The Lost and Found (4 page)

I felt the blush touch my cheeks from all the attention,
his
attention. Sally came over, wrapped her thick arm around my shoulder, and gently squeezed. “You hungry, dear?”

“Coffee. Please,” I whispered.

I kept my eyes on the floor as I stepped out of her embrace and walked around the table to the coffee pot. I had to pass
Ginger
to get there. Doing my best to ignore the tremor that rolled through me, the eyes that were still on me, feigning indifference, I lifted the pot and then stopped.

I needed a cup and didn’t know where to look for one.

Dangit.

For a moment I considered just setting the pot back down and quickly leaving the room. Before I could put that plan into motion a mug appeared in front of me. I recognized the tats on
his
muscular forearm. “Thank you,” I managed quietly.

“Mmm hmm,” he replied just as softly then turned away from me and spoke louder. “You guys need to get moving. Your bus will be here in ten minutes.”

For just an instant longer there was silence in the room, and then sound erupted as chairs were pushed back, shoes stomped, dishes clattered, the back door slammed. I held still until the room was quiet again, then slowly, carefully poured the coffee and turned around. Only Billy, Sally, and Ethan remained.

“Ethan will start school next week. Figured there’s no sense in him starting now. I’ll give him some time to adjust,” Billy explained.

“Okay.”

“Sit down. You didn’t eat at all yesterday — can’t have you wasting away.” Sally slid a plate of eggs and bacon in front of an empty chair.

Ethan was seated across from me. I ate in silence, keeping my eyes down.

“I know things are going to take some getting used to… just know I’m always here to talk… if you need to,” Billy told me kindly. It
was
kind, what he said; I just wasn’t ready to talk about things yet.

I stood up then carried my plate to the sink. “I’m still tired,” I whispered. “I’ll see you later.”

I escaped back to my room and closed the door firmly behind me. I didn’t know how to connect to Billy. He may have been my mom’s dad, but he was a stranger to me. And he may know a lot about
me
, but I didn’t know
anything
about him. I wasn’t comfortable; I wasn’t
ready
. And to be honest I had no idea
when
I’d be ready.

I chose a book from several I’d packed and sat in the padded rocking chair by the window. Pulling the curtains back, I looked out and saw a glimmer in the distance, behind the barn, and figured it was a pond or lake of some kind. I heard a door slam and then saw Ethan run across the yard, two dogs running with him. He headed for a large pine tree and I watched as he swung on a tire swing that hung there. One of the dogs brought him a ball and he spent some time throwing it for them.

The sun made slow progress across the floor in my room. I lay on my back, staring up at the wooden beams above me, the book forgotten in my lap. I’d tried reading to keep my mind off everything, but the story had been unable to claim my full attention. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. Forces beyond my control were moving me forward against my will; in vain I kept trying to at least slow my progress down, but the edge continued to move closer and closer.

Frustration caused me to jump up and pace my room. Again. Pacing had become a habit these past few days. I’d nearly worn a path in the floor as I walked from the windows overlooking the front of the house, to the ones facing west where I could see the barn, to the ones looking toward the back of the ranch, where I could see the pond.

Occasionally in my pacing I’d catch a glimpse of
Ginger
as he moved around the ranch, working with a horse, talking to Ethan, moving hay. Once or twice he’d glance toward my window.

That was how I spent the first four days here at Lost and Found. I’d sneak out for something to eat or drink, but otherwise I’d avoided leaving my room, avoided contact with those living here — avoided
him
. I hated my self-imposed cage, but it was necessary. I didn’t want to deal with Billy right now; he just wanted to talk about the past. Ethan just wanted to talk about Billy.

I did finally catch
Ginger’s
name — Josiah, not Bentley like I’d assumed. I’d heard some of the boys talking to him one morning as I eavesdropped from the safety of my window above them. It was Kelly who identified him, called his name. I thought Josiah suited him so much better than
Ginger
had.
Josiah
was tougher. Stronger.

I avoided him the most. He bothered me. Always looking at me, watching me. His constant attention got under my skin, sparking things I’d prefer were left dormant. I’d yet to see any sign of Bentley and wondered what his story was and when he’d make an appearance.

When Ethan and I had been packing our things back home in Virginia, I’d come across an unopened bottle of Vodka and a bottle of red wine in the back of the pantry. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, I’d secretly packed them carefully with my things that were being shipped to Idaho. My second night here, I’d opened one — the Vodka. My tongue had swirled the clear liquid in my mouth, feeling its smooth texture, savoring it. I didn’t have a cup, so I drank straight from the bottle, tipping it back about three times before I began to feel its effects. It was my first taste of hard liquor; though it had a gentle bite, I found it gave me a blessedly numb feeling that allowed me to sleep.

For the last couple of days I’d been considering sneaking out at night to see how deep that pond was — I missed the water, missed swimming. It was one thing to briefly sneak out of my room for food or drink, knowing I could quickly retreat back to my private haven. Attempting to reach the pond without being seen, and subsequently be engaged in some sort of unwanted conversation however, just seemed far too risky to me. I needed to do something. Continuing to drink away my fears and pain was not healthy, but I didn’t feel like I had any other options. I took special care though to make sure I didn’t smell of alcohol when I left my room, but I was always on edge, worried that someone might pick up on it.

Once or twice I’d done crunches and pushups, trying to work myself into an exhausted state like I used to get from swimming, but it wasn’t the same thing, not at all. This morning I hoped that after the boys left for school Josiah might take himself off somewhere else and I’d be able to make my escape, at least for an hour or so. If I didn’t get out and
do
something, work off some of this nervous energy, I’d drink the entire bottle dry and maybe open the other one as well So far I’d kept my consumption to just a couple sips per night, but the temptation for more was growing.

As I stood at the window and watched the boys finish up chores before leaving for school, I heard steps outside my bedroom door. Tensing, I waited for whomever it was to knock, or call out to me, prepared to rebuff them, yet again.

The person didn’t knock. No, he just opened the door and walked right in.

My head whipped around in anger. How
dare
he just come right in! Furious words died on my lips as my mind began to fully process the sight before me. Josiah had a commanding presence that I recognized and resented. I also noted he was tall, taller than Billy, taller than I’d remembered. And quite muscular. His skin was tanned, darker than I’d ever seen on a ginger. Above his vivid blue eyes sat thick brows — the right one was pierced with a small, dark metal hoop.

Those deep blue eyes were trained right on me; they pinned me to the spot and my breath hitched a little in my throat. “Crimson,” he said, his voice even, smooth, like water. “It’s time you left your room. Are you walking or will I be carrying you?”

As soft and soothing as his voice was, there was a firmness there as well.

“My name is Sage and
you
can get out. Now.”

“Carrying you is fine by me, Crimson.” The firmness had hardened.

“It’s
Sage
, and don’t you lay a hand on me.” I crossed my arms in front of me, trying to look fierce and intimidating.

Josiah must not have noticed because he stepped right up to me without hesitation; his strong hands gripped me, lifted, and tossed me over his shoulder. Before I was completely aware of what was happening, I was being carried down the stairs and out the backdoor, past the curious stares and open mouths of the ranch boys, my brother, and Billy.

Once the shock of his actions wore off, I began to battle him in earnest. My attempts were useless. Literally
useless
. He was immoveable. Unyielding. Inflexible. My will matched his, but he possessed a strength that far exceeded my own. Suddenly I was flying through the air then cold water rushed over me, shocked me into absolute awareness. I spluttered in rage as I broke the surface of the pond — it was deeper than I’d expected.

Josiah stood on the shore, quietly watching me, his head cocked to the side, his fisted hands resting on his hips. “Billy said you were a swimmer. I guess he was right,” he stated softly.

Words were beyond me; I was furious, beyond furious, so I just screamed at him. The sound ripped out of my throat like a wild, wounded animal. I screamed until my fury turned to tears and my tears choked me, and turned into sobs that wracked my body. Exhausted, I moved through the water, sobs still shaking me, and crawled through the mud dragging myself along. By the time I reached dry ground, I was trembling in sheer fatigue. I was drained, raw, and parched. Like every single part of me had been spilled out and I was an empty husk. My arms shook and then simply gave out; I dropped face down onto the ground.

Josiah sat down beside me, waiting quietly, allowing me to get my breath back. His posture was entirely relaxed, like he had no cares in the world. He sat there silently for a few minutes, just resting his arms across his bent knees, his gaze focused somewhere in the distance.

“Well,” he said softly. “Now you know you’re alive. You can learn to get back on your feet, learn to live again, or just crawl back into the water and end it all. Choice is yours.”

I hated him for saying that.
How dare he?
I hated that I had to make a choice. I hated that my parents were gone and no one had given me the choice to keep them.

Josiah got to his feet; I felt his big, warm hand brush my head lightly then he walked away without a backward glance. I rolled my head to the side, away from him; I could see the sun reflecting off the water. A part of me wanted to crawl back to it, let life be over, let the pain be over. A part of me wanted to live; I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to put my jagged pieces back together again — I was worse than Humpty Dumpty.

Vaguely I heard raised and heated voices. Ethan was trying to come to me, but Josiah was keeping him away. “She needs to do this on her own, now. Let her be, Ethan. You can’t live for her,” he told my brother.

The voices faded away. I closed my eyes and just felt the sun, discovered its warmth and let myself rest in it. I’m not sure how long I lay there. An hour? Two? Longer? Images flashed through my mind. My parents, our house, Gracie, Ethan, Billy, and Josiah. They replayed over and over again. I tried shoving them back down, but they refused to remain hidden. Suddenly a spark of heat shot through me — I wanted to live, to prove to Josiah I could.

So I did.

I got up. I walked to the house, ignored the look from my brother, went to my room, grabbed a clean change of clothes, and jumped in the shower. As I stood under the hot water, I felt more than the mud and pond scum wash away. I was alive now. Living. My protective barriers were fractured, gone. My fog had cleared. And I realized there was no more hiding. No more pretending. It took me a little while to assemble my thoughts, and harness my will, but eventually I got there. Afterwards I found Josiah out behind the barn, unloading hay. I watched him for a moment, figured out the rhythm in his activity, his purpose, then without a word climbed onto the trailer and began unloading hay alongside him. He never said anything to me. Just continued to work and sweat.

Josiah

JOSIAH BEGAN TO WORRY
about Crimson, wondering how far down the hole of pain and depression she’d fallen when he hadn’t seen her outside her room for several days. Every so often as he worked around the ranch, he’d glance up at her window, hoping for at least a glimpse of her. He’d seen her a couple times, standing up there, looking down at life taking place all around her. She seemed more ghost-like than human; she was so still and pale.