"I'm sorry!" Sarah sobbed into his neck, her small arms wrapped tight around him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just wanted… I wanted to see the sunset from up high, like you said Mommy liked to. I was gonna come back?—"
"You're safe," Cole managed, his voice wrecked. "You're safe, you're safe, you're okay?—"
"I wasn't scared at first but then it got dark and I couldn't remember which way?—"
"It's okay. I've got you. You're okay."
I stood frozen a few feet away, tears streaming down my face, my chest cracking open with relief and guilt in equal measure. She was okay. She was alive. She was here.
And she was here because I had failed her.
Cole set her down, his hands moving over her, checking for injuries, touching her face, her arms, her shoulders, reassuring himself that she was real and whole. She was shivering, her cheeks red from the cold, but otherwise unharmed.
Then Sarah's eyes found mine.
For a moment, neither of us moved. She stared at me with an expression I couldn't read—hope and hurt and confusion all tangled together.
"You came," she whispered. "I thought... I thought you didn't like me anymore."
The words shattered what was left of my composure. I dropped to my knees on the cold stone, not caring about the pain, and opened my arms.
"Oh, Sarah."
She hesitated for one heartbeat. Two. Then she ran to me, throwing herself into my embrace with a force that nearly knocked me backward. I caught her, pulled her close, and buried my face in her hair. She smelled like pine and sweat and little-girl fear, and I held her like I would never let go.
"I love you," I choked out, the words tearing free from somewhere deep and raw. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I was scared and stupid and I hurt you and I'm so, so sorry?—"
"I thought you didn't want to be my family anymore," she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.
"I never stopped wanting that. I was just... I was scared."
She pulled back just enough to look at my face, her expression solemn. "Scared of the mountain?"
The question stole my breath. This child. This beautiful, perceptive, brave child.
"Yes," I admitted. "I was scared the mountain would take you. Or Cole. And I thought if I pushed you away first, it wouldn't hurt as much when something bad happened."
"That's dumb," Sarah said.
A wet laugh escaped me. "It really is."
Cole knelt beside us, and suddenly we were all three tangled together on that rocky outcrop. Our arms around each other, tears mixing, the last light of sunset painting us gold and rose and shadow.
"I'm sorry I ran away," Sarah said in a small voice.
"Don't ever do that again," Cole said, his voice rough. "You scared us half to death."
"I just wanted to see what Mommy would have seen. The pretty sunset from up high."
I lifted my head and looked at the view spread before us. The mountains rolled toward the horizon in waves of purple and blue. The sky was a canvas of fire and gold, fading to deep violet at the edges. The first stars were emerging, tiny points of light in the vast darkness.
It was breathtaking. It was humbling. It was exactly what Lily had loved.
"This is what she saw," I whispered. "My sister. This is why she kept coming back."
"It's beautiful," Sarah said simply.
"It is." And for the first time, I meant it without terror, without grief overshadowing everything. "It really is."
