Chapter
Forty-Nine
Sawyer
With dread, I scanned the email that came through asking if I could transport Connor to the Baileys for respite. It had been over three months since I’d driven him there, but I did not want a repeat of last time. Being near Soren would hurt too much. But as with everything, I said yes because I would always show up for my kids. Before loading into my Jeep to pick him up, I checked the safety locks to make sure they were engaged despite his promises to never run away again.
After transporting him, I would be done for the day, so it made sense to drive my vehicle. Connor was in a good mood when I picked him up because Mr. Bailey had promised to take Connor fishing when he arrived. While we drove, he chatted about fishing and the latest puzzle he had been working on. He’d asked if I had ever baited a hook, to which I had responded “no,” but he said he’d be happy to teach me one day. His dad had started to make progress with his plan, and I hoped with everything inside me that he’d stick to it. My heart was heavy as I navigated other roads in an effort to not pass by Soren’s house.
Mrs. Bailey was gardening in her flowerbed when we drove up. She stood, brushing off her knees and tucking her gardening gloves in a floral apron tied around her waist.
“Hey, y’all! It’s good to see ya!”
Her slight southern twang rang out as she waved in welcome. Connor grabbed his backpack and launched from the car as soon as I opened the door. I walked at a much more reasonable pace behind him.
“Where’s Mr. Bailey?” Connor asked.
“He’s getting his fishing pole and tackle box outta the shed out back. You can go back if you want,” she said, smiling at Connor’s eager, freckled face. We both watched as he raced around the back of the house at lightning speed.
“Sawyer, dear, are you sick?” Mrs. Bailey asked with concern on her face. She likely saw the shadows under my eyes from lack of sleep. I had tried to sleep, but every time I dozed off, a nightmare from my childhood ripped me from my sleep. It had been years since I had nightmares, but no matter how many miles I ran trying to exhaust my body, I hadn’t slept through the night in three days.
“It’s been a long few days, but I’m off now and I think I might try to get to bed early,” I explained as her crystal blue eyes assessed me.
“Why don’t you stay for a minute and eat a fresh peach muffin? The peaches are fresh, straight from Colorado.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting at a lawn table under an oak tree with a glass of iced sweet tea and a peach muffin. In a matter of moments, I was telling Mrs. Bailey about the mess that was my life.
“Sawyer, I don’t tell a lot of people this, but the reason Gerald and I offer respite is because I spent time in foster care as a child. Five years,” she recalled, glancing toward her garden, her silver hair shining in the sunlight.
“It was the worst time of my life, and it left scars that I’ll carry till the day the good Lord takes me. That’s why we wanted to be a safe place for kiddos to land. Gerald loving me changed my life. I tried to push him away, but he’s an ornery one. His love paved the way for me to understand all the other ways I could be loved—and love others. It healed parts of me that felt broken beyond repair.” I gasped at her words. That was me. I was broken beyond repair before I was even in kindergarten. I had been abused, assaulted, starved, beaten, and broken, and it had only gotten worse from there. My eyes filled with tears. Soren had tried to love me, and I had pushed him away.
“I’m such a mess. I can’t be loved like that right now.”
“Oh, so you are only worthy of love when everything is perfect?” she inquired gently as silent tears tracked down my cheeks. She pulled me into her gentle body, and I melted, as if I was hugging a grandparent I had never met. She ran her hand over my head as sobs racked my body. I couldn’t hear her clearly, but I thought I heard her softly praying as she held me while I fell apart.
Soft music played as I burrowed in my comfy chair that night. A notebook and pen lay across the arm of the chair as I made a list. Mrs. Bailey had given me some homework. She had stated that if I wanted a different outcome, I needed to do something different. I wasn’t sure what the difference was, but I had some ideas. I had done therapy, but it had been years since I had met regularly with my therapist. Especially not since some of the life-altering things I had experienced in the last few months, like processing Abel’s death, dating someone for the first time, and the extreme stress of my job. My notebook list included:
schedule therapy
consider job change
call Talia
My fingers stumbled as I considered writing “call Soren,” but I didn’t think I was brave enough to tackle that one yet. I would start working through this list tomorrow.