Page 53 of Firefly

Then, before Sarah knew what was happening, Simon had scooped her up, and the world blurred by. They stopped in Thea’s room, and Simon set her down gently.

Thea tore her sheets aside and met him in the middle of the room. They whispered, and she staggered back against her bed. Simon’s quiet words, still unclear to her, were sharp, and Thea nodded.

He knelt, meeting her eyes, and kissed her forehead. Up close, she could see the red rimming his amber eyes. “Sarah. I need you to be brave. Your grandfather has promised to treat you well, but if that ever changes, you must tell me or Thea immediately.”

Sarah blinked several times and nodded.

“Good. I’ll be back. Stay with Thea, okay?”

He stood, turning to go.

“Simon.”

He turned back. “Yes, Sarah?”

“Bring Mama outside?”

He dipped his chin, meeting her stare, and disappeared.

THE END

Epilogue

Simon peered up at the woman staring out her bedroom window, and his breath caught. After seventeen years, there was no denying their likeness. Sarah was only two weeks shy of twenty-three, and every time he saw her, there was a moment of hope.

Then she would smile or open her mouth to say something kind or sweet, and that hope died.

She had never known the cruelty and horror Rebecca had experienced, and it was a glimpse of who Rebecca might have been under different circumstances. Somehow, she’d forgotten everything from her childhood. It hurt knowing so few people carried her memory after she was gone.

Thea had often said it was the mind’s way of protecting itself.

But when Sarah’s child had been born, around the same time as Thea’s, he was certain some of their fondest memories would return to her. He’d even seen Sarah and Claire catching fireflies.

She may not remember, but subconsciously, those memories were buried in her mind. He wanted to shake her and ask her why she was suppressing memories of the woman who had given everything for her.

Helping her remember had become his obsession.

He would leave a small trinket out for her to find or mention Rebecca casually. Most of the time, she rolled her eyes at him or gave him a playful laugh and continued with her day, but occasionally, he saw a glimpse of something in her eye. It was as though, for a moment, it had come back to her, but then that blank stare was on her face, and he knew he’d only imagined it.

Simon stepped into the Graves home and closed the door behind him.

“Good, you’re just in time,” Sarah said, laughing. She hoisted Claire onto her hip and handed him a glass jar. “Come with us.”

He twisted the handle of the door he’d just come through and ushered them out. As he followed Sarah, watching her dark curls sway in the moonlight, another stab of pain shot through him.

She stopped under the oak tree where the three of them once sat and was hit with déjà vu. Suddenly, it was 1942, and she was Rebecca, holding Sarah.

“How can you remember none of this?” he demanded, spinning to face them.

Claire burst into wailing sobs, and the moment shattered. Claire was nothing like quiet, observant baby Sarah. She was loud, and she cried often.

Sarah rounded on him. “What do you think you’re doing, scaring her that way?” Her dark brows were slashes across her pale skin, but when she saw his expression, her face softened. “I know you loved her. I know she meant the world to you, Simon. I wish I could remember, but you remember her well enough for both of us.”

He sighed, handing over the jar. “It’s just that this was your favorite thing to do together. Some part of you must remember.”

She set Claire down in the grass and smiled. “Come catch fireflies with me. Claire prefers to chase the beetles.”

He nodded and followed Sarah into the orchard. As he trailed her, another pang of longing hit him. She raised her jar into the sky, and a firefly landed on its edge. Just this once, he let himself imagine that when she turned, it would be Rebecca who looked back at him.

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