Page 20 of Finders Keepers

Then my eyes catch on the third drawing. At first glance, it seems cheerful enough. Sophie and I holding hands in front of a tree, bright sun in the corner with its yellow rays extending across the blue sky. But there, lurking in the background, is a tall black figure. It’s just a silhouette, but the proportions are unmistakably adult. My heart sinks as I trace my finger over the shadowy form.

I remember asking Sophie about it yesterday when she proudly presented her artwork for the fridge gallery.

“Baby, who’s this in your picture?” I’d asked, pointing to the dark figure.

She had looked up from her coloring book, her blue eyes suddenly serious. “That’s the Shadow Man, Mommy.”

“The Shadow Man?” My voice had caught in my throat.

She nodded solemnly. “He follows us sometimes. I see him when you don’t look.”

“Is he… is he scary?” I’d asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Sophie had shrugged, returning to her coloring. “No. He just watches. But he makes you sad, so I don’t like him.”

The memory sends a chill through me. I know exactly who the “Shadow Man” is. It’s Matt, or at least how Sophie has processed his presence in our lives. Even here, hundreds of miles away, he haunts us like a specter. Sophie might not understand the danger, but she senses the fear he instills in me.

I pull my hand away from the drawing and take a deep breath. The coffee maker gurgles its final notes, signaling a fresh pot is ready.

Placing the bacon on the counter I reach for the farm fresh eggs from the basket Ms. Lucy gave us from her chickens and set them down on the countertop next to the stove.

As I start preparing breakfast, I can’t help but think back to the vivid nightmare I had, more like a memory, of one of the times Matt lost his can of Copenhagen and demolished the house looking for it.

As the bacon cooks, I pour myself a cup of coffee, adding a splash of creamer. The warmth of the mug seeps into my palms, comforting me. I take a small sip and let the rich flavor wash over my tongue.

The familiar sound and smell ground me back in the present. This tiny house, this fresh start, it’s real. We’re safe here, at least for now.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I take a full, deep breath. The air fills my lungs completely. No shallow breathing, no tightness in my chest restricting how much oxygen I can take in. It’s strange how something so simple as breathing freely feels like a luxury.

I close my eyes and take another deep breath. Then another. Each one comes easier than the last.

Tears spring to my eyes, unexpected but not unwelcome. They aren’t tears of fear or sadness but of release. My body remembers what it feels like to exist without constant terror, and it’s responding to this newfound freedom.

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand and let out a small, surprised laugh.

The bacon sizzles louder, demanding my attention. I flip the strips over, watching them curl and crisp. Such an ordinary task, yet it feels profound somehow. Just me, making breakfast in a kitchen, breathing freely, at least for this moment.

I sigh.

I start to crack eggs into a bowl and whisk them together, and I hear my phone ringing. Ms. Lucy’s name lights up on the screen.

I answer.

“Good morning, honey!” Her warm southern drawl eases some more of my pent-up tension. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”

“No ma’am, I’ve been up,” I say, placing slices of bacon on a plate with paper towels. “Everything okay?”

“More than okay! The fairs in town, they set up every year. I was thinking it’d do you and little Sophie some good to get out and meet a few of the locals. They’ve got kiddie rides, and games and the best deep-fried food you can ask for.”

I hesitate for a moment, my anxiety trying to convince me to say no, but I push it aside. “That actually sounds really… really nice.” I start adding more bacon to the skillet.

“Well, good! I’ll pick y’all up around six this evening.”

“Yes ma’am.” I softly smile into the phone.

“Alright, well I’m getting ready to run some errands this morning but if y’all need anything I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you, we’ll see you later.”

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