Chapter 33 #2
“Take your time,” he added, nodding toward the winding path through the flowers. “I’ll be on that bench if you need me.” He pointed to a shaded spot beneath a tree. “Mom might come out too, if she notices we’re here.”
I managed a small nod, tearing my gaze away from the stone even though it felt like it tugged at me. Like it didn’t want to be left behind. Like it knew me. Like a part of me was here that I never knew about.
I stood after a moment as Evander walked away. The letters on the stone blurred and eventually my feet moved on their own.
Not towards Evander. But deeper.
The garden path curved gently, lined with soft green leaves that swayed in the slight breeze. The air smelt earthy and warm. Like another piece of home.
Lockswell had a garden, but I never got to be put on duty there. The handlers always thought I needed more training instead of learning things to benefit my service outside of the bedroom.
The blue flowers followed me along the edge of the path, scattered in small clusters. Every time I passed one, it felt like pieces of a puzzle I should’ve known how to solve.
I reached a small clearing near the back, where the sunlight filtered through the branches overhead in soft, broken patches. More flowers grew here, white ones, pinks ones, and a few deep purples. But my gaze kept drifting back to the blue.
Something flickered in my mind. A laugh. A hand reaching down. A voice calling my name.
I stopped walking, my fingers brushing the tops of the flowers as if touching them might steady me. But it didn’t. It only made the ache sharper.
My eyes drifted over the white littles, and there on the ground was another sone. Smaller than the first, less polished. Worn at the edge like it had been here longer.
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to turn back, pretend I hadn’t seen it. But my feet carried me forward, slow and steady until I was close enough to read the words.
Baby Girl
Jan 10. 2000
Gone before we got to hold you.
A soft ache bloomed in my chest. Not sharp. Just…sad.
I didn’t know this person. I didn’t know their story. But the care in the carving, the flowers planted around it, the way the sunlight fell just right. It all told me enough.
This wasn’t just a place of beauty. It was a place of memory. A place of grief.
Of Love.
I glanced back towards where Evander sat on the bench. He wasn’t watching me, not directly, but his posture was open, waiting if I needed him.
I turned back to the stone, letting my fingers rest against it for a moment longer.
This family had lost so much. Yet, they kept remembering. They kept living.
How many more of these rocks were placed here? Would I ever be able to find them all, if I tried? Did I even want to try it?
I wandered deeper once more, past the colors and the second memorial stone.
I kept my eyes out for other ones, spotting some hidden under certain flowers, like they were tucked away to be remembered.
I didn’t bother to look at them, not sure if I wanted to know who these people were.
What they meant to Evander at one point in time.
The pull towards the first stone never let go. It tugged me with every step I took.
A whisper, a memory I couldn’t reach. A feeling I didn’t have words for.
Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me back along the path, past the lavender past the blue flowers that made my breath catch.
Back to him.
The stone waited in the sunlight, small, and simple. The carved flower caught the light like it was glowing.
I didn’t understand the pull. I didn’t understand the secret memory that was attached to it.
I knelt in front of it again, my fingers brushing the edge of the stone. The name was so much like my own right there.
“Hello, there sweetie.”
I froze before relaxing slightly.
Maren stood a few feet away, hands folded loosely in front of her, her expression soft but unreadable. Not surprising. Not alarmed. Just…watching me like her son so often did.
“You found my stones.”
“I…I…I’ll put it back.”
“You’re perfectly fine, sweetie. They are there to remember. To be thought of. He’s more thought of than most of the others in my garden.”
My eyes widened as Maren sat right there on the ground, not caring about the fact that her pants may get dirty.
“Evander kind of stole my first rock, but don’t tell him I know that.”
I turned my wide eyes to her. I hadn’t seen it in his house.
“It’s in his memory box most likely. It’s his way of remembering someone he loved very much.”
I turned back to the stone resting between my hands, letting its cool weight settle into my palms. It felt heavier now, like it carried more than a name.
“He… he really misses him,” I whispered, the words catching on something tight in my throat.
Maren exhaled softly beside me. “We all do,” she said, her voice warm but threaded with an old ache. “And I worry how he’ll handle things when your blood test comes back. My son…” She paused, choosing her words with care. “He’s tender-hearted. More than people realize.”
The garden seemed to be quiet around us, as if it was listening. I kept my gaze on the carved flower, afraid that if I looked up, she’d see the confusion and fear swirling in my eyes. Afraid, she’d see how the stone felt like it belonged in my hands.
Afraid she already did.
“Evander loved him. More than he ever said out loud.”
My eyes flickered to her, both wanting and hating the fact that I wanted to know more.
“He was just a kid. But he followed Evander everywhere. Thought the sun rose and sat on him. And Evander…well he loved every moment of it. He never once made that boy feel anything but special. They were inseparable from the first moment that boy was born into this world. One look, and Evander was smitten. They were soul mates from the start, if you believe in that stuff.”
“Sounds sweet.” A soft ache bloomed behind my ribs. I wanted something like that. I wanted to grab that feeling and shove it into me, if it were possible.
“Evy…that’s what he used to call my son because he could never pronounce Evander. It was adorable.”
Evy…
No….
There was no way.
Either Maren didn’t pay attention to my breathing or thought it was something else that got me worried; she went on.
“It destroyed my son when he went missing. Destroyed us all, but mostly Evander. That’s why I worry if the blood test comes back, and will come back negative, he’ll do something that none of us will come back from. ”
Is it possible?
Had everything I’ve been told be a lie?
Maren kept talking, but the words went in one ear and out the other. My mind was spinning.
Something tugged, hard, at me. The moment my fingers brushed the curve of the petal on the stone, the world around me seemed to tilt, just slightly, like a memory trying to break the surface.
A flash of sunlight. Grass brushing my knees. A boy laughed, bright and happy. My own voice, younger, calling out “Evy!” Wait up!”
The sound echoed through me, sharp and warm all at once like it had been trapped somewhere deep and had finally found a crack to slip through.
I sucked in a breath, the garden snapping back into focus so fast it made me sway.
Maren’s head turned towards me, and her expression softened. “Kasey?”
I blinked hard, my heart pounding, the name still ringing in my ears.
Evy.
I knew that name. A name I had held onto the longest after being put into Lockswell. It was what got me through those first few months, having my family taken away from me. It was what kept me comfort on those dark nights where I didn’t know what was going to become of me.
Is it really possible? Was Evander, right? Could I be that boy that thinks I am?
The memory, if that’s what it was, left a warmth in my chest that didn’t feel like it belonged to the present. It belonged to him.
Belonged to the boy who laughed in the sunlight. To the boy who’d run ahead and looked back to make sure I was following. To the boy whose name I’d call out like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Looking back at the stone, the name was mine.
“Evy.” My best friend. The other part of me had been missing for a better part of my life.
His face was blurry now, but I knew that name.
“He wouldn’t allow us to call him that name after the boy disappeared. Not that we ever tried.”
“What…what did he call the boy?” What did he call me? That was what I wanted to ask.
Maren’s eyes softened, the kind of softness that comes from remembering. She looked at the stone in my hands, then at me, and when she spoke, her voice carried a warmth that wrapped around me.
“He called him Honeybee. Said he was tiny, always buzzing around him, always curious. Said he made the world feel brighter just by being in it.”
Honeybee.
No….
I was tempted to push away, to toss the rock like it was on fire. But I held onto the stone tighter, my heart beating too quickly in my chest. Blood rushed through every part of my body.
No….
Just….it couldn’t.
“Come on, Honeybee! This way!”
My breath stuttered. It…. It was me, wasn’t it?
“He loved that boy,” she whispered. “More than he ever knew how to say it. That child was his whole world. And he’s spent every year trying to find him. I don’t think he would stop even if they found a body. Evander’s always believed the boy wasn’t gone.”
“He thinks he was…misplaced.” The word felt too small for what I meant. Taken. Trained. Turned into the perfect Omega.
“Evander sure thinks so.” Maren nodded once, slow and steady.
“You don’t?” I asked, tilting my head towards her, searching for her face. Because if she didn’t believe the boy – me – could be alive…. if she didn’t believe in the possibility Evander clung to…. What would she do when the truth came out?
Would she accept it? Accept me?
And worse…would I?
The questions pressed against my ribs, heavy and breathless, as the stone warmed between my palms like it knew the answers before I did.
Maren didn’t look away when I asked. She didn’t soften it or tried to wrap it in something pretty. She just breathed in slowly, like she’d been waiting a long time for someone to ask her that.
“I want to believe he’s alive,” she said, her voice low so it didn’t travel. “God, I want to. For Evander’s sake. For me. But wanting something and trusting it are two different things.”
Honesty stung.
She glanced towards where Evander was, who was unaware of the storm gathering here.
“My son has held onto hope so tightly because it’s part of him. He needs to believe that the boy had survived. It needs it like air. But me…I’ve lived long enough to know the world doesn’t always give back what it takes.”
She turned back to me, her gaze steady. “So, no. I don’t know if he’s alive. I don’t know if he’s gone. I don’t know what’s true anymore.”
“But” she added; her voice gentled in a way that made my breath catch. “If he is alive…if he’s out there somewhere….then I could want him home. I would want him to be safe. I would want him loved.”
Her eyes held mine, unwavering.
“And I would accept him. Whoever he became. Whatever he’s been through. I would accept him.”
The words hit me like a soft blow, warm, terrifying and impossibly kind.
Because she didn’t know she was talking to me. And I didn’t know how to hold the weight of that truth.
Not yet.