The Good Housewife: https://a.co/d/9Bzf8RR

The Good Momma: https://a.co/d/9GCnCXy

The Good Daughter

Jessica Overend

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

16. Chapter 16

17. Chapter 17

18. Chapter 18

19. Chapter 19

20. Chapter 20

21. Chapter 21

22. Chapter 22

23. Chapter 23

24. Chapter 24

25. Chapter 25

26. Chapter 26

27. Chapter 27

28. Chapter 28

29. Chapter 29

30. Chapter 30

31. Chapter 31

32. Chapter 32

Chapter one

“Do you, Claire Wilson, take Gabriel as you lawfully wedded husband for better or for worse?” The minister addressed Claire, gazing at her expectantly.

Claire stared into Gabriel’s own expectant eyes, feeling the heat of the day bear down on her. Her sparkling ball gown dress hung beautifully on her slender frame, the long train flowing out behind her and down the altar steps. 

Claire frowned. She knew she should feel happy about marrying the love of her life, but something just didn’t seem right. How could she marry after what happened? And where was Noah? Noah should be there. 

Searching the chapel for him, Claire took in the waiting faces of their guests and she noticed something that made her blood freeze. Her guests were the same as her wedding to Danny. Her aunt Bernice fanned her face, looking bored and irritated in her hot polyester suit; the same suit she wore when she married Danny. In fact, Claire could swear that they were seated in the same spots, and as her eyes examined the scene in front of her, Claire knew that it was the same chapel.

Her frown deepened as Noah pushed through the door and ran down the aisle. Claire grinned and waved at him, stooping down and holding her arms out for him to come to her. But he didn’t come to her. Instead, he ran to a couple who were seated in the front. Claire straightened and strained her eyes to see who Noah had gone to, but she couldn’t see their faces.

Claire was going to vomit. Her stomach was queasy and the room began to spin as laughter filled the chapel. The door opened again and her mother stepped through the door, smiling at Claire and giving her a little wave. "Mom," she said, confused.

"It's time, honey. Don't be scared," her mom said, and she sat down in the back of the room.

“Gabriel, what’s going on?” Claire asked, turning to face her groom once more.

She gasped and took a step back as Danny smiled sweetly at her. “After this, I’ll be able to call you mine forever,” he said.

Claire covered her mouth in horror, backing away further. She tripped on her train and tumbled down the stairs. Warm, loving arms wrapped around her, and when Claire opened her eyes and looked up, she stared into the face of Rachel’s smiling red lips. 

“It’s okay, Claire. I’ve got you. Your anxiety will resolve itself when you get home and have a little time to yourself,” Rachel said, staring lovingly at Danny as he joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

Claire screamed Gabriel’s name, dread engulfing her as she lay on the floor, her entire world crashing down around her as the chapel went up in the flames. The faces of her guests melted in the heat, and Danny’s cackling laugh mingled with Rachel’s giggle.

Claire woke in the dark, cold and shivering. Her hands were tied above her head and she couldn't move. Trying her restraints, she let out a sob. A damp, musty smell bombarded her senses and she knew where she was; she was back in the basement. She blinked, and suddenly the light was on and Danny was on top of her holding a knife to her pregnant belly.

Screaming, Claire struggled against her attacker as he entered her. Danny laughed. "I told you you'd be mine forever," he growled.

He drew the knife across her belly, and Claire shrieked as a flood of warmth poured down her belly. The tiny cries of an infant filled the room as she sobbed, and Danny stood above her with a child shrouded in a bloodied blanket. "Give me my baby!" she pleaded.

"You've been disobedient. You'll have your child when you can do as I say," Danny said, and he backed away toward the door.

"Don't leave me here. I'm going to die," Claire responded frantically as a fresh spurt of blood washed over her.

Danny didn't respond, and the cries of her baby became quieter as he walked through the door and away from her. Claire screamed again, louder, hoping someone would hear her. But nobody would ever hear her….

Chapter two

Bright sunlight filtered through the white lace curtain that had been roughly pulled in place in front of the window in a failed attempt to keep the room dark. The morning rays were ushered in by the songs of cardinals just outside, and Claire opened her sleep-crusted eyes wearily. The day beckoned for her to rise from her slumber, but she didn't want to leave the safety of her warm bed.

The dream she'd woken from had been fuzzy, warm, and yet somehow terrifying. How could the promise of such happiness bring with it a level of despair that could level someone's life in seconds? Marriage was something that terrified her immensely, especially after her relationship with Danny. She'd had a rocky path until recent days, and the sunlight that fell on her pillow seemed to placate her rancid thoughts.

The last three years had been a combination of rough and wondrous, sending Claire on an indecisive, emotional roller coaster of life. Claire's mental health had gotten much better regardless, but one fateful event threatened to break down her carefully crafted happiness. A year after rescuing Noah, Claire's father had gotten sick, and within six months, he'd passed away. Her rock had left her when she needed him the most, though her past demons seemed to have left her alone at long last.

She hadn't wanted to continue going through the motions, as her therapist had suggested. "Put one step in front of the other and eventually the sadness won't feel so heavy on you," Dr. Lundahl had said.

She'd expressed her concerns to Claire about how she felt nervous that Claire would fall into her old habits again. And Claire had to admit, it was tempting, even a year and a half later. She longed for those dimly lit, lonely evenings locked inside her house. If not for the presense of two very positive attributes that her life still offered, she would have taken herself up on it. Noah and Gabriel. They encouraged her, each in their own way, to remain steady in her progress and continue her personal growth.

Claire smiled at the dust dogs floating through the rays of the sun. Deep down, she knew that her father wouldn't want her to decline as she had after killing Danny. He'd want her to keep living her best life and show Noah the good times. And poor Noah; he hadn't fared well when his grandfather had first become ill.

Claire had kept him completely in the loop, though he was only six. Her father had been Noah's favorite person in the world, and he would have been devastated if he felt for one instant he'd been kept in the dark. So Claire allowed him to go to the doctor's appointments and answered all his questions about his grandfather's sickness. She felt it would better prepare him, anyway, for the days when he longed for his grandfather.

Rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, Claire sat up and scratched her head. She needed a shower, but the sun's position told her that she wouldn't have time for one. She had to get out of bed and get Noah and Ben to school. The two had become fast friends since they first met, and Claire rejoiced to see him interacting with others of his own age. Noah was a smart boy, perhaps too smart for his age, but Claire liked that about him. He left something to be admired, and the way he made friends quickly made Claire envious. She wanted a friend of her own.

She knew it was well past time to put herself out there, but the thought of trying to make new friends paralyzed her. She'd always had a hard time making friends, with most of her childhood being filled with bullies and fake friends who only wanted to use her. What was she really afraid of? She'd been able to find herself someone to love. After that, what could she fear? Gabriel had shown her time and again just how much he loved and cared about her, and he protected her when protection was needed. Claire knew she would be able to rely on him for anything, even if that something was to just hold her while she vented.

Claire brushed her hair, choosing not to dwell on the sadness that encompassed her life. As she dressed, she prepared in her mind her answers to her morning journal prompt for gratitude; something Dr. Lundahl had suggested would prove useful to improving daily mood and mental wellness. It helped her to focus on the positive parts of the bad things that always happened to her. Writing was something that came easy to her; telling herself to sit down for five minutes and think of three positive things she'd seen in the last twenty-four hours was even easier. 

Most things she wrote seemed silly to her at first until she realized that she began to search for those silly things in her daily life after a while. Watching a fat, lazy bumble bee mosey its way from flower to flower, too fat to be able to fly and yet defying all odds in order to make liquid gold for human consumption. The soft tickle of dandelion petals as they blew against her skin with the breeze. Seeing Noah paint dinosaur after dinosaur, filling up an endless number of bins in memory of his grandfather.

Claire wiped a tear away at the memory. She loved when Noah did meaningful things like that, but the thought brought sadness to her because she missed her father. She wanted him to be there to see Noah grow up and meet his milestones. Though he'd been there for all the important firsts, it brought a heaviness to her heart to think that he'd never get to see Noah graduate or go to prom. He'd never get to see Noah fall in love or go on a field trip.

But it also opened the door for Claire to focus her energy on Noah more than she had before. More than that, it motivated her to finally hit publish on her first book. His illness had put a kink in her very first publishing plan, and she'd missed the deadline, but something Noah had said got her butt in gear to keep moving forward. "Mom," he'd said. "Do you think grandpa is watching you write your books? I think I can sometimes feel him next to me when I paint."

His words had brought shivers to her spine, but Noah was right. Her dad was up in heaven somewhere rooting for her to reach for the stars, and all she'd done since he passed was wallow in sadness and grief. So she'd buckled down and worked her ass off to finish her book. Gabriel and Noah cheered her on from the sidelines, and when she finished the manuscript, they'd gone out to dinner as a reward and Gabriel bought her a bouquet of roses with a card. "The boys knew you could do it, and so did I. Love, Gabriel." 

The excitement of publishing her first book grew on her, and Claire eventually began writing her second one, and soon after, a third. Looking back on her adult life and childhood, Claire could remember the alluring pull that writing had on her, but she never dreamed she could make it happen. She'd written so many works for other people to publish, but what did she have to show for that? It was a huge milestone for her to see her own name on the cover of a book.

"Noah, time to get up!" Claire opened her bedroom door and called down the hallway.

He wasn't hard to get out of bed. Noah was turning into a morning person, which was good because Claire had always been an early riser herself. When they both woke up at an early hour, it made it easier for her to get ready to leave in the morning. Noah took a lot of initiative and was very independent. He dressed himself, learned how to tie his shoes early, and showed a peaked interest in cooking.

"I'm up, Mom!" he called through the closed door. 

His eight-year-old self was fairly tidy, a surprising aspect to have for a child as young as Noah. He liked his things organized in a particular way and often wouldn't let his mom help him clean his room. Claire could tell by the smile on his face that he liked to help her out. He took pride in it, and Claire couldn't help but picture the gentleman he would become. But then it brought back the feeling that things could have gone a completely different direction if she hadn't taken a life, and she didn't feel proud of herself for that. It made her sick to think about.

In the kitchen, Claire scrambled eggs in a pan and bacon in another; their favorite breakfast. Claire waited for Noah to come down the hallway as he usually did each morning; backpack on his shoulder and sweater thrown neatly over one arm. "Good morning, bud," Claire called as she scraped food onto plates and carried them to the table.

Noah dropped his load on the couch before making haste to the kitchen to pour orange juice into two cups for him and Claire. "The birds were loud this morning," he said, balancing a cup in each hand and concentrating hard not to spill. 

"I heard them," Claire said, taking a seat as Noah took his. "Do you know what kind of bird that was?"

Noah shook his head no with a mouthful of food. "I didn't look," he responded.

"It was a cardinal," Claire laughed. "You know, some people say that if you see a cardinal, it means a loved one is looking down on you from Heaven."

"Really?" Noah asked, pausing.

"Yes, and I believe it," she responded, gazing at him lovingly. She could see the hopefulness in his eyes and could only imagine that he was thinking about his grandfather. "I take it as a sign that today is going to be a great day."

"Are you going to Gabriel's house?" he asked, artfully changing the subject. He'd begun avoiding conversations he was uncomfortable with shortly have his grandfather passed.

"Yes," she said, taking a bite from her plate.

"Take pictures of the roses for me," he said, chewing a slice of bacon.

"Of course, buddy," Claire said. Noah had grown a love for the environment, just as Claire had when she was younger.

Chapter three

It made her heart sing to know that her mother and father's legacy would live on through her and Noah, and perhaps one day through Noah's own children. As they finished up breakfast and Claire cleared the table, Noah put on his shoes and waited patiently for his mom. It had taken the two of them a long time to get into a new routine, one that didn't include Claire's father, but since they had, their mornings had gone a lot smoother.

He swooped his sweater over his childish frame and zipped it up. "I'm ready," he called out, and Claire joined him at the door.

Mother and son walked to the car together. As Claire backed the car down the driveway, she stared soulfully at the house that became a home with the help of her father, and she missed him. Claire couldn't fathom giving up the house for anything, and she hoped she would be able to give it to Noah when he was ready to settle down as an adult. The drive to the school was short and quiet as they watched the landscape drift by.

The drop-off line was shorter than usual, as most parents had already dropped of their children. Claire winced as the memory of how late they'd been waking up came to mind again. Eight-year-old Noah no longer needed a teacher to escort him into the building, and as he opened the car door, Claire caught his arm. "I love you, buddy," she whispered.

He blushed furiously. "Love you too, Mom," he replied, and he smiled.

"Have a good day, and I'll see you and Ben when you return to Gabriel's house after school," she said, smiling at the way his face lit up at the mention of Ben and Gabriel's names.

Noah cared as much about Gabriel and Ben as Claire did, which was good because Claire's love for Gabriel indicated a future with them, and hopefully a long and happy one. At first, she'd thought her love for him was just because of the hero complex Gabriel spouted and the fact that he'd saved her life in more ways than one. But after a while it was clear to her that her feelings were real. Love was something she'd shied away from since Danny died, and it had surprised her to be able to feel it again with Gabriel.

How could she know that Gabriel truly cared for her? What if it all turned out to be a sick lie like it did with Danny? But her therapist was right. She wasn't living unless she took risks. She'd just have to be careful and look for the red flags if there were any, but she hadn't seen anything yet that would point to an abusive relationship.

Gabriel had been open with her from the beginning. He'd been married and divorced after a rocky relationship with a woman who, deep down, never wanted to settle down. She abandoned him and her own son to run around Vegas and do her own thing. Gabriel admitted that he'd been pissed off at first, but as time wore on, he found himself glad that she wasn't part of his life. 

When he met Sara, she was a junkie. They met in a bar, and over the course of a week she'd expressed to him that she wanted to get clean and start a relationship with him. So he helped her. Gabriel gave her a lot of money to go to a good rehab, and he said that their life had been going good until she got pregnant. He had to stop her several times from killing herself and the baby. "I don't know why she wanted to kill him," Gabriel said with wet eyes. "The first time I saw his face on the ultrasound monitor, I fell in love with Ben."

Claire couldn't understand it, either. At one point, she'd thought that Noah could have been the result of rape, but she still couldn't fathom giving him up even then. She loved Noah and felt like she had a connection to him from the beginning. But Gabriel explained that she'd been fiending for drugs again when Ben was conceived and that he wouldn't let her take them and harm the baby.

Sara's whole life seemed to revolve around drug use, and Gabriel finally gave up trying to help her get better after Ben was born. Sara had been clean for a long time, but she fell off the wagon again just before Ben turned one, and that's when she left. Claire shook her head sadly. "At least he doesn't have to live with bad memories of his mother, I guess," she said, thinking about how Noah might have developed if she'd let Danny live and be a part of his life.

Claire hated that Sara abandoned her own child, but in doing so, she'd freed Gabriel up to meet her and start a relationship with her. Gabriel was a great father; the kind that she wished Noah could have had, and she was more than happy to let him take the position. Even through her father's death and the grieving that came after Claire's loss, her feelings for Gabriel didn't waver. She couldn't deny that she loved him.

The feeling scared her at first. She never thought she'd be capable of growing close with another human being after what first Danny and then Rachel did to her. She surprised herself, though, and she couldn't wait to see what her future held. It could only be uphill, she thought, because she'd been experiencing rock bottom for some time.

Claire watched her son disappear through the wide school doors before nosing her car into traffic and driving away. She had a therapy appointment that morning before having to go home and start work. Therapy had become like a staple in her life, and she welcomed it with open arms. Her emotions had been treating her better since her first appointment three years before when she first made up her mind to improve her mental health.

She started off with one session every week, and after a while her therapist declared that she didn't think Claire need to be seen as often. She left it up to Claire whether or not she wanted to keep the frequency of the appointments or drop them down to twice a month. Claire decided on going twice a month, with the exception of when her father passed. It was a hard time, and going to therapy helped get her through a good portion of her grief. 

Claire didn't have much to talk about that morning, but no matter what she brought to the appointments, Dr. Lundahl never failed to give her more homework to do. Claire parked her car and heaved a sigh, staring at the iron bench just outside the door to the building. That bench, three years ago, marked her first sighting of her stalker, Noah's kidnapper, and every time she saw it, she couldn't help but remember everything that happened.

She'd discussed that bench many times with Dr. Lundahl. "We can get rid of that bench," she'd offered, worried more about Claire's mental health than she did about a simple decoration. 

"No, it's alright. It serves me as a reminder that anything can happen instead of a trigger for what happened to me. It doesn't send me into a panic attack or anything," Claire had said. 

It was a pretty bench, with iron whorls weaved over the backrest and a curved seat that raised a person's knees higher. It looked old, weathered, as though it had been through storms and bad weather, and Claire found herself relating to it. She'd been through so much that she was surprised she didn't look worse for wear like that bench.

Claire stepped out of her car and locked the door, giving the bench one more glance before pulling open the door to the brick building and stepping through. The lobby hadn't changed much. The large photographs hanging on the wall depicting flowers had been changed to purple flowers instead of blue, and the seating had been rearranged, but it was the same as when she'd first walked through the door years before. 

"Hi, Claire!" Rachel greeted her with a sunny smile. "How is Noah?"

"He's doing great. Thanks for asking," Claire said, returning her smile. "How have you been? We really should get together for coffee sometime."

"Oh, I'd love that! I'll give you my phone number. I've been good. Mostly working, but I love this job, so it's okay," Rachel said, grabbing a scrap paper from a stack next to her computer and scribbling her phone number on it.

Claire took the paper from Rachel and stuck it in her purse. "I'll send you a message before the end of today," she said, hoping she would remember to follow through.

"Great! You can go ahead and take a seat, honey. I'll let Dr. Lundahl know you're here."

"Thank you, Rachel," Claire said gratefully.

She sat down in her favorite chair; one that faced the seating area, the wall art, and the large picture window showing the cars and pedestrians passing by on the street outside.

Chapter four

Dr. Lundahl was always prompt in seeing her patients, and Claire loved that about her. She never kept people waiting for long and was always polite during the appointments. Claire’s experience with therapists in the past hadn’t been the greatest; most therapists she'd seen were unfeeling, going through their questions as though they were scripted and rushing her through her answers. It was part of the reason she hesitated to open up to Dr. Lundahl in the first place.

That day, Dr. Lundahl did not disappoint. As always, she met Claire in the lobby within moments of her checking in and warmly ushered her into the cozy little room at the end of the hallway. “Good afternoon,” she smiled, picking up her legal pad and sitting in her office chair.

“It really is. The sun is shining and everything,” Claire said, beaming.

“That’s great! I mean, I’m cooped up in the office all day so I can’t really enjoy it myself, but I’m glad you’re able to,” Dr. Lundahl said. “How have you been feeling?”

“I think I’ve been feeling pretty good. Noah’s doing really well in school this year. Him and Ben really get along nicely,” Claire mused.

“What about Gabriel?” Dr. Lundahl asked.

“We have our days, obviously. But for the most part, it’s all really good. That's usually a sign of a healthy relationship right? He hasn’t given me any reason to be uncomfortable around him, and I love him more than ever,” Claire said. “I didn’t think I could ever love someone again after what I went through.”

“You’d be surprised how resilient the human mind and body are. What you went through was terrible, but your ability to recognize and overcome your anxieties is one of the main reasons you’re thriving today. Healthy relationships always have ups and downs, but it's the ability for both of you to reach an agreement and move on and still love each other that makes it all worth it,” Dr. Lundahl explained.

Claire nodded her agreement to Dr. Lundahl's statement. In the last three years since she started seeing Gabriel, he hadn't given her any reason to doubt that they had a healthy relationship. “I do feel like I’m thriving. Losing Dad nearly derailed me,” Claire admitted, not for the first time. “But I’m glad I found the strength to push through when Noah needed me the most.”

“How are you feeling about losing your dad?” Dr. Lundahl asked.

“I mean, the grief is still there. I find myself missing him almost every day. But thinking about how he’s probably choosing to spend his time in Heaven looking down on Noah and I makes me feel better. I know he’s still with us in spirit. He wouldn’t want me to be spending time being sad and depressed or hating the doctor who diagnosed his cancer. He’d want me to be living my best life and guiding Noah through his own grief.”

“That’s an amazing revelation, Claire,” the doctor said. “You’re so adept at picking up on things like that and it always amazes me. You’re doing the absolute best you know how to do for Noah.”

“Gabriel has been very helpful in this season of my life, too. I was afraid that I’d end up pushing him away or something, but he’s somehow given me exactly the amount of space I need to process things. I don’t know what I would do without him.” Claire's response was emotionally truthful; she'd imagined on more than one occasion, what her life would be like if Gabriel had never entered the picture.

“How about your career? How is that progressing?” Dr. Lundahl asked.

Claire made a face. “It’s…interesting,” she laughed. Claire didn't always like to talk about her writing; she'd been writing for other people for years, but the work she did for herself she was embarrassed about. It had taken her a long time to gather the courage to publish her first book. “I have four clients at the moment, all wanting full-length novels to be completed. I don’t doubt my abilities at all, it’s just crazy right now. And on top of that, I’m working on my own novel, too.”

“That’s great, though. You’re not letting your grief derail you. You’ve continued to complete your work through everything, aside from a brief period off which is understandable.”

“Yeah, I’m actually pretty excited about this next book. I’m introducing some new concepts and hoping they aren’t too crazy for my readers,” Claire said, shaking her head as the ideas she'd been developing bombarded her thoughts.

“I’ve heard it said that you’ll always have a crowd of people who love your book and others who are uninterested in your book. I wouldn’t be too worried about it. Your readers will let you know how they feel,” Dr. Lundahl said.

“I’ve heard that, too. I’m just trying to ease them into the story that I desperately want to tell. It’s just so horrible and I don’t want negative reactions to it,” Claire said. It would be a big step for her, but eventually, she wanted to tell her story so other victims wouldn't feel so alone in their own situations.

“How does Gabriel feel about your plans as an author?” Dr. Lundahl asked, knowing full well what Claire was talking about as they'd discussed it in the past.

“He’s very supportive, as always. I think he’s a little concerned about how my writing will reflect back on me as a mother and on Noah,” she said. It was something she'd feared, as well, but her urge to help people was almost overpowering; more of a need than a want.

Claire knew his concerns were valid, and she was up in the air about choosing to write with a pen name or keeping her real name. If it meant protecting her son, she would use a pen name. Dr. Lundahl nodded. “He seems like a very supportive person all around. He’s a good father, a kind man, and pretty good at keeping you on track,” Dr. Lundahl winked. “Do you two plan on extending your family?”

Claire’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t even thought about having children with him, let alone taking the next step in their relationship. The thought of marriage made her heart palpitate and her dream from the night before returned to the forefront of her memory, but she was instantly calmed by what Dr. Lundahl had observed. Gabriel was not the kind of man to do what Danny did, and her dream disturbed her. “I honestly don’t know. We both have a son, and we haven’t really discussed where to go from this point. There hasn’t been talk of moving in together or anything,” she said with an indifferent shrug.

“That’s okay,” Dr. Lundahl said, scribbling on her paper. “There’s nothing wrong with that, no matter which direction you both decide to go.”

“It’s crazy to think we’ve been together for so long without even talking about it,” Claire said.

“Does that pose a problem to you?”

“Not really. I mean, there’s a small thought in the back of my head trying to tell me that it’s because he doesn’t want to be with me, but I know that’s not true. Gabriel is the type of person who would be open and up front about things like that, so I’m not really worried. But it opens my mind to new thoughts that weren’t there before,” Claire admitted, feeling overwhelmed.

“It’s definitely something to think about, Claire. What you want to do with your life is up to you, but who wants to be in a relationship that isn’t going anywhere, you know? Just some food for thought,” Dr. Lundahl said.

Claire had the nagging feeling that Dr. Lundahl was trying to tell her something, but she gave up trying to think of what it could be. Claire had learned from past mistakes that reading too deep into a situation could prove more catastrophic than just ignoring it and looking the other way. Besides, not every thought that pops in my head has to be true…

Chapter five

Claire had a new spring in her step by the time she left therapy. She wanted to go see Gabriel before going home to work. Their relationship had reached new milestones over the past year, and Claire hated being away from him. She stopped for coffee before turning toward his house, ordering their favorites; mocha frappe for her and a caramel macchiato for him. The bitter smell of coffee mingled with sweet chocolate and caramel and wafted through her car, and she was tempted to take a swig of hers without Gabriel knowing. But she waited.

Gabriel and Claire enjoyed few things with each other that they had in common, and their love of coffee was one of them. Claire respected their similar tastes and opted to wait for him each time they had coffee. Gardening and writing were their other two common hobbies, which they often did together. Claire hummed a made-up tune as she stepped out of the car, balancing her purse and the drink carrier in one hand and pushing the door closed with the other. 

She heard the front door open and looked up to see Gabriel's smiling face staring down at her. "Need some help?" he asked, and he walked down the steps before she could give her response.

Gabriel took coffee and purse and held Claire's hand, walking into the house side by side. "Thank you," she said.

"How did therapy go?" he asked, leading her to her favorite bar stool in the kitchen and taking the cups out of the carrier. Gabriel slid Claire's cup across the counter to her and drummed his fingers on the hard surface.

"It went good, as always." Claire sipped her cold coffee and settled into the familiarity of their routine. She resisted the urge to blush as she recalled Dr. Lundahl’s words about her relationship with Gabriel.

Gabriel always showed an interest in her personal life, making sure Claire felt loved and wanted; something Danny never did. She loved that about him. Gabriel seemed to know what kind of love she needed and when. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm here if you want to talk about it further," he offered, and then he changed the subject. "It's going to be a nice day out."

Claire got the feeling he was nervous as he spoke. He avoided eye contact, though she didn't get a feeling that there was anything bad happening. Nodding, she responded. "It's already pretty warm out. I'm surprised the coffee made it home in relatively good condition."

Gabriel swigged his coffee, swishing it in his mouth and his face taking on a thoughtful expression.

“Can we go for a ride?” Gabriel asked.

Claire studied him curiously. With each breath and movement, Gabriel seemed more anxious and on edge than before, and Claire hoped nothing bad was about to perspire. “Sure,” she said. “Let me go get my gear.”

Claire climbed the steps and entered Gabriel’s room where she kept her chaps and helmet for riding. Gabriel loved riding bike, and his strange yet dangerous passion had slowly been rubbing off on Claire. Feeling the wind in her hair and the sensation of her stomach rising into her ribcage as they crested the hilly roads was exhilarating to her, and she often found that an evening ride was exactly what she needed to unwind at the end of each day.

The fact that Gabriel asked her to go for a ride in the morning was concerning. I hope I didn’t do anything wrong, her subconscious spoke to her, but she quickly silenced the negative thought. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her day thinking of scenarios that could be the cause of Gabriel's anxiety. As she shimmied into her leather pants, she felt her stomach churn and she hoped she wasn't getting sick.

Suddenly, a bike ride sounded like a terrible idea. Her urge to vomit became stronger, but she pushed the sensation down and went back downstairs to join Gabriel in the kitchen. He’d gotten his gear on while Claire was upstairs, and he was ready to go.

They walked hand-in-hand to the garage where Gabriel kept his bike out of the weather and away from the danger of passing vehicles. His bike was his baby, and he was always polishing it and fiddling with it in some way or other.

Claire opened the garage door for him and stood to the side as he straddled the bike and turned it on. The engine roared to life, rumbling deep in Claire’s chest and signaling her endorphin levels to rise. He pushed it outside and down the driveway while Claire closed the garage door and joined him at the street.

Swinging her leg over the bike, she pulled herself into the second seat and strapped her helmet on. Gabriel revved the motor and spoke to Claire over his shoulder. “Are you ready, babe? Hang on.”

As her arms snaked around his midsection, Gabriel released the clutch and the bike jolted forward. The deep vibrations of the engine resonated through her whole body, causing her vision to jump pleasantly. She giggled, not bothering to stifle her happiness, and she felt Gabriel laugh as they rode away from the house.

Gabriel took them on a winding country road, maintaining a slow yet steady pace as he navigated the twists and turns. Claire was familiar with the road; it was one that Gabriel usually took her on when he intended on doing something to make her feel good about herself.

He’d taken her to a small wayside rest along that road and shown her a rather large patch of clover that was always teeming with rabbits. It was springtime when he’d shown her the spot, and she’d gotten to see a lot of babies frolicking in the white and purple flowers.

Another time, he’d taken her further down the road, two towns over, and shown her the small waterfall that emptied into a lake. It was their anniversary, and he’d given her a large box of chocolates that he’d somehow hidden from her beneath his leather jacket.

That day, Gabriel rolled his bike into the parking lot of the wayside rest. Claire became more confused than she was before. Her own fears melted away, however, knowing that he was taking her to a familiar place to have the mystery talk that he wouldn’t give her any hints at.

Kicking the stand out, he climbed out of his seat and held his hand out to help Claire off as well. He held tightly to her hand, and Claire noticed that his palm was sweaty; if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was nervous.

He led her down the path toward the meadow, not uttering a word until she could see the beautiful white and purple flowers mingling together. They sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the breeze that gently rustled the fragile blades of grass and clover.

Gabriel led her to the center of the clover patch and drew her close. "I have something I want to talk to you about, darling," he said finally.

"What's that?" she asked, staring into his wide eyes.

He’s definitely nervous…what the fuck is going on? "We've been together for a long time, and I've come to realize that I don't want to spend a single second without you. I've been nervous to ask you this because I don't want to dredge up past memories, but I have a question for you."

The tone of his voice made Claire's heart race, and she was nervous, too. Based on his tone and the words he spoke, she had an inkling of what he would ask, but she wanted to be sure before she jumped to conclusions. She'd seen too many awkward moments in movies where the woman thought she was getting what she wanted and it turned out she got exactly the opposite. "What is it?" she asked, anxiety pouring out with her words.

"Would you move in with me?" he asked, raw emotion behind his eyes. "I know it's scary and it might sound weird that I asked you to move in with me before we are even married. But given what happened to you, I wanted you to have a chance to try it out before committing to another marriage."

Claire stared at him. He was right, it was a weird request. Usually people got married before they moved in together. But she also knew he meant well. She was terrified of both moving in with him and of marrying him, but she also couldn't deny her feelings. How long would they be able to carry out a relationship if Claire kept that distance between them?

She'd walked blindly into a false fairy tale once before, but she was certain this one was real. She wanted to be with him and wanted to be the one to make him happy. Gabriel and Noah got along well, and Ben liked Claire and Noah both. 

Dr. Lundahl had told her just that morning, "You can't push it off forever, Claire. Eventually it will make or break the relationship. Take a leap of faith. Gabriel seems like a caring, loving person."

The truth was, though, she was ecstatic about his question. She hadn’t realized until that moment just how much she’d craved those words. She was lonesome, especially after being alone with Noah for a year and a half in the house she’d bought with her father.

Claire swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking. "I... Okay. I'll move in with you. I just ask that you're patient with me. I want to spend my life with you, but I'm just not sure how Noah will feel. And there's the house I have to think about. I can't part with it, Gabriel. My father and I bought it for Noah to have a safe place to go if he ever needs one," her words poured out and she couldn't stop them.

Gabriel placed his hands on Claire's cheeks and pressed his forehead into hers. "You know I'll be patient, darling. I don't want to force you into this, so take your time."

Claire smiled and kissed him on his soft lips. "I love you, Gabriel," she whispered, and he whispered it back.

Wrapping her arms around him, she said, "Never let me go."

"Nothing in the universe would make me do something to fuck up our relationship, darling," he purred.

Claire giggled and wrapped her legs around him. "Show me how much you love me," she said, reacting to his hot breath on her neck.

Growling, Gabriel picked her up and carried her deeper into the meadow and out of view of the road. Claire giggled as he tore his clothes off and climbed on top of her. "You're the sexiest woman alive," he said, planting a trail of kisses from her collarbone to the edge of her cleavage.

Arching her back, Claire sighed. Just when she thought Gabriel couldn't be any more perfect, he did something to make her fall for him all over again. Gabriel tugged her shirt over her head and worked at the button on her jeans. When it popped free, Claire helped him wriggle them down her legs and watched as he tossed the jeans over his shoulder. He ripped her underwear off, eliciting a surprised gasp from her, and then he hooked her legs over his shoulders and lowered his head to her sweet spot.

Claire threw her head back, groaning as his warm lips made contact. He sucked on her gently, just the way she liked it, and brought her to the edge of an orgasm. Just as she reached her peak, he inserted a finger inside her and sucked harder, making her orgasm crash down around her as she bucked her hips against him. As her body settled again, Gabriel released her and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips.

Gabriel lined himself up with her opening and plunged deep inside her, groaning as he bottomed out. Claire moaned her appreciation as they worked together to build each other up, and before long, they both clutched at each other, reaching their climax at the same time. As Gabriel collapsed next to her, Claire turned to wrap her arm around his torso and settled in.

It had taken her a long time to surrender herself fully to Gabriel without feeling anxious or on edge, but she'd become fully comfortable with him at long last. She thought it was probably a relief to him not to have to worry about whether he'd break her mental health if he swiped a stray hair behind her ear or leaned in too close.

It was a relief for Claire, at least. As she lay in his arms, she made a mental note to write his name down in her gratitude journal by the end of the day because he was the greatest thing in her life aside from Noah.

***

Claire left Gabriel's house reluctantly after they’d returned from their ride. She was late to start her work because she didn't want to leave him, but she knew she needed to. She told herself that it wouldn't be long before her and Noah would be at Gabriel's house every day instead of just dropping by for a visit. She could have done her work at Gabriel's house, but she had yet to be able to complete a project in his presence without letting him distract her.

She wasn't sure how work would go once she moved in with him, but she'd have to make do. His house was big; maybe she'd be able to claim a room for her office. At home, her office doubled as her bedroom, which worked out fine, especially when Noah wasn't home.

Claire's heart raced with excitement as she pictured herself sitting at a large desk in a massive room, the door propped open so she could hear the happenings in the whole house as Ben and Noah chased each other endlessly. She would have an L-shaped desk big enough for her to spread out and still remain organized. Maybe she'd adorn her office with a couple of plants, and she'd like one wall with floor-to-ceiling book shelves which would remain mostly barren until she built her collection. At that moment, she only owned a handful of books.

It was a welcome mental image, one that she'd envisioned even as a child. As she pulled into her driveway, the realization hit Claire that she was on the verge of having every one of her childhood dreams achieved. She had a child, she'd published a book, and she had the man of her dreams, though she'd come about him in a shitty way. She hadn't paused to think about her dreams in a while, she'd only gotten caught up in the daily grind and in improving her mental health to be a better mom for Noah.

Achieving even that would be a huge milestone for her, and she found her nerves settling even further as she leaned into the comfort of living her dreams. She didn't know if many people could say they'd gotten there, but she felt happy that she could.

Claire turned off the engine and went inside, beelining for her bedroom, hoping to get her work done before she let herself get distracted. Focusing on her work would prove to be a hard feat because she couldn't keep her mind off of Gabriel and his offer to move in with him. But she forced herself to focus regardless. Opening her documents, she set to work on her clients' project before turning her attention to her own.

The book she was working on had her mind in a mess. She couldn't decide on point of view or the age of her character, and it was driving her insane. How was she supposed to write about a character who's personality traits failed to line up with her own? She didn't want to write every single character to be the same person, though, so she had to get creative.

Research was her good friend, but she grew tired of it quickly, and before she knew it Claire was staring out her window daydreaming about what it would be like to live with Gabriel and Ben. Little Ben was an adorable child. He was kind and friendly, just like Noah, and he seemed to love Claire. He showed an interest in dinosaurs just like Noah did, and Noah even enjoyed including him in painting them, teaching him some of the same techniques that her father taught him. 

They played well together, and Claire couldn't imagine that either boy would be upset by such a big life change. Everything seemed to line up perfectly with her dreams, including Gabriel's own dreams of branching off from his job and starting his own publishing company. As Claire stared past the hydrangea bushes growing just outside her window, she smiled. The sun was out and Claire remembered her promise to Noah to take pictures of the roses. 

The roses were at Gabriel's house, but Claire felt the urge to go outside and take pictures of the hydrangeas, too. Her backside was growing numb, anyway, and she could use a break from sitting in the hard chair at her desk. Standing, she stretched and exited her room, phone in hand. The warmth from the sun touched her skin as she stepped outside, and she breathed in deeply. 

The white wicker furniture that her father had put on the porch was still there, untouched and unused since his passing. Claire remembered talking with him during late evenings after Noah was in bed, and her heart pounded. She snapped a few photos of the hydrangeas before stepping back and admiring the work that her and Gabriel had done. It would be a shame to let all that hard work go to waste by selling the house to someone who could end up tearing it all up and starting from scratch.

Claire felt her heart drop into her stomach at the thought of leaving her home, the only home that Noah had ever known. How could she leave that all behind? All the memories, good and bad, and the comfort that her father had worked so hard to make the little house provide. Admittedly, she was having second thoughts about it, though she fought hard to keep her head in the positive. 

Shaking her head, Claire returned inside and set to work once again, distracting her mind from all of the thoughts racing through it. She threw herself into her story, giving as much heart and effort into building her characters as she could. Words bloomed across the pages as her fingers flew noisily over the keyboard.

As the sun dipped behind a cloud, the sudden shadow it cast brought Claire back out of her focus, and she checked the time. It was early evening and Noah would be expecting her at Gabriel's house soon. Closing out of her tabs and shutting down the monitor, Claire stood and stretched again, feeling tired yet energized at the same time.

Before she could leave the sanctity of her bedroom, a knock sounded at the door. Claire's heart raced at the unexpected, blunt sound. Taking a steadying breath and fluttering her hand over her chest, she calmed herself and rushed to the door to see who her visitor was. But as soon as the door opened, she wished she hadn't even left Gabriel's house hours before.

Standing in front of her, smiling ear to ear, were Mr. and Mrs. Fischer.

Chapter six

What the hell are they doing here? Claire thought, her contented smile dropping from her face as she stared into the face of Daniel Senior; he was like a mirror image of his son. It was a face she wished she never had to see again. Claire knew of the part he played in her kidnapping and everything that happened to her, and she despised him as much as she despised Danny. Claire couldn't speak as she stared dumbfounded at the couple who invaded her porch. 

Her heart pounded out an old beat, one of fear and betrayal. Though Danny's parents never directly hurt her, she felt betrayed by Mrs. Fischer. Margaret knew about Danny because it was the same way her own husband treated her, and yet she looked the other way while her son was busy raping and beating up on his new wife. Claire remembered feeling bitterness toward her during the trial, not wanting either of them to lay eyes on Noah, whom she'd covered with a blanket as he napped in his stroller. How could she ever let someone like them get close enough to her to hurt her again.

Having a relationship had been too big a risk for her then, and that feeling rushed back to her again, threatening to overthrow her years of hard work. "Hi. Um. Can I help you?" Claire opted to feign as though nothing had happened all those years ago, though she'd be sifting through the sea of emotions within her for days.

"Good afternoon, Claire," Mrs. Fischer gushed happily. "You look amazing. I can't believe it's been eight years since I last saw you."

"Can I help you?" Claire repeated, ignored Margaret's attempt at friendly conversation.

Mr. Fischer cleared his throat and glared at his wife. "We were hoping Noah was home. I've got a gift for him, if you don't mind," he said, pulling a small package out of his jacket.

Claire fought the urge to slap him as nausea bubbled within her. How dare he search her out and pretend like he hadn't had a hand in her rape and abduction. "Noah's not home," she said curtly.

"Well, that's okay. We can wait for him here," Mrs. Fischer said. Claire couldn't help but notice the look of disdain she'd shot at Mr. Fischer, and she observed the empty space between the two. Margaret held herself rigidly, though not close enough to Mr. Fischer to suggest to an untrained eye that they were a couple. Claire didn't blame her.

Claire had had enough, and she could no longer hold her feelings in. "No, you can't. You can leave, please."

Mrs. Fischer's face fell. She'd been hoping to meet her grandchild, and Claire triumphed over her small victory against them. "Claire," she began, but was interrupted.

"No, you listen to me," Claire stepped closer to them, rage flashing in her eyes. "You can't come here and pretend nothing is wrong. Like everything that happened didn't happen. It's insulting. How dare you show your face to me?"

Mr. Fischer's face turned red with anger, and it sparked memories of Danny's face every time Claire took a wrong step. "Do not talk to me that way," he said with a gruff, commanding voice. "You took our son away from us and then disappeared with the only thing he had left."

"With all due respect, fuck you. You turned your son into a monster and I did what I had to do to keep Noah safe. I'd like you to leave now," Claire said, her anxiety rising as she spoke about Danny.

Mrs. Fischer's eyes filled with tears as Claire took a step backward and prepared to close the door. "Please, Claire. He deserves to know his grandparents. Give him that," she pleaded, but Claire met her words with the finality of the door shutting.

She locked the door hastily and peeked out the window, praying they would go away. To her delight, she watched as they left the porch and returned to their car. Mrs. Fischer kept distance between herself and her husband, leaving Claire to wonder how their relationship and constant abuse was treating her. As the Fischer's drove down the block, Claire sank to her knees and clutched at the windowsill, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat. She didn't want to cry. She had to be strong, but the only sound she could hear was the beating of her heart as it leapt into her throat. 

Mrs. Fischer had tugged at Claire's heartstrings. Claire knew all along that if Mrs. Fischer had been strong enough all those years ago, she would have ended things with Danny's father. And as the years passed and Mrs. Fischer aged, Margaret knew she would never be free of him. She'd given up hope for a happy life in order to give her children a chance to know their father and create a false paradise of safety at home. Claire hated that she settled for that, but what she saw in Mrs. Fischer's eyes that day confused her. 

It was regret. It was comfort and love. Mrs. Fischer genuinely wanted to meet her grandson, and Claire was going to be the one thing standing between them. Claire knew that, given time, she might be able to forget Mrs. Fischer's wayward part in what happened, but to Mr. Fischer, Claire would never extend that grace. Claire knew about his talks with Danny and how they played a part in swaying his decision on the wedding. 

Claire's stomach churned again, and she couldn't shake the bad feeling that was running rampant through her mind. She was on the verge of falling off a cliff, and there was nothing holding her steady. After fighting to keep her nausea at bay, Claire rose and ran to the bathroom to release her lunch into the toilet. As she heaved over and over again, she sank to her knees and cried. She mourned the loss of who she used to be, and who she might have become if her marriage had only gone the way it was supposed to.

She would always mourn her past and grieve over what happened to her. She would never fully forgive herself for taking Noah from his father. The boy needed a father figure, and with her own father in Heaven, Noah had been forced to go without. It was just another reason, aside from the obvious reason of love, that Claire had ultimately decided it was time to take the next step in her relationship with Gabriel. Noah had soaked up the attention Gabriel gave him, and neither of them seemed to tire of it. If Claire had let Danny live, Noah might have had a very different childhood; possibly an abusive one.

Mr. Fischer's evil ideas had gained traction in Danny's mind as he convinced his son to kidnap Claire and hold her hostage until she complied with his every command. And as if that wasn't enough, Mrs. Fischer had spilled the beans about her own wedding night, in which the events happened in a similar manner as Claire's. She had been shocked to discover Mrs. Fischer's hidden secret; the woman who loved her like a second mother was living a life of abuse and had no control over any of her choices. 

Claire's anger toward Mrs. Fischer was because she kept that kind of secret from her knowing that one day her son might be subjected to it. Ultimately, what Mrs. Fischer had told Claire that night in the nursery was what pushed her over the edge and made her pick up the knife.

Claire sat on the floor for what seemed a millennia before mustering the courage to rise and walk to her car. She hoped the Fischer's would go home and leave her to go about her life. There was no way she would allow them to lay eyes on Noah. Claire drove hastily to Gabriel's house after glancing at the clock. She would be late if she didn't hurry. She arrived just as Noah and Ben were walking home from the bus stop, and when they saw her car pull into the driveway, they ran the final block to meet her at the door.

"Hey, boys. How was school?" Claire asked, putting a fake smile on her face.

"We got to do a scavenger hunt on the playground," Noah said, holding up a brown paper bag. "I've got leaves, rocks, and sticks."

Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the prospect of housing any more nature in her home. "That sounds like so much fun! Was there a prize?"

"A piece of candy," Noah said, holding out his grubby hand to show her. "Can I eat it before dinner?"

"Go ahead, buddy," Claire said, and Noah ran inside to shuck off his backpack.

Ben lingered, giving Claire a hug. "I like you, Claire. I'm glad that you're friends with my dad and that Noah is friends with me."

He took off before Claire could respond, leaving her on the verge of tears once more. She couldn't let the Fischer's anywhere near either of those boy. They were still too innocent and sweet to be subjected to adult drama. She wondered what Gabriel would think as she sank into the swing and rocked back and forth. Ben was a sweet boy, much like his father, and she knew that he'd be ecstatic if she moved in. But Claire wasn't sure if she wanted to put him in danger, or if Gabriel would put him in danger. 

She dreaded telling him what happened, but knew that she needed to. In order to protect the ones she loved, she couldn't avoid the one thing from her past that she wanted to forget. Her mouth was dry, the taste of vomit still on her tongue. She'd have to run to the store after dinner and grab a few things, but in that moment she closed her eyes and let the rocking swing sooth her.

The sound of the metal chain scraping against its carabiners was the only sound to interrupt her as she listened for the signs of nature like her dad had shown her three years prior. Claire heard the buzzing of bees as they swooped their fat bodies from flower to flower collecting pollen. Birds chattered somewhere nearby as they collected their first seeds of the season from the dirt.

A smile grew on her face as she pictured a squirrel meandering through the rose bushes; she couldn't hear it, but she imagined there might be one. The front door opened and Claire's grin widened as Gabriel's footsteps crossed the porch. The swing tilted wildly as he sat next to her. "Good afternoon, my lady," he said, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Claire opened her eyes and looked at him. His hair was still mussed as it was when she'd left that morning, and his cheeks were flushed. "I missed you," she said wearily.

Gabriel studied her, and she knew that he knew something was off. "Are you having second thoughts about moving in?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

Claire shrugged. She'd hoped the conversation could wait until after the boys were sleeping, but she supposed sooner was better than later. "Kind of. Not necessarily..." she began, unsure how she actually felt.

She wasn't scared to move in with him. More like she was worried that outside factors would stop them from completing the move. She sighed. "Gabriel, Danny's parents...they found me," she bit the bullet and came straight out with it.

Gabriel's eyes widened. "That's a far cry from what I thought," he said. "What happened?"

Claire's eyes welled with tears, and she wiped at them furiously before they could fall. "They want to see Noah, but I won't let them. Gabriel, I'm worried that if I move in with you and they keep at it, Ben will be in danger."

Gabriel nodded slowly. "I think," he began. "That you and Noah will be safer staying with me. Even if you decide in the end not to live with me indefinitely, I think you should stay here for now."

Claire's eyebrows scrunched up as he spoke. "Aren't you afraid that Ben will get hurt? I'm having flashbacks to when Noah was taken," she whispered.

"That's definitely a concern, but it’s not one I'm willing to face without you by my side," Gabriel said, placing a hand against her jaw and turning her face upward. "I want a life with you, Claire. And that means taking on your burdens as my own, and vice versa."

Claire leaned her forehead against his and sighed. "I want that, too. More than you know," Claire said. "When can I move in?"

"Whenever you're ready, darling," He smiled. "Just let me know and I'll start looking for boxes and a trailer."

"There's just one more thing, though," Claire said, pulling back a little. "I want to keep the house. Dad bought it so that Noah would always have a home to go to and I would like to keep it for that purpose as well."

"That's not a problem at all," Gabriel said, rising to his feet and pulling her with him. He leaned into her for a kiss and she returned it.

"What's for dinner?" Claire asked, sniffing the air as a savory smell wafted through the air when Gabriel opened the door.

"I thought I'd do stuffed chicken while we break the news to the boys that they will be roommates," Gabriel winked and led her through the house to the kitchen.

"Yum," Claire said, licking her lips. Stuffed chicken was her favorite meal of his.

"Why don't you relax in front of the television while I finish up? The boys are upstairs doing boy things," he said.

Claire nodded and did as he suggested, flipping through channels on the flatscreen until she found one of her favorites. It felt like ages had passed since she'd last watched a show, but she loved the familiarity of it, and it helped take her mind off the events of the day. She zoned out on one of her favorite episodes and almost didn't hear Gabriel call for her.

She flipped off the television and walked to the dining room. As she watched the boys race to wash their hands and sit at the table, Claire's thoughts wandered to one she hadn't had in a while.

I wonder what it would be like to have another set of feet running around here....

Chapter seven

The boys were easy to put to bed because they were older, though Noah had always been easy to sleep. Evening was Claire's favorite time of day because, after Noah was in bed, the entire world seemed to slow down for her. The birds settled, the flowers closed their petals for the day, and the night creatures came out to play. People were preparing for sleep, and all was quiet aside from a few cars driving past the house.

Claire helped Gabriel clean up after dinner before meandering out to the garden to see the last rays of sunlight rest on the gorgeous rose petals. Gabriel's yard was full of flowers and specimens of nature, and it had become her haven of happiness. It was lined with rose bushes and reminded Claire of her mother, whom she loved and missed dearly. Childhood memories swam to the surface as Claire inhaled the fragrant scent given off by the plants.

"Your father used to give me roses all the time. A single red rose each time he picked me up for a date," her mother would say as they walked hand in hand through the rose garden in Claire's hometown.

Claire would smile; she always loved hearing the story about how her parents fell in love. It all seemed like a fairy tale to her, and she wanted a piece of it for herself. 

"I collected them in a vase that I kept on my dresser, and even though they wilted and turned brown, they always reminded me of the sweetness in your father."

Claire wondered what happened to that vase of roses. Had her mom gotten rid of it? Did something happen to it? Only her father would have known, but it was a secret lost to the universe. She missed her mom deeply. Her mother would have been ecstatic to see Claire healing and moving on.

Claire wrapped her arms around her midsection, hugging herself as she walked. She longed to hug her mother, to feel her warm, comforting touch once more. The last time Claire had felt her mother's touch was on her wedding night.

She'd helped Claire zip up her dress, and then she pulled Claire into an awkward but loving embrace, being careful not to muss her just-done wedding hairstyle. Bitterness seeped into her veins as she thought about that night. It was the one night she would always remember, but not for the reason most people would remember. 

Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions, and while hers had been happy at first, the memory would be forever marred within her mind by what Danny did to her. Not only did he take away her freedoms, but he tried to change who she was as a person. He took away what little time she would have had left with her mom before she passed away, and she'd always be bitter about it. More than anything else, he took away her innocence, and he let another man participate.

Her nerves attacked her again as she thought about moving in with Gabriel. He understood her hesitation perfectly; how could she move in with someone with Danny still weighing on her. It was a recurring nightmare for her, though she hadn't had it in a while. Claire was afraid that Gabriel would trap her and hurt her as Danny had.

Apologizing profusely to Gabriel made her feel silly, but she did it anyway. She didn't want to hurt his feelings by equating their relationship with what Danny and Claire had. It was just fear trying to get the best of Claire, and Gabriel understood.

A soft breeze blew through the lawn, rustling the just-cut grass. The sound of the rose stems rubbing against each other met Claire's ears, and she smiled again. She couldn't help but get the feeling that, somehow, her mother wanted to speak to her from beyond the grave. Claire stooped to smell the roses and sighed. The sound of those leaves rustling served to calm her flighty spirit; all would be okay, they said. Everything would work out. 

"Hey, there," Claire jolted at the spoken words, and the sudden noise pulled her out of her thoughts.

She looked toward the voice at the edge of Gabriel's property and saw a woman stand on the other side of the fence, leaning against it in a relaxed way. With a hand over her racing heart, Claire took a deep breath and walked over to the fence. It was Gabriel's neighbor. "You scared me," Claire admitted, feeling numb as blood and adrenaline raced through her veins.

"I'm sorry," she laughed a friendly laugh. "I didn't mean to. I saw you walking and thought I'd come over and introduce myself."

Gabriel had pointed her out from a distance once, a long time ago, but Claire remembered. Her name was Elizabeth, he'd told Claire. She was friendly and kind, but mostly kept to herself. Sometimes she'd knock on Gabriel's door to return a stray ball that had hopped the fence during Ben's play. One time, Gabriel said, she'd come over and asked if she could take some rose clippings to try and grow her own rose bushes, and he'd let her.

As Gabriel first described Elizabeth, Claire had been a little nervous. Jealous, was a better term. She was secretly afraid that his neighbor would try to take Gabriel away from her, but as time went on, that fear died away as she realized Elizabeth truly rarely ever talked to Gabriel. She was only being neighborly, and that fact was one reason Claire decided to approach the fence that day to talk to Elizabeth.

"It's alright, I'm just a skittish person, that's all," Claire placated. "I'm Claire Wilson."

"Nice to meet you, Claire. "I'm Elizabeth Bennett." She held her hand out to Claire, and the women shook hands. Claire felt silly; she'd never introduced herself to a stranger in such a professional way before.

Claire smiled. "How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"Quite a few years. Close to ten, I think," she said, staring off into space as though she had to think hard about it. "What about you?"

"I don't actually live here yet," Claire said. "I live across town, and I've been here for a few years, as well."

"You don't live with Gabriel?" Elizabeth asked, curious. "I wouldn't have known. I see you here so often."

"No, we've been taking things slow," Claire said, deciding that spilling her guts to a stranger during their first conversation wouldn't be a good idea. After all, she was trying to make a friend, not run one off. "But I'll be moving in soon."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked with a grin. "Let me know if you need any help with anything. I'd love to help and get to know you."

Claire returned Elizabeth's smile. "I definitely will let you know. I've been trying to get to know people in town and I'm looking for some friends."

"That's almost perfect," Elizabeth said, excitement shining in her eyes. "The reason I finally came over to introduce myself is because I'm looking for friends, too."

Claire couldn't believe the coincidence. Here she was standing in front of a super friendly woman who was looking to build relationships just like her. It's like it was meant to be. Claire took her phone out of her pocket and opened up the contact list. "Here, why don't you put your number in my phone and I'll shoot you a text so you have mine, too," Claire said, extending the phone out to Elizabeth.

She took the phone and typed her number into it before handing it back, and Claire sent a text message immediately. She couldn't hide her own excitement over the prospect of becoming friends with her soon-to-be neighbor. "Okay, I sent you a message," she said as Elizabeth's phone buzzed in her hand. "I'm going to finish up my walk. We should plan to have coffee or breakfast sometime, Claire suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Elizabeth bubbled, and she walked back toward her house.

Claire completed her walk, circling the huge, open lawn and returning to the porch to watch the sun set over the horizon. It would be a new day, a new life, and Claire was giddy with anticipation.

***

Claire decided to take a week's hiatus from work to pack up her things. Somehow, she felt it would be better to complete the move sooner rather than later, so she spent the morning throwing clothes and bedding into garbage bags, tying them shut, and filling her car with them.

Not wanting to pay for a truck to haul heavy furniture, and seeing as Gabriel already had a fully furnished home, Claire decided to leave most of the big things and only take what her and Noah usually used to survive; food, clothing, beds, electronics, personal items, and anything else she could think of. 

Gabriel and Claire had told their sons about the impending move at dinner the night before, and they were beyond excited. "We're going to be brothers!" Ben had shouted, and they chased each other through the house before crashing through the back door and into the yard.

"Well, that went well," Gabriel said after closing his gaping mouth. Claire herself was mildly shocked. She expected at least a few questions or a little bit of kickback from one or both of the boys. But they hadn't seemed to let it bother them.

Gabriel had clearly expected some resistance, though he still might receive some before the move was complete. As Claire rolled out of Gabriel's bed that morning, she whispered, "I'm going to pack some stuff today."

Gabriel instantly woke from his half-awake state and rolled over. "Really?" he asked, excited.

When Claire nodded, he grabbed onto her and rolled her over, giving an excited whoop before kissing her on the cheek. Giggling, Claire shielded her face from his attack of love. "Gabe, stop!" 

He laughed and swiped a piece of hair out of her face. "Do you want any help?"

Claire thought about it, but finally shook her head no. "I think it's something I need to do alone. I'll have to go through dad's things, and I want to have some time," she said.

He nodded. "Okay, just let me know. I don't need you getting hurt doing something I could very well help you with," he said, and he released her. “I’m probably going to go on a ride while you’re busy.”

Chapter eight

Claire stood in front of the shelf at the grocery store, staring at the products in front of her. She’d never bought a pregnancy test on her own before. When her and Danny found out they were pregnant with Noah, Danny had been the one to bring her a test in her prison-basement. She silently berated him for taking away her rights to do simple things on her own like buying a pregnancy test.

The number of options on the shelf were appalling. How could she know which would be best to choose? She glanced around, hoping she wouldn’t be seen by someone she knew and be bombarded with questions. Pulling two brands of tests off the shelf, she compared the boxes. One had two tests in it, the other contained three different types of tests. One was pink; the other blue. Her eyebrows knit together, and she sighed, opting to go with the cheaper of the two options.

She dropped the box into her basket and turned to leave but froze in her tracks. At the end of the aisle she was standing in was Mrs. Fischer. Claire blanched, her throat constricting. Hers was the last face she wished to see in that moment.

Mrs. Fischer glanced behind her and scurried down the aisle toward Claire, who resisted the sickening urge to run in the opposite direction and escape out the backdoor of the grocery store. As Mrs. Fischer drew close, Claire caught a hint of pleading in her gaze. It was perhaps the only reason she stayed rooted in her spot.

Subconsciously, she shifted her basket to the other arm, hoping to hide its contents from her ex-mother-in-law. A strange sense of guilt came over her and she because anxious that Mrs. Fischer would be anger if she knew Claire thought she was pregnant.

Mrs. Fischer stopped a few feet from Claire and stared longingly at her. Claire caught the sense that she wanted to hug her. “Claire,” Mrs. Fischer whispered.

“What do you want, Margaret?” Claire asked, her mouth dry.

“I…” she raised her arms in defeat and glanced back the way she came. Claire peeked over Mrs. Fischer’s shoulder and saw Mr. Fischer round the corner looking for his wife. “You need to go. Meet me at the coffee shop later.”

And just like that, Mrs. Fischer turned and scurried away. Claire didn’t waste time in escaping, either. She turned and made haste in the opposite direction, beelining for the back of the store and hoping she would be safe in the freezer section.

She took refuge beside a large bay door that was the entrance to the storage room and glanced around. She hoped Mr. Fischer hadn’t followed. People meandered through the store, seeming in no particular rush to leave on an early morning like that. As Claire watched them move, she thought about Mrs. Fischer.

She’d wanted to say something to Claire but hadn’t had the chance. Claire’s curiosity burned as her mind ran free with thoughts of what would have been said if Mr. Fischer had only waited a moment to make his appearance.

"Fancy meeting you here," Elizabeth said, her pleasant face coming into view.

Claire startled again at the sound and gasped. "Damn it," she said, releasing a breath.

"Did I scare you again?" Elizabeth asked, her expression falling.

Claire nodded. "Like I said, I'm a skittish person," she reminded Elizabeth.

"I'm so sorry. I should maybe start announcing my presence before I get too close," she said.

"No, I just need to get used to people approaching me if I'm going to start making friends," Claire said, waving her hand away. She glanced around, making sure Mr. and Mrs. Fischer couldn't sneak up on her while she was distracted.

"That, too," Elizabeth said, giggling. She glanced at Claire's basket and Claire watched her face blanch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snoop at what you're buying…"

Claire shifted, her face turning red. Maybe it's a good thing Danny did this last time…. Claire thought. "It's okay. Just don't tell Gabriel anything until I do," Claire said, pleading with her eyes. "I don't even know if I am or not."

"You're secret is safe with me," Elizabeth said, raising her hands in surrender. "But I will say this. Congratulations, if it's positive. I love babies."

Claire grimaced, hoping her expression came off as pleasant and not disgusted. She wasn't sure how she would feel if the test was positive, and she didn't want to draw conclusions until she had more facts. "Thank you," she said.

"Well, I'll leave you alone. I've got to finish my shopping," Elizabeth said, and she sauntered away. Claire stared after her, wondering how that woman could be so happy and upbeat all the time. But then she thought that maybe it was because she hadn't had anything try to tear her apart before.

After a long moment, Claire deemed it safe to leave her cold oasis and head to the front of the store to make her purchase and go home. Will I actually meet with Margaret later? Claire thought, unable to keep her mind off of seeing the Fischer's again. Mrs. Fischer hadn’t given her an actual time to be at the coffee shop, so she supposed she wouldn’t be able to go even if she wanted to.

Claire handed her item to the cashier, her face burning with embarrassment at what she was purchasing. She wouldn’t be able to put her clients’ work on hold to wait around at a coffee shop all day hoping Mrs. Fischer would show up.

And what if Mr. Fischer was with her? Claire definitely didn’t want to see him again. Her grip on reality seemed to slip each time she saw him, let alone gave him a thought. As she handed cash to the clerk and shoved the small rectangular box in her purse, she shook her head. It wouldn’t be good for your mental health to speak with the mother of your abuser….

***

Since arriving back at her home, Claire was nervous about the pregnancy test and put off taking it for as long as she could, but as she looked around her room and realized there wasn't much else to pack, she knew it was time. She went to the bathroom and stared at the package on the counter. She couldn't hide her nervousness, and she was shaky. "What are you afraid of?" Claire asked herself out loud.

Realizing she sounded silly, she rolled her eyes at herself and opened the package, pulling the little stick out and reading the instructions. The last time she'd taken a test, she was trapped in a basement with no way out. A myriad of emotions ran through her mind as she peed on the stick. I can't be pregnant, I'm not married. What will Gabriel think? He's going to be mad. Noah will be mad, too. How do I tell Noah? 

Her movements were stiff as she set the stick on the counter and washed her hands. She leaned over the counter, staring intently at the stick. The truth was, she didn't know how she would react to the result no matter what it was. Would be be relieved if it was negative? Happy if it was positive? As the liquid tracked up the result window, Claire felt her heart beat faster. The control line showed itself clearly in the window, and as she watched on, she saw the little pink line begin to form on the test result side.

Her mouth fell open as the line darkened, and she picked up the stick, turning it this way and that in her had as though if she saw it in a different light it would give her a different result. There was no mistake, though. The pregnancy test showed two dark pink lines; Claire was pregnant.

Chapter nine

Claire’s heart fluttered and skipped a beat as she sat on the couch and stared at the pregnancy test. The conflicting feelings of excitement, fear, overwhelming joy, and anxiety that were coursing through her body were foreign to her; she’d been under pressure the first time she discovered she was pregnant and had used the pregnancy as a joyful scapegoat for her violent imprisonment.

Was it jubilation? Claire could say for sure that she wasn’t upset or angry about the result in the window, and in fact she could lean into her emotions and let them carry her along. Yes, she was ecstatic, and Claire smiled as she leaned against the armrest and relaxed, letting her anxious thoughts hide in a far corner of her mind.

It was something she could be happy about and not worry about something bad intruding because she was in good standing with herself and with Gabriel. Whether or not their relationship ever worked out, Claire felt like he was a responsible, good father and would support the baby and herself as much as he could. Gabriel loved her, and she felt certain that he wouldn't be angry that she was pregnant.

Not that she thought they would be apart ever. Claire’s feelings for Gabriel were not overshadowed by her past, and she knew that they would be a couple for a long time to come. Thinking about it only made her emotions that much more powerful, and she stifled her tears.

A knock sounded at the front door, breaking Claire’s reverie and the comfortable silence that had filled the entire house. Who could that be? Her brow furrowed as she hesitated.

Standing, she dropped the pregnancy test into her purse and tiptoed toward the door, hoping it wasn’t the Fischer’s again. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bit the bullet and pulled open the door. It was indeed the Fischer’s, but they brought someone with them. The woman carried a large bag that rested against her thigh and a ballpoint pen that stuck precariously behind her ear.

Claire glared at the Fischer’s before directing a cool glance at the woman in front of her. “Good evening. Can I help you?” she asked in a daring way.

Mr. Fischer had a smug look resting on his features, and Claire didn’t like it. She got the feeling that they were up to something, and it made her heart race and her hair stand on end as his gaze bore into her.

The woman pulled a paper out of her bag and held it out to Claire. “I’m Mary Mitchell with Child Protective Services. We received a report that a child is being neglected at this address and I’m here to do a well check on Noah,” the woman said.

Claire’s eyes scanned the paper that confirmed the words that Mrs. Mitchell spoke. The report was notated in scrawled handwriting, barely legible as though the writer had been rushed.

With wide eyes, Claire returned her gaze to Mrs. Mitchell. “I’m not abusing my child, ma’am. And I don’t know who gave you this report, but its false.”

Claire had the nagging feeling that Mrs. Mitchell knew who called in the report, and that they were standing directly behind Mrs. Mitchell, leaning forward in anticipation. Claire's face burned with anger. In calling CPS on Claire, Mr. and Mrs. Fischer had given her just one more reason to withhold Noah from them. She'd hoped that Mrs. Fischer would have surrendered their pursuit of Noah at the meeting she wanted to have with Claire at the coffee shop; apparently that was too good to be true.

“I understand that, but because we received this report, I’m afraid we have to perform a well check regardless. It’s within your rights to have a police officer present if you so choose. In which case, we can call the non-emergency line and you can wait to let me inside until they arrive. However, if you deny me access, I’ll be back with a court order and a police officer and the choice will be out of your hands,” Mrs. Mitchell said, her words sounding scripted.

She’d been through that same conversation before with countless other parents, and Claire wondered how many of them had actually been guilty of abusing their children. Mrs. Mitchell's gaze held contempt and seemed to challenge Claire, and Claire was tempted to accept that challenge. Claire swallowed and licked her lips, trying to wet her drying mouth.

Claire took in the Fischer’s again, standing expectantly as though waiting for something, and it became clear to Claire that they wanted her to argue with the woman. Though she wanted to tell them all to get bent, she knew better. If she played into their hands, the chances of Noah being taken would be higher.

Claire smiled coldly. “Thank you for filling me in on the information. I’d love to invite you into my home. However, I do think I’d like a police officer present because I don’t feel safe with the Fischer’s here. I also do not want them inside my home, for obvious reasons, and if this is a problem for you I’d like you to ask the officer to bring along a copy of my court record and police reports about their son to show you, so that you’re well informed on why I don’t feel safe.”

Claire watched with a cocked eyebrow as Mrs. Fischer’s face fell and Mr. Fischer turned bright red at Claire's words, spoken so eloquently that it was hard to argue with. Claire imagined that Margaret had hoped to be allowed inside to kindle some kind of relationship with Claire once more. Mrs. Mitchell merely nodded.

“That’s perfectly fine, ma’am. The Fischer’s only came along in case the child in question must be removed from the home. Then he’d go with next of kin, which, in Noah’s case, would be his father’s parents.”

Claire’s heart thudded a steady rhythm in her chest. She thought of how messy her home was at that moment because she was in the process of moving, and her anxiety told her she wasn’t good enough to keep Noah.

“I’d appreciate if they could wait in their vehicle or at the police station. There is no reason for them to be on my property,” Claire said.

Mrs. Mitchell turned and nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Fischer, giving Claire the impression that they'd rehearsed everything. Mr. Fischer scowled and meandered down the steps, but Margaret lingered. She stared firmly at Claire and whispered, “Noon.”

“Margaret, what’s taking you so long?” Mr. Fischer called out.

Claire knew what Margaret was referring to, and she flushed in embarrassment. She’d forgotten about being asked to go to the coffee shop, and she’d forgotten that she intended to avoid the coffee shop at all costs. Margaret turned without another word and followed her husband.

“I want to thank you for your cooperation,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to place a phone call to get the sheriff here.”

Claire nodded, her mouth too dry to give a valid response. Mrs. Mitchell dialed a number on her phone and pressed it to her ear. Claire didn’t like the woman’s stance; it felt very professional and matter-of-fact, and Claire knew it would be hard to please her.

The phone call went quickly, and Mrs. Mitchell smashed her thumb against the end-call button and shoved her phone back into its place in her pocket. Stepping over the threshold, Claire pulled the door shut behind her and moved toward the porch furniture.

“Please, have a seat while we wait for the police,” Claire gestured toward the faded wicker furniture and waited to take a seat until Mrs. Mitchell sat down.

“Where is Noah now?” she asked as she placed her bag at her feet.

“He’s at school. I want to warn you that the house is a little out of sorts right now. I just started packing to move Noah and I into my boyfriend’s home across town. Things are all out of sorts, but if you can look past the packing clutter, you’ll see how we usually live,” Claire said, unable to control her worry.

“Thanks for letting me know. That will definitely help with my assessment,” Mrs. Mitchell responded. “You seem to have a beautiful home, from what I can see.”

“Thanks. Noah and I have worked hard on the flowers. He loves roses just like I do,” Claire said, staring at the bushes surrounding the porch.

Claire tapped her heel vigorously on the porch, a motion she’d come to recognize as anxiety. She was uncomfortable with having the woman there and wished she would just go away. Waiting for the sheriff to arrive was enough to send her into a panic, and Claire’s stomach was queasy, whether from the newfound pregnancy or from the events unfolding she was not sure.

Mrs. Mitchell didn’t seem to notice, or at least she didn’t point it out. Claire took a breath and tried to relax. After all, she didn’t have anything to be worried about. She knew she’d done an exceptional job with Noah up until that point, and she knew she would continue to do a good job for as long as it was needed.

She had never done anything to harm Noah on purpose, though Claire still struggled with blaming herself for Noah’s kidnapping and abuse. He hadn’t shown any worrying psychological signs from it, thankfully, but anytime Claire thought about it, her palms became clammy.

Moments of silence passed between Mrs. Mitchell and Claire before the sheriff’s cruiser pulled into the driveway. The benefits of a small town is quick arrival time, Claire thought, comparing it to the arrival time of the police the day Noah was kidnapped.

“Good evening, Claire,” the sheriff said, his kind eyes shining with worry as he approached the porch. “Is everything alright?”

“I think so. I guess my ex-in-laws, Noah’s grandparents, called Child Protective Services and this nice lady wants to do a well check. I wasn’t comfortable having them here, so Mrs. Mitchell told them to wait at the police department, and I opted to have an officer here just for an extra set of eyes,” Claire summed up the reason for Mrs. Mitchell’s unexpected visit.

Sheriff Dornig nodded along. “Alright, that sounds good enough to me. Shall we get the party started?”

The sheriff had been the first to arrive the night of Noah’s disappearance, and he gave a testimony of the investigation during the trial on behalf of Claire and Noah. He was familiar with the situation and with Claire herself, having been the one to read into her therapists’ notes.

Claire stood and motioned for them to follow her inside, closing the door firmly once everyone was inside. “Noah’s at school, I presume?” Dornig asked, taking a quick look around.

Claire nodded as the sheriff took in the clutter and Mrs. Mitchell began her sweep of the house, walking from room to room and taking notes on a legal pad that she pulled out of her bag.

Dornig spoke again. “Looks like you’re packing up, are you?”

“Yes. We’re moving in with Gabriel in a few days and I wanted to get a head start on packing,” Claire answered with a smile. After speaking, Claire wondered if Sheriff Dornig remembered Gabriel, but his next words answered her question.

“He’s a good guy. I’ve seen him around town helping people with various things. He’s got a nice-looking yard, too,” Dornig said. “Are you planning on selling the house? I hear the market is in the sellers favor right now.”

“No, I think I’m going to keep the house. I might rent it out for now, but ultimately I want to give it to Noah when he’s older,” Claire answered.

Though Dornig was doing his best to keep Claire distracted, Claire watched Mrs. Mitchell fearfully as she wandered down the hall, stopping to take notes every so often. Claire’s inner voice began whispering her shortcomings to her.

She noticed the chipping paint next to the television. She’s going to ding me for that. Now she’s looking at the frayed carpet at the edge of the kitchen and the flickering light bulb I’ve been meaning to change. I’m toast. She’s marking down every little thing, and she’s going to take Noah away from me…

Chapter ten

Claire gripped the edge of the toilet bowl as she heaved the contents of her stomach into it. She couldn’t remember if she’d cleaned the white porcelain the last time she’d been in an organizing mood, but she hoped so. If not, it would be just another thing that Mrs. Mitchell had against her.

Sheriff Dornig and the woman from CPS had left just moments before Claire's nausea took over and she had to run to the bathroom, and she was glad they weren’t there to see it. She wondered if Mrs. Mitchell would have asked her about it, and Claire didn’t know if she would have mustered a truthful answer about her pregnancy after the anxiety she'd endured during the well check.

Mrs. Mitchell seemed nice, but in reality, she was only there to take Noah away from her; she was the enemy. She hadn't spoken much to Claire while she was there, and Claire could feel Mrs. Mitchell's gaze burning into her every time she turned around. The familiar feeling of her life falling apart was almost too much for her to handle. Rocking back on her heels, she sobbed desperately as she tried to keep her hair from falling forward toward the toilet.

How was she supposed to tell Gabriel about the events of that day? She couldn’t begin the conversation with, “Hey, Noah might get taken from me,” and then follow it up with announcing the pregnancy, or vice versa. Claire’s life was flipping upside down yet again, but she didn’t have the gumption to stop it. Her body ached and her mind was numb.

Fear. It was the only word Claire could think of to describe the emotions racking her body. She didn’t see a way out around the situation that time. Mr. and Mrs. Fischer were more qualified and professional than she was to raise a child, or at least that’s the air with which they carried themselves. They had raised two kids of their own, and Claire still felt like a fresh parent. And to top it all, Claire had never, in the entire time she’d known the Fischer’s, seen them to lose against an opponent.

Mrs. Fischer’s abuse was plain to Claire ever since she found out about it, and yet Margaret still couldn’t bring herself to leave her husband. During Claire’s trial for Danny’s murder, she’d mentioned to judge and jury about how Mrs. Fischer had come to her after her release from the basement and told her about what Danny’s father had done.

In doing so, she hoped that Mrs. Fischer would be able to find the strength to speak out against her abuser. But it prompted only anger from the woman who had treated her like a second daughter from the day Claire met her.

Not only did Claire lose the one man she ever loved, but she lost the family that belonged to her since Danny first came into her life all those years ago. Claire’s childhood would be marred with memories, both good and bad. Red flags began revealing themselves in her mind throughout her captivity, and she wondered how she'd ever missed Mr. Fischer’s treatment of his wife.

Claire’s stomach settled as her sobbing subsided, and she drew in breath after breath. Glancing out the darkening window, Claire knew it was time to pull herself together, at least in the moment, and go home to Gabriel and her son. There wasn't much that Claire could do in that moment. All she could do was wait and see what would happen next and hopefully prepare herself mentally if things went sour.

Mrs. Mitchell hadn’t said a word to her about the results of her assessment. She’d only finished marking her papers and then walked herself to the door, leaving Claire to wonder about the outcome of her findings.

Claire sniffled, trying to find peace in the fact that she could at least go home to Noah that night instead of watching him be led away by a woman who walked as though she didn’t like anyone in the world.

Claire swiped at her tears one last time and stood, flushing the toilet with finality and checking herself over in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy; too puffy to be able to hide from Gabriel when she arrived home, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care just then. She’d tell him about her day, even if she didn’t want to, for the sole reason of her love for him.

Gabriel was her rock, her strength, and she knew he wouldn’t fail her then. All she wanted was to be held in his strong, comforting arms and be told that all would be right with the world. Better yet, she wanted to wake up from her nightmare and never think about it again, but that didn’t seem to be a viable option.

Using a damp cloth, Claire wiped the sweat off her forehead and took a deep, steadying breath that came out in the form of a hiccup. “Pull yourself together, Claire. You don’t even know if anything will happen yet,” she whispered to herself in the mirror.

She swished cold water in her mouth and fixed her shirt, slowly but surely putting herself back in order as she mentally gave herself a pep talk. You’re a competent mother. You’ve never done anything to harm Noah, or any other child, for that matter. They can’t take him away from you if you haven’t done anything wrong.

Claire smiled at her reflection one final time. “You’re the best mother Noah could ever have, Claire. Don’t forget it.” And she flipped the light switch and went into the living room to gather her purse and car keys.

Despite her shortcomings with her past and her struggle with self-image, Claire knew she was strong and could survive anything. “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle,” Claire’s mother used to say.

Of course, at the time, she’d probably been talking about some childish art project that had gotten ruined or the fact that Claire had a hard time making friends. Her mother couldn’t have had any idea that her daughter would one day be kidnapped, raped, beaten, abused, and stalked.

She was right, though, Claire thought as she locked the front door of her home and climbed into the car. I survived all of that, and I’m thriving. What’s one more messy situation?

Before she put the car in reverse, Claire decided to try something bold; something she hadn’t forgotten about but hadn’t felt the need to do in a while. God, I pray for courage and patience in my life right now. I don’t know where you’re taking me, and I’m scared, but I want to trust you.

Though she put a lot of feeling and emotion behind her short prayer, she somehow didn’t feel like God was listening. Why would He open His ears to someone like her? Someone who was guilty of murder, of taking a father away from two of his sons.

Against her better judgement, Claire began questioning all of her choices in life. How did she end up where she was? When she was in high school and her English teacher asked her students to write an essay about where they saw themselves twenty years in the future, none of what had happened to her was what she envisioned. God had given her a full life, but it was a life that she hadn't dreamed of.

The possibility of having her son taken from her made her want to grovel at Mr. Fischer’s feet. She'd do anything in her power to keep her son from harm, and if it meant begging her abuser's father to back off, she would do it. Shivering at the thought, she grimaced. She needed to talk to her own father about it, and immensely missed him in that moment. His wise words never failed to calm her nerves. Driving down the road, Claire imagined her father sitting next to her, speaking in low tones.

“Claire, take a breath and step back. Analyze all that happened and tell me about it. You’re allowing yourself to get worked up over a ‘what-if’ statement. Take things one day at a time and leave the worrying to me.”

As her car thumped noiselessly into Gabriel’s driveway, Claire resolved to do just that. She wouldn’t worry about the Fischer’s or the unsolicited visit from CPS until it needed to be worried about.

Claire gazed out her windshield at the large, stately house that would soon be her own. It looked gray and dreary in the dusk, but the lighted windows and flickering shadows in the rooms beyond brought a new kind of joy to her heart.

Claire turned the key and listened to the engine sputter to a halt, smiling one last bitter smile as she stepped out of the car and prepared herself for the conversation ahead.

Chapter eleven

Noah stared at her with wide, fearful eyes as Claire spoke. Gabriel looked on from a few feet away, the tapping of a nervous finger on his forearm a slight distraction for Claire as she relayed her story in a way Noah's childlike mind could understand.

“So,” he said with a small voice. “I have grandparents I have never met, and they want to take me away from you?”

Claire weighed her answer. He wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t think it would be very honest of her to put ideas in his head about the Fischer’s. “Not that I know of. At least not yet,” Claire finally answered. “They told the lady, Mrs. Mitchell, that you were in danger by living with me. She looked through the house and took some notes and left. But she didn’t tell me what she thought.”

Noah cocked an eyebrow, clearly still confused. “So they don’t want to take me away?”

Claire sighed and scooted closer to Noah on the couch. “Honey, this is all so hard to explain. There are parts of it that you’re too young to understand, so I can’t tell you yet, and that makes it so much harder. I imagine that your grandparents just want to meet you, but I don’t want them to because in my own experience, they can sometimes be unsafe,” Claire tried, wincing at the way her voice sounded.

Noah studied Claire’s face before responding, but he replied with a certain resolve that Claire knew she couldn’t argue with. “I don’t want to meet them, Mom.”

Claire couldn’t help her next question, though. “Why not?”

“I don’t know who they are. If they love me, why haven’t they seen me?” he asked simply, fiddling with his hands in his lap.

Claire nodded. It was a child’s version of one of the issues she had with the Fischer’s. If they truly cared about Noah’s safety and well-being as they’d made Mrs. Mitchell think, then why hadn’t they tried harder to be a part of Noah’s life? Granted, she knew that it wouldn’t have made any difference to her.

She still would have denied them access to her son for the simple fact of the role they played in Claire’s kidnapping. Mr. Fischer had been the mastermind behind Danny’s plan, and Mrs. Fischer knew the nature of her husband and son and failed to warn Claire about either of them.

“You’re completely right, honey,” Claire said. “There are still a lot of things that happened that I can’t tell you about yet, but one day you’ll have the whole story and I’m a hundred percent sure that you’d still have that same feeling that they should have tried harder.”

“You won’t let them take me, will you, Mom?” Noah’s innocent, wide eyes stared at her with complete trust and love, and her heart broke for him.

It was hard to know what an eight-year-old must be thinking in a situation like that, and Claire wished she would walk him through it. But with CPS being involved, she knew she had to be careful how she talked to Noah about certain things. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of coaching him.

“I will do everything I can to make sure you stay with me, buddy,” Claire said, hugging him tight. “I’m not sure if they will actually pursue anything just yet, but I want you to know that no matter what happens, I love you and nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” he whispered in her ear.

Claire held him a moment longer, cherishing his warmth. She squeezed him tighter at the invasive thought of having him ripped away from her. She knew it would completely destroy her if it happened.

“Mom?” Noah said, “You’re squishing me.”

Claire laughed and released him. “Sorry, I just love you so much I had to be sure you could feel it, too.”

Noah gave her the side-eye paired with a mischievous grin before hopping off the couch and running out of the living room to find Ben, who’d been exiled to a different part of the house during their conversation.

Gabriel chuckled. “He’s a good boy, Claire,” he said.

“He is. If only I could be just as good a mom,” Claire responded, staring blankly after him even though he was no longer in sight.

Gabriel was in front of Claire, taking her by the hand and standing her up. “Claire, you are the best thing that could ever happen to that kid, do you hear me? No matter what happens, don’t ever forget that. Because he won’t ever forget that, either. You’re his mother, and you’re a damned good one at that.”

Claire looked at Gabriel with eyes as wide as Noah’s had been. She hadn’t expected such an outburst, but she loved the warm, fuzzy feeling that spread throughout her at the sound of his words. “Thank you, babe,” Claire said, kissing him softly.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a similar embrace that Claire had trapped Noah in. Claire leaned into his chest, his heart beating a rhythm that calmed her. Lying her head on his shoulder, her eyes took in the view of the living room from a different angle; a different perspective.

The room looked different, or maybe it was the lighting. More realistically, it was the numb feeling that had paralyzed Claire earlier that day. Her entire person felt different with the weight of all the new changes that seemed to be piling up in her life.

As they embraced, Claire’s gaze landed on the small trash can next to the couch; and the empty beer can that was in it. Her eyebrows scrunched slightly, barely registering what she saw. She knew he used to be an alcoholic, but he’d told her he would never fall back into it. Concern bubbled to the surface, but Claire stifled her feelings. She had something of more importance to tell him.

Claire pulled back from Gabriel’s embrace and led him to the couch. “I have something else I want to talk to you about,” she said, her mouth feeling suddenly dry, her head woozy.

Gabriel sat down and waited for Claire to speak. When she hesitated, he sat forward, his eyebrows knit together in concern. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s nothing bad,” Claire placated him. “I’m just not sure how you’ll feel…”

“It’s you, Claire. Whatever it is, we will work through it.”

She suddenly wasn’t sure if she wanted to mention it just yet since she’d seen that beer can. Claire couldn’t be certain that Gabriel wasn’t falling back into his addiction. If he was, would he really be prepared for a second round of fatherhood?

“Maybe I should wait,” she said, her voice shaky.

“You can’t get me all excited for a bit of news and then not tell me,” Gabriel said, his expression aghast and his tone whiny. “That’s not fair.”

Claire giggled. What the hell. He’ll find out eventually, anyway. “Okay, fine,” she ceded, and almost immediately, her nerves halted her in her tracks once again.

After another moment of silence, Gabriel said with a playful tone, “Out with it, woman.”

Claire fiddled with her fingertips before raising her eyes to meet Gabriel’s wondering gaze. “I’m pregnant.”

His mouth fell open in shock. Claire barely had time to wonder if he was pissed off or ecstatic before he pulled her from the couch and twirled her around the room. “Claire, you’re pregnant? That’s fucking awesome!”

Gabriel released her to hoop and holler his excitement to the otherwise empty room, and Claire covered her smile with her hand. And just like that, her fears were behind her and she didn’t know why she’d ever felt them.

“Babe, are you sure you’re pregnant? I’m so excited! I loved the newborn stage with Ben, and I can’t wait to meet the little guy,” Gabriel’s words fell out of his mouth as he gushed about the pregnancy.

“Hey, it could be a girl,” Claire said, feigning offense and stifling a laugh as her knight in shining armor acted like a child tearing through miles of wrapping paper on Christmas Day.

“Even better! She’ll have two older brothers to protect her at all costs, and I’ll teach the boys how to defend themselves and each other so they’ll be unstoppable against anyone who tries to fuck with my princess,” Gabriel said, throwing a few punches to the empty air in front of him.

Claire laughed, picturing Gabriel in the yard teaching karate to two boys who probably wouldn’t care to learn it. Gabriel struck her as the kind of dad to go all out for something like that; karate uniforms, colored belts, and cloth tied around their foreheads to keep the sweat from dripping down their mud-streaked faces.

Gabriel embraced Claire again, gently though still intimate. “And we’ll get to raise her together,” he whispered firmly, staring deep into Claire’s eyes.

She saw the love he held for her and for their unborn child, for his own son and Noah. Gabriel’s feeling of excitement was genuine, and Claire knew she’d have no worries about whether or not she’d have to protect yet another child from a disastrous father.

Chapter twelve

Claire sat outside the coffee shop at a small bistro table with a steaming cup of cappuccino. She’d finally mustered the courage to meet with Mrs. Fischer, but as she waited her stomach turned somersaults.

She was unsure that she should even be there. After all, Mr. and Mrs. Fischer had prompted the visit from Mrs. Mitchell. Claire was afraid that meeting with Mrs. Fischer could condemn her if it ever came to trial.

But something about the expression on Margaret Fischer’s face in the supermarket had told Claire that it was safe. Mrs. Fischer had loved Claire from the moment Danny brought her home. She’d had high hopes for them and encouraged Claire at every turn of her life. Even after Claire had killed Margaret’s son, she still didn’t throw anger her way.

It was like Mrs. Fischer had known it was coming. Perhaps she’d come to terms with everything before it even happened. It was the fact that Mrs. Fischer had known about the nature of her husband and son and neglected to tell Claire that was the reason she didn’t want Mrs. Fischer around Noah. How could Claire trust that no harm would come to Noah in the presence of his grandmother?

Mrs. Fischer came into view down the street, moving slow and steady toward Claire. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Claire shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The smell of her cappuccino was sickening; she didn’t know if she could even stomach it. Smells of cooking breakfast sandwiches and dark roast coffee wafted out the door of the building and mingled with Claire’s senses as she resisted the urge to get up and leave.

Mrs. Fischer offered a sweet smile as she sat down across from Claire. “Good morning, darling,” she said weakly.

Claire studied her wrinkled face, her tired eyes, and her slumped shoulders. Mrs. Fischer was exhausted, and Claire could guess the reason for it. “Good morning,” Claire responded. “You wanted to meet?”

Claire had no intentions of beating around the bush. She wanted the conversation to be done and over with so she could go home and throw up in the toilet. Mrs. Fischer took on a look of defeat.

“I’m sorry for everything,” she said. “I’m sorry for what I allowed to happen to Danny as he was growing up. I’m sorry for not warning you. I’m sorry for my husband and what’s to come.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?” Claire asked.

“Mr. Fischer is going to do some things that I don’t agree with. But it’s too late for me to do anything to stop it, Claire. I’m completely under his rule and I cannot get away,” she said, choking on her words.

“Well, maybe you should have gotten away when you had the chance, like I did,” Claire said. For some reason, she just couldn’t let go of the past.

Claire wanted to be angry with Mrs. Fischer. She’d been like a mother to Claire, and mothers weren’t supposed to hurt the people they called children. Margaret had allowed not only her blood son get hurt, but also Claire. It was inexcusable. “You don’t think I tried? Danny was like his father in so many ways, Claire. But he was weak. You have no idea what my husband is capable of. If I’d continued trying, I would never have lived to see my children grow up. He would have killed me.”

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Margaret was right. Mr. Fischer had always been an intimidating figure in Claire’s opinion, and that had to stem from something. She hadn’t even thought to probe deeper into Margaret’s abusive relationship. All Claire had to go on was what Mrs. Fischer had divulged in the nursery after Danny let her come out of the cold basement.

“I’m sorry,” Claire whispered breathlessly. “I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s not an easy thing to talk about, as you well know,” Mrs. Fischer scoffed. “I supposed there could have been something for me to do to get out of that situation, but in that era, it wasn’t acceptable for a wife to leave her husband no matter the circumstances.”

“There’s always time, Margaret,” Claire leaned forward in her seat, finding herself completely entranced in the conversation.

She shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid there’s not, Claire. Where would I go? I would have nobody. My son is gone, and my daughter would hate me if I left her father. She has no idea about any of this and I don’t want her to know.”

Claire knew it was a tough decision. Though she herself had easily slid the blade of the knife across Danny’s neck, it had been a heartbreaking and exhausting thing to decide, and she lived with the consequences every single day. Swallowing, she spoke words that she wasn’t sure if she’d regret. “Come stay with us, then.”

Margaret’s mouth fell open and her eyes sparked with excitement, but her face quickly fell. “I couldn’t do that, Claire.”

“Why not? We can get a restraining order on Daniel for you. And you’d be able to know your grandson,” Claire said excitedly.

The prospect of having a mother figure again almost did Claire in. She craved it, but her face also burned with shame at the idea of asking her dead ex-husband’s mother to stay with her and her new lover.

“I couldn’t impede on your life,” she said.

“You already are, though,” Claire pointed out. “You’ve already got CPS involved.”

Mrs. Fischer stood, suddenly angry. “I can’t do that, Claire. I’m sorry I asked you here.”

And before Claire could respond, Mrs. Fischer turned on her heel and walked away down the street, leaving Claire to gawk after her incredulously.

***

Claire threw her coffee away, cold and untouched, and drove toward Dr. Lundahl’s office. She didn’t understand why Mrs. Fischer had even wanted to see her. Nothing was even discusses, aside from a turned-down opportunity to free Margaret from her abusive husband and introduce her to Noah.

Claire was perplexed. It really had been a waste of time, energy, and money. Irritation rose to the surface; Claire could have spent her morning doing something else, but instead she’d chosen to humor Mrs. Fischer. It had gotten her nowhere.

There was no insight into why they had called CPS on Claire, or why they’d chosen to wait for eight years to make an appearance. What happened to make them choose to show up then? Shaking her head, Claire parked her car and killed the engine.

Maybe it was a cry for help… Claire thought. Mrs. Fischer had only talked about her abuse and apologized to Claire for what she’d done to let it happen. Her exhaustion coupled with the look on her face when Claire mentioned letting her move in with them only served to enhance Claire’s thought.

Mrs. Fischer had wanted to meet with Claire because she was ready to escape her situation. It all made sense. Mrs. Fischer had stayed to protect her children, because she thought it was the only way she could keep them safe. Claire had taken a different route; naturally, she would think that Mrs. Fischer stayed with Daniel on purpose.

Guilt filled Claire’s thoughts next. She hadn’t wanted to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Fischer at all during or after the trial, and she regretted that decision deeply. Knowing what Mrs. Fischer had told her, she wondered if she could have gotten Mrs. Fischer away from her husband sooner if only she hadn’t been so stubborn.

Claire heaved a sigh and thumped her forehead against the steering wheel a few times. Just one more thing that requires my attention…

Chapter thirteen

Claire twiddled her thumbs as she waited for Dr. Lundahl to call her back for the appointment. For the first time in years, she was nervous to spill her guts about the happenings in her life. She didn’t want to have to relay all that information again, and she certainly didn’t want Dr. Lundahl to think less of her for it.

Sure, the doctor was only doing her job by seeing Claire, but over their time together, Claire felt like she’d grown close to Dr. Lundahl. If not for doctor patient confidentiality, Claire would probably befriend her and grow closer with her.

But Claire had established herself with Dr. Lundahl and the thought of having to start over with a new therapist was daunting, so she left their relationship as it was. That, and Claire didn’t actually know if Dr. Lundahl felt the same way.

Dr. Lundahl knew everything there was to know about Claire, but Claire wasn’t familiar enough with Dr. Lundahl’s personality, thoughts, or emotions to make that kind of call. During their conversations, Dr. Lundahl sometimes revealed a bit of information about herself, but Claire supposed that, due to protocol, she couldn’t divulge too much about herself.

And that was alright. Because Claire was fairly busy putting her life back together, not for the first time, only to have the walls smashed to pieces by the very people she’d moved to that small Georgia town to get away from. Meeting Elizabeth seemed to be a positive thing, too. She hadn't gone out with her yet, but they'd been messaging back and forth and their relationship seemed to be compatible.

Dr. Lundahl’s heeled shoes sounded at the end of the hallway, and Claire rose from her seat before she even came into view. “Oh,” Dr. Lundahl said, surprised at Claire’s hasty movement. “Follow me, Claire.”

Claire followed her in silence, her frantic heartbeat threatening to tear a hole in her chest and possibly the side of the building. Dr. Lundahl shut the door behind Claire and took her usual seat. “How are you?” Claire asked, her words sounding clipped.

“I’m doing alright. Is everything alright? You seem more tense today than at our last meeting,” Dr. Lundahl asked, wearing her concern plainly on her face.

“There’s a lot that’s happened since I saw you last,” Claire said. Stop acting like a nervous little bitch, Claire demanded of herself. You’ve done this before. It’s nothing new.

Dr. Lundahl reached for her notepad and poised her pen over it, waiting patiently as Claire visibly took a few calming breaths before beginning.

“To sum it up, Danny’s parents showed up at my house demanding to see Noah, and when I sent them away, they came back with Child Protective Services. I have no idea what’s going to happen next, and I found out I’m pregnant, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about any of this because everything is all jumbled up in my head and I can’t seem to get a single coherent thought about any of it.”

Dr. Lundahl’s jaw went slack as each piece of the story left Claire’s mouth. “It definitely sounds like you’ve had a full schedule, doesn’t it?” she responded, and Claire could tell by her choice of words that she didn’t know what to say about it.

“You’re telling me,” Claire said, gaining a little bit of courage after breaking the ice. “I just came from a short coffee meeting with Mrs. Fischer and discovered that I’m pretty sure she’s crying out for help.”

“Why don’t we start with the arrival of the in-laws. How do you feel about that?” Dr. Lundahl asked. Claire got the sense that she'd overwhelmed the doctor, and she couldn't help the smug look that flashed across her face before she answered.

Claire scoffed. “I fucking hate that they found me. I moved here because I wanted to get as far away from them as I possibly could. Mr. Fischer, Danny’s dad, is the one who talked Danny into doing what he did in the first place. He abuses his wife and his children, and I don’t want him around Noah.” Claire's mama bear defenses built as she spoke, and soon she was bristling with rage on the couch.

“And Mrs. Fischer?” Dr. Lundahl prompted.

“She was so good to me for most of the time I knew her. She’s kind and loving, just the kind of mother-in-law one would wish for,” Claire said, her gaze softening as she thought about the relationship she used to have with Margaret.

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that she knew about her husband and son and kept me in the dark for all those years. My rape and abuse could have been avoided if she’d only spoken up,” Claire swallowed. “I get that it’s hard to talk about. But when she found out about our engagement, at that point it wasn’t just about her. It was also about me, and if she cared about me at all she would have tried to find some way of warning me.”

Dr. Lundahl was silent, scribbling notes in her notebook. The sound of it was oddly comforting to Claire. It was a sure sign that her feelings were being heard and acknowledged. Finally, she looked up at Claire once more. “I can see why you don’t want them to know Noah,” she said. “So what makes you think Mrs. Fischer is crying out for help?”

Claire related the actions and words of Mrs. Fischer at the coffee shop not more than an hour before, and Dr. Lundahl nodded along, seeming to agree. “It’s entirely possible that she wants help. But the only way to know for sure is to try and reach out to her again and see if you can pry her for information.”

Claire winced. She’d known that Dr. Lundahl would suggest another meeting with Margaret, and though her views about her ex-mother-in-law had shifted slightly, she wasn’t keen on seeing her again. ‘Yeah, I figured,” Claire responded icily.

“I’m going to switch gears a bit. What did the CPS woman say?” Dr. Lundahl asked.

“She didn’t say anything other than that I had no choice in letting her search my house,” Claire said. “Mr. and Mrs. Fischer were angling at coming inside to try and see Noah themselves, and I’m sure they would have found some reason to get that awful woman to take Noah right then if I hadn't made her send them away.”

“First, I want to let you know that I think you were misinformed. CPS usually won’t remove a child from the home during a well check. They also don’t usually allow the person who made the report to be there. I’m assuming it was the Fischer’s who made the report?” Dr. Lundahl asked.

“I don’t know. She said the sheriff had to be present and that the Fischer’s were only there in case they had to take Noah out of the home then. I told her that I didn’t feel safe with them there and then she made them go to the police station,” Claire said, exasperated. She found it irritating that a person who had been appointed to protect and uphold laws when it came to children had probably lied, and she wondered if it would become a problem.

Maybe I should do some research on it, Claire thought. Dr. Lundahl reiterated her thought. “I’ll do some research and pull together some documents for you. I don’t think that’s how it can legally be done, so I’d like to look into it myself, if that’s alright. You might want to think about contacting a lawyer in case the Fischer's take you to court.”

“I’m not sure if it will go that far. Mrs. Mitchell didn’t speak to me during or after the well check. She left without saying a word, so I don’t even know if she found something wrong inside my home,” Claire said. “But I’d be very grateful for the research. I’m not sure where to start myself, but I think I should also look into it.”

“Alright, I’ll make a note of that. We can increase our meetings to once a week for the time being, if you need to,” Dr. Lundahl offered.

Claire blinked away a tear. “Yes, I think that would be wise. I’m struggling to hold my head up right now and I don’t want to fall down the rabbit hole again.”

“That’s the last thing we want. In fact, I usually have walk-in availability on Fridays. Why don’t you schedule one appointment per week and then if you need additional help, you can just come see me on Fridays, as well?” Dr. Lundahl said.

“Okay, I can do that.” Claire's nerves had been placated as the appointment progressed, and she could honestly say that she felt more relaxed than she had since the Fischer's had shown their presence.

“Before we part ways, I want to address one more thing because I don’t want you to leave on such a sad note,” she said, putting her notepad away. “Congratulations on the pregnancy.”

Claire grinned, giddy at the opportunity to be excited about the pregnancy. “Thank you. Gabriel and I are both excited.”

“I love to hear that. From what I hear of Gabriel, he is going to be a great father,” Dr. Lundahl said.

Claire hesitated, and in that hesitation, Dr. Lundahl detected something. Straightening her back, she cocked her head to one side and stared at Claire. “What is it?” she asked.

Claire averted her gaze to her lap. “I don’t even know if it’s anything yet, but I think I saw a beer can in Gabriel’s trash the other day. I’m afraid he’s going to fall into alcoholism again. He told me that he battled with it before Ben was born,” Claire said.

Dr. Lundahl relaxed a little. “If that’s the case, don’t be afraid to talk to him, Claire. He seems like the kind of person to be open to conversation, and if he wants to be a good father to Ben, Noah, and now the baby, he will do what’s right. Don’t forget that he’s human, too, and all humans struggle with things. He might need extra support.”

Claire nodded. “I know. I’m just nervous. The last time I found out I was pregnant, things were very different than they are now. It wasn’t a typical pregnancy, you could say. I’ve been pregnant before and yet somehow this is all new territory to me.”

“You’re right about that. But it’s an opportunity to experience something lifechanging with someone you love and whom you know loves you just the same. Gabriel is so different than Danny, and you have to remember that every relationship is different, too. You’ll never find someone exactly like Danny, or even like Gabriel.”

“He’s the best guy I could ask for,” Claire smiled. She loved talking about Gabriel, and her face always lit up at the thought of him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Dr. Lundahl spoke, rising from her chair and signaling the end of their appointment.

Claire climbed to her feet as well, waiting for the doctor to open the door. She had a new spring in her step as hope filled her heart. Dr. Lundahl had given her exactly what she needed; advice and a step up on the ladder of her future.

Chapter fourteen

The jingle of her keys broke through the silence of the evening as Claire turned the lock and stepped into her home. She was exhausted after pouring her heart out in therapy, but she wanted to pick up a few things from her old home to bring to her new home before she became too tired and busy to remember.

Gazing around the large family room, Claire marveled at the size of it. It had looked much smaller when it was filled to the brim with furniture and lifelong memories strewn around it. She hadn’t realized how large it actually was until that moment.

Emotion welled within her as she remembered all the movie nights her father and son had done in that same room. Claire was setting out on a new adventure to make new memories with Noah, but she couldn’t help the nostalgia. She wanted her father back. He would know what to do with all that was going on.

“Let me take some of your worry away, honey. It’s not good for the baby,” he would say.

It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to see his second grandchild grow and develop as he had been able to with Noah. Claire supposed that he was looking down on them as God was, but that didn’t comfort her in the way she wanted. Her mother and father were supposed to be alive and at her side, and Danny had taken it all away from her.

Anger took control of her body, turning her cheeks rosy as her eyes flashed. She hated Danny. She hated Mr. and Mrs. Fischer, and she wanted them all to stay in her past and let her be happy. With a shriek, Claire picked up a vase that hadn’t been packed yet and threw it across the room.

Shattering against the wall, shards of ceramic scattered through the once-clean space as Claire collapsed to her knees in exhaustion. She tried to stifle a sob with her hand, but inevitable tears spilled from her eyes anyway.

Life had not been kind to her, though her childhood reflected otherwise. Her heart ached at the thought of others experiencing similar or worse things than she had at a younger age. She couldn’t fathom having to live her childhood with the weight of sexual abuse or assault on her shoulders.

Heaving a sigh, Claire tried to be thankful that she’d been blessed with a happy, unmarred childhood. She’d been allowed to live freely, loved and cared for with every fiber of her parents’ being. How can shit like this happen? She thought.

Claire wiped her eyes in an act of defiance against her angry behavior. Her father’s absent words echoed through her mind. “Don’t wallow in the past, Claire. Get up and move forward. You’re strong…”

Though the words had never been spoken to her, she knew her father would have said them to her in that moment. He wouldn’t have been disappointed in her behavior. He would have extended compassion toward her grief. The truth was, her father left a lot to be admired, and if Gabriel intended on taking over as Noah's father figure, he had a lot to live up to.

Claire stood and heaved a great sigh. He would be right, Claire thought bitterly. She needed to keep moving. She couldn’t show weakness in the face of what the Fischer’s were doing if she intended to fight for Noah.

She gathered a few boxes and bags and loaded them in the car quickly, wanting to leave the empty home that had once been filled with love and laughter. Locking the door behind her, she turned and walked to the car as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the trees.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the shadows extending from the tree line. She cocked her head and glanced at the woods. They looked much as they had that first night that Rachel had shown herself, though Claire hadn’t known who she was at the time.

The hair stood up on the back of Claire’s neck, and she knew she was being watched. She could feel angry, hostile eyes watching her from somewhere. In the trees? Claire couldn’t know. Her heart beat faster in her chest as the familiar prickling sensation made her hair stand on end, and she turned hastily toward her car.

She wrestled the keys out of her pocket and flipped through them to the car key, almost dropping the key ring in her haste. As she shoved the key in the lock, she felt a pair of cold hands on her shoulders.

Against her will, she was flipped around and thrown against the door of her car. Claire gasped, anxiety fully taking over her body and she was unable to move. With wide, fearful eyes, she gazed into the amused eyes of Mr. Fischer.

“Hello, Claire,” he growled. Claire couldn’t speak through the fear that overtook her. Mr. Fischer laughed. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

His hands lingered on her shoulders, leaving Claire feeling unsettled and uncomfortable. Gulping past the lump in her throat, she managed the words, “What do you want, Mr. Fischer,” in a quiet voice.

“I want Noah,” he said gruffly. “I’ve always wanted Noah.”

“You can’t have him,” Claire said, her confidence growing slightly.

Mr. Fischer’s gaze seemed to burn into her, holding Claire’s own gaze steady. She hated the way he was looking at her; as though he were going to devour her. His lips lifted into a sneer, and he responded. “I think you’ll change your mind,” he said, his tone low. “Because you don’t want to find out what can happen if you disobey me. I’m not my son, and I won’t show you mercy.”

As he spoke, his hands roamed her body, sending sickening shivers through Claire’s spine. She wanted to vomit, and she almost lost control as his hands skimmed her sore breasts. Claire pushed him back and glowered at him. “Don’t touch me,” she said firmly, attempting a menacing tone of her own. “If you don’t leave, I’ll do to you what I did to your son.”

Claire couldn’t duck in time as Mr. Fischer pulled his arm back and sent his fist straight into her nose. Her head snapped back and she stumbled against the car with a cry. Stars swam in her vision, threatening to take away her consciousness as Mr. Fischer held her erect against the car door again, pressing his warm body into hers.

She felt warm, metallic blood running over her chin as she struggled to break free of his grasp. “This is your last chance, Claire,” Mr. Fischer threatened as he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Do as I say, or you’ll regret it.”

“Fuck off,” Claire managed. The pain in her nose was almost unbearable, and she didn’t have the gumption to fight against him anymore. She accepted her fate.

Claire knew then that she had to help Mrs. Fischer get away. She took it upon herself to make sure Margaret would be safe. She couldn't leave her alone with that sad excuse for a man any longer. She had a feeling that what had just happened was only a small piece of what Mrs. Fischer was forced to endure everyday, and the thought of his hands on Margaret made Claire's nausea rear its ugly head.

Mr. Fischer smirked. His facial features were too similar to Danny, and Claire’s flashbacks made her freeze with fear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Claire squeezed her eyes shut as Mr. Fischer released her and she fell to the cold ground. She curled up in a ball and waited for the blows to come. She waited for the yelling and screaming and belittling to tear through her heart and break her down.

But nothing ever came. As Claire lay on the cement, her body wracked with silent sobs, she didn’t dare move. She’d lay there forever if it meant Danny wouldn’t hit her again. As time passed and Claire’s sobs subsided, she gathered the nerve to peek between her arms, her curiosity overcoming her. Why isn’t he doing anything?

Her eyes scanned what little she could see from the safety of her arms, and she could see that Mr. Fischer was nowhere to be seen. She mustered more courage and uncovered her head, nervously glancing in every direction she could think of and underneath the car, searching for any sign of Mr. Fischer.

But he was gone, and Claire was alone once more. She clambered slowly to her feet, afraid that he’d return if she moved too fast. She located her keys and, with numb fingers and a dizzy head, sat down in the driver seat and locked the door.

She intentionally focused on her breathing. She was on the verge of a panic attack, and she gulped her nausea down as she fought against the urge to hyperventilate and give in to her panic attack. She hadn’t been hit by a man since Danny was still alive, and the action alone had brought her to her knees.

Mr. Fischer was so similar to his son, and Claire berated herself for not being more careful. Given that she knew how Mr. Fischer could be, she should have prepared herself and taken precautions. She should have had Gabriel with her. Gabriel…

Fearfully, Claire looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror. What would Gabriel think? He’d be so pissed when he saw her face. In the dim light of dusk, Claire gazed mournfully at her bloodied face. Black and blue bruises were beginning to bloom over the bridge of her nose and toward her right eye. There would be no hiding it from Gabriel.

Claire took a deep, calming breath and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She opened a new text to Gabriel and typed a message out. “Gabriel, could you please make sure the boys are upstairs or preoccupied when I get home? And please meet me at the car…”

She blinked away fresh tears that stung her eyes as she typed, trying to keep it together. She was a mess, she knew, but she didn’t want to be blubbering when she told Gabriel what happened.

Chapter fifteen

Claire nosed her car into the driveway and rolled to a stop, dreading what the next few moments would bring. She killed the engine, breathing deeply to calm her nerves before she gathered her purse and phone and opened the car door. As she ducked through the door, she saw Gabriel come out of the house, and he took the steps hastily two at a time. “Claire, is everything okay?” he said.

And then, in the twilight, he saw her face and his jaw dropped. Claire’s eyes stung with tears again, and her throat constricted. She didn’t know what to say, or even where to begin. His expression made it clear that he didn’t know what to say either. “I…Mr. Fischer was at the house,” Claire stammered, her arms achy and numb.

She dropped her purse, adrenaline sapping her strength. “What? What did he do to you, Claire?” he asked, taking her in his arms.

She collapsed against him, relief flooding her body as she took comfort in his safe, protective grasp. “He told me he wanted Noah, and when I told him no, he hit me,” Claire whispered, and she relayed the events to Gabriel as best she could without bringing herself to tears again.

Gabriel’s expression turned from shock to one of anger. “Why didn’t you call me and have me meet you at the hospital? You have to report this, Claire.”

“No!” Claire shouted, pulling away from him. “We can’t. You don’t understand. He’s capable of so much more than what he did, and if I report him, he won’t stop. Imagine what he could do to Mrs. Fischer, Danny. I can't risk her safety.”

Panic rose within her, her voice raising an octave as she spoke. Gabriel knew every detail of her time with Danny and of his mother's abuse by Mr. Fischer, and she was glad she'd confided in him years ago; it avoided awkward conversation. “Claire, Claire,” Gabriel soothed, taking her by the hands. “Okay, we don’t have to go anywhere. Let’s just get you in the house and get you cleaned up, okay?”

Claire acquiesced, letting Gabriel lead her into the house. “Where's Noah?” she asked, afraid that he’d see her face all mangled.

“He’s upstairs with Ben. They’re painting dinosaurs,” Gabriel said.

He flicked on the bathroom light and let Claire to sit down on the toilet. Then he found a clean towel and wet it with water before dabbing it on the patches of dried blood that had sprayed across her face. Claire's vision narrowed, the meager light from above the mirror trying to blind her as the shadows of Gabriel's movements flickered in her vision. She closed her eyes.

Claire’s expression remained blank and distant as he worked to clean her up. She was tired, and she wanted to lay down underneath her comforter and remain in the warmth until she was ready to emerge. She didn’t know how she would hide her bruised face from Noah, but she couldn’t let him see her like that.

She was ashamed of herself. She knew better than to be alone after dark, and yet she’d let herself become vulnerable and as a result her worst nightmare came to life. Mr. Fischer may not be Danny himself, but he was close enough. Somewhere in the scuffle, Claire had forgotten where she was and imagined that she was still in the basement, lying on the cold cement floor as she waited for the blows to end.

Mr. Fischer's features were so similar to Danny's, and even their scents were close enough to be the same, and those characteristics had aided her mind in putting her back inside her prison. Her proximity with Mr. Fischer was intimidating, to say the least, and she’d been too terrified to defend herself.

Gabriel bandaged a cut on her nose and gingerly held his face in her hands. “I hate that he laid his hands on you, baby,” Gabriel said, his voice sounding strained and thick.

Claire closed her eyes against the tears that welled in her eyes. She didn't want to cry anymore. “Please don’t make me cry, babe,” she whispered. “I’ve cried enough today.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I won’t let you go to the house alone anymore, okay? From now on, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Claire couldn’t help but doubt that, and she told him. “I know you have good intentions, but I think you should focus on your drinking before you focus on me,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. She didn't want to see his expression as he realized that Claire knew his secret.

Gabriel hesitated, casting his eyes down in embarrassment. “I know I’ve been drinking, but I promised you I’d stop and I meant it,” he said firmly, running his thumb along her jawline tenderly.

Claire believed him. She wrapped her arms around him in a loving embrace and let his closeness replace the horrid feeling that remained on her skin of Mr. Fischer’s hands touching her breasts.

***

Claire lay in bed staring out the window as the sun peeked through the curtain. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to get up and face the day. She was embarrassed about her face, and though Noah hadn’t seen her yet, she knew he’d be worried about her.

Mostly, she didn’t want to leave the comfort of Gabriel’s embrace as he snored beside her. He’d been overly protective since she’d returned home and hadn’t even let her bring in the boxes and bags that remained in her car.

“You don’t need to be lifting things right now. You’re pregnant, and we want to protect our little bean,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes at the mention of his child.

Claire couldn’t stifle her smile, even though it was a complete paradox compared to the storm that was her emotions. In her struggle with Mr. Fischer, she had forgotten about the baby, and in a moment of guilt she was glad he hadn’t chosen to kick her as she thought he would.

Gabriel had snuggled up with her in bed and given her what she desperately needed; love, comfort, affection, and just his general presence. He’d whispered in her ear about wanting to make lists of baby names and of furniture that they would need for the nursery, and as he did so, he stroked her belly absentmindedly.

She carried a scar on her belly from her last pregnancy, one that was given to her by Danny in a moment of drunken abuse. Gabriel had discovered it a few months into their relationship and asked about it. It took her a while to explain what happened, and when Gabriel finally understood the severity of her past relationship, he’d stroked her belly in the same was that he did that night.

Claire yawned as she watched the sun come into view in the window, squinting her eyes against the gradual brightness. Gabriel stirred next to her, and she turned to face him. “Good morning,” she whispered, resting a hand against the stubble on his cheek.

Gabriel yawned in response and burrowed his face into her neck. Claire giggled. “I don’t wanna get up,” he said.

“Neither do I,” Claire said, entwining her fingers in his thick hair. “I’m warm and comfy. What am I going to tell Noah?”

Gabriel drew back and looked at her. “Tell him the truth, honey. The truth is always better, even if it’s a horrible thing that happened.”

Claire’s cheeks turned red at his words, and she knew he was right. But telling her eight-year-old the truth was going to be harder than she wanted it to be. It was her motherly instinct to protect her child from the horrors of the world, including his mother's abuse.

She clung to Gabriel for a moment longer before the alarm clock signaled the beginning of their day. Sighing, she released her hold on him and climbed out of bed wearily. Her movements, though slow, caused her nose to throb, and she covered it with her hand as she made haste to the bathroom to check out the damage.

She heard Noah stirring in his bedroom and couldn’t help herself as she ran through the hall and slammed the door behind her just as he emerged from his room. She felt childish and silly as she placed a hand over her heart and took a steadying breath. Just tell him. He’s mature for his age. He’ll understand.

But she couldn’t help but feel like she shouldn’t subject her kid to something so horrendous. She’d always known that she would someday have to tell Noah about his father, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she examined her bruise and the cut on her nose as she changed the bandage. The laceration hadn’t scabbed over yet, and it was still wet with blood and white blood cells. She dabbed at it with a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide, wincing as the cold liquid cleaned her wound.

It wasn’t deep; she wouldn’t need stitches. But the dark purple and blue bruising covered her nose and most of her right eye. Claire was a sight for sore eyes. If she hadn't known her condition, she probably would have startled at her reflection.

Sighing, she leaned down to deposit the bloodied cotton ball in the trash next to the sink. As it bounced off the inside wall of the garbage can, it landed right on top of an empty beer can. Pausing, Claire’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. She didn't remember seeing the empty beer can while Gabriel was cleaning her wound.

A bit of conversation from the night before swam to the forefront of her mind. “I know I’ve been drinking, but I promised you I’d stop and I meant it…” Gabriel had spoken firmly, as though he needed her to believe it.

She felt like a fool in that moment. How could I think he’d stop drinking for little old me? Claire berated herself for falling for a lie. Gingerly, she retrieved the beer can from the trash and carried it out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into her bedroom where Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He yawned as she came to a stop in front of him and raised his tired eyes to her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, confusion setting into his features.

Claire didn’t speak, she only held the beer can up in front of his face and watched as he recognized what she was holding. “Claire—” he began.

“No.” She interrupted, holding up her other hand to stop him. “Don’t speak. You told me just last night that you stopped, and I find this today. You lied to me.”

Gabriel looked frightened, his eyes darting back and forth between the can in her hand and her angry expression. He looked as though he were looking for an excuse; a way out of the conversation. Suddenly, his face fell and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I didn’t mean to lie, Claire. I’m trying so hard to stop. I shouldn’t have even started again,” he dropped his head in his hands. “I knew better, and yet I did it anyway. I didn’t even have a good enough reason. I’m so sorry I hurt you…”

Claire’s throat constricted as he spoke, but she held it together. She remembered the nights when Danny would come home drunk, and she would never forget the things he did to her; the things he said to her. As if on que, the scar on her stomach began to tingle.

Claire tossed the beer can on the bed and walked to the door. “I think you need to figure some things out before Noah and I move in with you,” she said.

“Claire, please don’t leave,” he said, bolting from the bed and hurrying after her. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. The only reason you found that can is because I thought to have one more before I was completely done. I’m so fucking stupid, Claire. Please, don’t leave.”

She gritted her teeth against his groveling and kept walking. “Noah, get your things ready for school,” she called through his open bedroom door.

She continued walking, taking the stairs in haste as Gabriel stayed right on her tail. “Claire,” his voice sounded thick, and Claire blinked as her eyes filled with tears.

“Gabriel, we’ve already been hurt by one incompetent man. I promised myself I’d never put myself in a situation like that again. You know how I feel about drinking,” her hand subconsciously fluttered over her scar. “Get your shit straight and decide what you want. When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

Claire gathered her things and waited by the door as she heard Noah’s footsteps on the stairs. “Please don’t leave, Claire. Not like this. I’ll quit, I promise,” he tried again.

Claire shook her head. “I believe you, Gabriel, but I need to see progress before we take the next step,” she said.

Turning her focus to Noah, she herded him out the door just as he raised his little eyes to see the bruises on her face. His eyes went wide, but he didn’t speak as his mother pushed him toward the car.

Gabriel stopped at the top of the porch steps. Claire was thankful that he left it at that, and silently prayed that he would make the right choice and come back to her.

Chapter sixteen

“Mom, are you okay?” Noah piped up from the backseat as they pulled out of the driveway.

Claire glanced at him in the rearview mirror, a sad expression planted firmly on her face as she realized Noah had seen her. Way to rip the bandaid off… “I’m okay, buddy. I promise you that I’ll explain everything to you after school, okay? But I don’t want you to worry about this while you’re learning.”

Noah gulped visibly. “Did Gabriel hurt you?” His tone conveyed hurt and shock, and Claire's body visibly deflated in shame at his question.

His words were filled with fear, and Claire could see his worried expression. “No, baby. Gabriel would never hurt me, and he would never hurt you, either. Someone else did this. I’ll explain what happened when you get home, okay? There’s no need for you to be afraid, honey,” she placated as best she could, though her voice was shaky with her own anxiety.

“Okay, Mom,” he said, his tone unbelieving. “Are you sure you’re okay, though? Did you go to a doctor?”

Claire knew then that if she left Gabriel like she just had, Noah's little mind would still think that Gabriel had been the one to hurt her. She'd have to find a way to convince him that Gabriel hadn't done anything physically to hurt her. Gabriel had become more than a role model to Noah, and it devastated Claire to have to take that away.

“I checked out my bruises last night and this morning. I don’t need medical care. We’ve got supplies right at home to help me get better,” Claire said, her face throbbing as she spoke.

As she rounded the corner to the school, dizziness and nauseous stopped her conversation in its tracks, and she knew she’d need to find a toilet soon or she’d empty her stomach right there in the car. She watched her bruised face blanch in the mirror as the car rolled to a stop at the curb.

“Do you want me to stay home, Mom?” Noah asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, honey. You’re so sweet. I’ll be alright, though. I want you to have fun at school and don’t worry so much about me. I’ll be sore for a few days, but I’ll be alright, I promise,” Claire patted his cheek and gave him a loving kiss as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Just be careful, Mom,” he warned, and Clarie stifled a laugh as her protective little boy got out of the car and ran toward the school. “I love you!” he called over his shoulder.

“I love you, too,” she responded, and she drove away from the school.

She hastily drove toward her home as her nausea became more prominent. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she willed herself to hold it in until she got there. As her car bumped haphazardly into the driveway, Claire knew that she wouldn’t make it to the toilet.

Throwing the gear shift into park, she opened the door and released the contents of her stomach onto the driveway. As she slowly recovered, she blinked the tears out of her eyes and wished she hadn’t gone home.

She found herself staring at a reddish-brown smear on the concrete just a few feet away from the car and knew immediately that it was her own blood. Clenching her eyes shut, she fought to keep herself from reliving the awful night and the feeling of Mr. Fischer’s fist colliding with her nose.

Claire withdrew into herself and stifled a sob. Her entire life was falling apart, and she needed to get away from the hectic craziness that was consuming her. She grabbed for her purse and phone and, slamming her car door shut, made haste toward the house.

But as she took her porch steps two at a time, she noticed a thick white envelope sticking out of her mailbox next to the door. Freezing, she glanced behind her, scanning the neighborhood and the woods next to her house before taking the heavy envelope out and opening her door.

She locked the door behind her and threw her phone, purse, and newly acquired mail onto the couch before beelining for her bedroom. She was exhausted after her stressful morning and intended to take a nap before she logged on for work.

***

Claire’s body was still paralyzed with sleep as she forced her eyes open. She felt like she’d been sleeping for hours, but as she checked the clock on her wall, only two hours had gone by. Her thoughts were racing frantically in her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something important she needed to be doing.

Sitting up in bed, she gave herself a moment to adjust to being awake, hoping it would slow her thoughts and help her to think straight. She hadn’t dreamed anything while she was napping; that she could remember, anyway, but she felt like her sleep had only made her more anxious than she was before.

Coffee… she thought feebly, and she latched onto that thought. It seemed the easiest think to check off her list of things to do, so she clambered out of bed and woozily walked down the hall to the kitchen. The living room was dark, darker than usual, and a sense of doom came over Claire.

Shaking her head, she continued to the kitchen and readied her pot of coffee. It was abnormally dark in the kitchen, as well, and Claire discovered the reason for it as she stared unblinking out the window over the sink.

The sky was dark with rain clouds, with a hint of yellow – or was it green? – and Claire could sense a storm on the horizon. The sky was so gray that it could have been mistaken as dusk, and as Claire looked closer, the clouds were moving fast. The trees in her backyard were swaying drastically in the wind. The coming storm was going to be a doozy.

The coffee pot flashed at Claire, signaling that the coffee was ready for consumption. The suddenness of it made her nearly jump out of her skin, and she breathed a deep, steadying breath as she pulled a mug out of the cupboard. I wonder if Noah will be released from school early because of this storm. I’d better check the news… Claire thought, pouring the thick black liquid from the steaming carafe and followed it up with a generous serving of French Vanilla creamer.

She carried her cup to the living room and sat on the couch, locating the remote and turning the television on to the news channel. The weather man had just popped up on the screen, and Claire turned the volume up to hear over the wind that was buffeting the house, driving large raindrops against the picture window at the front of the house.

“A cold front from the north will collide with the warm front entering in from the south, creating the perfect conditions for tornados. Worth County and surrounding counties are under a tornado warning until ten p.m. It’s recommended for people to take shelter where they are at and go to the lowest point of the building with the least number of windows if you hear the siren….”

That’s all Claire needed to hear. She left her mug to steam on the coffee table and retrieved her purse and keys, leaving the house hastily without locking the door. She hadn’t checked her phone to see if there would be a call from Noah’s school, but she wouldn’t leave him there in that storm.

She’d be damned if the Fischer’s pointed a finger at her for leaving her son at school during a tornado warning. Her motherly instincts told her she needed to have Noah with her, and as she drove through town, she noticed only a few other cars headed in the same direction as she was.

I must have missed the call… Claire’s guilt berated her for taking a nap when her son needed her to pick him up. But she was there with the other parents, waiting impatiently in the pickup line. Claire put her car in park and ran through the rain to the entrance of the school, where she was relieved to find Noah waiting patiently for her.

She hugged him tightly. “Hey, buddy. Have you been waiting long?”

He shook his head and took her by the hand. “No, they just let us out of the classroom. Are we going to Gabriel’s?” She wondered if he'd been thinking about the morning's events all day, and guilt settled in.

“Not right now. He’s at work. We’re going to our house and maybe we’ll have a movie and popcorn day since you’re out of school early,” Claire said.

In her haste to find Noah, she’d forgotten about the events of last night and that morning. Her face turned red as she realized her face was still darkly bruised. She pulled Noah toward the door, casting her face downward in the hopes that nobody would see her.

“Hey, Claire. I was getting worried when I couldn’t reach your cell,” Noah’s teacher called from right by the door. “I was about to call the bus driver and send Noah home on the van.”

Claire winced and glanced up. “I’m sorry. I was engrossed in my work and forgot to take my phone off silent,” Claire said, watching the teacher’s expression change from worried to shocked.

“Oh, my God. Are you alright? What happened?” she inquired, stepping toward Claire.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m alright, just need some time to heal,” Claire said, her face reddening further.

“What happened? Should I be concerned?” the teacher asked, pulling Claire and Noah aside as other parents rushed out the door with their children.

“Oh, no. I’m alright, I promise,” Claire tried.

“No, you’re not. And I can tell by your words that you probably haven’t been to the doctor,” she scolded. “I’m a mandated reporter, Claire. If you’re in an abusive situation, I need to know so that we can help you. Is Gabriel hitting you?”

Claire’s eyebrows knit together. “God, no. He would never,” she responded.

“Then what happened?”

Claire glanced at Noah and weighed her options. She knew that if she didn’t give an answer, she could expect to see a social worker again, but she didn’t want to speak about it in front of Noah without giving him the full details first.

Sighing, she leaned closer to the teacher and whispered, “Noah’s grandfather hit me. But I’m okay. I won’t be caught in that situation again. Please don’t tell anyone. It’s embarrassing and it would bring up a lot of my past that I’ve fought so hard to forget.”

Noah’s teacher swallowed and nodded slowly. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone. But just know that you can come to me for help,” she said. Something about her tone told Claire that she could trust the teacher.

Claire nodded and tugged Noah toward the door again. “Thanks for keeping Noah safe today,” Claire said, and then they were outside, the wind pushing them back and forth as the rain pelted their skin like tiny knives.

Claire put Noah in the car before running to her side and diving into the driver’s seat. Claire pulled away from the curb, hoping she wouldn’t hit anything. The rain was coming down harder and she couldn’t see very far in front of her. The lines of the road blurred, but she did her best to keep in her lane and get her son home safely.

As she turned onto her street and the house came into view, Claire heard the siren begin to blare throughout the town, and she panicked. She pressed the gas pedal hard and careened down the road, coming to a stop halfway in the driveway. “Noah, be quick!” she shouted over the noise.

She clambered out of the car and pulled Noah out after her as he climbed over the front seat. They ran for the house together, the task seeming to take forever as the wind pushed against them harder and harder with every passing second. Claire could no longer hear the sound of rain; she could only hear what sounded like a freight train passing by.

She pushed the door shut behind them and pulled Noah toward the narrow basement door off the kitchen. “Go downstairs, Noah,” Claire said, stopping to grab the white envelope that had been forgotten since she’d first gotten home that morning.

Chapter seventeen

“Why did my grandpa hit you?” Noah asked, his face ashen after having heard most of the details of his parents’ short marriage.

“Mr. Fischer, your grandfather, hit me because I wouldn’t give you to him,” Claire said, sounding out of breath. Though her chest felt like it would explode from panic, she couldn't deny how good it felt to be able to tell Noah who his father was. It was a dark secret lifted off her shoulders. There were still a lot of details she'd left out because it was too horrible for an eight-year-old to comprehend.

They had been taking shelter for well over an hour. The sirens had stopped and the wind and rain died down, yet Claire couldn’t find the strength to rise out of the dark basement and continue her day. It had always been inevitable for her to tell Noah about his father, but she felt so guilty and stupid for allowing Danny to treat her the way he did. She was ashamed, and she knew her son would be ashamed of her, too.

Noah didn’t speak, and Claire didn’t blame him. She was surprised, however, when Noah hopped down off the box he’d been sitting on and ran across the wide basement to throw his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Noah, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault. It’s happening because of my own actions. I’m the one who’s sorry,” she whispered, choking on her tears as Noah patted her back in an attempt to comfort his distraught mother.

Noah pulled back from her and stared at her with wide eyes. “Please don’t let them take me away, Mom,” he admonished. “I don’t want to live with anyone but you.”

“I’m not going to let anyone take you away. Least of all, your grandparents,” Claire said firmly, wiping a tear from Noah’s cheek. She was mildly surprised that Noah remained faithful to her after hearing that she'd been the reason he had no father.

Noah hugged her again, and then released her. “I’m hungry, mom. What time is it?”

Claire blinked away the threat of her own tears and shook her head, astonished at the short attention span of her son. “I’m not sure what time it is. Let’s go up and see what damage the storm caused, shall we?”

They walked hand in hand up the stairs. Claire carried her purse and phone, the white envelope, still unopened, poking precariously out of her purse.

The sun was shining as they emerged from the dark, damp basement, and Claire could feel a breeze. She walked through the house, assessing the damage. The picture window in the living room was shattered and the top of a tree was stuck in place of the glass that once kept nature outside.

Aside from the window, the only damage to the house was on the outside, and several trees from the forest leaned against others which had withstood the storm. Claire’s car had been pushed across the street and sat smack in the center of her neighbors’ yard, but it looked otherwise undamaged.

After retrieving her car, Claire called a tree removal service to take the downed tree out of the side of the house. She wouldn’t be able to fix the window until it was gone. Then, she swept up what glass she could with the utility broom that she kept in the garage.

The rest of her cleaning supplies had already been taken to Gabriel’s house, so she would have to wait to vacuum the glass shards out of the carpet until a later date. “Wear shoes in the house for now, bud,” Claire warned, showing him the sparkling glass that remained embedded within the carpet fibers.

It wasn’t until later that evening, after Claire put Noah down for bed, that she finally sat down and looked at the white envelope, sighing. She’d been avoiding opening it because she was afraid of its contents. It wasn’t post marked, which meant it had been delivered by hand, either by a sheriff or by Mrs. Mitchell.

She dreaded opening it, but she acquiesced after staring at it for a few moments. After all, reading its contents wouldn’t change the facts that it held; it would only put off the inevitable. She took her time opening it, taking care not to rip the envelope but instead peeling gently at the glue holding the flap shut.

Claire squeezed her eyes shut as the last bit of glue released its hold and she slid the thick stack of papers out of the envelope. Her eyes scanned the top page, and she didn’t have to read any further. The Georgia State letterhead taunted her, and right below it was the court date; it was set for a week from then.

Beneath the date, Mr. and Mrs. Fischer’s names glared up at her smugly. They were petitioning the court for custody of Noah. Claire stared grimly at the papers, not wanting to read any further. She didn’t care about the court jargon that followed; all the information she needed was on that first page.

Claire didn’t have energy left inside her to panic. Instead, she closed her eyes and practiced the breathing techniques that Dr. Lundahl taught her. She steadied herself, slowed her heart rate, and prepared to think rationally.

Dr. Lundahl had said that she would help Claire if the Fischer’s took her to court. Claire would have to talk to her at the next appointment. Claire pushed the papers aside and got herself a glass of water.

Claire tried to remember everything that she’d learned over the years with Dr. Lundahl. She knew she was strong, and she knew she could withstand the court. In retrospect, Claire knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. She wasn’t neglectful of Noah, and she wasn’t abusive. Noah had everything he could ever need and more, and Claire was a present role model in his life.

The court would have no reason to take Noah away, and she hoped they would laugh in Mr. Fischer’s face for suggesting such a thing. As Claire drank her water, her confidence grew. She’d have to do some research and get a lawyer.

Claire turned off the lights in her home and went into her room. She glanced at her computer, deciding at last minute to log on and do a little bit of work. She’d have to explain to her clients about the storm delaying her days’ submissions, but she knew they would be okay with it.

She set her glass of water down and set to work, typing away to her hearts’ content for the next few hours.

Chapter eighteen

Sunlight peeked through Claire’s curtains, creeping across the floor and up the wall until it touched the screen of her computer. Claire startled at the sudden light and looked over her shoulder at the window. There’s no way the sun is coming up already, Claire thought in a panic.

She hadn’t gotten any sleep, but she wasn’t tired. She felt as though she could write a whole book in one sitting. Checking the clock on her screen, she gasped. It was time to get Noah out of bed and to school. Though the day before had been taxing on her in more ways than one, she felt amazing that morning. Her mind was clear, her shoulders relaxed, and her stomach wasn't queasy for once.

Hastily, she changed her clothes and fixed her hair before throwing open her bedroom door and calling out to Noah. “Wake up, buddy. We’re going to be late for school!” she shouted.

“I’m awake!” he called from the living room.

Knitting her eyebrows together in confusion, Claire walked toward his voice and was surprised to see him waiting patiently on the couch, his clothes on and his backpack sitting at his feet. “Why didn’t you come get me?” she asked in confusion.

He giggled. “I knocked on the door and you didn’t answer. I figured you were tired, so I let you sleep,” he said.

“Actually, I didn’t sleep at all. I guess I was engrossed in my work. I didn’t get a chance to work yesterday morning because of the storm,” Claire said, surprised that she hadn't heard Noah knocking.

“That’s okay. You can take a nap today, right?” Noah asked, standing and gathering his things.

“Yeah, if I need one I can,” Claire agreed. She followed him through the door and to the car.

Noah gave her a big hug after Claire pulled up to the curb outside the school, and he jumped out and joined his friends as they walked through the door. After he disappeared inside, Claire opened her phone and dialed Dr. Lundahl’s office. Rachel answered in her usual cheerful way. “Dr. Lundahl’s office, how may I assist you?”

“Hi, Rachel. It’s Claire. Does Dr. Lundahl have any available time slots today?” Claire asked.

“Let me check, here…” Claire could hear Rachel typing on the keyboard through the phone as she spoke. “Yes, it looks like there is one appointment open at ten this morning.”

“Perfect. I’ll take it, if that’s okay,” Claire said, bitterness creeping into her words as she remembered opening the envelope the night before.

“Alright, I’ll put you in the books and let Dr. Lundahl know to expect you soon,” Rachel responded. Claire could all but hear her contagious smile through the phone.

How can someone be that happy and cheerful all the time? Claire wondered as she hung up the phone, which chimed before she could put it down. It was a message from Elizabeth, and she smiled as she opened it. "That was a wicked storm yesterday! Hope you all are okay, and wondering if you want to meet for lunch?"

Claire tapped out a reply. She'd have time after her appointment to meet Elizabeth for lunch, and she pressed send before she remembered that she'd have to explain to yet another person about why her face was bruised and cut up. Flushing, she drove away from the curb and turned the car toward Gabriel’s house. She hoped he was at work already; she intended on grabbing the vacuum cleaner to clean up the glass in her living room.

She’d received a few messages from Gabriel throughout the day as the storm raged, and one that morning, but she’d ignored them all. It hurt her to not respond, but she needed to show him that she was serious about what she said.

Gabriel's messages begged for her to come home and talk to him about what happened, but Claire needed him to reach his own conclusions about his drinking. She couldn't be the one to coach him into getting better if it's not something he truly wanted for himself and for the family he wanted. Much as it hurt her to ignore him, she had to do it.

She needed to focus on Noah, anyway. Her sense of impending doom seemed to close the gap toward her every minute, and she was frantically searching for a way out. As she arrived at Gabriel’s house, she was relieved to see that Gabriel wasn’t there.

But she also was a little sad that he wasn’t there. Part of her wanted to hear his apology and his plea for her not to leave again. She wanted to know that even though she’d pushed him away, he was still waiting for her with open arms. She wanted reassurance that he still loved her.

It’s better this way, she thought sadly as she entered the house, retrieved the vacuum, and left again. Claire didn’t want to hear the hurt in his voice as he begged her to stay. What she really wanted was solid evidence that Gabriel would stop drinking and be there for her and the baby.

She placed a hand over her stomach, suddenly feeling sick again. Though the pregnancy was a good thing for her, Claire couldn’t help but resent the morning sickness. She could honestly admit that she hated it. But all of her pain and discomfort would be so worth it to her by the time the baby came.

Claire made it all the way into the house and into the bathroom before she puked, but she felt much better after she was done. Though she hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, she felt weirdly full of energy and she wasted no time in vacuuming up the glass shards.

The tree removers had been there while she was gone, and the living room window had become an unobstructed gaping hole in the wall. She closed her eyes against the breeze that gently blew her hair away from her face as she stood and admired her newly cleaned floor. I’ll have to email some places to see if they can fix the window… she thought.

Checking the time, she poured herself a cup of coffee and took it to go. She was nervous, to say the least, for her appointment with Dr. Lundahl. Claire made sure to bring the white envelope stuffed with court papers in case the doctor wanted to see them, and then she was out the door again.

***

Dr. Lundahl held the court documents in her hands, flipping through the pages as her eyes skimmed the words. She didn’t look surprised by anything it stated, so Claire assumed it was a typical court summons. After a few more moments, she set the papers aside and picked up her notepad.

Claire hadn’t told her about Mr. Fischer’s unsolicited visit yet, but she intended to. A voice in the back of her head told her that someone should know, and she hadn’t been able to silence that voice since Noah’s teacher pulled her aside during the storm.

“Those papers seem typical. Cut and dry. Likely what will happen is you’ll go to court and present your case against the Fischer’s. Because you’re Noah’s mother and you really don’t have anything on your record, they will dismiss the case and you’ll leave with Noah,” Dr. Lundahl said. “At least, that’s what I’ve seen. I’m no lawyer, and I advise you to get one as soon as possible.”

Claire nodded. “I’ve sent out a few emails outlining my case and I’m waiting for responses now,” she said. Having been through court trials a time or two, she had become pretty familiar with her role as the defendant.

“Perfect,” Dr. Lundahl said with a warm smile. “Would you mind if I come with you to court, Claire? I’d like to just be of support to you, and act as a witness in case anything goes sideways.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Claire said.

Claire was glad for Dr. Lundahl’s interest. Not only would Claire feel better having a trusted confidante with her, but she also wouldn’t have to rehash the details of her court experience with the doctor. Dr. Lundahl smiled again and spoke.

“Aside from the court summons, is there anything else you’d like to discuss?” Dr. Lundahl stared pointedly at Claire’s nose.

Claire’s mouth went dry, and she swallowed. She knew that she’d have to tell her whether or not she intended to, but it was hard to repeat despite already having told Gabriel and Noah. She sipped the tea that Rachel had provided and opened her mouth to speak.

Numb at first, and reluctant to give all the details, Claire reiterated everything that happened the night Mr. Fischer hit her and everything that happened the next morning. She choked when she told Dr. Lundahl about Noah’s inquiry about whether or not Gabriel had been the one to hit her.

Throughout Claire’s retelling, Dr. Lundahl scribbled notes on paper as she usually did. The act had stopped bothering Claire after a few months of seeing her, but the sound of pen scratching against paper seemed to give an eerie tone to the room.

Claire lapsed into silence as she finished her story and waited for the scratching to stop. Dr. Lundahl’s face held a hint of worry and seeing her expression made Claire’s hands go clammy. She breathed through the silence, and finally Dr. Lundahl looked up and addressed Claire.

“Where did your mind go when Mr. Fischer hit you?” she asked softly.

Claire picked at her fingernail. “It was like I was back in the basement, cowering as Danny stood over me. I was terrified,” she finally answered.

“How did you bring yourself back to the present?”

Claire thought about her question for a moment before answering. “I’m ashamed to say it, but I think I just waited it out. I remember expecting the next blow to come, but it never did. And then I was able to uncover my eyes and see that Mr. Fischer was gone.”

“Don’t be ashamed, Claire. It was the first time you’d dealt with a situation like that since Danny died. I think you handled it very well. I know this sounds terrible to say, but typically with triggers, the more you’re subjected to the trigger the less likely you are to react. But it can get a little foggy. You’d have to face the trigger willingly in order to make progress.” Dr. Lundahl shook her head. “Obviously, I don’t advise facing a trigger like that willingly. What I’m saying is, you reacted exactly as one would expect, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Claire asked, sitting forward in her seat anxiously.

“You know our appointments are confidential unless you explicitly give consent,” Dr. Lundahl said.

Claire’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and Dr. Lundahl continued. “Through everything you’ve told me, you seem to be sticking to your guns with all the mental health advice we’ve talked about. And for that, you should be proud. You’re making it through. Going to court will be a walk in the park and I have no doubts that you’ll see the rainbow after the storm in no time at all.”

Dr. Lundahl’s words were strangely comforting. There was a time when her words would have sent Claire’s anger over the edge. Sitting there with the doctor then, she was grateful for all the progress she’d made.

Chapter nineteen

Birds chattered busily just outside Claire's window as the sun peeked up over the horizon. Claire opened her sleep-crusted eyes wearily and groaned. Pregnancy exhaustion was beginning to set in, and Claire wanted to roll over in bed and not get up. She remembered that part of pregnancy, though the first round hadn't been that bad for her, considering she'd been locked in a basement and not allowed much space to move around in. She'd mostly been mentally exhausted from her abuse.

Claire marveled at the difference in her pregnancies. She hadn't known exactly what to expect, but she knew it would be different just because her environment was different. Nausea and morning sickness hadn't even been a thing in her first pregnancy; except the one time she threw up that prompted Danny to go out and buy a pregnancy test.

Sitting up in bed, Claire forced herself to rise and face the day. The weekend had been tough, avoiding Gabriel and trying to navigate a house with a broken window. She told Noah that he had to wear shoes in the house for a long while because she was afraid she'd missed shards of glass. The thought of his feet all cut up and bleeding had Claire in a panic, especially considering the recent visit from CPS still had her on edge.

She'd met with Elizabeth for lunch on Saturday, allowing Noah to play at Gabriel's house with Ben for a couple of hours. She'd sat in the driveway watching as Noah ran to the door and rung the doorbell as she'd instructed him. She hadn't messaged Gabriel to let him know, but instead she took advantage of a learning opportunity for Noah. "Make sure you ask him if it's alright if you can be here for a few hours," Claire had told him, swallowing past a lump in her throat.

And he'd done just that. Gabriel had answered the door and ruffled Noah's hair after a brief conversation. Then Noah had pushed past him into the house and took off in search of Ben, leaving Gabriel to stand at the door staring longingly at Claire. She'd given him a bitter smile and mouthed 'thank you' before putting the car into reverse and backing up.

She hadn't wanted to go up and talk to him because it would have given him false hope that she'd be home soon. Claire still needed to be sure he was finished with alcohol before she committed to anything. She'd glanced back at him before driving away, and she wished she hadn't. The look of hurt in his eyes was enough to derail her, and she had to resist the urge to park the car and go to him.

Claire's mind remained in a fog for most of the weekend, even through her lunch with Elizabeth. It had gone very well, she thought. They met at the small diner on the main strip, a little hole-in-the-wall place that Claire had seen in passing but never tried. The atmosphere of the place was welcoming and friendly, and they received prompt service and hot food.

Elizabeth had arrived first, being seated at a table near the window and waiting patiently for Claire to arrive. Before entering, Claire took a breath and steeled herself. She'd have to put her feelings on the back burner and pretend that everything was alright because she didn't want her first friend date to go sour. The rest of her life was in shambles, and she desperately needed a friend.

Elizabeth waved at Claire, beckoning her to join, and Claire sat just as the waitress made her way to them. "Good morning, ladies," she smiled, peppermint gum on her breath. Claire fought against the smell and held her nausea at bay as the waitress continued. "What can I get for you?"

Smiling, Claire glanced at the menu. Her order was simple as it always was; a BLT with a side of fries. She and Elizabeth placed their orders and the waitress assumed her position behind the counter as she relayed the order to the kitchen staff. "This is such a cute little diner," Claire mused, shoving her purse toward the inside of the booth seat.

"This is my favorite place in town," Elizabeth said, glancing around.

The walls were the most beautiful shade of turquoise she'd ever seen. The ceilings were painted a bright white color and was encircled with crown molding and ceiling medallions wrapped around the base of each light fixture. The tables and chairs were white to match the ceiling, and the curtains that hung in the window were flowered with a royal blue background that somehow pulled everything together.

"I can see why," Claire said with a smile. "It smells amazing in here."

Claire told the truth. Somehow, the smells of cooking food didn't turn her stomach for once. Instead, her mouth watered, and her stomach rumbled. She was starving. "The service here is quick. We should have our food within ten minutes," Elizabeth said, rubbing her hands together.

Claire laughed at Elizabeth's excitement. "How have you been? I'm sorry we couldn't meet sooner. It's been kind of crazy since we talked over the fence," Claire started, wincing as her sad attempt to keep thoughts of Gabriel at bay failed miserably.

"That's alright. Work has kept me caught up, too," Elizabeth responded, sipping her water.

"What do you do for work?" Claire asked, leaning forward as their conversation took off.

"I work for an investment company," Elizabeth said, placing her hands in her lap. "It's actually pretty satisfying to be able to help people out. You'd be surprised how few people know how to manage their finances."

Claire was impressed. She hadn't known what to expect and was pleasantly surprised at Elizabeth's openness. "Wow, that's amazing. The world needs more people teaching the younger generation about finances. When I graduated high school, I barely knew how to balance a check book. I'm just lucky my mom and dad knew enough to teach me the basics," Claire said.

"That's the whole problem, though," Elizabeth laughed. "Nobody seems willing to teach people how to handle their money and it's one of the main reasons so many people are in debt right now. As a financial agent, I get to help them climb out of debt and invest their money where it can help them."

"That's such a great thing," Claire said, and she meant it. "You strike me a good person and a great teacher."

"What about you? What do you do for work?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm a writer. I do a lot of work for other people, sign a lot of NDA's. But I also have been publishing my own work the last couple of years," Claire said, her face flushing. She stared at her hands.

Elizabeth waggled her eyebrows. "Ooh, that sounds fun," she said. "I bet you write a lot of sex scenes."

Claire giggled. "Well, sometimes. My clients want a lot of psychological thriller, and that's kind of the course I'm taking with my own work as well. So usually if there's a sex scene it's because the character is doing bad things."

Wrinkling her nose, Elizabeth responded, "Ew, so like the autopsy guy fucking his patient?"

Claire laughed. "Actually, that's a good example. I had to write a scene like that a few years ago. It was gross."

Claire shuddered as she remember the client's instructions on the scene. They'd wanted it to be very detailed, down to the cold, hard rigor mortis. If she hadn't gotten paid for it, Claire doubted if she would have written such a scene. Though, it did give her practice on writing such fine detail, so she couldn't complain too much. After all, it was just a made-up story.

"Gross," Elizabeth laughed. "So are you successful with it? How much does one make in a career like that?"

"Well, the ghostwriting kind of fluctuates depending on what projects I take on. I typically only take on work that pays more that five grand per project. Taking less than that would be an insult to my skills and experience," Claire said. "Publishing my own books actually brings in less money than the ghostwriting, so it's more of a side gig."

"Holy shit, I never knew ghostwriting paid that much," Elizabeth said.

"Oh, it can pay much more than that," Claire said, excitement spilling over as she talked about her passion. "There are actually some really famous authors that pay ghostwriters to write their books, and sometimes they can pay up to twenty thousand or higher."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide. "Damn, clearly I'm in the wrong business."

Claire laughed. "I tend to stick with the mid-level projects because I don't want the extra pressure right now. Maybe someday I'll take on the bigger ones."

"How long does it take you to complete a project?"

Claire thought about it. "That kind of fluctuates, too, depending on the project and what the client wants. For shorter projects, I can finish within a month. Longer ones take six to eight weeks. And that's mostly because I take on multiple clients at a time."

"Wow, so you actually have the potential to make more than a few thousand a month," Elizabeth was shocked as Claire nodded her agreement.

Ghostwriting was taboo in a lot of places, and she usually kept it on the down low that she was doing it, but it paid so well that she couldn't fathom doing anything else. It was literally her dream job to strike it rich on writing, and she'd never be able to do it by just publishing her own books. One can dream…

The waitress approached with two steaming plates of food and Claire licked her lips in anticipation. "This is going to be delicious, isn't it?" Claire asked as Elizabeth shoved food into her mouth.

Elizabeth nodded and giggled. "Try it," she said, swallowing a bite. "So how did you come to live in this little town?"

Claire paused, wondering how much she should disclose if she wanted to keep Elizabeth as a friend. She hadn't been scared to talk about her past since she'd progressed in therapy, though, so the telling wouldn't be too hard. "Promise not to get scared?" Claire asked.

Elizabeth knit her eyebrows together. "Sure. I mean, what would I be scared of?"

Claire shrugged and went for it. "I got married to a boy I met as a child. He turned out to be completely controlling and abusive. He locked me away on our wedding night, beat me, raped me, abused me in any way you can think of. When I finally escaped, I killed him to protect my son, Noah. I was afraid that just running away with the baby wouldn't be enough protection, so I drugged him and killed him. I came here because it's far away from the past and it's quiet, cute, and a great place to raise kids."

It was a short summary that didn't give away too many gory details, and Claire hoped it wouldn't scare Elizabeth away. Elizabeth's jaw dropped as Claire spoke. "Holy shit, girl. You've been through an ordeal."

Nodding, Claire continued. "That's not all, though. My crazy friend from back home found me and kidnapped me and my son three years ago. I'm sure you heard about that."

"That was you?" Elizabeth asked with wide eyes. "I heard some of the details through the news."

"I'll spare you the horrifying ones," Claire said. "The battle with my mental health has been real, but I'm finally in a happy place."

"I'm glad to know you've overcome the shitty things life gives you. You seem like such a strong person."

"I don't feel strong, though," Claire said, more to herself than to Elizabeth.

"Well, you are. Noah has a lot to look up to, and from what I've seen from over the fence, you're a damned good mother," she said, taking another bite.

Claire grinned. "Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that today."

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked.

Feeling at ease with herself and with her new friend, Claire opened up and told Elizabeth about what she was facing; a new horror that presented itself in the form of her ex in-laws. Elizabeth was engaged, enraptured by the things Claire was saying. Her emotions were raw, real. Claire knew she had a friend she could trust, and that helped.

Chapter twenty

Claire took Noah by the hand and led him toward the courthouse from the parking lot. She felt like a scared, frantic little rabbit, ready to bolt at any moment.

“Mom, I’m scared. What if they take me away?” he asked in a small voice.

“That’s not going to happen, baby,” Claire responded, choking at the thought of it.

“But what if they do? I don’t want to live with my grandparents,” he said, pulling against her. He was just as afraid as she was.

Claire stooped down and took him in her arms. “Honey, I’m nervous just like you are, but we have to trust that everything will work out. If they take you away, you have to be strong and know that I’ll fight to get you back with every ounce of energy I have.”

Noah sniffled at her words and hugged her even tighter. “Can’t we just run away?” he asked, his tone firm and serious. Somehow, in his childish mind, running away would be more effective than letting the court decide Claire was a fit mother.

Claire stifled a laugh, knowing it would only make him feel bad for asking. “If we were to just run away, I could get in a lot of trouble. They would arrest me for evading court and maybe even for kidnapping,” she said. “We have to face this, and we will come out on top. I promise.”

Claire winced as she spoke. She was making promises she didn't even know if she could keep. He'll hate me if it doesn't go as planned… Noah sniffled again, but he nodded and allowed Claire to take his hand and pull him though the doors and into the courthouse. Dr. Lundahl was waiting just inside for them, and she smiled widely at Noah.

“Hey, buddy. How have you been?” she asked, holding her hand out for a high five.

He acquiesced, slapping her hand and grinning at their little hand shake. Dr. Lundahl had been Noah’s first therapist after Claire and Gabriel freed him from Rachel’s abuse, and Noah loved her. He’d been sad to hear that he would have to see a different person, though he’d fallen in love with the young woman who replaced Dr. Lundahl.

“Thank you again for coming today,” Claire spoke, relief in her tone. Dr. Lundahl's presence gave Claire more confidence.

“I’m glad to be here today,” Dr. Lundahl responded. “We’re early, but the Clerk said the doors are open and we can go in. Would you like me to sit with you?”

“Maybe just sit nearby. I think they will want me in the front with my lawyer. She should be here soon,” Claire said, glancing out the door to see if her lawyer had arrived.

“Alright, well let’s go in then. Remember everything we talked about,” The doctor responded, squeezing Claire's arm, and the trio turned toward the courtroom and found their seats.

Noah sat next to Claire, so close to her that he was nearly in her lap. Claire’s heart broke as she watched his scared eyes dart around the nearly-empty room. She gazed around, as well, and as her eyes took in the ugly brown walls, the solid wooden furniture, and the stately podium in the front of the room, she couldn’t blame him for being scared.

A woman dressed in a black pant suit with a red blouse entered the room and waved excitedly to Claire. She weaved between the rows of chairs and sat down next to Claire. Claire smirked, loving how chaotic and realistic her lawyer was. Mrs. Meyer wasn't a boring, hard-hearted person, and her entire countenance spoke for that.

“Hey, I’m so happy to see you this morning,” Mrs. Meyer said, panting as though she'd just run a marathon.

Mrs. Meyer had been one of two lawyers who’d emailed Claire back. Out of the two, Claire chose Mrs. Meyer for her friendliness, knowledge of child disputes, and willingness to do what it took to win.

During their first meeting, Claire had been told to expect the worst during the initial hearing, and if anything happened that didn’t align with her needs, Mrs. Meyer would then be able to direct Claire better on what to do next.

“Often, I see the other party create confusion within the court and when that happens, Child Protective Services will likely place the child in Foster Care until things are sorted out,” she’d told Claire.

That bit of news had sent Claire into a panic attack, but it was quickly rebuked with Mrs. Meyer’s next statement. “Georgia typically leans toward the mother’s side in cases like these, though. So even if they placed him in a temporary foster home, it wouldn’t be long before he was back in your home.”

Mrs. Meyer seemed competent and able to handle Claire’s case, and Claire was relieved to see her out-of-breath, friendly face that morning. Her entire essence seemed to ooze peace, courage, and calmness, despite her chaotic ways, and it affected Claire in just the way she needed it to.

Claire exchanged smiles with Mrs. Meyer and introduced Noah to her. “She’s going to help us understand what the judge says. Sometimes they use legal terms that are hard to decipher,” Claire explained.

Noah smiled shyly and nodded his head but didn’t speak. His face was ashen, and Claire knew he was getting worried. This is just the beginning, kid… Claire thought.

Chapter twenty-one

A hush fell over the courtroom as the judge entered the room and took a seat. Mr. and Mrs. Fischer had arrived with five minutes to spare and sat next to a lawyer dressed head to toe in heavily starched gray clothing.

Claire’s hands were clammy at the sight of the fancy, big-shot lawyer they’d hired to represent them. She knew she would have a hard time defending herself against such an expensive asset to the Fischer’s. Even Mrs. Meyer looked spooked when he entered the room and directed the Fischer’s to their seats.

Claire could barely tear her eyes away from the Fischer’s faces. They looked smug and pristine in their own pressed suits, like they didn’t have a care in the world. The sight of them angered Claire to the bones and she fought the urge to get up and leave the room. Instead, she squeezed Noah’s hand, hoping it would give both of them the reassurance they needed.

As the judge shuffled papers around on his podium, Claire noticed that Noah glanced continuously toward where the Fischer’s were. She imagined his curiosity was threatening to get the best of him, and the only thing holding him back from asking Claire questions was his fear.

He started in his seat as the judge spoke, introducing the officials in the courtroom and reading the details of the case. Everything was very cut and dry as he spoke of Claire’s past and Noah’s father. Mrs. Meyer had warned that it would come up, but she hadn’t been worried about it. Claire herself was interested in what Mrs. Mitchell had found in her home and sat on the edge of her seat until he spoke of it.

“During the well check Mrs. Mitchell conducted, she found several damaging artifacts condemning Ms. Wilson’s ability to safely parent Noah Wilson. As follows, the artifacts listed include: unsecured knives in the kitchen, severely clogged furnace filter at risk for causing a fire, expired food in the refrigerator, black mold on the bathroom ceiling, and hazardous clutter throughout the whole house.”

Claire gasped and straightened her back. Most of the items listed were things she hadn’t even thought of. Her father was usually the one to clean the furnace filter and she hadn’t remembered. Though, they had spent most of their time at Gabriel’s house over the winter and were rarely home anyway.

A hint of anger seeped into her veins as the judge read about the clutter. She’d made sure to tell Mrs. Mitchell about packing the house up to move, and she hadn’t put that in the report. She glared at Mr. Fischer before leaning toward Mrs. Meyer and whispering, “They didn’t give the full report. I told Mrs. Mitchell that we were moving and the house would be cluttered. Can they use that against me?”

Mrs. Meyer took in what Claire had to say and nodded her head before standing. “Your Honor, it seems to me that Mrs. Mitchell left a few things out of her report.”

“How so?” the judge peered at Mrs. Meyer over his glasses and waited impatiently for her response.

“Mrs. Wilson informed me that she told Mrs. Mitchell before the well check even began that the house would be disorderly due to packing her things to move in with her boyfriend of three years,” Mrs. Meyer said.

The judge glared at her, and Claire could see his gears turning. The case would not end up being an easy once, and Claire’s stomach churned. They’d already hit one bump in the case and confusion had set in throughout the courtroom.

“It looks like we’ve got some things to hash out and bring to light then,” the judge said. “Before we end today, I’ll finish going over case notes to avoid any other confusion between parties.”

He turned his attention back to the papers in his hand and continued to read. “In addition to the well check report, Mr. Hart has given an additional list of damaging artifacts provided by the Fischer’s as witness. As follows, these artifacts include: Broken picture window that has not been repaired in over a week, potentially abusive boyfriend that poses a safety risk to the child, emotional abuse toward the child, abandoning the child during a severe storm in which the school attempted to reach out to Ms. Wilson with no response, and allowing the child to be abducted and abused by Ms. Wilson’s best friend.”

Claire’s ears burned with anger, her cheeks reddening with each artifact given. She’d given the facts of the court case against Rachel to Mrs. Meyer during their meetings, and Claire didn’t have to whisper in her ear to get her to object.

“Your Honor, none of that is true,” Mrs. Meyer said.

“You mean to tell me that Noah did not, in fact, get abducted just three years ago?” the judge asked. “I happen to have read through the court transcripts regarding the kidnapper’s death, Mrs. Meyer. Additionally, I can see the bruising on Ms. Wilson's face, indicating she's been hit by her boyfriend.”

“No, it’s true that Noah was kidnapped, sir. I only meant that Ms. Wilson didn’t allow it to happen. She did everything in her power to stop it from happening and, in the process, fell victim to the kidnapper herself. Ms. Wilson sustained several injuries, as documented in the court paperwork for the incident. Additionally, other artifacts presented by Mr. Hart are falsified. Ms. Wilson’s picture window was damaged during the storm. She’s called for a repair and should be getting it fixed soon. On that topic, I can safely say that Ms. Wilson has not been residing in the house while the window has been broken. And that same storm that damaged her house is the same storm that school was cancelled for. It’s true that Ms. Wilson didn’t answer the phone, but within moments of the missed call, she heard the weather report and rushed straight to the school. She picked up her son in the same pickup line as other parents, so though she missed the call, she was not late in picking him up. As for the bruising on Ms. Wilson's face, someone else caused that damage.” She glared at Mr. Fischer as she spoke.

“Do you have any physical evidence of these statements, Mrs. Meyer?” the judge asked. He was clearly fed up with her objections.

“Not on hand, Your Honor, but if you’ll grant a recess, we can gather the evidence to the claims against Ms. Wilson and present it to the court,” Mrs. Meyer said.

Claire glanced at the Fischer’s, who were beginning to look perturbed. Mr. Fischer cast hostile glances toward Mrs. Meyer, and Claire knew that they were becoming nervous. She couldn’t help the smug grin from creeping onto her face.

“Recess granted,” the judge said. “I expect everyone back here in two weeks’ time to reach a verdict. I hope you can gather all your evidence in that time, Mrs. Meyer. In the meantime, based on the accusations given here today, we will be placing Noah in a foster home until we can sort out truth from fiction.”

He slammed his gavel on the podium before Claire could even react.

Chapter twenty-two

Claire sat stock still, gripping Noah’s hand as people filed out of the courtroom. She couldn’t even cry. The only thing that prompted her to move was Noah’s soft voice next to her. “Mom, you’re squeezing my hand,” he whispered.

Claire’s eyes began to burn with inevitable tears. The poor boy probably didn’t even understand the judge’s verdict. Mrs. Mitchell entered the courtroom from a side entrance with another woman, one Claire had never seen before, and she tried to focus her attention on the movements in the room; the rustling of paper against clothing, the scuff of shoes across the carpet, the murmurs of trepidation at the details of the case.

Mrs. Mitchell was heading their way, and Claire knew that she was coming to take Noah from her. I’m not ready for this… Claire said. No amount of preparation could ever prepare a mother for what was about to happen. Frantically, Claire turned to face Noah.

“Honey, I need you to hear me now.” She spoke soft but firm, hoping he would remember her words. “Mrs. Mitchell is going to take you and put you with a nice family. But I don’t want you to worry. You’re going to be safe and taken care of while I’m figuring things out. You’ll be back home in just a few weeks.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to go,” he said loudly, angrily. “You said they wouldn’t take me.”

“They’re not going to take you forever, baby,” Claire placated, patting the back of his hand with hers. “Mr. and Mrs. Fischer have accused me of doing some things, and I have to prove to the judge that I didn’t. And until it can be proven, they’ve got to put you with a nice family. You won’t go with the Fischer’s. Think of it as a sleepover.”

Mrs. Mitchell stopped in front of Claire and looked down her nose at her. “Let’s go, Noah,” she said.

Claire glared at her and ignored her harsh words. Turning back to Noah, she said. “I want you to remember that I love you so much. No matter what happens, I love you and nothing will ever change that, do you hear me? We’ll be together again soon.”

Claire stood and pulled Noah into a tight embrace, resisting the urge to pick him up and run out of the courtroom with him. Suddenly, Noah’s idea of running away didn’t sound too bad. Mrs. Mitchell scoffed. “We’ll see about that,” she said, not bothering to hide her emotions from Noah.

Claire kissed Noah on the cheek and stood, facing Mrs. Mitchell. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” Claire said simply. “Lying to a judge like that? It’s unprofessional. You’re choosing to hurt an innocent mother and child, and for what? Are they paying you?”

Mrs. Mitchell’s eyes went wide at the accusation, and Claire couldn’t help but take it as an admission of guilt. “I don’t have to answer to you,” Mrs. Mitchell said, pulling Noah away from Claire by his arm.

“Don’t hurt him,” Claire growled.

“He’s not your concern anymore,” she responded, and she stalked away with Noah still held by the arm.

“Mommy! Don’t let her take me away!” Noah screamed, and Claire watched helplessly as tears ran down his face in his struggle to release Mrs. Mitchell’s grip on his arm.

***

Claire wanted to go home and curl up in bed, the image of Noah’s distraught face forever ingrained in her memory. How could I have failed him? I promised him that he wouldn’t be taken away and I lied. Maybe I’m not the right caregiver for him, anyway…

Her thoughts ran rampant with her emotions as she sat in front of Mrs. Meyer’s desk and waited for her to begin speaking. Claire’s lawyer had cleared her schedule for the rest of the day so she could help Claire come up with a working plan of action to get Noah back.

Claire was losing her grip on reality with each passing moment, and she barely heard her phone ping in her purse as her distraction and negative self-talk continued. She pulled her phone out to see what the notification was. It was a text from Gabriel. “Hey, Claire. How is everything going? I know you had court today; did it go well?”

Claire scoffed and closed her phone, ignoring his attempt at communication. She couldn’t handle her relationship problems just then; not when she’d just had her child taken away from her. Mrs. Meyer’s face was pale, and she seemed jittery.

“Is everything okay?” Claire asked in a small voice.

“Hmm?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from the copy of court documents she’d gotten from the judge. “Oh, yes. I’m okay. I’m just a little surprised that the Fischer’s think they will get away with lying. A lot of people give little white lies on the stand, you know, but the number of untruths I saw in court today was astonishing. We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“I don’t even know what to do. Where do we even start?” Claire said helplessly, unable to keep the worry out of her voice.

“I’m gathering all the information on the claims made against you, and we’re going to work together to gather all the physical evidence we can to support your innocence and get Noah back,” Mrs. Meyer said confidently.

“If they are going to lie to the court, don’t you think they will also fabricate their own evidence to support their claims? What’s the point?” Claire said, feeling deflated.

“Ms. Wilson, are you giving up on me?” Mrs. Meyer asked. “You forget that I’m an expert in this field. I’ll help you gather all the legal documents that the court will accept as evidence. We can also gather witnesses to testify on your behalf.”

Claire scoffed. “The only witness I had passed away over a year ago. My father is the only person who has seen me raise my son, Mrs. Meyer. There are no other witnesses.”

Mrs. Meyer cocked her head to one side, an amused smile painting itself across her face. “And what about Gabriel? And Noah’s teacher, principal, peers. Even his therapist and yours. Ms. Wilson, there is more hope here than you are allowing yourself to see.”

Claire shrugged. She’d already lost hope the moment Mrs. Mitchell closed the court room door behind a screaming Noah. “I guess,” she said.

Mrs. Meyer drew up a copy of the court documents and wrote out on legal paper a plan of action. “This is what we’re going to do. We’ll start with the easy stuff. We already know we can get therapist notes and medical records, but we’ll make a call to ensure we get the documentation within two weeks,” she spoke as she wrote. “We’ll get phone records and a notarized statement from the tree removal company and the people you called to replace the window in your home. I’ll leave you to get permission from Gabriel and Noah’s teacher to testify for you.”

Gabriel… His name seemed to be an awful memory of her past. In all her anxiety over the last week about her court appearance, she’d almost forgotten about him. Her face turned red with shame, and she nodded to Mrs. Meyer. She’d have to suck it up and talk to Gabriel, if he’d even allow her to speak to him after how she acted.

She fought the urge to cry, though her cheeks turned numb at the prospect. She wanted Gabriel there. Her guilt told her that she’d been stupid to push him away right when she needed him the most. I’m an idiot, she thought bitterly, throwing her years of learning positivity out the window.

With Noah gone, she didn’t have the courage or strength to keep her head up. The life she'd worked so hard to build had been because Noah was at the center of it all, and he was gone. The urge to go home and fall asleep and never leave her bed was taking over, and Claire let it. As Mrs. Meyer finished drawing up the plan of action, Claire’s numbness came back, and she shut out what Mrs. Meyer was saying.

Chapter twenty-three

Claire's memory of the drive home was fuzzy; her thoughts were fixated on how Noah sounded betrayed as Mrs. Mitchell was tearing him away from her, and she couldn’t stop the negative self-talk from flowing. You were never good enough, anyway. The things you did in the past are the reason he was taken away. You hurt him, nobody else. Just let him go…

On and on her mind raced as she belittled herself. She couldn’t stand not being with Noah, and yet there wasn’t anything she could do about it but panic and scream. She fought the urge the throw a toddler tantrum, though it seemed more appealing with each passing second.

Before she knew it, the negative self-talk turned into panic. How am I going to get him back? It’s going to be impossible. Is he really better off without me? The daunting thoughts of all the laborious tasks Mrs. Meyer had given her to do over the next couple of weeks weighed on her. It’s not that she didn’t know what to do, it’s that she didn’t know where to start.

There were so many small tasks to be done that they piled on top of each other and jumbled up inside her brain. Though Mrs. Meyer had literally spelled it out on paper for her, Claire was exhausted just thinking about starting the list of people to call, things to do, paperwork to gather. I’ll never get this done on time…

And it was that thought, paired with the depression that seemed to bowl right over her, that swayed her decision. Claire’s panic attack took over with full force, and suddenly Claire knew the answer to all of her problems.

She’d lost her mother and father, killed her ex-husband and watched her best friend die, battled her own mental health for far too long, and now she’d pushed Gabriel away from her and lost Noah. Claire was alone, and she was tired. It was time.

Standing in her kitchen, her dead eyes fell on the very knife she’d been thinking of, and she picked it up. Turning it over in her hands, she admired the shining metal of the blade and imagined her blood on it. She was ready.

She scoffed, remembering the night she killed Danny. Similar thoughts had crossed her mind as she held onto the knife, and Claire couldn’t help but see the irony in what she was about to do. She’d ended her husband’s life with a knife, and she was about to do the same thing to herself. What goes around comes around, I guess, she thought bitterly.

Claire pressed the blade against her wrist, wincing at the prick of pain as the tip cut into her skin. As the blood welled and ran down her arm, Claire heard the front door open over the rushing sound of her heartbeat in her ears, but she didn’t move. Her eyes were glued to the blood as it dripped onto the floor and splattered there.

Then she heard the gasp, and before she could turn her gaze up, a hand covered hers gently and tugged the knife away from her.

“Claire, what are you doing? Are you okay?” Gabriel spoke loudly, angry as he threw the knife away from them.

“What does it matter, Gabriel?” Claire asked, a soft smile on her face. Her mind was peaceful since she'd decided to end it.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, and he rushed to find the first aid kit that Claire kept in the cupboard under the sink.

He blotted her arm with gauze soaked in peroxide and covered it with a band aid as Claire watched him numbly. She was beginning to feel the pain she’d caused with the blade of the knife. “I’m fine. You can go home now,” she tried feebly, wanting him to leave so she could free herself.

“Like hell,” he spat, holding both of her hands in his own.

Claire marveled at the warm gentleness that covered her cold hands. “Gabriel, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, Claire. What the fuck were you thinking?” Gabriel said, hurt and betrayal in his words.

Claire looked into his kind eyes. “Gabriel, I’ve lost everything. I’m not needed here anymore. Let me do what I need to do.”

“You haven’t lost anything, and I’m not going to let you hurt yourself,” Gabriel said, a steely expression on his face.

“How can you say that? I caused so many deaths, and now I’ve lost you and Noah both. I don’t have anything to keep me here, and Noah is better off with that family,” Claire said, tears welling in her eyes.

Gabriel’s expression softened as she spoke, and he pulled her into his embrace. “You haven’t lost me, Claire. You told me to get sober or I’d lose you, and I’ve come here tonight to show you this,” he pulled a small chip out of his pocket and handed it to Claire.

Claire took the white token from him and turned it over in her hands. She recognized it as an Alcoholics Anonymous chip. She knew what it meant, but she waited until he continued to speak.

“I was stupid to start drinking again, Claire. And I had every intention of quitting as soon as I found out about the baby. I felt so guilty for keeping it from you, and I would have come to you about it soon anyway. But it was you who saved me from it, in the end. I couldn’t stand the thought of being without you. I’d give up anything if it means you’re with me for life,” Gabriel’s voice became thick as he choked back a sob. “And I promise you that I will never drink again. It’s not worth what I’d lose.”

Claire couldn’t hold back her own tears, and she hugged him tightly as she cried. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel,” she whispered, the weight of what she’d been about to do falling heavy upon her shoulders. “I’m sorry for everything. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“You’ll never lose me if I can help it,” he placated, stroking her hair.

Claire and Gabriel remained in each other’s arms for an eternity, and when Claire had finished crying, she pulled away. “They took Noah,” Claire whispered, casting her eyes down shamefully.

“I was afraid of that,” Gabriel said sadly. “What did your lawyer say about it?”

Claire recounted some of the things the Fischer’s were accusing her of and what the judge had said as a result. She went over the list of things Mrs. Meyer asked her to do until the next court date. She choked as she told him about Noah’s screaming and crying as Mrs. Mitchell forced him away from his mother without a goodbye.

Gabriel took her hand as she spoke, stroking her palm with his thumb and leaning closer to her. His actions made her feel safe and comforted, though she found no solace in the fact that her son was still gone. Finally, Claire told him about Mrs. Meyer’s list, and Gabriel took it from her and skimmed it.

“Holy shit,” he said breathlessly as he read through the front and back page of tasks that Claire had to do.

“Exactly. How the fuck am I supposed to do all of this in two weeks?” Claire asked, exasperated.

Gabriel cleared his throat and set the list aside. “You’re going to start at the top of the list and work your way down. And I’m going to help you in any way I can,” he responded confidently.

Claire studied his face but found no cracks in his steel barrier. Gabriel would help her; of that she was sure. Something about knowing she wasn’t having to face everything alone gave her great comfort, and she suddenly found the strength to continue on.

“I don’t have enough time to make half of these calls. If we had more time, I wouldn’t feel like I’m drowning,” Claire said, feeling deflated. “I’ve got a job that I can’t lose.”

Claire remembered about how she'd sat in the diner with Elizabeth and talked about the perks of writing for other people, and she felt herself sinking lower. What would Elizabeth think if she lost the job she'd bragged about?

“Your clients will understand if you have to take a couple weeks off to get your son back,” Gabriel reassured. “Besides, if you don’t feel like you can take time off, then don’t. Like I said, I’ll help you in any way I can. I’ll make calls, pick up paperwork, talk to whoever you need.”

“But what about your job? You can’t exactly take time off, either,” Claire said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I can work from home, and I can take as many breaks as I want to. My boss isn’t a stickler as long as the work is getting done,” he said.

She could feel the invisible weight on her shoulders shift onto his as well, and she felt strong again. Smiling, she pulled him into an embrace again and kissed him. “Have I ever thanked you for everything that you do for us?”

“Seeing your beautiful face everyday is thanks enough,” Gabriel breathed into her neck as he squeezed her tighter.

Claire giggled and kissed his neck, and Gabriel picked her up and carried her down the hall to Claire’s bedroom.

Chapter twenty-four

Before Claire left the courthouse with Mrs. Meyer, Dr. Lundahl had scheduled an appointment for Claire for the following morning. Breathlessly, Dr. Lundahl had expressed to Claire that she felt like something fishy was going on and wanted to discuss options with her.

Claire had added the appointment into her calendar but almost forgot about it as she lay in bed with Gabriel and stared at his sleeping face. She was glad he’d gotten sober and come to her in the nick of time. Claire shuddered as she thought of what would happen if he’d only been a few minutes later.

He’d walk in to find her lying in a pool of her own blood with no explanation as to why she’d killed herself. He would have been heartbroken, destroyed. He would have blamed himself. And Noah? He would have been bounced around different foster homes being exposed to God only knew what. Noah would have wondered why his mom never came back to save him like she said she would.

She stroked Gabriel’s face, her emotions threatening to spill tears all over her pillow, but she fought it back. She wouldn’t cry that day. Instead, she’d get the ball rolling and start checking things off her list before she’d have to focus on work again after the weekend.

Gabriel didn’t stir at her touch, so Claire rolled out of bed and dressed herself for the appointment. She knew he’d wake soon but wanted him to sleep as long as he could. They both would have a crazy, exhausting week.

Claire prepared a small breakfast of eggs and toast, and as the house filled with the scent of hot eggs, she could hear Gabriel moving around in the bedroom. He emerged only a few moments later, his hair fixed and fresh clothes on his body.

“Good morning,” Claire said, scooping food onto two plates and carrying them to the table.

She sat Gabriel’s plate in front of him and took her own seat. “This smells great,” he said, digging in. “What do you have planned today?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Lundahl,” she said in between bites. “And then I need to sit down and make a few calls.”

Gabriel nodded. “Are you coming back here, or to my house?” he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

Claire weighed her options. “I suppose I could come to our house,” she said, winking at him.

Gabriel grinned at her choice of words before speaking. “Do you need me to take anything over? I know we’re going to leave some of your furniture here, but what else?”

“Just take what you can fit in your car, I guess,” Claire said. She hadn’t thought about moving since she’d left Gabriel’s house a week before. “I’ll put the list Mrs. Meyer gave me in my purse and meet you at your house in a couple of hours.”

Gabriel nodded, and the newly-reunited couple finished their breakfast in silence and parted ways.

***

Dr. Lundahl was still practically speechless as Claire settled onto the couch in her office. “So, what are we going to do?” she asked Claire.

It was clear that the judge’s decision had thrown Dr. Lundahl for a loop. “All I can do is gather evidence that the claims against me are false,” Claire said.

“Is that why you’re tense?” she asked, eying Claire.

“I’m tense because I lost my son, and it’s going to take a whole village of people to help me get him back.” Claire’s words were short, and she immediately felt bad for how she’d said it.

“Well, let’s see the list of things you’ve got to do,” Dr. Lundahl laid her legal pad to the side and sat forward in her seat.

Claire pulled the folded list from her purse and gave it to Dr. Lundahl, then leaned back against the couch and folded her arms across her chest. Dr. Lundahl perused the list, nodding and tapping a manicured finger on her bottom lip.

“This is quite the list, Claire. I can understand why you’re feeling tense. Something like this can feel impossible,” she responded, carefully folding the list and handing it back to Claire.

“Tell me about it,” Claire responded, laying the paper on the cushion next to her. “How am I supposed to do a month’s worth of work in just two weeks?”

“You can enlist some help,” Dr. Lundahl said. “As I told you in our last appointment, I can provide your therapy notes for the court, including the ones from my meetings with Noah after his return. I can speak with his therapist while you’re working on some other things on the list, as well. That’s two things you can immediately cross off the list. As for some of the other items, they seem easy. You can speak with the window replacement crew when they come to complete the work and get a statement from them, and placing a call to the tree removal guys is easy, too. It requires little effort.”

“But what about everything else? There are so many things that I have to prove and I have two weeks to do it,” Claire complained.

“Start with what’s easy, and when you see that list shrink, it will motivate you to keep working. Besides, we know that our time is short, so why waste it? Get cracking on it as soon as possible. Your lawyer should be able to help with some stuff, too. Getting court documents for your trial about Danny and the one about Rachel will be easier for the lawyer to do than for you,” Dr. Lundahl said. “That’s two more things you can cross off your list.”

Dr. Lundahl’s words did, in fact, make Claire feel better about her situation. But her guilt over what she’d almost done the night before swam to the surface again. She felt her cheeks heat as she felt the phantom knife tip cut into her arm, and she subconsciously covered the scabbed spot on her wrist.

Dr. Lundahl noticed Claire’s movement and glanced at her bandaged wrist. “Is there something we need to talk about, Claire?”

Claire hesitated, then sighed. She hadn’t been sure if she wanted to bring it up or not because she knew she would never attempt it again. She didn’t even know if she would have been able to drag the knife over the soft skin of her forearm. Claire told Dr. Lundahl about the night she’d had. The doctors’ expression was not lost on Claire as her eyes widened with worry.

But then Claire recounted how Gabriel had come in to stop her just in time and brought her back from the brink, and Dr. Lundahl’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “I’m glad that you didn’t do it. Noah needs you now more than ever, and think about how it would have affected the baby growing inside you,” Dr. Lundahl said, her hand fluttering over her heart.

“I know,” Claire choked on her words, hating that she’d even considered suicide. Even while she was held captive, raped, and beat, she still never considered it. That was then… she thought. “I feel like a bad mother. What kind of person would I be if I left him alone when he needed me the most?”

Dr. Lundahl shook her head. “It’s natural to go downhill in situations like these. You can feel stuck and like it’s impossible to rise from it. Don’t beat yourself up, Claire. We’re going to fight this with a vengeance — together, — and we’re going to get Noah back to you. But you’re not going to start feeling better until you act, so let’s get going.”

Claire wiped a tear from her cheek and sniffled. It’s time to quit acting like the victim and take charge, Claire. Don’t throw it all down the drain for nothing, she told herself. And with that, she put a smile on her face and steeled her resolve. She was going to beat the Fischer’s if it was the last thing she did.

Chapter twenty-five

Claire immediately made a few calls when she got back to her house and, as Dr. Lundahl had said, was able to check things off her list right away. She smiled as she stared down at the paper that was beginning to look tattered and bedraggled.

The list does look smaller now that I’ve got a few things scratched off… Claire thought, basking in her small moment of triumph at completing some of her work. Claire commended Dr. Lundahl; Claire felt better than she had that morning after Gabriel had promised his own help to her.

After doing her duty to her son, she switched gears and opened her computer. Claire was behind on work, and if she had any hope of meeting her deadlines, she’d better donate some of her time to work. It felt like years had passed since she’d worked on her projects, and her hands felt stiff as she held them over the keyboard.

Her beginning was sloppy, with lots of backspacing and fixing typos and spacing errors, but as she went on, her fingers and mind got used to writing again and her computer screen sucked her right in. She got lost in the world she was creating and the nuances of her main character, her back erect as she hyper-focused on her work. Writing had always been a big part of Claire’s life, ever since her mother gave her a journal when she was a tween.

Claire’s mouth twitched upward in a nostalgic smile as she thought about her mother, getting lost in the sound of her keyboard as she threw words onto the screen. What would mother think? The thought was intrusive and made Claire pause.

The silence that filled the room was deafening, and Claire frowned as she thought of what the answer would be. Her mother’s voice, so long gone from the world but much desired, answered her question crystal clear in her mind. “Claire, you’re doing so good for yourself. Don’t let this hiccup turn into a road bump that derails you…”

Claire pulled her hands away from the keyboard and clutched them to her chest as though the qwerty keys had bitten her. Or mom just put me in my place, Claire thought, blushing shamefully at the memory of the ghostly words echoing through her head.

Her mother would be right. Claire was experiencing a mere hiccup in her daily routine, and she’d been willing to throw her entire life away over it. Mr. Fischer had broken her confidence. She glared at the screen, not seeing the words she’d written, and her hate seethed out.

I’ll be damned if I let him fuck up my life like his son did. Claire thought angrily, and she resolved then to bust her ass to get things done and get her son back. Nothing would stop her, and a renewed hope and confidence surged through her.

Claire felt more energized, loyalty to her cause taking over and pushing her to stay strong. She smiled and closed her document, opening a tab in her browser to access her email. She wanted to email her clients about what she was going through in hopes that they would be okay with her taking things slower until she got her son back.

***

Claire’s car came to a stop in Gabriel’s driveway, and she took a moment to stare up at the massive home she would be able to call hers within a few weeks. Her proud eyes gazed lovingly at the home Gabriel was so good at keeping up, and something stirred within her belly. I have to make an appointment with the obstetrician… Claire thought, hoping she’d remember to write it down in her planner for the following day.

She would have to add it to the list of things Mrs. Meyer gave her to do. She would have to send her documents to the ditsy lawyer before the end of the week so she could start compiling a defense to save Noah from the clutches of his grandparents. Claire opened the car door and clambered out, feeling clumsy and nauseous all of a sudden.

She groped the hood of the car to steady herself and saw Elizabeth waving at her from her yard next door. Waving and smiling broadly, Claire walked up the porch steps and into the house. Claire heard Ben’s laughter mingled with Gabriel’s in the kitchen and knew they were making dinner together. Her heart ached as she thought of Noah’s inability to join them and wondered briefly if Gabriel had told Ben what happened.

She walked through the dim hallway light and entered the kitchen with a smile, feeling more herself than she had since Mr. Fischer had hit her. Claire had a sudden thought and paused, digging in her purse and producing a pen and the paper with her list on it. She scribbled down some words and then stared at it, resisting the urge to shudder. Ask Noah’s teacher and Dr. Lundahl if they will testify about Mr. Fischer hitting me.

Her heart raced as she read it, both because her nose throbbed at the thought of his fist connecting with her face, and because she hoped she could close the case with just those witnesses. The judge, of course, would want all the other evidence disproving the Fischer’s claims, but at least if Claire lost, Mr. Fischer’s abuse alone would ensure that Noah would never be placed with them.

And that was good enough for her.

Ben stirred a boiling pot on the stove as Claire shoved the list back into her purse. Looking over his shoulder at her, he asked, “Where’s Noah?”

Gabriel’s face fell at the mention of Noah, and his eyes darted to Claire’s to gauge her reaction. So he didn’t tell Ben, Claire thought, and steeled herself to repeat her greatest loss once again. “Noah has to stay with someone for a few weeks. But he will be back before you know it. I know you two have a lot of fun, but it won’t be long,” Claire said, strength and emotion obvious behind her words.

Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly at her stamina, and he turned to face her. “You’re feeling a little better, aren’t you?”

Claire nodded with a little smile. “Today was good. Not the greatest, but good. We’ll do what it takes to bring him back,” she responded, and Gabriel nodded in agreement.

He skirted the island and took her in his arms, kissing her gently on the cheek. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, squeezing her affectionately.

“I’ll tell you about my appointment later, after Ben goes to sleep,” Claire said, returning his hug and soaking in the love.

I’ve missed this… she thought contentedly, inhaling his scent. God brought us back together, and He will bring Noah back to me, too.

As she inhaled, she breathed in the scent of the soup that Ben was stirring, and her stomach gurgled. She was hungry, but she was afraid to eat much in case she threw it up right away. Gabriel released her and turned of the stove. He spooned some of the concoction into a bowl and gave it to Claire along with a sleeve of saltine crackers and a spoon.

Claire rubbed her hands together. “Did you help make this, Ben?” she asked.

“Yes, and it smells delicious,” he said, kissing his fingertips in the way Italians do.

Claire giggled and took a bite. He’s right, she thought, slurping a second spoonful. “Taste it, Ben. You’re a darn good cook,” she commended, breaking some crackers over the steaming bowl of soup and mixing it in.

Claire watched as Gabriel and Ben ladled soup into their bowls and sat down to join her for dinner. Her night was complete; or would have been, if her own son could be there. She mentally shook her head in an attempt to clear her negative thoughts. She wanted to be as positive as she could be.

Gabriel and Ben jostled each other a bit and laughed, and Claire, though she wasn’t fully paying attention, smiled alongside them. It’s hard to be fully happy when all you want to do is see your own son…

Though positivity was upon her, Claire’s bitterness still seeped through her veins and threatened to take back what it once claimed. But Claire wouldn’t let it, even if it killed her.

Chapter twenty-six

Claire was out the door before the sun peeked over the horizon. She had things to do and people to see, and at the top of the list was Noah’s teacher. She wanted to get to the school and speak with her before students arrived and distracted his teacher from the conversation. Claire was confident that she would speak in favor of Claire at the hearing, but she wanted to have peace of mind knowing that she was willing to help.

She’d left a note for Gabriel because she didn’t want to wake him up before his alarm or make him worry that she was gone when he did wake up. According to him, he had his own agenda for the day involving the list Claire kept with her. Knowing that he’d be hard at work fighting to get Noah back made her feel at ease, and she couldn’t wait to collaborate with him after the sun went down that evening.

Claire followed behind a slow-moving car heading in the same direction and sighed in exasperation as the car turned down the road that took her in front of the school. She was in a hurry to get to the school, but at the same time, she hoped she could follow the person in the car into the school without having to wait for someone else to let her in.

At least the school locks its doors after hours and helps keep the kids safe… Claire’s thoughts flashed back to the day when Noah’s teacher pulled her into the conference room and informed her that a strange, hooded figure had been seen trying to lure Noah away from his classmates, and she shuddered.

She stopped her car a few feet behind the one in front of her and quickly got out. The driver of the other car got out, too, and headed for the front door. Claire followed, feeling out-of-place, and hoped the stranger in front of her didn’t think he or she was being followed.

As Claire and the other figure neared the door, the person turned just enough for Claire to see her face. It was the secretary that always took precedence in the main office, keeping guard over the front door. “Good morning,” she said to Claire with a smile on her face.

“Good morning,” Claire returned. “I was hoping I could talk to Noah’s teacher. Do you know if she’s here yet?”

The school secretary nodded. “She usually arrived around this time. Come wait in the office with me and I’ll phone her for you,” she responded, waving her badge in front of the sensor.

The door clicked open loudly, and Claire pulled it open and waited for the secretary to step inside. Cool air greeted Claire as she sat in an office chair in the conference room, though the early morning hours brought cooler air outside. She didn’t have long to wait before Mrs. Sorenson joined her.

“Good morning, Ms. Wilson,” she greeted from the doorway, sounding short of breath. “How is everything going?”

Claire could tell that Mrs. Sorenson was worried about her, and rightfully so. Claire imagined how she must have looked when she came into the school with a black eye and a nice bruise blooming over her face. She must have been a sight for sore eyes.

Even that morning as the sun peeked over the tops of the trees, Claire’s bruise was still very prominent. It had turned a sickly yellow color, and Claire battled every morning with covering it up as much as she could.

“I’ve had better days,” Claire said. “As you know, we had court on Friday, and they took Noah until I can disprove the claims against me.”

She wasn’t keen on having to relate all the details, yet again, but she would if it meant gaining Mrs. Sorenson’s support. Her look of shock was enough. “I’m so sorry that happened, Claire. What claims are you faced with?”

“Mostly little stuff that slips most people’s minds. A clogged furnace filter, for one. My dad used to clean it but since he died…” Claire choked, unable to finish her sentence.

“I get that. It’s hard to remember all the things that need to be done,” Mrs. Sorenson sat down across from Claire and leaned forward, fully invested in the conversation.

“Other claims are honestly stupid. The tornado brought a tree down and shoved it through my window. Noah’s grandparents claim that the window has been broken for a long time and I haven’t tried to fix it. That’s something I can easily prove with paperwork and phone records, but they gave the court just enough to question my competence as a mother and they took him,” Claire said.

As she spoke, Claire wondered what the Fischer’s thought they would accomplish by making claims that could easily be proved. What was the point? The only thing it did was get Noah placed in foster care, and God only knew what would happen to him wherever he was. Mrs. Mitchell didn’t seem like a very nice person, and the thought of her dragging Noah away made Claire’s stomach churn.

“It sounds like you’ve been dealt a hard hand,” Mrs. Sorenson’s voice was filled with empathy, and Claire tried not to let it affect her.

“Through everything, I forgot about one thing, and I think it would help me get Noah back,” Claire said, changing the topic slightly.

Mrs. Sorenson raised an eyebrow and waited.

“Mr. Fischer hit me, and you saw the bruise. I’m here to ask if you might testify on my behalf if they call you in,” Claire asked hopefully.

Mrs. Sorenson nodded. “Of course, I’ll testify. You can also call myself and any other staff here at the school to the stand and they would be more than happy to help. We all see how you handle yourself and Noah and some of the situations that life throws your way. We know you’re doing a damn good job,” she said.

Her words lifted Claire’s spirits, and her shoulders slumped as relief flooded her body. “Thank you so much. I was so worried that you wouldn’t want to be put on the spot,” Claire admitted sheepishly.

“I’d love to help out, and I will. But you should know that I’m not sure how good my testimony will hold up. I only saw the bruise and know what you told me about it. I didn’t see you get hit. If you went to the hospital, you could get medical records as proof, or if you have other witnesses you can also have them testify.”

“Yeah, I know. My therapist and partner will also be testifying. I just thought if I had a whole arsenal of evidence it would further my own claim,” Claire said.

“Right you are,” Mrs. Sorenson said, a warm smile on her face. “Just let me know when to be there, and I’ll take the day off to attend.”

Claire stood and hugged Mrs. Sorenson gratefully, and the two parted ways. Claire returned to her car, unable to wipe the smile off her face. Though she’d spent the last couple days making calls and gathering evidence, she hadn’t felt like she was making a difference until then.

Though the sun was still low in the sky, Claire basked in the bright aura as it shone through her window. Today is going to be a good day, she thought. And, as if God wanted to confirm that Claire’s day would be amazing, her car ride home was uneventful aside from the cutest family of ducks Claire had ever seen.

She stopped in the driveway of her home and pulled her phone out of her purse. She sent a message to Gabriel letting him know she’d made it to her house safely; it would be one of the last times she would spend a full day at the home she’d bought with her father.

Claire locked the car and walked inside, noting that the picture window had finally been fixed. She tossed her purse on the couch and meandered toward the kitchen, craving a large glass of cold water and some crackers.

As she drank deeply of her cup and remembered that she needed to set up an appointment to confirm her pregnancy, an odd feeling came over her. Knitting her eyebrows together, she tried to pinpoint the familiar feeling; one of dread and total loss of power. She’d felt it before. But where? She thought.

She listened to the silence in the house. It seemed almost too silent, and as Claire considered checking the rooms, a sudden mental image bombarded her. The door wasn’t closed all the way when I pushed it open…

Claire’s blood ran cold as she stood in the hallway and stared at the front door. Someone is here. But before she could bat an eye, a large, shadowed figure stepped in her field of view, blocking any chance of escape she could have made through the front door.

Chapter twenty-seven

Claire gulped, her mouth suddenly dry though she’d just guzzled water. The figure, though still concealed by shadows, was clearly male based on broad shoulders and height. As he took a step toward Claire, she took a step back, and the light from the kitchen illuminated Mr. Fischer’s face.

Claire tensed, her heart racing. His presence, though familiar, didn’t make her feel any less safe than she was. His grin spread as he took in her demeanor. “Good morning, Claire,” he said, and Claire knew by the tone he took that she was in grave danger.

Dizziness overtook her, and she reached out a hand to touch the cold wall, hoping to steady herself. “What do you want,” she squeaked.

Her heartbeat sounded like a rushing waterfall in her ears, and she struggled to calm her rising panic. She knew what he would do, and she didn’t want it. He took another step toward her, but she was frozen with fear. Claire felt like a rabbit; she would bolt and scurry away at the slightest movement.

“You already know what I want. I’m here to give you one last chance,” Mr. Fischer sneered at Claire. “If you don’t release custody of Noah to us of your own free will, not only will I take you down in court, but I’ll take you down right now.”

Claire held her breath as he spoke, and his words made her angry. “I’m not giving my son to you. You had a chance to raise a son properly and you blew it. That’s not my problem,” she responded. “So I guess you’re just going to have to do your worst. Gabriel knows where I’m at, and he’s under instruction to check on me if I don’t check in with him first.”

It wasn’t true, of course, but she didn’t want Mr. Fischer to think she was alone without a plan. His icy eyes stared into her soul, unbelieving. “I’ll take my chances,” he said, and he closed the gap between him and Claire with two steps.

Scrambling backward, Claire tripped over her own foot and careened toward the floor. Mr. Fischer caught her by the hair and held her in place, laughing. “I’m not sure how you thought you could get away from me,” he jested.

Claire yelped as he dragged her through the hallway and into her bedroom. Drawing her up to his face, he kissed her roughly on the lips and then punched her in the jaw. He threw Claire to the bed as a wave of pain encompassed her face. She clutched her throbbing cheek as Mr. Fischer closed the bedroom door and then worked agonizingly slow at closing the curtains on the window. The man was comfortable in his own skin and wasn't afraid of anything, and his steady movements told Claire just how much trouble she was in.

Claire pulled herself into a sitting position and scooted herself as far away from him as she could, tears threatening to spill over as the realization of her situation hit. She wouldn’t be able to escape. Danny had learned from a master, and it was clear to Claire that Mr. Fischer would take no bullshit from her. He would hit her where it hurt most and make sure she didn’t rise again if necessary.

No wonder Mrs. Fischer couldn’t get out… As Mr. Fischer loosened his tie, Claire felt fresh pity for Mrs. Fischer as she had the night she learned about Mr. Fischer’s family traditions. A pathetic mewling sound escaped her lips as he approached her again, naked and in all his glory.

“Don’t touch me,” Claire tried weakly, but she knew it was to no avail. He was going to have her no matter what it cost.

And as he tore her clothes off of her body and leaned over her, his gross member dangled between her legs. She clenched her eyes shut and turned her face away from him as he slammed into her. Pain shot through her core, and she cried out.

Don’t let him get away with this…. The words formed in the depths of her consciousness, but they were spoken in her mother’s soft, yet firm, voice. Comfort washed over her, and she knew her mother was looking down on her.

I won’t, Mom, Claire thought with a vengeance, and as Mr. Fischer neared climax, Claire opened her eyes, filled with anger instead of fear, and raised her hands to claw at his chest. He could have his way with her, but she would be damned if he got away with it.

Mr. Fischer roared with rage as Claire’s fingernails dug into his arms, his pectorals, his shoulders; anywhere she could reach. She made a point to get as much DNA under her nails as she could. If he wanted to kill her for it, then so be it; but the coroner would be able to find plenty of evidence to convict Mr. Fischer.

“You stupid bitch!” he yelled, and pain smarted across Claire’s cheek before she could blink.

Claire’s vision blurred, and as Mr. Fischer finished, she began to cry. She couldn’t stop the inevitable flow of tears, and she lay on the bed, spent, as Mr. Fischer clambered off of her and pulled his clothes back on. But he didn’t leave.

Mr. Fischer stood in the center of the room panting, and Claire didn’t dare move. “I can see why Daniel was so interested in keeping you,” he spat. “Not only are you a good fuck, but you’re a fighter, too.”

Claire didn’t rise to the challenge, feeling that if she had, he might kill her. Instead, she rolled onto her side and covered her face as he paced to the door and turned the knob. “If you don’t give up Noah at court, I’ll be back for more,” he said, and silence ensued.

Claire sobbed into her pillow, her face throbbing from the blows Mr. Fischer delivered. Why does this keep happening? She thought bitterly. Claire had killed Danny to escape the abuse, and Mr. Fischer was all too willing to fuck her up even more. He was as heartless as his son had been. In that moment, any guilt she'd felt for killing Danny melted away. She'd gotten a glimpse of who he would have been if he'd been allowed to live.

She knew Mr. Fischer had gone, but she couldn’t muster the courage to get up. Claire was a hot mess, and she wasn’t ready to talk to the police about what had just happened. An invasive thought entered her mind; so don’t call them. Keep it a secret…

But Claire wasn’t willing to do that. She hadn’t gone to the police about her first run-in with Mr. Fischer, and her secrecy could potentially get Noah taken away. With the added abuse, Claire would definitely be able to keep Noah out of the clutches of his grandparents.

Claire drew herself up and heaved a sigh, then closed her eyes and practiced the breathing techniques Dr. Lundahl had taught her. She’d been able to keep her panic at bay, and perhaps the smartest thing she’d done was to scratch at Mr. Fischer’s body as he molested her. She held her hands out in front of her and stared with numb eyes at the blood on her fingers.

She clambered stiffly out of bed and timidly went to the living room to retrieve her phone. Claire felt the vibration each time she pressed the numbers to dial for emergency, and as she pressed the phone to her ringing ear, she felt herself break inside.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“I need help,” Claire said, hesitating. “I’ve been…raped.”

As the operator tapped away at a computer on the other end of the line, Claire’s hollow words echoed in her mind. “Is the perpetrator still with you?”

“No,” Claire shook her head before realizing the operator couldn’t see her through the phone. She sat on the couch and waited for the next question.

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” she responded, her jaw throbbing sickly.

The operator completed the call, placating Claire by telling her to sit tight, an officer would be there shortly.

Claire set her phone on the coffee table and stared at the blank wall across from her for what seemed to be eons. Her mind was blissfully blank as she waited, her panic quelled within her. Gabriel… she thought. She needed to call Gabriel.

She picked up her phone again and dialed his number, but hung up on the first ring. I don’t think I can hear his voice when I tell him what happened… She opted to send him a text message instead. I need you now. Come to my house, it’s an emergency.

It was a short and cryptic message, but Claire knew he would drop everything and come to her aid. As she put the phone down again, she heard a knock on the door. She didn’t want to stand up; her body ached, and she felt dizzy. “Come in,” she called out, letting her arms fall to her lap.

The door opened and an officer stepped inside. He glanced at Claire and turned away to radio for another officer. “I’m going to need a paramedic and a female officer, asap,” he spoke into his radio. Then he approached Claire slowly. “Hey, I’m just going to sit down in the chair across from you, okay?”

Claire nodded, vaguely registering his slow, steady movements. He sat down, seeming to be in no rush. “We’re just going to sit here together until my colleague arrives, okay? It might be easier for you to speak with a woman,” he explained.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She hadn’t realized that she was so tense, but she relaxed her shoulders and sat in silence.

A siren sounded from somewhere in the distance, and a second one joined the first in a matter of seconds. Claire wondered if Gabriel would arrive before the paramedics.

“Are you hurt?” the officer asked, and Claire stared at him in confusion. “You’ve got blood on your face and on your hands and clothing.”

Claire reached up and tentatively touched her nose, wincing at the pain she caused. “Oh,” she said. “Yes.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Gabriel pushed through the door and shoved a paramedic to the side to get to Claire. “What happened?” he asked, taking her hands in his and kneeling in front of her.

The paramedics had just finished scraping DNA from underneath her fingernails. The police officer who had arrived first stood and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to take your hands off the victim.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, and Claire spoke. “It’s okay. He’s my boyfriend,” and she tugged him off his knees and motioned for him to sit next to her on the couch.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.

All eyes turned to Claire for approval, and she nodded to the police officer. He turned his attention on Gabriel. “Our dispatcher received a call from Claire, saying she’d been raped.”

Claire closed her eyes at the harsh word and shrank into herself, afraid that Gabriel would be mad. Gabriel was silent, his sad eyes meeting Claire’s as she opened them again, and she felt pitiful. The look he gave her was one that made her feel disgusting.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I…I failed you.”

Claire stared at him, stunned. I was physically hurt and he’s blaming himself? “How could you say that?” Claire asked.

“I knew he’d been causing problems and yet I let you come here alone day after day. I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you,” Gabriel said, grief thick on his tongue.

“The suspect has been here before?” the police officer chimed in, and Claire turned her attention back to the strangers staring at them.

“Yes. He was here a couple weeks ago and he hit me. I thought he would leave me alone after the court took my son, but I guess I was wrong,” Claire said.

“That changes things. He’s a repeat offender, and I should advise you to get an order of protection from the court,” the officer said.

“I want to pursue this,” Claire said, mustering courage to keep her voice level. “I want to press charges and hit him hard. Most of all, I want this police report to be directly given to my lawyer so I can get my son back.”

***

Claire waited patiently outside the motel at the edge of town, where Mr. and Mrs. Fischer were staying. As the door opened and Mr. Fischer stepped out, Claire ducked her head and hoped he wouldn’t see her. She wanted to talk to Mrs. Fischer in private, but the only way she knew to connect with her was to go to their shared hotel room.

Mr. Fischer climbed into his car and drove out of the parking lot, but even as he disappeared from view, Claire still waited, her heart racing. She was risking a lot by being there, including Mrs. Fischer using the visit against her to get Noah.

Claire’s hopes were high that Mrs. Fischer had really been reaching out to her at the coffee shop. Finally mustering the courage to get out of the car, Claire hurried toward the hotel room and knocked on the door. “Who is it?” A small, scared voice called from inside.

“It’s me,” Claire responded, praying Margaret would open the door.

She did, and she ushered Claire inside, peeking outside before closing the door tightly behind her. “You can’t be here, Claire,” Mrs. Fischer said. “If he finds out you’re here…”

“Margaret, I came here to tell you what he did,” Claire interrupted, not caring in that moment if Mrs. Fischer closed her mind to her completely or not.

Margaret looked placated as Claire stared at her, and Claire took the opportunity to continue. “He’s a predator, Margaret,” Claire said, and she explained that Mr. Fischer had been at her house and raped her. “You need to find a way to get out. I fear for your safety.”

Margaret’s shoulders slumped at Claire’s speech and she took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry, Claire,” she said breathlessly. “To think I could have stopped all of this from happening years ago…”

“You can’t think about that now, Margaret. You have to take action, regardless of what happened in the past. Imagine what would happen if you are awarded custody of Noah. How is Noah going to be treated?” It was Claire’s biggest worry, beyond her own safety and that of Mrs. Fischer.

Margaret’s eyes filled with tears as Claire spoke, and Claire took her by the hand as she spoke. “I don’t know if I can leave him, Claire,” she whispered. “But I’ll think about it. Please, you have to go. He’s going to be back any minute.”

Claire’s senses kicked in and jumpstarted her nerves, and she knew Margaret was right. She’d been there long enough, and if Mr. Fischer discovered her there, it would all be over for her and Noah. Not only would the custody battle end, but any chance Claire would have of putting Mr. Fischer in jail would disappear. She couldn't resist speaking with Mrs. Fischer, though. She wanted to prepare her for what she'd hear in the courtroom.

She dropped Margaret’s hand and backed toward the door. “Okay, I’m going to leave. But just think really good on it, okay? Gabriel and I are willing to help.” And with that, Claire opened the door and disappeared.

***

Claire stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her stomach churning with anxiety. In just a few short hours, she would get to see Noah and hopefully take him home with her again. She’d worked tirelessly for two weeks to gather all that she needed for the trial.

Mrs. Meyer was pleased with the documents that Claire presented her with the night before, and Claire had positive feelings about the day. But through her anxieties, she was able to hold her head high and keep the confidence she’d been building that she’d be able to beat Mr. Fischer at his own game.

She hadn’t been able to get rid of her grief over losing Noah, but she’d been able to keep it at bay as she and Gabriel worked hard and got shit done. Gabriel poked his head around the bathroom door. “Are you almost ready? Ben is excited to experience court,” he said, giving a little side smile.

“Yeah, I’m just giving myself a pep talk,” Claire said, returning the smile. “I can’t tell if my stomach is queasy because of my nerves or because of the baby.”

“Probably both,” he commented, stepping further into the bathroom and drawing Claire toward him. “But you know what? We’re going to be fine. We’ll get Noah back and have our little baby and be alright.”

Claire grinned and leaned her forehead against his. She’d miraculously made it through yet another dark period, and she wasn’t sure how. She only knew that if Gabriel hadn’t come to her the night she lost Noah, she wouldn’t be there about to get him back.

“You’ve saved my life more than once, Gabriel, and I love you. I’ll always love you,” Claire said.

“I’ll always love you, too,” he said.

Gabriel had stayed true to his word since the night Claire tried to commit suicide. He’d been sober and attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings as often as he could amid helping Claire with her list. The pride Claire held for him welled up and melded with the love she felt for him, causing a kind of euphoria to build within her. It was that strange mix of feelings that pushed her to keep working.

Blessed. That’s what she was, and she knew God had his hand wrapped around them as they embraced each other in the bathroom. “Dad!” Ben called from downstairs.

Claire giggled. Ben was an impatient little boy, though Gabriel tried hard to wrestle that away from him. Gabriel had told Ben about why Noah wasn’t there, and Ben had gallantly offered his help in getting him back. “If you guys distract that mean lady, I’ll take Noah and run away with him,” he’d offered in a conspiratorial whisper.

Claire and Gabriel couldn’t contain their laughter at his offer and politely declined. They shuffled out of the bathroom reluctantly and joined Ben at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you ready, buddy?” Gabriel asked, ruffling his hair.

Ben ducked away too late and groaned. “Dad, you know I don’t like it when you do that!” he grumbled, but he opened the door and bolted to the car.

Chapter twenty-nine

Mrs. Meyer rushed into the courtroom just before the judge began, looking flustered but excited. The gleam in her eye told Claire that odds would be in their favor, but Claire refused to let herself get too hopeful. She hadn’t expected the Fischer’s to put false accusations on her at the last trial, so she didn’t want to be too cocky.

The Fischer’s had sat with their lawyer and waited patiently about five minutes after Claire arrived, and she couldn’t quell the discomfort she felt every time Mr. Fischer looked at her. His glance held triumph within it, and she knew he was thinking about what he did to her. She let her eyes peruse his features, looking for the scars she knew were there from her assault.

She’d asked the police officer not to pursue him until the court date because she wanted his body as physical evidence against him. He’d complied unwillingly, letting her know that the chances of her building a case against him for rape would become slim if they didn’t act then. She was willing to sacrifice charging him for his crime if it meant getting her son back.

Claire and Gabriel had passed the officer as they went inside the court room, and she’d nodded knowingly at him as she walked. He would stay in the back of the courtroom until he was called on the stand and then he would present his report to the judge and jury.

A hush fell over the large room as the judge began. “Returning to present her findings against the accusations of the Fischer’s, Ms. Wilson seems to have quite the stack of evidence defending her claims. The court accepts as evidence the phone reports and written testimony and receipts of the tree removal professionals as well as the company that replaced the window. The dates on the receipts align with the events of Ms. Wilson’s claims.”

Claire knew he’d start with the easy stuff, and perhaps that was why Mrs. Meyer presented the evidence in the order that she did. Claire noted that the judge didn’t seem bored or irritated as he had near the end of the trial two weeks before. She assumed he’d read through every bit of evidence and was excited to see how the Fischer’s would defend Claire’s accusation.

The Fischer’s didn’t seem concerned about the judge’s findings as he moved methodically down the list, reading the findings before passing the evidence to the jury. “This is where it gets interesting. A police report has been filed against Mr. Fischer, where it’s noted that evidence has been taken from the body of Ms. Wilson that supports the claim.”

Mrs. Meyer stood. “We have witnesses that we’d like to call to present their own evidence, sir,” she said confidently, and the judge nodded. “We’d like the officer who filed the report to go up on the stand and reiterate the police report and what he found when he arrived on the scene.

Claire couldn’t stop herself from peeking at Mr. Fischer, and she wasn’t disappointed with what she saw. He glared at her, icy daggers shooting in her direction, and she smirked at him. He knows.

As the officer moved to the stand, Claire could hear the members of the jury murmuring amongst one another. Mrs. Meyer stood and paced the open area in front of Claire. “Officer, would you mind summing up the findings of your report for us? The jury can read the juicy details when they receive the report themselves.”

He nodded. “I arrived at Ms. Wilson’s residence and could immediately tell something was wrong. The dispatcher radioed that a woman had been raped, and because I’ve responded to calls of that sort before, I knew what to expect. When I saw Ms. Wilson, she was covered with blood, her face swollen, her clothes torn, and the expression she wore didn’t sit well with me. I called for paramedics and for a female officer to conduct the interview and waited.”

The officer gulped, clearly uncomfortable. “The paramedic immediately ran a rape kit on Ms. Wilson which included a full pelvic exam which yielded DNA that matched the DNA that was swabbed from underneath her fingernails.”

Claire noticed Mr. Fischer grip onto his forearm as the officer spoke, and Claire knew he was becoming uncomfortable. Mr. Fischer knew the position he was in and Claire wondered what he would do in response.

“Ms. Wilson was able to tell us that, during the attack, she’d been able to scratch at her attacker and that’s how DNA ended up underneath her finger nails.”

“And was she able to identify her attacker?” Mrs. Meyer said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

“Yes. She clearly remembered that Mr. Fischer was her abuser,” the officer spoke, nodding toward Mr. Fischer.

Claire stared openly at him as his face turned red with anger. Mr. Fischer’s lawyer stood, clearly angry as well. “Objection. My client would never be capable of such a thing.”

The judge cocked his eyebrow at the lawyers’ blatant lack of evidence to prove the contrary. “And what does Mr. Fischer have to say about this?”

All eyes turned to Mr. Fischer, and he stood from his seat, not bothering to contain his anger. “Claire is a lying bitch, that’s what I say!”

Mrs. Meyer turned toward the judge and spoke in a hushed tone that nobody could hear, and the judge’s eyes swept over Mr. Fischer. “Why don’t you lift your shirt and we’ll see who’s telling the truth?” the judge challenged.

Mr. Fischer stared aghast at the judge, unbelieving of his statement. His eyes darted to his lawyer, but his lawyer didn’t speak, clearly waiting for Mr. Fischer to lift his shirt. Seeing no escape, Mr. Fischer reluctantly tugged his shirt up, revealing a vast array of scratch marks that were mostly healed, but still scabbed over. Claire had gotten him good.

The judge pursed his lips and nodded. “Just as I thought. Jury, if you’re in agreement, I think we will overturn this case and allow Ms. Wilson to take her son home. We’ve disproved all of the Fischer’s claims already, and we just proved Ms. Wilson’s own claim.”

Members of the jury nodded in unison, murmuring shocked responses to each other. The judge banged his gavel on the podium and stood. “Court dismissed. Ms. Wilson, I highly recommend you pursue legal action against your attacker. In the meantime, I’m going to write up an order of protection for you again Mr. Fischer.”

Claire raised her eyebrows but nodded gratefully. She was surprised that the judge was even going to do anything about her rape. She supposed it was because she allowed evidence to be collected immediately instead of waiting, and she was glad she’d decided to push through the questions, the exams, and having to relate what Mr. Fischer did to her to three different people.

Mr. Fischer glared at Claire. “You’d better watch your back. You’ve wronged my family too many times for you to get away with this,” he spat, and the security guard stepped toward him.

He held his hands up and turned to his wife. “Get in the car, now,” he demanded.

Mrs. Fischer, whose face held a look of relief on her face at the judge’s words, took on a look of fear. Claire could see that she didn’t want to go with him, but she stood anyway and turned to follow him. But just as they were about to walk out the door, Mrs. Fischer turned to face Claire.

“I’m so sorry I’ve allowed all of this to happen. I hope you’ll forgive me,” she whispered.

“Let’s go!” Mr. Fischer shouted, seeming unaware of all the faces watching his actions. “Or you’ll regret it later.”

Claire grabbed hold of Mrs. Fischer’s arms as she turned to follow her husband. “No, please. Don’t go.”

Mrs. Fischer shook her head sadly. “What will I do? Where will I go? I have no money, Claire. No family. No help. I have to go,” she said.

Claire glanced at Gabriel and made a split-second decision. “Stay with us. We’ll protect you and help you until you can get on your feet. You don’t deserve to live like that,” she said, glancing at Mr. Fischer.

“Margaret, I’m not going to say it again,” Mr. Fischer stalked toward her and she took a step back.

Gabriel stepped around Claire and stood in front of Mrs. Fischer, blocking her from her husbands’ view. “Don’t take another step,” he commanded.

“Son, step aside so I can retrieve my wife, or I’ll make sure you can never challenge me again,” Mr. Fischer’s gruff voice said, and Claire believed him.

The court security guard approached, close enough to reprimand Mr. Fischer if needed. Gabriel turned to Mrs. Fischer and addressed her in a soft voice. “Margaret, you are welcome to stay here with us as long as you need to. We’ll keep you safe and you’ll get to know Noah,” he said.

Tears welled in Claire’s eyes, and Margaret’s eyes, as Gabriel spoke, choosing to defend Mrs. Fischer’s honor over saving his own skin. Mr. Fischer interjected. “Absolutely not,” he said, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth in rage.

He pushed Gabriel to the side and grabbed Margaret by her hair. She yelped, fighting to release his grip, but to no avail. Mr. Fischer dragged her backward away from the small group that was forming. But as he turned away from angry faces, he halted.

The police officer who testified for Claire stood in his path, gun raised and pointed at his forehead. “Release the lady,” he said firmly. “Or this will be your last.”

Chapter thirty

Claire waited in the lobby of the courthouse, tapping her foot on the ground in impatient anxiety. She’d been told to wait for Mrs. Mitchell to arrive with Noah, and it seemed to be taking forever. Gabriel had gone home with Ben and Mrs. Fischer.

“I’ll help her get settled in a bit while you’re waiting for Noah, and I’ll come pick you up when you call,” he’d said.

Mr. Fischer had been arrested in the courtroom for assaulting his wife and making death threats to Claire and Gabriel. Ben, who was unfortunate enough to have been standing near Mr. Fischer when he accosted Mrs. Fischer, was terrified and ran out into the hallway when the officer drew his gun.

Gabriel had to go find him and calm him down. Claire hadn’t heard the conversation, but when he returned with Ben, the little boy took Mrs. Fischer’s hands and gallantly said, “We’ll protect you and that mean man won’t hurt you again.”

Mrs. Fischer hugged Ben and thanked him with a smile. In the short time between Mr. Fischer’s arrest and Ben giving her a hug, her demeanor had changed drastically. She looked lighter, brighter, and happy without the weight of her abuse on her shoulders. Claire knew from experience that it would be a long road to recovery for Mrs. Fischer, but Claire would help her through it.

The halls of the courthouse were empty, and Claire’s incessant tapping echoed through the large space. She adjusted her purse next to her, letting the straps fall off her arm as she attempted to relax against the cold wall behind her. The hard bench under her was beginning to pinch her, and her legs were going numb. Checking her watch, she saw that she’d been waiting for well over an hour.

Her anxiety turned into irritation, which slowly turned into anger. Mrs. Mitchell seemed to be keeping her waiting on purpose. What if something is wrong? What if something happened? Claire’s mind ran rampant with thoughts ranging from positive to negative and back again. Maybe she took him to get ice cream. Maybe the foster family won’t let him leave. What if he ran away? Why haven’t they called me?

As her mind created different scenarios to explain Mrs. Mitchell’s lateness, Claire heard a door open somewhere in the large building. The sound that followed created relief within her. She heard the footsteps of a child, and a small laugh echoed through the hall. Claire bolted to her feet and turned in every direction, trying to decipher where the noise was coming from.

Soon, she pinpointed the hallway to her left and stared hard at the spot she knew Noah would appear in a moment. Waiting was hard, but she didn’t want to bombard him with her emotions right away. She had no idea what he’d been through and wanted to give him a chance to adjust to being home.

Claire choked back a sob as he rounded the corner with Mrs. Mitchell. His big, round eyes met hers and filled with joy immediately. “Mommy!” he yelled, pushing Mrs. Mitchell’s arm away from him and running down the hall.

Claire ignored Mrs. Mitchell’s move to try and stop Noah from running to his mother. I’ve already won. She has no precedence over me anymore, she thought smugly as Noah jumped into her arms and nearly knocked her over.

Claire hugged him tightly and let her tears flow freely. “I’ve missed you so much, Noah,” she cried into his ear.

“I missed you too, Mom. Did you fight for me?” he whispered.

“You bet I did. And so did Gabriel and Ben. And your teacher, too. We all fought to get you back home,” she responded, squeezing him tighter. His warmth felt foreign to her, but she missed the way his gangly arms felt around her.

“Alright, I think that’s enough affection for one day,” Mrs. Mitchell said, crossing her arms like a snotty princess.

Claire glared at her. “Thanks for returning my son to me. You can go now,” she responded, not heeding her words. Mrs. Mitchell seemed upset that she'd lost and that her report had been proven false.

“Don’t forget that I’m a mandated reporter,” she shot back. Claire wondered if Mrs. Mitchell's job would be affected by the outcome of the trial and found herself hoping the fraudulent social worker would lose her job. Who knew how many children had been wrongfully taken from their parents, or how many would be affected in the future from Mrs. Mitchell's work.

It was clear to Claire that Mrs. Mitchell was upset that she’d made a wrong judgement by backing the Fischer’s and she laughed. “What exactly do you intend on reporting? That I’m hugging my son for the first time in two weeks? Or do you intend on reporting more lies to get me back in court? I’ll remind you that I beat you today, and I’ll beat you again if I have to, so bring it on.”

Mrs. Mitchell scoffed and turned on her heel. Claire set Noah down and tugged him toward the door. “Let’s go wait outside for Gabriel,” she suggested, and Noah followed her willingly.

The breeze caressed Claire’s skin in a way that felt different. Her shoulders were more relaxed, her stomach had settled, and the sun shone brighter than it had in more than two weeks. Though it was evening, the air had a chill to it, and Claire shivered deliciously as she sent off a text to Gabriel and took a spot on a bench in the middle of a small garden.

Noah sat next to her and swung his feet. “I can’t wait to see Ben. I have a story to tell him,” Noah said.

“Oh, yeah? What story is that?” Claire asked, genuinely curious.

“The people I was staying with had the biggest dog ever, and he was so nice. I got to walk him and play with him and he even slept with me at night. I’ll miss him, Mom,” Noah answered.

Claire smiled and fought the urge to roll her eyes, knowing what was coming next. “Can we get a dog?” he asked, excitement flowing from his mouth as his eyes widened.

“Well, we’ll have to talk with Gabriel first. We have to remember that even though we are moving in with him, it’s still his house and we have to be respectful,” Claire said.

She didn’t openly deter his question. In fact, she kind of wanted a dog, too. Maybe it was just to appease Noah, or because she was so damn glad to have him home that she would have given him a whole brood of dogs. She hoped Gabriel would be okay with a dog.

“Okay,” he replied, hugging Claire. “I missed you, mom.”

Pulling him closer to her, she leaned her cheek on the top of his head and smiled. “I missed you, too. More that you’ll ever know.”

They didn’t have to wait long for Gabriel. His car careened into the parking lot and came to a stop in front of them. He jumped out of the car and ran toward them, taking Noah in his arms and hugging him tight.

“I’m so glad you’re back. I missed you!” he whispered just loud enough for Claire to hear as she stood from the bench.

Noah laughed. “Put me down, you weirdo. I missed you, too. Where’s Ben?”

Gabriel laughed and released Noah. “He’s at home with someone who’s dying to meet you,” he looked at Claire. “Shall we go?”

“I’m so tired. Let’s go,” Claire said, the weight of the last two weeks falling around her.

She’d fought long and hard, barely getting enough sleep, to get Noah back under her roof. She could be grateful that he didn’t have a bad experience while he was away, but she was also glad that it was over.

And she was glad that Mr. Fischer wouldn’t have access to Noah.

Chapter thirty-one

Claire stood on the porch a few weeks later and watched as the moving truck backed into the driveway. Her hand rested on the guard rail as her latest dizzy spell subsided; the doctor told her that she had low iron and it was causing her dizziness. She’d put her on a supplement, but it hadn’t built up enough in her system to become effective.

Her belly protruded slightly, the baby finally growing and showing its presence. Gender was still unknown, but Claire could almost feel that it was a girl, and she moved around a lot. The day was a hot one, rays of sun beating down on the earth in waves of heat. Claire was sweaty and uncomfortable and wanted to go back inside and lay down on the couch, but it was moving day.

Claire originally was going to leave all her furniture at her house and rent it out, but she decided against it in the end. She couldn’t help but feel like she was only holding onto the idea because she wanted to have somewhere to go if she didn’t want to be with Gabriel anymore. But deep within, she knew that was no longer a feasible plan.

Gabriel was the one she wanted, and he’d proven to her for more than three years that he would willingly do anything if it showed his love for her. She had no need to keep her old house set up. Renting it out was still going to happen, but her tenants would have to use their own furniture. Claire would find a use for everything in her home with Gabriel.

Mrs. Fischer opened the door and stepped out into the heat. “Here, dear. I brought you some lemonade,” she said, handing a frosty glass to Claire.

Claire smiled gratefully and took the glass, sipping it and relishing the cold as it slid down her throat. “My dad used to make lemonade and sit with me,” she said, staring wistfully at the movers as they maneuvered their truck into the optimal position for unloading.

They seemed to be bitter reminders that her life was entering a new season, and even though that was a good thing, it still didn’t stop her from missing her dad. Mrs. Fischer patted her on the shoulder in solace. “He’s up there somewhere looking down on you,” she said.

“I know,” Claire responded, sipping from the irresistibly cold glass again. “This is great lemonade, Mrs. Fischer.”

“Honey, you can call me Margaret,” she said. “I think we’re past such formalities, don’t you?”

She had a point. They’d both been abused by the same man, and quite possibly even by her son. Claire didn’t actually know if Danny had been abusive to his own mother or not, and she hadn’t thought to ask. But it didn’t matter. The abuse had finally ended for both of them.

“I’m sorry for how things ended up,” Claire said. “But I’m glad you can finally get to know your grandson.”

“So am I, dear,” she said, swiping a stray piece of graying hair behind her ear.

Gabriel and the boys had opened up the back of the truck as the movers hopped out of their seats and they all pulled something out. Claire set down her glass of lemonade and descended the steps to help as Gabriel passed her with a box labelled ‘Noah’s books.’

She peered into the back of the truck and picked up a bedside lamp, holding it close to her body. Turning away just as the movers disappeared into the house, Claire gasped as a hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her backward. She dropped the lamp and twisted to see who it was.

Mr. Fischer, grinning down at her, had pulled her out of view of the house and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t make a noise,” he warned, backing away slowly.

Claire focused on the pain in her scalp as he tightened his grip, trying hard to keep her mind off the feeling of his hands touching her again. Mr. Fischer stopped moving and loosened his grip a fraction. “I want my wife, and I want her now,” he said.

Claire waited until his other hand left her mouth before her expression changed. “She doesn’t want you, Daniel,” Claire spat. “You really fucked your life up over my son, and you still lose.”

Growling, Mr. Fischer pulled his arm back and smacked her hard on the cheek. His hand caught her hair again and he pulled her toward the open driver door of the moving truck. “If I can’t have her, then I’ll have you. You fuck better than she does, anyway. I’ve always liked a fighter, and Margaret is too prudish.”

Mr. Fischer shoved Claire toward the open door, urging her to climb inside, but she resisted. Turning, she threw a punch in the direction of Mr. Fischer’s face, but it didn’t land as hard as he wanted it to. He laughed at her, pinning her against the truck and pressing his torso into her belly painfully.

Claire stopped resisting, suddenly scared that he would hurt the baby. Panic took over as his hands roamed her body. “Stop,” a soft voice called from the back of the truck.

Mr. Fischer turned toward the voice, and Claire could see Margaret from the corner of her eye. “Margy,” he said sheepishly, releasing Claire.

Claire squirmed away from him and ran to Margaret, taking her by the hand and, with pleading eyes, silently asked her to stay. Margaret nodded imperceptibly, turning her steely gaze back to Mr. Fischer. “You need to leave,” she said to him.

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” he responded, matching her confidence.

“And I’m not going anywhere with you, Daniel,” she said cooly. “You’ve taken it too far, even before we were married. But now. Now you’ve been charged with raping a woman, and you were about to do it again right in front of my eyes. We’re done, Daniel. There’s no hope, so just go.”

“We’re married, Margy,” he shot icy daggers at Claire. “And as your husband, I’m demanding that you come home with me right now.”

“Actually, we’re not. We’re separated. And when you get home you’ll find two things. The first is that I’ve already retrieved the things I want to keep. These include photographs, clothing, family keepsakes, and anything else directly belonging to me. The second is that you'll find the divorce documents that you will sign and mail to the address on the extra envelope on the kitchen counter.”

Mr. Fischer seemed to deflate, his ego melting as the one solid thing he had in his life slithered away. Mrs. Fischer had remained true to her word; she wasn’t going to return to an abusive marriage and live the rest of her life filled with shame and regret. She was going to break free from Daniel and live her life with her grandson.

“This is all your fault,” he said, anger rising to the surface as he turned his rage to Claire.

“I’ve already called the police, Daniel. They will be here any minute. You’ve violated two orders of protection and attempted a kidnapping and rape. How do you think that’s going to go over?” Mrs. Fischer said as Gabriel came into view behind Mr. Fischer.

Claire avoided looking directly at Gabriel. She knew what he was going to do, and if she averted her eyes, Mr. Fischer would know something was up and Gabriel’s plan would be shot. Her cheek stung, and her eyes welled with tears as she struggled to keep her eye open through the swelling that had already begun.

Mr. Fischer looked like a deer caught in headlights. He was trapped and he knew it, but he didn’t know how trapped until Gabriel’s arm wrapped around his torso, the other sliding around his neck. Claire watched Gabriel’s muscles tighten as he applied pressure, and a tense moment of struggle passed between the two men as Mr. Fischer slowly lost consciousness and fell limply to the ground.

Gabriel stepped over him and drew Claire into his arms. “I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t know he was here,” he whispered. Claire could almost hear the tears forming in his eyes through his words.

“Nobody could have seen this coming,” Margaret said softly as she stared at her husband’s unconscious body, and Claire could see that she was barely hanging on by a thread.

The man that Margaret had loved, or thought she loved, for most of her life had wronged her in so many ways, and it was hard for her not to run to his aid. Claire would have struggled with her emotions if she were in the same boat, so it wasn’t hard for Claire to deduce Margaret's feelings.

“Are you okay?” Gabriel asked, his hands fluttering over her face as though he were a nurse checking her wounds.

It was a ridiculous sight to see a burly biker dude fawning over a woman like that, and Claire couldn’t contain her laughter. Gabriel and Margaret both looked at her with wide eyes as she doubled over and let loose. She wiped away a tear and straightened herself again. “I’m sorry for laughing. I guess I’m just losing my mind,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Gabriel sighed and pulled her into his arms again as a police cruiser careened around the corner, lights and sirens blaring, and skidded to a stop in front of the driveway. The officer and his partner, the same officer who testified against Mr. Fischer for Claire’s rape, clambered out of the car with guns drawn.

It wasn’t until they rounded the truck that they saw Mr. Fischer out cold on the ground, and they put their guns back in their holsters. “Well. I guess you didn’t need much help after all,” one officer said.

Gabriel shrugged. “He hit my fiancé. I choked him out. Appropriate? I think so,” he said simply.

The officers laughed in unison. “In lieu of what has already happened between this man and your fiancé, I think we’ll let this one slide. Unfortunately, we have to wait for him to wake up so we can read him his rights and arrest him,” he said.

“That’s alright. We’ll give our statements and get back to work,” Gabriel said.

Claire smiled as stars danced in front of her eyes and she felt very weak. The world spun beneath her, and she reached out to hold onto the truck. Gabriel caught her before she could fall further, and he picked her up and carried her to the porch.

“Claire, honey. I know you wanted to help unload the truck, but I want you to stay here and rest,” he said softly, kissing the back of her hand.

Margaret had followed them up the steps as the officers cuffed Mr. Fischer and set to work waking him up. She picked up the lemonade and handed it to Claire again. “You’re lucky I was still outside, honey. I can’t even imagine what he could have done if I hadn’t seen the lamp lying on the cement.”

Claire guzzled the lemonade and handed the empty glass back to Margaret, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal if I carried a tiny little lamp into the house,” her eyes welled with tears again, blurring her already foggy vision.

“Claire, don’t beat yourself up,” Gabriel said. “None of us thought that we’d need further protection from him. We’ll have to see what we can do about it.”

Claire nodded and leaned her head back on the cushion of the swing. Margaret disappeared into the house, mumbling something about getting a wet towel, and Gabriel kissed Claire on the cheek and stood. “I’m going to see how the officers are doing. Relax here for a minute and I’ll be right back,” Gabriel said.

Claire nodded. “Where are the boys?” she asked.

“They’re inside. I told them to stay in when I looked out the door and saw the lamp and Margaret standing at the edge of the truck and you were nowhere in sight,” he shuddered as he recalled the moment that spiked his adrenaline.

Claire relaxed against the swing again knowing her son was safe and hadn’t seen anything, and Gabriel’s footsteps faded as he took the porch steps and joined the officers at their squad car.

Chapter thirty-two

Claire stared at the microwave as the bag of popcorn slowly expanded and the first pop sounded. Ben and Noah’s childish voices mingled with Gabriel’s as they wrestled on the floor in front of the television, which was tuned to their favorite streaming service. It was movie night, and Claire was finally at peace with her chaos.

Margaret had settled in nicely and began building her relationship with Noah, and it was such a special one. It amazed Claire how quickly Noah warmed up to her. He had been skeptical at first, unsure if Margaret was a safe person or not, and for a while Claire kicked herself for contributing to his skepticism. She’d told Noah that the Fischer’s were unsafe people, but she hadn’t thought that Margaret would soon become an inexpendable member of the family.

Margaret entered the kitchen, busying herself with fetching beverages for everyone. “You shouldn’t stare into the microwave, darling,” she said as she placed glasses on a tray. “They say it can make you go blind.”

Claire turned and smiled at Margaret. “Sorry,” she said, but she wasn’t exactly sure what she was sorry for.

Margaret filled the glasses with ice and water, embellishing each cup with a lemon and sprig of mint. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she placated.

The microwave signaled the completion of the popcorn and Claire opened the door and shook the bag of popcorn, evenly distributing the oil and salt within the bag before pouring its contents into a large wooden bowl. The smell of fresh popcorn appealed to her senses, and she gave in to the urge to eat a few kernels. Claire picked up the bowl and a stack of small wooden bowls that matched the bigger one and followed Margaret into the living room.

The boys were wrestling, pinning Gabriel to the floor. He waited for them to count to two before roaring and shaking them off. Then he’d evade them for a moment before becoming pinned again. Noah and Ben teamed up to take down their biggest target, giving in to giggles as Gabriel pretended to struggle to shake them off.

Claire giggled, too. She loved how Gabriel was with the boys. He was engaging, responsible, and knew how to make them feel victorious. She imagined that, in a few years’ time, he’d swap out the fun play fighting for teaching his sons how to defend their little sister, and it warmed her heart to think that she’d get to have two boys to protect her.

Suddenly, the boys lifted their heads and sniffed the air before locking eyes with Claire. They smelled the popcorn, and Claire shrieked as they roared a battle cry and left Gabriel for dead on the floor to bombard her for popcorn.

“Little vultures!” she cried as two hands dove into the popcorn bowl, popcorn flying everywhere. “I hope those hands are clean!”

With their hands full of popcorn, they collapsed on the couch and waited for the adults to join them. Claire sat next to Noah and ruffled his hair, teasing him. Gabriel stood and tugged at his shirt, clearing his throat. “Before we start the movie, there’s something I have to do,” he said.

“What is it?” Claire asked, busying herself with filling the small bowls with popcorn.

Gabriel left the room without a word, and within a moment he was back. He tugged Claire to her feet, and she shoved the bowl of popcorn into Noah’s hands. He took it without complaint. “Gabriel—” Claire began, but he shushed her with a finger over her lips.

He positioned Claire in the center of the room and cleared his throat again. “Claire,” he began sheepishly, taking her hands in his own. “I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you, and I’ve fallen further in love with you with each passing moment we spend together.”

Claire held her breath and grinned. She knew what was coming, and she was giddy with anticipation. “I love you, too,” she said.

Excitement filled her, but a sense of dread fell on her shoulders at the same time. She deeply loved Gabriel, but that overwhelming sense of fear that Danny had left her with would be something she’d never be able to fully get rid of.

Claire would say yes to the proposal, but her future would remain in a fog for the rest of her life because of the trauma she’d suffered. Being able to put her full trust in Gabriel and know that he wouldn’t wrong her had been difficult, but it would become much harder to manage if she said yes. I'll have something to fawn over with Elizabeth. Claire thought, giddy with anticipation.

Saying yes was a commitment. It would be telling Gabriel that she loved and trusted him enough to give him a gun and turn her back. Of course, she knew Gabriel would never hurt her like that, but the principle of the matter was that she’d have to fight for her mental health more than ever before to maintain a healthy relationship.

She doubted her ability to do that. She’d almost cracked under the pressure of nearly losing Noah, and she was terrified to find out what she would be capable of doing if shit went sour with Gabriel. She didn’t trust herself, and that was a problem.

As she stared into Gabriel’s loving, trusting eyes, she committed herself to doing whatever it would take to be with the man in front of her and to build a life with him. This is what I’ve always wanted, and I thank God that he’s been given to me…

“Shh,” he said, clearing his throat. It was obvious that he was nervous. “When you told me about your past, it didn’t push me away. Instead, it drew me closer to you, and I’ve loved being able to watch you overcome each stone in your path. I can only hope that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with me as I do you.”

Claire gulped, blushing as he took a knee, and the boys oohed at them from the couch. “Claire Wilson, will you marry me?”

The end.