Page 66 of Lightning in a Mason Jar

“Of course,” I said. “Yes, please. And give her my love.”

Thea nodded as she rushed to catch up to a nurse in a crisp uniform, who then pointed the way. Thea clutched her fake pearl necklace as her heels clicked along the tile, a little slower than normal. The foundation had been rocked under all of us, and I wondered if we would ever be able to recapture our secure little utopia.

Maybe if we’d all been more upfront with each other about our pasts, we might have navigated the stresses better. Libby could have had more support with Keith’s challenges.

My glance slid over to Destiny, currently cracking apart a chicken wing to get every bit off the bone.

“You can have mine too if you want,” I offered. “I’m not hungry.”

“Okay.” She slid the extra Styrofoam container off the end table and tucked it under her backpack as if saving it for later.

I shifted to a closer chair and stretched my legs out in front of me. “We should start a fashion show for these scrubs. Sorry they don’t come in black.”

Destiny grunted. Then mumbled, “Thanks for the food.”

“Sorry your time with our ‘rinky-dink’ organization hasn’t run smoother.” When she didn’t laugh or snap back, I ducked to meet her eyes. “I’m really sorry you had to go through that tonight.”

She pushed her dyed hair back from her face. “I’ve seen worse.”

I hated that we’d added more trauma to her load.

“I had a daughter,” I confessed, not altogether sure why. “Before I got to Bent Oak. She died.” Those sparse few words about my stillborn baby made my throat burn.

Destiny met my gaze fully for the first time. “What was her name?”

I thought long and hard about whether to answer. Sharing about our pasts could be helpful but also dicey. I didn’t want to launch into this without thinking. It was one thing for me and Thea to share a few benign details, but I also needed to be careful not to set a precedent for this teen as she tackled a new beginning.

A secret beginning.

Yet taking in her terrified blue eyes and her freckled young face scrubbed fresh from the rain, I realized reassuring her meant more than the concerns. Giving her a stable start—and a friend—would serve her best.

I understood all the risks in sharing, but I told her anyway. “Her name was April, because she was born on a beautiful spring morning that month.”

Phillip and I had been debating names, never settling on one. When our little girl had come early, seven months into the pregnancy, stillborn, he hadn’t wanted to use his preferred name. He’d insisted on saving it for a live child and told me to pick whatever I wanted for the casket and tombstone.

I’d been gutted even before his callous words. Afterward, I understood how profoundly alone I was in my marriage.

My depression had been deep, and truthfully, if my husband had institutionalized me then, I’m not sure he would have been wrong to do so. But he hadn’t. He’d just left me to cry alone for ten months in a postpartum fog of despair. It wasn’t until another year later, when I was at my strongest in such a very long time, when I had begun to make plans for adoption, that he locked me away.

I’d never been so terrified. Until tonight.

The teenage girl beside me fidgeted with the tie to her scrub pants. “Is your daughter the reason you helped me?”

That question I could answer without hesitation. Because even though Russell was right that I had a soft spot when it came to girls in need, I still saw each person as an individual. A special soul worthy of the best life has to offer. “I helped you because you needed it. You’re not a substitute for anyone.Youmatter.”

I could see Destiny would need time to believe in her own self-worth. Part of me regretted that I wouldn’t get to watch her come into her own someday. She’d made a big impression on my heart in such a short time, showing up for Keith—and by extension, for Libby and me—without a thought for her own safety. She’d been so brave. Would the people at her final stop look past the dyed hair, thick makeup, and bravado to the spirit sparkling inside her? Would they understand that her black clothes would shine light on them if they looked close enough?

And in an impulsive decision I refused to question, while I understood she wasn’t a substitute for my daughter, I also realized I wouldn’t be sending her to another outpost in the network. I didn’t know how I would secure a future for a troubled sixteen-year-old girl who didn’t even have her high school diploma yet. But I knew one thing with an unshaken certainty.

Bent Oak would be her home.

“Would you like to choose your new name?”

Her eyes went wide. “I can do that?”

The gratitude over something so simple affirmed I’d been right in my decision. I would work out the details later, with Thea’s help this time.

“Since you arrived sooner than expected, we don’t have the paperwork complete.” I’d planned for her to be in transit for another couple of weeks. “As long as you don’t choose something like Jodie Foster or that Blondie singer Debbie Harry, we should be fine.”

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