Page 13 of Finders Keepers

“Night-night, Mommy. I love you to the moon and stars and back.”

“I love you to the moon and stars and back times infinity,” I whisper.

I dim the lights and change into my pajamas before I slip outside. The night air wraps around me like a warm blanket, and I wiggle my toes in the grass. It’s so different from the manicured lawn we had back… there. This grass here is wild and natural, dotted with dandelions and cornflowers. My chest aches thinking about the flowerbed I abandoned. Tending that garden brought me such joy, it was the highlight of living there, besides my Sophie. Nothing lifted my spirits quite like stepping into that modest plot to yank out unwanted weeds and nurture the delicate flowers I had planted in my backyard.

I sink further into the grass, letting the memories wash over me. It was just three months ago, but it feels like a lifetime. I was in my garden, my safe haven, carefully pulling at the weeds. The sun was warm on my back as Lisa, Matt’s sister, dropped by unexpectedly. She brought her homemade lemonade, and we sat on the white wicker chairs I’d found at a yard sale.

“These flowers are gorgeous, Bailey,” she says, taking a long sip of her drink. “You’ve got such a green thumb.” Her genuine admiration makes me smile. Lisa is always so supportive—nothing like her brother. She’s one of the few bright spots in my life here. We talk about everything and nothing. She never judges me, never pushes when I deflect questions about the fading bruise somewhere on my body or why I always wear long sleeves, even in the high summer temps.

The time she spends with me feels perfect. Sophie is napping inside, and we’re laughing about something silly. For one single precious hour, I feel normal—like any other woman enjoying time with her sister-in-law.

But then we hear his truck. The sound makes my stomach drop. I know from the way he swerves into the driveway that he’s been drinking again.

“Bailey!” Matt’s voice booms across the yard, slurred and angry. “Why the hell is my sister here without telling me?” He stumbles down the short steps of the back porch toward us, beer can still in hand, his face flushed red with alcohol and rage.

Lisa stands up. “Matt, I just stopped by to—”

“Get out,” he cuts her off, pointing toward the front yard. “This is my house, and I decide who visits my wife.”

He twists my wife into something ugly, dripping with venom and contempt.

I can see the pain and helplessness in her eyes as she quickly gathers her things. “Bailey…” she starts, but Matt takes a threatening step forward.

“I said leave!” he roars, making us both flinch.

She shoots me one last look, part apology, part worry, before hurrying to her car. I hear her drive away.

Matt made sure she never came back after that. He screened my calls, monitored my phone. Even ripped out my beloved hydrangeas the next day, claiming he didn’t like the colors.

I wrap my arms around myself, fighting back tears at the memory. Lisa had tried to help in her own way, I know that now. Back then, I thought she was meddling. That she didn’t understand. But now, I see things differently. She’d slipped me phone numbers for women’s shelters, carefully hidden in birthday cards and Christmas presents. But I was too scared to use them, too convinced I could make things work for Sophie’s sake. Until I realized I couldn’t.

The sound of an animal rustling through the grass in the pasture snaps me back to the present. I quickly wipe my eyes and hurry inside to check on Sophie. She’s sleeping peacefully, Mr. Hoppy still clutched tight in her arms. Her face is so innocent in sleep, reminding me why I finally found the courage to leave.

I switch the light completely off and settle into my spot on our bed and I say a silent prayer of thanks that we made it here, to this place where horses roam the pasture and kind people like Ms. Lucy offer second chances.

I reach for my phone and type in Lisa’s number from memory. I stare at the bright screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. My heart pounds as I type out the message:

Lisa, it’s Bailey. Sophie and I are safe. We got away from Matt. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before we left, but I needed to protect her. Thank you for always trying to help.

I press send before I can second-guess myself. The message shows as delivered, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The light from my phone casts shadows on the wall as I place it face-down on the nightstand.

Sophie stirs in her sleep, mumbling something about Buttercup, and I smile. The digital clock reads 11:42 PM—far too late and I know that Lisa won’t respond tonight. But at least now she knows we’re okay. She was always kind to me, even when Matt tried to isolate me from everyone. She deserves to know the truth.

I pull the blanket up to my chin, listening to the crickets chirping outside our window. It’s such a different sound from the suburban noise I’d grown used to. Everything here feels different, more real, more alive. Even the darkness seems safer somehow, like it’s sheltering us instead of hiding secrets.

Sophie stirs slightly in her sleep, mumbling something about Buttercup, and I reach out to smooth her hair. “Sweet dreams, my brave girl,” I whisper. “Tomorrow’s another new day.” And for the first time in a long time, I actually look forward to what tomorrow might bring.

Igently touch the bruise on my cheek, amazed at how well it’s faded. The arnica gel has worked wonders and with a little dab of concealer you can hardly tell it was ever there. The face in the mirror looks more like me now, and less like a victim. I sweep my blonde hair into a disheveled topknot, letting a few blonde strands fall loose around my face and Lisa’s response from my first text to her the other night flashes in my mind.

Oh, Bailey I am so proud of you! You did the right thing. Please call or text me anytime. I mean it.

My thoughts continue to race through all the ways this could go wrong. Matt’s face comes to my mind, that dangerous glint in his eyes when he’s angry, the way his jaw ticks right before he explodes.

What if he goes back to Lisa’s house now that I’ve reached out? What if he threatens her again? My fingers tremble as I clutch onto the bathroom sink and close my eyes.

“Mommy! Look what I found!” Sophie’s voice carries through the open living room windows.

I smile, watching her roam around the front yard with Mr. Hoppy tucked under one arm, stopping to pick wildflowers with her free hand.

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