Page 15 of Finders Keepers

I try to nod, try to speak, but the words won’t come. This is what my life has become, jumping at shadows, terrified of every vehicle, every phone call, every knock at the door. How long can I live like this? How long before the constant dread consumes me entirely?

Finally, I’m able to speak. “I’m fine, Ms. Lucy. Just a little dizzy from standing too fast.”

I set Sophie down gently, smoothing her hair with a shaking hand. “Sorry about your flowers, baby girl. We’ll make another crown later.”

Ms. Lucy climbs out of the vehicle, concern etched across her face as she approaches. The morning sun catches the silver strands in her hair, making them shimmer.

“You sure you’re alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She studies me with those keen green eyes that seem to see right through my flimsy excuses.

“Just a little startled,” I manage, forcing a smile that feels brittle on my face.

Sophie, already recovered from my sudden panic, looks up at Ms. Lucy.

“Are they blueberry pancakes?”

Ms. Lucy bends down, hands on her knees. “Well now, Miss Sophie, these are special cinnamon apple pancakes with my secret ingredient. And I need an expert four-year-old opinion.”

“I’m four and a half!” Sophie corrects. “Almost five.”

“My mistake, darlin’. That half makes all the difference.” Ms. Lucy winks at her before turning back to me. “And I’ve got something that might help you too, Bailey. My grandmother’s special chamomile and lavender tea. Works wonders for frazzled nerves.”

The kindness in her voice nearly undoes me.

“That sounds nice,” I whisper, unable to muster more enthusiasm despite my gratitude.

“Well then, it’s settled. Y’all hop in and we’ll head up to the house. I’ve got them all ready for my special taste testers.”

“Let me just grab our shoes,” I say, trying to steady my voice. “Sophie, can you go find your sandals, honey? The pink ones by the door.”

She nods and races toward our tiny house, her excitement about pancakes already eclipsing the flower crown incident.

“We’ll be right back,” I say, following Sophie inside.

The cool air of our little home hits my flushed face as I step through the doorway. Sophie’s already sitting on the floor, wrestling with her sandals.

“Need help, baby?” I ask, kneeling beside her.

“I can do it,” she insists, fumbling with the buckle. “I’m a big girl.”

I smile despite everything. “Yes, you are.”

While she works on her shoes, I slip my feet into my worn flip flops and grab my purse from the hook by the door. I check inside quickly. Wallet, the small canister of pepper spray I bought at a gas station. The weight of it against my palm offers little comfort, but I keep it anyway.

My fingers brush against the folded papers tucked into the inner pocket. Sophie’s birth certificate, the remaining emergency cash. Everything we’d need if we had to run again.

“Ready, Mommy!” She announces, proudly displaying her successfully buckled sandals.

“Good job, sweetie.” I sling my purse over my shoulder, take a deep breath, and force a smile. “Let’s go try those pancakes.”

We climb into the vehicle, and I buckle us up, my body still heavy with the aftermath of adrenaline.

As we bump along the drive toward the house, Ms. Lucy glances at me. “Sometimes a good cup of tea and some quiet conversation is just what the doctor ordered. No pressure, though. We can just eat pancakes and talk about the weather if that’s what you need today.”

The lump in my throat grows. This woman barely knows us, yet she offers exactly what I need, comfort without demands, kindness without expectations.

“Thank you,” I manage. “The tea sounds perfect.”

As soon as we step foot into her home the smell of fresh cinnamon and apple pancakes mixed with a faint smell of maple syrup makes my mouth water instantly.

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