Page 38 of The One that Got Away

“But that’s awful,” Lisa said.

“I know.”

With tentative steps, they began to navigate through the forest, the oppressive grip of night gradually loosening as dawn’s early light filtered through the towering canopy. A symphony of awakening birdsong accompanied their cautious progress, the flutelike calls weaving through the crisp morning air. Shafts of sunlight pierced the thicket, casting dappled patterns on the dew-kissed ferns that unfurled at their feet.

Lisa couldn’t help but marvel at the serene beauty that enveloped them, the natural splendor of the woods offering a stark contrast to the fear that had driven them into its depths. She watched as the children’s faces, previously etched with anxiety, softened in the growing daylight, the golden rays painting their features with a warmth that seemed to breathe life back into their weary spirits.

Oliver, too, appeared less like the hardened protector he’d become under the cloak of darkness and more the loving father and husband Lisa knew him to be. His careful steps were measured and deliberate, ensuring each child stayed close, his hands occasionally reaching out to brush a reassuring caress along Julia’s sparse hair or steady Ethan’s shoulder.

As the forest around them awoke to the new day, hope began to stir within Lisa’s chest—a fragile bloom amidst the thorns of uncertainty. They were not out of danger yet, not by a long shot, but in this tranquil haven of nature, it was possible to believe, if only for a moment, that everything might just be okay.

Lisa’s fingers clenched Oliver’s as they wove through the underbrush, each step carrying them further from danger and closer to an uncertain future. The forest was a bastion of peace, yet her heart could find no rest, thrumming with concern for those not among their number.

"Oliver," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustle of leaves, "we need to talk about Ava and Daniel."

He glanced over, his brow furrowed with the same worry that gnawed at her insides.

"I know," he said, his voice heavy. "We will find a way to get them to safety."

The memory of Ava’s fearful eyes haunted Lisa. Once, she had been consumed by jealousy toward the woman who had almost claimed Oliver’s heart, but now, thinking of Ava being out there with little Daniel, possibly cold and scared, in the hands of people who wanted to hurt them, twisted Lisa's gut with compassion.

"Can we tell the sheriff what happened?" Lisa’s gaze searched his face for a certainty she couldn't muster herself. Ava had told them not to tell the sheriff about her, as she, too, was wanted and would be arrested. Whatever she had been involved in had been criminal, but she assured them she only did it out of need—that she had no choice. So, Lisa and Oliver had agreed not to involve the sheriff any further. They hadn’t told him what was really going on. They realized now that was a mistake. They should have talked to him from the beginning, told him everything, and asked for protection instead of running into the wilderness, thinking they could outsmart them.

"We will have to take that risk," Oliver replied, squeezing her hand. "For their sake. This is their lives we’re talking about. We don’t know what these people want with them."

Ethan, ever perceptive, fell into step beside them. His young green eyes had seen too much, yet they held a resilience that stirred pride in Lisa's chest.

"Mom, Ollie," Ethan began, his tone earnest, "Ava and Daniel… are they going to be okay? We can’t just leave them, can we?”

Lisa exchanged a look with Oliver, both touched and heartbroken at the young boy’s concern. "We're going to do everything we can, sweetheart," she assured him, her throat tight. "They’re family."

"Like you always say, Mom—family sticks together." Ethan nodded, his expression set with a determination that echoed theirs.

"Exactly, Ethan," Oliver said, ruffling his hair. "And we’ll stick together through all of this."

Their path continued, the dappled light guiding them steadily onward, each step a silent promise to the ones left behind: They would find Ava and Daniel and bring them home.

Abigail's small hand slipped from Lisa's grasp, her knees buckling like frail branches under the weight of fatigue.

"Mommy," she whimpered, the word barely escaping her lips before she crumpled onto the forest floor, her long brown hair spilling over the leaves like autumn's blanket.

"Abby!" Lisa's heart constricted as she dropped to her daughter’s side, sweeping the girl into her arms. The physical strain etched lines of worry across her face, mirrored by Oliver as he moved closer, his strong hands gently lifting Abigail.

"We've got you, darling," Oliver said, his voice a soothing balm, even as his muscles protested silently under the additional burden. They walked side by side as he carried Abigail, her breaths shallow against the chirping backdrop of the woods, which seemed oblivious to the gravity of their plight.

Each step felt heavier than the last, the forest's beauty now a stark contrast to the weight of uncertainty bearing down on them. Lisa glanced at Ethan, his youthful features set in grim determination, carrying his baby sister—their children, their world.

"Oliver," Lisa murmured, her voice threadbare, "I just want to go home."

"Home," Oliver echoed as though the word itself were sanctuary. He nodded, the decision settling within him. "Yes, we'll go home." His eyes met hers, a silent pact forged between them. It had been a mistake to come out here.

But as the trees began to thin, revealing the first glimpses of morning light, the question loomed unspoken in the crisp air: Where were Ava and Daniel now? And how would they keep the promise made to Ethan—never to leave family behind?

The tangle of branches broke away, and there it was—the main road, a gray ribbon unfurling through the lush greenery. Oliver's shoulders sagged with relief as he stepped out of the forest's embrace. Ethan trudged alongside them, his gaze fixed on the familiar path that heralded safety.

"Look," Ethan breathed out, pointing. The sight of the asphalt meant cars, people, and the comforting buzz of civilization.

"Thank God," Lisa whispered, her voice a blend of awe and exhaustion. She took Abigail in her arms to relieve Oliver for a little, feeling her daughter's small body lean into her, seeking comfort.

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