Then came for the gut-punch.
Two weeks later.
When I had taken a breath finally, thinking he was just going to let it go, that it was one thing off of my very full plate.
"And don't tell me that camp story," he added when I opened my mouth to tell him exactly that.
My gaze found Reign's, seeing his opinion there before he even opened his mouth to tell me it. "He's not a kid anymore."
I looked back at Fallon, unable to see him as anything other than my little boy.
But, at the same time, I could see my mistakes so clearly in hindsight.
The lies or evasions we had fed to Ferryn over the years, over the last several months especially.
Had she been in on things from the beginning, would the situation had played out differently? Would she never have slipped her guard? Would she have understood why we had been so strict? Would she never have been taken? Would she be here right now with me?
And because I had no answers, because all I had was the harsh reality that may have stemmed from our silence, I took a deep breath, and I told our son what had happened, where his sister had gone.
He was silent for a long few moments after, thinking it through, considering his words.
"She'll be back," he decided, tone full of a confidence I wish I possessed. "You know her. She'll be back. When she feels ready," he added. "And until she's ready, I don't think you're going to find her."
There had been no leads.
Some bus drivers who remembered her, though had mistaken her for a boy, but couldn't remember in which direction she had taken off in after they dropped her.
Janie and Alex and a whole slew of hackers they had hired for the job hadn't found a single trace of her.
They looked in the most likely of places.
New York
Philly.
Chicago.
Nothing.
Not a single breadcrumb.
Not even Gunner, who had been on it day and night, could pick up a trace.
Our girl was a ghost.
Utterly un-find-able.
Just how she wanted to be.
And Fallon was right.
We would only find her when she was ready.
When she wanted to be found.
That was a hard reality to accept.
First, as an adult, a whole team of worldly, experienced adults actually, to be bested, thwarted by a teenager.
Second, as a parent, to be unable to know the most basic of things - if their baby was okay. If they were eating. If they had a roof over their heads at night. If they were safe.
But that was the reality we were forced to live with.
It was a full month before we got a letter with no return address, though the postmark was from Pennsylvania."Mom, Dad, and, well, everyone else -I know you're worried. I know you don't understand. But I had to do this. I promise I am safe. I'm eating - you can even tell Rey that I am eating the veggies she always tried to push on me. I have a place to stay. I don't know how long I will be here. But I am welcome for however long I need to be. And when I am ready, I promise I will come home.
And until then, I'll write.
Mom, I know you need more than that. So, I will write once every week.
Dad, stop beating yourself up. This isn't your fault. This is just something I had to do for myself.
Fallon, watching other kids play Minecraft is a waste of time. Go take some lessons with Uncle Pagan.
Give Finn my room. He's too old to share with Fallon now.
And please tell Aunt Lo and Uncle Cash to take care of Chris. She needs them. She was so broken. But if there is anyone I know with a steady hand with glue, it's Aunt Lo.
Tell Aunt Janie, and Uncle Malc, and, well, anyone who ever trained me for even one afternoon that it helped. It all helped. When I wanted to give up, give in, just surrender to it all, it was their voices in my head telling me to get up, to fight. And thank you, Mom. Because I know you were the one who made sure I got that training.
Oh, and my library books are overdue. Can you give them back before Aunt Reese has a heart attack?
I love you, more than you know. And I'm sorry I am making you worry. But I promise I am fine.
XOXO Ferryn."
Fallon started lessons the next day.
Finn moved into Ferryn's room a few months later, when we knew for sure that there was no reason to leave it as a shrine.
And me, well, I waited for that letter.
Every single week.
Of every single month.
Of every single year.
It always came.
Until one week... it didn't.TENFerrynYou could count the time that passed in many different ways.
By the birthdays of my brothers I missed, and felt an almost crippling stab of guilt over.