Page 121 of The Souls of Lost Lake
Dear Miss Coons,
Your letter came as quite the surprise to me. Indeed, it spawned hope within me. I had thought it likely my brother Noah never spoke of me, nor received my letter.
Brother? Ava stopped, looked up as someone walked past, then dropped her gaze to the letter again.
We had a falling-out a few years ago. It was my doing, I’m afraid, and while I am happy now, I was a miserable wretch of a girl then. Noah raised me after our parents died. I expressed my gratitude to him by falling in love with a questionable young man and, to my shame, became with child. While I gave the child birth, I’m afraid I broke my brother’s heart when, in secret, I gave my baby to be adopted by a couple to whom we have no alliance or knowledge. The agency assures me the child is safe, but Noah—sweet brother of mine—blames himself as well as me. You see, shortly after I became with child, he banished me from our home. He would not speak to me. When he finally reachedout to offer forgiveness, I’d already given my baby into another’s care. Noah could not forgive himself, I’m afraid. Perhaps he cannot forgive me either.
Miss Coons, Noah is a good man who takes others as his personal responsibility. He shows grace where none is found and yet gives none upon himself. If you could be the healing balm of Christ to his soul, reassure him I am well and happily married now. I would love to embrace him again one day.
With much regard,
Emmaline
Ava plumb near fell off the barrel.
Wren
Wren sat in an overstuffed chair in the corner of Patty Markham’s bedroom. Her knees pulled up to her chest, a red down comforter wrapped around her, she balanced a mug of coffee and stared at the empty spot where Patty’s hospital bed had been. Movement in the doorway snagged her attention.
“Hey.” It was Eddie.
“Hey,” she responded.
He moved into the room, hands in his pockets, and stared at the same spot. “Hard to believe she’s been gone a month already.”
“You okay?” Wren wasn’t, but she would not put herself before Eddie.
“Yeah.” His nod was reassuring. “Yeah, I’m good.” A soft smile. “Mom wouldn’t have wanted me to focus on her not being with us. That’s why she wanted that big celebration of life later this summer. Worship music. You know Mom.”
Wren nodded. Yes. It was just like Patty. She’d always belonged.Always been confident. Always been sure of her place in the world, but also in eternity. But oh, she ached—Wrenached—to confide in her.
The police had arrested Pippin the night they’d found Wren and Jasmine. The following day, after word broke about Wren’s kidnapping, they’d arrested Tristan Blythe as well. She was going to have to confront her dad one of these days. See her brother again. There were going to be investigations, trials, and then there was the whole other nuance to think about. The Johnson family.Herfamily. People she’d never met, never known, who had suffered for twenty-six years in fear their baby girl was dead. But Wren wasn’t their baby girl. She wasn’t Emily Johnson. She was Arwen Blythe. Regardless of how it’d developed. Worse than a sordid classic tale of rings and Orcs. ShewasTristan Blythe’s “precious.” She was the ring that had held her family together—all for the sake of saving her mother and, in keeping her, inadvertently protecting Pippin’s psychopathic traits.
Eddie approached her, sitting down on the arm of the chair. He knew she and Troy had ended their relationship, but he’d said nothing,donenothing, to change theirs. But Wren knew she couldn’t face the next few months if Eddie wasn’t with her. She might not have the murderous background tale of Ava Coons, but she could relate to what Wayne had said that night in the hospital. There were many lost people in the world. Wren wanted to be found.
“So,” Eddie began, perched beside her, “I’m thinking we take Redneck Harriet back to the Coons cabin.”
Wren eyed him. “You can put her in the trash compactor.”
“Well, actually the police still have her, but someday it would be nice to return her to Ava.”
“You’re still sentimental over that ugly thing?” Wren stared incredulously at Eddie.
He smiled. In his way, he was handsome. His crooked nose, blond ombré hair, whiskers, and average brown eyes. No, he wasn’t handsome. He was striking. He was ... she wanted him to be hers.
“Listen...” Eddie twisted on the arm of the chair. His eyes bored into hers with an intensity she wasn’t accustomed to. “I know we’ve always been pals—friends—like family.”
Wren waited, afraid even a single blink would ruin the moment.
“Mom loved you like her own daughter.”
Wren’s eyes burned.
“And Dad—he thinks you’re great.”
Wren smiled.
Eddie cleared his throat. “I’ve gotten used to you, Wren.”
