, she called for him, but in her sleep, she repeatedly cried for her mother and for ‘Owen,’ the tiny, underfed boy from the foster home.
Their bond was apparently deeper than Mrs. Coleman had known, and Nate wondered if somewhere in the world, that little boy was calling Ellie’s name into the darkness too. Nate hadn’t forgotten that the boy was set to be adopted, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had happened yet. He’d toyed more than once with the idea of calling Mrs. Coleman to check on the little boy and maybe even asking if the kids could talk on the phone, but Ellie’s therapist had advised against it. It was best, he’d explained, that Ellie gradually move on from that time and place. Reopening a connection with the boy might stall her progress.
“How about we go find something to eat, Ellie? What sounds good? I think I saw hot dogs… barbeque pork… I’ll bet someone around here is selling some chicken nuggets.” Nate worked to sound enthusiastic, but Ellie’s features remained impassive. “What are you hungry for?”
“Gummies,” she replied quietly.
He pursed his lips ruefully. Getting her to eat had been an ongoing struggle, and even when she did request food, the tiny fruit-flavored gummies were the only snack she wanted. Nate wasn’t sure why; he and Celia had never made a habit of buying them before. The therapist had suggested using them as an incentive, which had been working relatively well.
“We can have gummies after we eat some regular food. Let’s say… five bites of chicken and at least two French fries.” He knew that she needed more in her stomach than that, but he tried to set realistic goals.
Ellie acquiesced with a nod, as she usually did, and they set off in search of the agreed-upon meal. Nate had noticed that she was much more compliant with things like that than she had been before the accident. Her therapist claimed that it was a good thing, because some children could internalize grief to the point that they developed behavior problems and became extremely defiant. Ellie didn’t seem to show any anger over her mother’s death. Sadness, yes, but not anger. This, the shrink proclaimed, was a good sign. A sign that she would be able to heal and move on from the incident, likely with very little memory of it at all.
Nate paid for the food at one of the larger stands and carried everything, including Ellie, to a vacant picnic table. He watched her pick at her food until she had eaten the requisite number of bites, then pulled a small packet of gummy fruit snacks from the bag. Ellie’s eyes brightened just a fraction when she took hold of them, and she stared intently at each gummy before eating it, never uttering a word.
The sun began to sink lower in the sky, and Nate sighed reluctantly as he realized that they would need to head home if they were going to get there before sunset. Since the accident had occurred at night, being in the car after dark seemed to trigger her.
“Ready to go home, sweetheart?” he asked as he disposed of their trash and pulled the hood of her jacket over her ears.
Ellie nodded and lifted her arms in the universal ‘carry me’ gesture. She locked her arms around his neck again, burying her face against him, and he patted her back soothingly as he carried her to their car. Nate hummed quietly to her the way he’d done since the first time he’d met her. The song that had once been her favorite now made her cry, which he didn’t understand, but as long as he avoided it, the low, deep tones of his voice still seemed to calm her.
Her weight in his arms was almost nothing, particularly compared to the proverbial weight on his shoulders, and Nate felt another swell of determination as he hugged her tightly against him.
He would do right by her. He would give her the life she deserved.
May 1998
Nathaniel Gardner snuck a glance at his six-year-old daughter as he pulled out of the elementary school parking lot. Holidays were never easy, and although it wasn’t the first Mother’s Day that had passed without Celia, it had been the worst one thus far. His little girl stared out of her window, either deep in thought or in the process of detaching herself emotionally, as she still occasionally did.
From what Nate could tell, Ellie appeared to be a relatively happy child. There were still ti
mes when he noticed that she withdrew from him, but her therapist had advised him that so long as it didn’t go on for too long, it was perfectly normal. He’d explained it as a sign Ellie was learning to deal with her grief on her own. It was difficult for Nate, in times like those, to be patient and wait for her to come around, but she always did. He was incredibly proud of how well she’d adjusted to a life without Celia, and he made an effort to tell her so as often as possible.
The murmured discussions that had taken place after each of her therapy sessions had been of little interest to Ellie. She’d gone through the motions of therapy, and while talking about things had helped, it had also had the unintended effect of cementing the details of the crash and of her mother’s final moments into her long-term memory. The memories hadn’t faded as she’d grown older, and with new maturity had come new perspectives. Highly intelligent and logical even at four years old, Ellie had made the connection immediately between her behavior and her mother’s death. As time passed, her shame had evolved into full-on survivor’s guilt, and she’d begun to question why her life had been spared and not her mother’s.
Although she had tried to forget the memory of the accident, the human mind was peculiar; the things one recalls with the most clarity are often the things one wishes to forget. Ellie remembered crying for Nate in the car and pushing away the cup Celia had been attempting to soothe her with. When the cup had fallen to the floor, her mother had been too distracted to avoid having a car accident. It was perfectly rational for Ellie to believe that if she hadn’t been crying that night, they wouldn’t have crashed, and her mother might still be alive.
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