Rather than a little boy, I discovered a wagging tail and a dog trotting toward us.
“Wayne,” I sobbed.
Josh crouched, taking his head in his hands. “Where is he?”
“Julian,” I shouted, following Wayne as he weaved through storage shelves. My heart was hammering in my ears, so I almost missed the faint whimpering. But when I heard it, I stopped and held my breath. Another whimper,and I was calling out his name again, darting toward the sound.
Julian was crouched in a corner, next to a stack of lumber. He was curled up, his hands covering his ears, rocking softly and crying, his whole body shaking. Relief and grief collided, relief that he was alive and grief that he’d been so scared.
I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around him. “Julian, baby,” I said softly. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
He didn’t speak, just kept shivering.
Josh towered over us, shucking his coat and handing it to me.
I wrapped the huge, warm garment around my boy’s tiny body. “Mama’s here,” I said softly. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I memorized the weight of him in my arms. The proof of his life.
“You’re freezing,” I said through my tears. “Can we take you home?”
He didn’t say anything, but when I stood and picked him up, he didn’t fight or argue. Keeping him wrapped in Josh’s coat, I brushed his hair out of his face and squeezed him tight.
Josh reached out to take him, but I only held him tighter. Julian was overstimulated and probably in shock. He likely wouldn’t do well with anyone but me.
But then Julian shifted, loosening the hold he had on me, and reached for Josh. It was the clearest signal I’d ever seen. Trust and safety.
As Josh cradled him in his arms, Julian rested his head on his chest. Josh went utterly still, like he understood theweight of what he’d just been given. He held my son like he was precious, not fragile.
My chest ached with gratitude for this man. I could see it now. He wasn’t trying to control me; he was trying to earn his place in our lives. As I stared at this man holding my son. The dam inside me burst. The love for my children, the fear I’d been carrying around for years, and guilt and shame and anguish. It all came crashing down.
I shook as I cried, with relief, with exhaustion, and with yearning for the very thing I’d been denying myself for so long. Safety.
“Jasper’s at the house,” he said. “I’ll have him examine him. Let’s get back.”
We left the barn, with Wayne dutifully following.
Josh started a fire in the hearth and Jasper got his medical kit out right away. After a quick examination, he determined that aside from a few cuts on his feet, Julian was healthy.
The girls wouldn’t let go of him, so the three of them were now wrapped in a comforter on Josh’s couch. They were tangled together like they were instinctively rebuilding their bond. Not perfect, but whole.
Josh sat with them, feeding them snacks and watchingSponge Bob Square Pantswhile I spoke to Nolan in the kitchen, giving him all the details about my encounter with Phyllis. I handed over the cards, notes, and emails, as well as the parole board statement.
“I’m going to have to speak to the kids,” he said. He’d been kind and patient, tall and broad shouldered and dressed in his uniform, but carrying himself like the weight of protectingthis town had begun to wear on him. His beard was neatly trimmed, and grays had started to creep in at his temples, and the lines around his eyes were deeper than I remembered.
“Tomorrow?” I asked.
“Of course. I can come here. Or you can come down.”
“She’ll call you in the morning.” Josh put his arm around my shoulder. “They’ve been through hell, man.”
Nolan nodded. “Just making sure I’ve got all the details.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t take another violent incident in Maplewood. We’re supposed to be a foliage and farmers’ market kind of place.”
“It’s been a rough year,” Josh said, pulling me into his side.
“That’s one way to put it.” With a sigh, Nolan headed for the door. “Another would be cursed.”
Chapter 43
Josh
