Save Her Child by CJ Lyons (book recommendations TXT) 📕

it wasn’t cool being friends with girls back then, especially not your little sister. So your mom and me, we were the kind of brothers and sisters who fought all the time. Know what I mean? We still loved each other but we were always yelling and arguing. And when she died, I felt really bad because we had another fight that same day.”

Nate’s head still hung low but his gaze crept up, almost meeting Luka’s. “You loved Mom, right?”

“I still do. Love her with all my heart.”

“But you’re mad at her, too?”

“Yep. Furious. That she’s gone, that she left without saying goodbye to me or Pops or you.” He blew his breath out. “I miss her so much, but some days that only makes me even more angry with her for making me feel this way.” He paused. “You ever feel like that?”

Nate bit his lip and nodded.

“Guess we’re in this together, then. Think Emily kinda feels the same? Like she’s sad, so sad the only way to let her feelings out is by acting mad? Even at her best friend?”

Another nod. Nate flicked the phone’s photo stream, and this time Leah’s face filled the frame. “I think Dr. Wright feels like that sometimes too. But she never lets it out, keeps it bottled up inside.” He met Luka’s gaze. “She’s like me that way.”

“What helps you to feel better?” Luka asked. “Does talking with Dr. Hannah help?”

A shrug. “I guess. Maybe. Talking to you, too. But mostly I guess what makes me feel good is taking my pictures—like I’m saving memories for Mom, you know? Playing with Rex, teaching him stuff so he can be a good dog and forget where he came from, I like that, too. And I like helping Emily when she’s sad. Making her laugh again, that feels good.” He turned his face up, searching Luka’s. “Is that okay?”

Luka couldn’t resist hugging him. “It’s more than okay. Remember how you saved Rex from those men who were abusing him? You were his hero.”

Nate pushed him away and rolled his eyes. “Nah. I’m no hero, not like you. But maybe. Someday. Someday I can grow up to be like you.”

Warmth flooded Luka’s chest and he found himself blinking fast. “Know what? You’re gonna be a hero—in your own way. I’m sure of it.”

“But—can a hero ever feel afraid? Cuz I do. All the time.”

Luka flashed to the expression on Nate’s face when he’d seen Luka in the ER. “Can I tell you a secret? So do I. But that’s a good thing, because no one is born brave or a hero. We learn how to face our fear; that’s how heroes are born.”

“But how? How do you do that?”

Luka considered. “I think of the people I love. You, Pops, my parents, your mother.” And Cherise, his first love, lost so many years ago. “I think all courage comes from love. So if you start out loving people, letting them in your heart, then you’re already most of the way there. Does that make sense?”

“I guess.” Nate yawned, not bothering to cover it. Rex, ever vigilant, saw it and ambled over, ready for his before-bed walk around the house. The scruffy mutt rubbed his head against Nate’s leg, nudging him toward the porch steps.

“Get some sleep.” Luka gave Nate another quick hug. He pocketed Ms. Reed’s card. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” After he had checked out Cambria Prep. And broken the news to Leah that Nate might be going there without Emily.

He grabbed his crutches, his leg screaming for him to go lie down. One step at a time, he thought as he limped inside. One step at a time. It was the best he could do.

Eighteen

Emily was silent during the few minutes it took Leah to drive them from Jericho Fields to Nellie’s farm. Leah didn’t mind. She was so embarrassed, angry, guilty, worried—she was so many things that she needed time to sort through her own emotions that Emily’s outburst had wrought. Every time she thought things were finally getting better, that life was approaching some semblance of normality despite Ian’s absence, every time, despite Leah’s best efforts, something like this would happen. She was exhausted by constantly trying to act normal, by watching Emily like a hawk, trying to protect her, to do the work of two parents.

But now it was clear. Leah was failing her daughter. And Ian.

Tears blurring her vision, she parked the car in front of Nellie’s house. No matter how long Leah lived here, this would always be her great-aunt Nellie’s house. Even now, as the sun set behind it, painting the sky above the mountain a gentle lavender that clung to the treetops like a downy quilt, the large white farmhouse anchored its surroundings. As if whispering to anyone who needed to hear: I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe here.

The summer night echoed the words—although, somehow to Leah’s ears they were in Ian’s voice, not Nellie’s—and Leah knew what she had to do: she had to make Emily hear and understand them as well. Fumbling her seatbelt, Leah climbed out of the Subaru, grabbed a tarp from the back, then finally gathered Emily from her car seat. She carried Emily on one hip, like she had when Emily was a baby, tossed the tarp onto the lawn with her other hand and sat down, Emily in her lap.

Emily was crying again, rocking and flailing her arms as if attempting to exorcise all the emotions that so overwhelmed her. Leah wrapped her arms around her daughter and rocked along with her, saying nothing, simply providing a secure anchor.

Finally, Emily went limp in her arms. Stars showered the sky above them. Leah lay back, nestling Emily beside her. “I’m sorry you didn’t get a ribbon,” Leah started. “You worked very hard and should be proud—”

“I did get one,” Emily snapped. She sat up, dug something from her pocket and thrust it at Leah. “See. It’s fake.” And