The Lost and Found
The Lost and Found
By E.L. Irwin
Blue Tulip Publishing
www.bluetulippublishing.com
Copyright © 2015 E.L. IRWIN
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE LOST AND FOUND
Copyright © 2015 E.L. IRWIN
ISBN-13: 978-1-942246-80-0
ISBN-10: 1-942246-80-3
Cover Art by Jena Brignola
To my dad, for being my true north and not allowing me to stay lost; to my husband, for being my rock and my best friend, and for being the one who inspired Josiah’s hands.
The End
Crimson Sage
THE WATER WAS WARM
, comforting, and familiar. My mind cleared and became focused as I passed through it; my body was well accustomed to the force and the motions. This was my time. Time to be alone, time when I could drown out the world around me. When I reached the end of the pool, I quickly flipped around, shoving off from the concrete with my legs. Finding my rhythm, I continued my routine, doing several more laps, pushing my body, before I paused to catch my breath. I loved the water, lived in the water; I was home here. Nearly every day, I could be found here swimming at the city pool.
When I finished my workout, and as I raised my head to take in the world around me, I became aware of the clapping. Gracie, my best friend, sat in one of the chairs beside the pool looking very out of place in her chic stylish outfit. Her chestnut, chin-length hair was pulled back behind her ear; large gold hoops swung there. Gracie was always dressed like she was on a date. Today she wore dark, cropped skinny-jeans with a bright red blouse and matching ballet flats.
“You know, we graduated like two months ago. You don’t have to keep this up. You’re not on the swim team anymore.”
“I like it,” I breathed, hooking my elbows over the edge of the pool.
“I know.” She smiled, popping her pink bubblegum as she checked her reflection on her phone. “You got plans tonight?”
“Yeah. Babysitting.”
“Fun.”
“Right?”
“I feel like we haven’t done anything in forever, Sage,” she whined a little. “Tell your parents you’re spending the night tomorrow. We should go shopping.”
I heaved my body out of the pool and rubbed the water off in quick movements. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Gracie’s comment about not having done anything in forever was a slight exaggeration. We saw each other nearly every day. She’d spent the night two days ago, but Gracie was somewhat dramatic.
“Maybe we’ll go see a movie instead. And, we need to start planning and packing for the beach house next week.”
Every year, since I was twelve, Gracie and her parents had taken me with them for two weeks to their beach house on the Outer Banks near Nags Head. It was the thing we looked forward to the most every summer. I smiled in anticipation, my eyes flashing at her happily.
“Sawyer was asking Tanner about you.” Gracie smiled knowingly
as she reapplied her lip gloss
.
Tanner was Gracie’s longtime boyfriend, and his cousin Sawyer had come for a summer visit all the way from California. We’d met at a BBQ about three weeks ago. He was into surfing, and our mutual love of water had given us a lot to talk about. He was cute, in a preppy, surfer-jock sort of way. Flirtatious, too. I got the impression he liked me and usually got what he wanted, and I had to admit he was cute enough to justify it. He had sun-bleached blond hair, a dark tan, and striking pale blue eyes. His muscular build didn’t hurt him either.
Sawyer had kissed me two nights after the BBQ. We’d met at a local diner for coffee then he’d walked me out to my little Bug and one thing had led to another. Sawyer was an enthusiastic kisser, and rather talented with his abilities. I was looking forward to another performance.
“Sure,” I said. “What movie?”
“I’ll see what’s playing. It’ll be fun.”
I silently rolled my light brown eyes at that as I dried off. Gracie’s idea of fun was generally loud, whereas I preferred more peace. But I knew I’d give in to her needs. I always did. That’s what best friends were for. And besides I really wanted to see Sawyer again…
Ethan’s head dropped to the side, landing gently on my shoulder, waking me up.
I blinked in the dimly lit cabin of the airplane, trying to remember where I was and what was happening. Awareness suddenly washed over me.
I’d been dreaming. Again. Replaying the events of that fateful day over and over in my head like some horrifying drama that never ends. I fought the tears once more as the sound of the knock on the front door that night echoed in my head. I’d been disoriented, the night everything ended, not sure what was going on when the pounding had woken me up.
I’d been waiting for my parents to come home from their date and I’d fallen asleep on the couch, watching some late night sitcom. Dad had always told me not to answer the door when we were home alone. I knew where he kept his gun, and as I sat there on the couch, I waited to see what would happen next — if I’d need to call the police. I’d been holding the phone in my hand, so when it suddenly rang, I’d nearly dropped it. Hesitantly I answered; the dispatch lady instructed me to open the door for the officers.
My hands shook now as I remembered the kind, pitying looks in their eyes as the uniformed officers told me my parents were dead.
Too painful. Too soon.
I can’t think about this now.
Carefully, so as not to wake Ethan, I gripped my little brother’s wrist and gently turned it in my direction to check the time. The watch he wore showed it was just after three in the morning. I took a slow, deep breath and did a little self-inventory, careful not to look too closely, too deeply.
At thirteen, Ethan was handling things so much better than I was. Life had become too painful so I’d retreated behind the veil of a thick mental fog — one that selectively leached all the color from my world. Everything around me had faded into varying shades of grey. I found that if I allowed myself to drift too close to the surface, the colors increased, but then so did the pain. Ethan was still living and even embraced life, so I managed to somehow exist.
We would be landing in Boise in about an hour then there would be the five-hour drive to the ranch. I couldn’t afford a breakdown so I checked to make sure all my internal defenses were still in place.
It had been a long day. A long few weeks. My body was present while my mind was stuck somewhere in my past. Too much had happened. Too much and too fast. And too painful. I don’t know how I was expected to pick up all these broken pieces and live again. I’d have to try, though, at least. For Ethan. He was all I had left.
And yet more emotions than I could possibly handle rampaged through me. Fear. Pain. Anger. Frustration. I was overwhelmed and drowning in them. It felt like the weight of the world was resting squarely on my shoulders.
And I wasn’t strong enough to lift it.
Right now I was just trying to not be decimated by its weight. I didn’t know how long I could hold out. I only knew that I needed to keep trying — for Ethan.
But, I didn’t know
how
. How could I rebuild my shattered and fractured life? How could I be expected to function when everything about me, and who I am, had shifted and realigned so drastically? How could I live when my life was at an end?
I cringed mentally, trying to shove the pain back behind the fog and glanced at the man sitting to Ethan’s left — relieved to see that he was asleep. The man’s light brown hair was softly peppered with grey and fell across his forehead, reminding me of Ethan’s — his hair had a tendency to do the same thing. You could see the family resemblance between the two. The man didn’t look that old, just a few wrinkles here and there in his tanned skin. His big hands gripped his worn, black Bible — he’d been holding it pretty much since I’d met him — Billy Newell was his name. I would not, could not, refer to him as
Grandpa
yet. I was still processing the fact that he was Mom’s dad. A man — a family relation — I’d never even known existed. At least not until three weeks ago when my world had fallen apart.
And now he had custody of Ethan. Being eighteen, I was technically on my own, but he’d offered me a place on his ranch, too. And I was relieved, I really was.
In addition to processing the deaths of our parents, I’d suddenly found myself faced with the idea of raising Ethan on my own. Both Mom and Dad had been only children. My dad’s parents had died when I was young, and Mom’s, at least I’d assumed, had died before I was born. So, when I’d been informed by Social Services that my next-of-kin had been notified and my maternal grandfather was on his way from Idaho to claim guardianship of my brother, I was both shocked and relieved. Shocked because I’d never even known he’d existed and relieved that I wouldn’t have to shoulder this one burden. So for Ethan, because of Ethan, I was on this plane leaving my home and my friends in Virginia to go live on a ranch in some Podunk town in Idaho.
Too much.
Too soon.
Too Painful.
Billy stirred and looked over at me, catching my eye. “You all right?” he asked in a quiet, gravelly voice.
“Fine,” I said. I shut my eyes and turned away, feigning going back to sleep. Somehow I’d been able to achieve a sense of numbness. If I didn’t bother to look at things too closely, if I kept feelings and emotions locked tightly inside, I found I was able to function to some extent. Not really alive, but somehow still functioning. This was the best I could do, the best I could hope for right now.
I heard Billy’s quiet sigh and felt guilt trickle through me. He had been everything that was kind and patient with us since he’d arrived. Whatever his history with Mom had been, he seemed to hold no animosity toward me, or Ethan. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to ease the guilt, but after a moment or two I opened my eyes to apologize to him. Billy’s eyes were now closed. A reprieve.
Eventually I did fall asleep, but I found no rest in it. Nightmares were a constant companion. I was grateful when Ethan shook me awake. Blinking my eyes slowly, I sat up and looked around. The lights were on in the cabin, the flight attendant was instructing everyone to sit up and put their devices away, to stay seated until the captain had turned the seatbelt light off.
Billy had hired someone to handle my parents’ estate for us. Whatever monies were allotted from insurance payoffs and the sale of the estate would be deposited in special bank accounts for my brother and me. Ethan and I took the things that were dear — the things that held memory and sentiment — and Billy shipped them to his ranch ahead of us. Today we each had only a carry-on and one checked bag.
I wondered dully how we’d be getting to his ranch, if we would be taking a cab. Seemed like a huge expense to me if we were. Maybe he’d left a vehicle in the long-term parking and we wouldn’t have to cram into a cab. Really it didn’t matter one way or another; it was just a random thought to safely occupy my mind.
Even though I’d managed to erect some sort of emotional wall around me, one that let nothing inside, one that protected and shielded me, keeping me nicely numb; and even though I felt like I was pretty much asleep on my feet as we walked through the airport, I was apparently still alert enough to notice the tall, almost menacing-looking man standing like a sentinel beside the baggage carousel. My body’s acknowledgement of him was powerful and unwelcome. A surge of adrenaline coursed through me — unwanted and unpleasant. I needed the numbness.
