She was so malnourished, I thought she was younger than her actual age, which was twelve. I remember carrying her inside and fighting with Rosa. I remember Rosa boxing my ears and telling me the first time that kid cried, she’d throw us both in the alley with the rats. I remember the terror I felt that night and Molly falling asleep so quietly with her head on my chest.
She needed me. She loved me, and I loved her fiercely in return.
I remember her running around the theater, a sweet and innocent kid never suspecting the hawk was circling above, watching her, closing in to steal her soul and warp her future. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to her. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there to protect her.
A flash of pain moves through my stomach, and I remember someone saying the same words to me not so long ago…
Walking to the edge of the water, I look out at the surf, at the waves rushing in and out. I think about how nothing bad can happen here. The sins of the past are far, far away from this beautiful place.
Only it’s a lie.
The sins of the past are never far away.
We carry them with us in our hearts wherever we go.
No matter how far we run, we can never outrun ourselves.
Tears are in my eyes, and I blink them away. My emotions are so close to the surface these days. I squat and wrap my arms around my knees, holding my insides together and wishing…
My wishes never come true.
“Lara!” A strong male voice cuts through the breeze.
For a moment I don’t believe it. It’s a wish caught on the wind and carried away out to sea.
“Lara!” It’s louder this time, closer.
Nervous anticipation floods my chest. I stand and look up and over my shoulder. The staircase where Molly descended is empty. The one ahead of it is empty as well.
Was it a dream?
Another shout, and I realize it’s coming from behind me. Turning, I see a tall figure jogging down the steps. He’s alone, and he’s moving fast. I look around, and no one is here. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
My heart alternates between beating out of my chest and dying. I’m back on that train, seeing him for the first time out of the blue, completely caught off-guard, alternately panicking and rejoicing… He’s alive!
He’s wearing faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His caramel hair is a little longer, but not much. It moves in the breeze as he approaches me.
He’s strong and pure and gorgeous as ever, and the way we touched, our glorious reunion is stronger and hotter in my memory than the sun climbing higher in the sky.
I want to cry. I want to sing. I want to hold him…
But now everything has changed.
He only pauses a moment at the bottom before dipping his head and starting forward, heading to me at a steady clip. I’m standing in the surf defenseless against reality racing closer by the second.
Catching the sides of my blouse, I pull the thin cotton around my body. I wrap my arms over my stomach just in case. The wide straw hat is on my head, and it flaps and bows in the sea breeze.
I’m barefoot, so at six foot two, he towers over my tiny frame. I wait, watching the play of the wind on the fabric of his clothes, knowing I have nothing to say, no excuses to give. My heart beats painfully hard at the thought of everything he has the right to say. I’m utterly defenseless.
Still, he’s so blindingly sexy. He’s standing here, looking down on me, clenching and unclenching his fists. His full lips press together then relax as if he doesn’t know where to begin. I can’t take the pressure, so I say the first thing I think.
“You shaved your beard.”
He reaches up and passes a hand over his cheek and chin. “It’s coming back.”
“Five o’clock shadow.” I nod, swallowing my nerves. “It looks good on you.”
So much emotion swirls in his blue eyes, so much pain.