Page 72 of Taken from Her
"Every Thursday at nine for fifteen years, dear. When I got your voicemail instead of a cheerful update about café preparations, I knew something was wrong." Georgia's expression carried satisfaction at being proved right. "I called Chief Marten immediately."
Diana squeezed Lavender's hand. "Georgia's call was the first confirmation that you hadn't left voluntarily. It started the investigation timeline."
"So our community protocols worked?"
"Perfectly," Sam confirmed. "Within two hours, we had neighborhood searches organized, communication trees activated, and coordination with police units without bureaucratic frustration."
Elle nodded. "People knew exactly what to do because of the workshops you and Chief Marten facilitated. There was no panic, just an organized community response."
Lavender absorbed this, understanding that their collaborative approach to community safety had proven itself during a real crisis. Not just theoretical preparation, but practical effectiveness when lives depended on quick, coordinated action.
"What about the café?" she asked.
"Closed Wednesday and Thursday while we focused on finding you," Georgia replied. "But people kept gathering anyway. Racquel and Jordan organized meal sharing in the parking lot. Half the community spent those two days coordinating search efforts and offering emotional support."
"Dr. Hassan stopped by to check on the community’s mental health," Sam added. "She was impressed by how well everyone was handling the crisis and said most communities fall apart during this kind of trauma, but ours got stronger."
Diana's thumb moved across Lavender's knuckles. "Community resilience in action."
"When do you reopen?" Elle asked.
"When Lavender is ready," Diana said before Lavender could answer. "No pressure or timeline except what feels right for recovery."
Georgia stood, smoothing her skirt. "In that case, we should let you rest. But dear?" She paused at the door. "The community is planning a celebration feast for when you're ready. Nothing overwhelming, just everyone expressing gratitude that you're home safe."
After they left, Lavender sat quietly processing the visit. Her absence had created exactly the kind of community response she'd hoped their safety protocols would generate: organized,supportive, effective. People had taken care of each other while working systematically to bring her home.
"They love you," Diana observed.
"They love what we built together. The safety networks, the collaborative approach with your department, and the sense that community protection actually works." Lavender looked at Diana. "They love us too. Did you see how Georgia treated you like family?"
"I noticed. Fifteen years of keeping people at professional distance, and your community elder adopts me in less than two months."
"Because you proved you're worthy of what they're offering. Trust, acceptance, and belonging." Lavender leaned against Diana's shoulder. "How does it feel?"
Diana was quiet for a moment, considering. "Like something I didn't know I was missing. It feels…like home."
A knock interrupted them. Corinne Vernalis appeared in the doorway, her face showing exhaustion and overwhelming relief in equal measure.
"I know you're probably tired of visitors," she said, "but I needed to thank you personally."
"For what?"
"For building the networks that brought all of us home." Corinne's voice carried emotion that went beyond polite gratitude. "Joanna's alive because you and Chief Marten figured out how to work together. We all are."
Lavender felt tears threaten. Not from sadness or pain, but from recognition that the work she'd dedicated her life to had mattered during the moment when it counted most.
"How is Joanna?"
"Exhausted and traumatized, but alive and healing. She wants to see you when you're feeling up to visitors." Corinne smiled. "Fair warning: she's already planning a return toswimming lessons. Says the community needs normal activities to process what happened."
"That sounds like Joanna."
"Chief Marten." Corinne turned to Diana. "The community's grateful beyond words. But more than that, we trust you now in ways that go beyond professional respect. You're part of what we're protecting."
After Corinne left, the room fell quiet except for monitoring equipment and distant hospital sounds. Lavender felt community love surrounding her recovery like a warm embrace, but also the recognition that she and Diana had become something larger than their individual roles.
"We're not just a couple anymore," she said quietly. "We're a symbol of what Phoenix Ridge can be when different kinds of leadership work together."
