Page 112 of A Lesson In Beginning

“Come with me.” Ruth said, whispering to only me. She shared a look with Levi. Turning, she gave the same look to Joel before leading me away from the kitchen and down the hall to the front door.

“Where are we going?” I looked back at Joel for some kind of explanation, but he gave none. Samuel was flung over his shoulder, giggling as the two played. The very sight of it warmed my heart. I shook my head at their antics.

As we neared the front door, she turned to me, a look on her face I could not quite place.

“I love you, sister.” She pulled me in for a hug that spoke of something deeper than I could figure out at that moment. I simply shrugged and slipped my arms around her, hugging her back as I laughed lightly.

“You’re acting weird. I don’t like it.” I teased her gently with a smirk. She took a deep breath, hand resting on the doorknob for only a moment before she turned it, opening the door.

A woman stood there, looking nervous and anxious.

“Hello. You must be Maryanne. I’m Ruth. Thank you for coming.” Ruth greeted the woman kindly, if a little cautiously. She stepped down from the front step onto the porch, pulling me along with her.

“I am. It’s nice to meet you too. Thank you for calling.” The woman shook Ruth’s hand, but her eyes kept shifting over to me, and that same nervous energy that Ruth had was matched in this woman’s demeanor. The woman, Maryanne, took a deep breath and then turned to me. “You must be Adah Price.”

“I am. Well, Adah Whitlock, now. I remarried last year.” I answered, instinctively touching the ring on my finger. Joel had given it to me one year to the day from when he had presented me with my collar, and we had been married eight months later. Now, almost a year into calling him both Sir and husband, I had never been happier.

I looked back to Ruth, but she gave me no insight as to what exactly was happening. Maryanne tentatively reached her hand out to me, shaking my hand softly.

“I’m Maryanne Brevins.”

Brevins… as in…

The breath caught in my lungs.

“You’re…” My voice trailed off as we stood there, still shaking hands, though so slowly it was awkward. I couldn’t help it. My stomach dropped, my blood running cold.

“Yes. I’m Abigail Brevins’ mother. Though I believe you called her Eunice.”

I dropped her hand, my eyes flitting to the car still running in the driveway. I could just barely see a man sitting in the back seat.

“I have wanted to reach out to you so many times, but the social worker said I wasn’t allowed to.”

“So, how did you —”

Ruth offered an answer. “Levi and I pulled some strings, calling up a friend of ours from the FBI who helped us out back in Zion, before everything went down. With his help, we were able to track down Maryanne and her husband.”

“But why? Why would you —” My voice cut off with a soft sob, the emotion of the moment overwhelming me. I didn’t even hear the door behind me, but I felt the moment that Joel stepped up behind me, the cinnamon and orange spice of his cologne giving him away. But more than that, I could just feel his presence anywhere.

“Hello, I’m Joel Whitlock, Adah’s husband. You must be Maryanne.” He introduced himself, and I turned to him with wide, shocked eyes as they shook hands in greeting.

“You knew?” I could barely breathe.

“I did.” He whispered softly, so that only I could hear him. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

“After Levi contacted my husband and I, we immediately wanted to know more of what happened in those days. The social workers and agents only told us so much. But Ruth and Levi have spoken to us at length over the last few months. And — well, we just needed to meet you. And while I wanted to ask you first — I wasn’t even sure you’d want to see her again, but —”

My heart stopped. Full on stopped in my chest, my hand rushing to my throat for fear I would stop breathing. “She’s here?”

“She is. She wants to see you, too. If you’re okay with it.” Maryanne’s smile lit up that long stretch of porch, but I could not tear my eyes away from that blue sedan parked in the driveway.

“Please.” I breathed out in a choked sob. “Please. If I —” I tried and failed to speak as the words caught in my throat, constricting painfully as tears welled in my eyes. I brushed them back rapidly as Maryanne turned to the car, waving to her husband, beckoning him forward.

Time stood still.

The car door opened. A man stood up, tall and lanky, not unlike Joel, though perhaps slightly older, as there was a touch of gray around his temples.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, and my heart counted out the seconds as a head of brown, curly hair appeared in the window.

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