Chapter 8 - The Reunion
By 8:00 AM the next morning, my living room was filled with sunshine and the smell of fresh coffee.
I was sitting in my favorite armchair, an ice pack pressed against my bruised throat. The front door, now temporarily secured with heavy plywood by the sheriff's department, opened.
Sarah burst into the house. She hadn't slept. She had booked the first available red-eye flight out of Virginia, rented a car, and driven straight to Elmwood.
"Dad!"
She ran across the living room and threw her arms around my neck, burying her face into my shoulder. She was crying softly, trembling with the residual fear of what could have been.
"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm okay," I whispered, patting her back.
"When you said Mom was in the room..." Sarah pulled back, wiping her eyes, a wet laugh escaping her lips. "I have never been so terrified in my life, Dad. But you were so smart. You kept your cool."
"I had to," I smiled. "I knew my favorite dispatcher was listening."
She sat on the sofa across from me, holding my hand. "Dad, I can't do this anymore. I can't be three states away, wondering if you're safe. Wondering if the next time you don't answer the phone, it's because something awful happened."
May you like
I looked around the house. The house where I had built forty years of memories. But suddenly, it felt very large, and very, very empty.
"I know, Sarah," I said quietly. "I think it's time."
