Page 18 of Day Break

“I still think hiring someone to come in once a week…” I dropped off when he raised his eyebrows at me. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m worried.”

“You’re the only one in the family who is.” He tapped my hand. “Which is why you’re my favorite.”

“You can’t stand me any more than you can stand the rest,” I joked.

His eyes turned soft for a split second before he turned around. “Now, pay for our meal. It’s time I got back and had a nap.” He stood up.

It bothered me that he wobbled when he stood. I promised myself that I wouldn’t go another week without coming up here to check up on him. It was a long drive and ferry ride, but it could be counted as work time because he was technically a client.

In the last few years that I’d worked at Seattle Law Group, I’d thought about leaving. How had I allowed myself to stick around so long?

One year had turned into two, which had turned into more. It wasn’t where my heart was, but it certainly paid the bills, allowing me to live in my thousand-plus-square-foot townhouse. Not to mention it afforded me my new ride.

After watching my grandfather’s truck pull away, I headed back to the ferry dock. Without thinking, I took the front road instead of the back one I normally took.

When I slowed down at the pond, I knew the reason I’d come this way. Knew in my heart that it was past time I stopped to pay my respects.

The pond sat between the main part of town and the gas station. Most people didn’t even really know it was there.

I did and I normally did everything I could to avoid driving by it.

All these years I’d felt guilt and anger, but I now understood that my anger should never be directed at the person who had paid the ultimate price. My sister.

It wasn’t her fault I’d suffered all those years ago at my family’s hands. I had always vowed that one day I would find out what had happened on that late summer evening. The day that had caused my entire life to change. The reason I’d been charged with murder at the tender age of sixteen.

CHAPTER FOUR

“For each thorn, there’s a rosebud... For each twilight - a dawn... For each trial - the strength to carry on, For each storm cloud - a rainbow... For each shadow - the sun... For each parting - sweet memories when sorrow is done.”

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chloe

Somehow, I survived. Days went by and eventually turned into a full week. Thankfully, I’d found a large blackberry bush not far from my new home. The berries were still red and very tart, but they nourished me, along with my daily apples from Byron, who was my only friend, my steady rock.

I didn’t like to think what would happen to me if he stopped coming. If he didn’t show up every day. I didn’t walk to the store. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Besides, I was out of money.

I thought of calling my parole officer back and asking for help. Thought of walking to the local government office and filling out the paperwork I’d heard about on the inside that would give me food, money, a voucher for a place to live for a few days.

I thought a lot about returning to the city. Trying to find a way to get off this island. I knew there was a bridge that connected the island to the mainland, but I didn’t have a map or a phone, so I had no idea where it was or how far away it was.

I grew much weaker. At this point, I doubted I could even make the long walk to the little store again.

Thankfully, it had rained a few times, and I’d been able to collect some rainwater. If I rationed it, it lasted me a few days.

I began to lose track of the days. I believed I was on my second week when Byron suddenly showed up in the middle of the day.

He’d been there earlier that morning, and we had shared our apple like always. Now, however, I could tell there was something wrong.

He rushed over to me while I was reading Don Juan once again and started to pull on my sleeve.

“What’s up?” I asked him, knowing he couldn’t answer. Still, I liked to talk to him. My voice was the only voice that I heard every day.

I was shocked at how lonely I had gotten in the silence.

When he continued to tug on my sleeve, I stood up. He then tugged on my pant legs until I took a step forward. Then he did a little jiggle, barked, and started off across the tall grass, stopping occasionally when I didn’t follow him fast enough.

I was so focused on following him, I didn’t realize I still had my book in my hand until I came to an old iron fence archway. I tucked the book into my pocket, afraid that I’d set it down or lose it.