Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Elaina rolled her eyes. “It’s called glue.”
Melody laughed, and the sound filled the room in a way that loosened the tightness in my chest. For a minute, it almost felt like we weren’t patched together from broken pieces.
We ate. We talked about nothing and everything. Elaina told a story about a friend of hers trying to hike with sandals and nearly breaking her ankle. Melody shared about one of the girls at the hotel learning to sew curtains and nearly stitching her sleeve shut.
I mostly listened, watching them. My daughter, grown and strong, carrying herself with the same stubborn pride her mother had. My woman, scarred but steady, her eyes brighter now than when I first found her. Two pieces of my world sitting at the same table.
It was more than I’d ever thought I’d get.
After dinner, Elaina insisted on cleaning up, waving us off when I tried to help. “You cooked, I’ll clean. That’s the deal.”
When she disappeared into the kitchen, Melody’s smile dimmed, replaced by something more thoughtful. She glanced at me, then down at her phone on the table.
“What is it?” I asked.
She hesitated, chewing her lip the way she did when she wasn’t sure she should say something. “I’ve been thinking… about calling home. My brother. My mom.”
I leaned back in my chair, weighing her tone. “It’s your choice, baby. Nobody’s gonna fault you either way.”
“I know.” Her thumb traced circles on the table. “But it’s been months. They don’t even know if I’m alive. And after everything…” Her voice caught. “I just—maybe it’s time.”
I reached across and caught her hand. “Then call.”
She nodded, eyes shimmering.
Elaina came back, wiping her hands on a towel, and Melody straightened, giving her a small smile. “Would you mind if I called my family? It might take a while.”
Elaina’s expression softened. “Of course not. I’ll make tea. Take all the time you need.”
Melody gave her a grateful look before stepping out onto the porch with her phone. I stayed in my chair for a long moment, listening to the sound of my daughter moving around in the kitchen, the clink of mugs. Then I got up and followed Melody.
The night air was cool, the crickets loud in the trees. Melody stood at the railing, phone pressed to her ear, shoulders tense. I slipped behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, grounding her.
“Hello?” Her voice trembled. Then it brightened, tears lacing through it. “Caleb? It’s me.”
I couldn’t hear his words, but I could imagine the shock in her brother’s voice. She laughed, cried, spoke fast, telling him she was safe, that she was okay. Then she asked for Mom.
The silence stretched, broken only by the static of the line. And then I heard her mother’s voice faintly, warm and trembling with emotion.
“Melody?”
“Mom.” Her voice cracked. “It’s me.”
“Oh, baby.” The words were thick, muffled by distance and tears. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I miss you too.” Melody wiped her cheeks, leaning back against me for strength. “I’m okay, Mom. I’m safe.”
Her mother’s voice broke. “I’m proud of you. For getting out. For staying strong. Things weren’t right for you to stay. You did the best you could. We are all proud of you.”
Melody’s breath shuddered. “You are?”
“Yes. We—we left too. After you ran, after everything with Logan, I couldn’t—your father couldn’t—” She sniffed audibly. “We couldn’t let it keep swallowing us. We’re still here in Montana, but we’re not with them anymore. Not with Abel. Not with the church.”
Melody gasped, clutching my arms tight. “You left?”
“Yes.” Her mom’s voice was steadier now. “We miss you. God, we miss you every day. But knowing you’re safe, that’s enough for us.”
Tears streamed down Melody’s face, but her smile shone through them. “I met someone. His name is Enzo. He—he takes care of me, Mom. He makes me feel safe.”
Her mom’s answer was soft but sure. “Then you hold on to him, Melody. Hold on tight.”
When the call ended, Melody stayed silent for a long time, her phone still clutched in her hand, her eyes shining with a mix of grief and joy. I held her close, my chin on her shoulder, letting her feel every ounce of my steadiness.
Finally, she turned in my arms, looking up at me. “They’re proud of me.”
“You deserve it,” I said.
Her smile trembled, then steadied. “For the first time, I believe that.”
Later that night, when Elaina had gone home and the house was quiet, Melody curled against me on the couch, her head on my chest.
“I never thought I’d hear my mom say she was proud of me,” she whispered. “Not after everything. Not after running.”
I stroked her hair, slow and gentle. “Sometimes running is the bravest thing a person can do. You saved yourself. You saved them too, in a way. You showed them it was possible.”
She tilted her head, eyes soft. “You always know what to say.”