Chapter 4 - The Drawing on the Fridge
Sarah’s hand dropped from the door frame, the security chain falling against the wood with a dull clatter. She looked down at Lily, then back up at Adrian, the fight completely drained from her posture, leaving only the crushing weight of reality.
“What do you mean, that’s him?” Sarah asked softly, looking at her daughter.
“That’s the man from my dream,” Lily said matter-of-factly, stepping past her mother’s legs and walking right up to the open door, stopping just inches from Adrian’s boots. She looked up, squinting against the porch light. “The one with the eyes like a storm. Only... you forgot to draw his face on the paper, remember? I tried, but I didn't know what his mouth looked like.”
Adrian felt a hot, thick lump form in his throat. He dropped slowly to one knee, ignoring the sharp pull of his stitches, sinking down onto the cold porch wood until he was eye-level with his daughter.
Close up, he could see the tiny freckles sprinkled across her nose—freckles he had only ever seen in high-resolution surveillance photographs taken by Vincent’s men. Her hair was dark, curling slightly at the ends just like his sister’s used to.
“I’m sorry I didn't have a face for a while, Lily,” Adrian said, his voice rough and uneven. He reached out with a trembling hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently brushing a strand of dark hair away from her forehead. “I had to go away to take care of some very bad people so they couldn't find you. But I’m here now. I’m not hiding anymore.”
Lily reached out with her free hand—the one not holding Mr. Buttons—and touched the side of his face. Her small fingers were warm against his cold skin, tracing his jawline, his cheek, the slight stubble along his chin.
“You do have a face,” she whispered, as if imparting a great scientific discovery. “It looks just like mine.”
Sarah let out a choked sob from the doorway. She dropped her hands to her face, her shoulders shaking as the years of isolation, fear, and silent grief finally broke through.
Adrian stood up slowly, stepping across the threshold into the warm, brightly lit hallway of the cottage, and pulled Sarah into his arms. She resisted for a half-second before collapsing against his chest, her fists clutching the wool of his coat, crying with a quiet, devastating intensity that tore right through whatever armor Adrian had left.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair, holding her tight against him, feeling the steady, fragile beat of her heart against his. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”
“You idiot,” she wept against his shoulder. “You absolute, stubborn idiot. You could have died three days ago and we wouldn't even have known.”
“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I know. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
From the kitchen, Lily watched them for a long moment, clutching Mr. Buttons tightly to her chest. Then, she turned and trotted back toward the refrigerator, pulled open the magnetic door, and stared at the crayon drawing taped near the handle—the faceless figure with the yellow halo.
May you like
She grabbed a black marker from the kitchen counter, stood on her tiptoes, and carefully drew a pair of sharp, stormy eyes, a nose, and a small, determined mouth onto the blank oval.
Then she stepped back, tilted her head, and smiled.
