Sanctuary

by E. Edgar Price

  *****

  The lake was smooth and glassy in the sunlight. Sarah bent down and created a ripple with a light touch. She watched the rings of movement spread out, larger and wider, in an arc from her position on the shore. It was a beautiful day and it was a terrible day. July fifteenth, the anniversary of Mom’s death.

  Sarah marveled and shuddered at the turns her life had taken. Everyone, including Tyler and Benji, now treated her like a precious ornament. It was driving her mad. She had finally overcome her grief, her fear, and she became someone else entirely. She was a stronger and wiser Sarah than the sad and lonely person who had come to the sanctuary. But that didn’t matter to anyone else. She wasn’t safe.

  She was still tired much of the time. Sarah only hazily recalled the trip back to the manor and her subsequent stay at the hospital in Natalie. After spending a few days there for observation, Sarah was relieved to get home, but she was ordered bed rest for another week. The doctor determined she was suffering from extreme exhaustion as well as dehydration and malnutrition. Grandpa explained it away by saying they had gone hiking and Sarah got lost. A bad fall accounted for the gash on Grandpa’s head as well as the wound on the back of Sarah’s. It was simple and believable and no one asked them about soul-stealing Immortals.

  Aunt Rachel called Todd to tell him about the crisis, but Sarah’s father was distracted and distant. He didn’t mention Benji’s birthday, the Fourth of July holiday, or the upcoming anniversary. Sarah tried to tell him about recent events. She expressed her concern for Benji, who was unaccountably quiet lately, but Todd cut her off. He said they were all fine and Grandpa Lee would take care of them. Sarah stared at the phone like it was an alien thing, but the real alien was on the other end of the line. Todd stopped being her father and had become something else, too, she thought. Without saying anything more, she handed the phone back to Aunt Sarah.

  She knew both Tyler and Benji also spoke to their father but none of them discussed it. Instead, they filled the silences with inane conversation or busied their hands with chess pieces.

  Eventually, Benji told everyone his tale of dark trees and fairies and fire breathing mice. Sarah could tell the adventure still excited him, but his doubts and guilt swirled shadows across his face and darkened his eyes. He apologized roughly to Sarah the day she came home from the hospital.

  His voice was harsh and the words tumbled out like bricks out of a wheel barrow. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking away, “for everything and for making you . . . do whatever.”

  Sarah wasn’t really angry with him. She knew Tyler was, but somehow she was just grateful he was okay. “It’s alright,” she said.

  “It’s not,” Benji corrected sharply, glaring at her.

  “Okay . . . ,” she amended. “Maybe it isn’t, but you’ve got my forgiveness anyway,” she told him gently. He looked somewhere between yelling and crying, but instead gave her a rough hug and slipped out of the room.

  Benji didn’t say much after that. He offered to play chess with her occasionally, but mostly they didn’t talk. There was no bragging or boasting from him and he spent most of his time whispering to Marvin. Slowly, he was coming out of his shell again, but he, too, had changed. He was infinitely more reserved and cautious. Sarah supposed that was a good thing, but she hoped he’d retain a little of his sense of humor and his sense of fun and adventure. Although she freely admitted, it was nice not having to worry about him for the moment. And Tyler, too.

  Sarah’s older brother had now taken on that responsibility of worry. He watched over her, asked after her, and did the same for Benji, though he was still angry with their young brother. Tyler was trying to look out for them and she couldn’t fault him for it, even it did annoy her.

  She sighed and sat on the stone bench at the pavilion. It was amazing how tired a short walk made her. She resented the weakness, but could do little about it. Sarah closed her eyes and leaned her head back, cradling the trio of sunflowers she held gently.

  Yesterday, she tried swimming with little success. The other teenagers were splashing around, vigorously dunking each other, but Sarah only drifted, treading water until she tired. She laid in the sunshine soaking in the warmth and Benji and Tyler came and took the loungers on either side of her. They asked if she was alright and she reassured them both with her eyes still closed. Surprisingly, though, they stayed and talked with her rather than getting back into the pool.

  Jessie and Adam’s laughter provided a pleasant backdrop to the conversation. But topics soon turned mournful. All three of them were aware of the date— what the next day would bring. They softly admitted to each other that they missed their mother, their old life. The sadness was at odds with the sunny day and the peals of laughter echoing from the pool. Together, the siblings decided to do something to remember their mother and to mark the day.

  This was why Sarah was out here today. They made a plan to meet at the pavilion behind the hedge maze. Sarah went early, sneaking out under too many watchful eyes, to be alone and unwatched for a few moments. But she soon felt someone’s gaze on her. She opened her eyes, expecting Benji or Tyler or even San. Instead, a red wolf sat at the edge of the lake, watching her intently.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, startled. Grandpa did not renege on his deal with the hunter, he was free to roam. Sarah hadn’t seen him though, not since the night she healed Benji.

  “Watching you,” he answered bluntly in his rough, sandpaper voice.

  “You do know that’s not exactly comforting?” she challenged.

  “You must be kept safe,” he replied. Since this seemed to be the general consensus in her life right now, she just shook her head at the shaggy figure in front of her.

  “I never thanked you,” said Sarah. “You helped us and if you hadn’t intervened I wouldn’t have been able to heal Benji.”

  “Don’t,” the wolf growled sharply. “There should be no thanks. A selfish beast does not need or deserve your gratitude.”

  “I don’t think it was selfish of you,” she told him.

  His wolfish grin bared sharp teeth and Sarah couldn’t hold back the trickle of fear running down her spine. “But it was,” he corrected. He circled the stone bench watching her closely. “You see,” he continued, “I have hope that, one day, you will heal me.” Before Sarah could respond, Galen was off, running into the trees. She stared after him, speculation swirling in her mind.

  She was still lost in thought when Tyler ambled out of the trees towards the lake. Benji soon followed and the siblings met beneath the sheltering stone pavilion.