After five years
The Madden residence's open windows let in a coastal breeze that smelled of warm sunlight and sea salt. A young boy's high-pitched giggles reverberated like music as he chased bubbles across the grass in the backyard.
With a gentle smile on her lips, Lorna observed her son from the kitchen window. Now four years old, Jason—her Jason—was full of dazzling eyes and insatiable curiosity. When it rained, his hair always curled, just like hers did when she was a kid. People claimed that he had Lucas's effortless charm and a lightning-fast mind.
Lucas Madden, carrying two coffee mugs, moved to stand next to her. He kissed her temple and handed one to her.
He laughed and nodded at their son, saying, "Looks like someone's had too much sugar."
Lorna relaxed into the moment's coziness. This was the appearance of peace. Her life had finally found a rhythm after years of turmoil and heartache, one that she had come to value. Being married to Lucas was secure, stable, and cozy. Shortly after Jason's birth, they had left the city and relocated to a more tranquil coastal town. A new beginning.
She had told herself that.
With her eyes fixed on her son, she whispered, "Jason starts preschool next month." "I'm still in shock at how quickly it's gone."
Lucas wrapped her waist with his arm. "Lorna, you did a fantastic job. He is content. We're content. That is the only thing that counts.
She forced a smile and nodded.
Later that day, Lorna strolled down the cobblestone street that led to her favorite café, which was nestled between a downtown art gallery and a bookstore. Her best friend in this new life, Marjorie Harris, was seated at the window as usual. Even in yoga pants and big-rimmed sunglasses, Marjorie was lively, witty, and unabashedly glitzy. When Lorna's thoughts became heavy, she was the only one who could make her laugh.
"At last!" Marjorie waved her over with a smile. "I was beginning to believe that you had abandoned me in favor of your other full-time job, which is seeking your sugar-coated hurricane."
Lorna sat and laughed. "I thought about it. However, I didn't want to miss our weekly coffee-disguised therapy session.
"Please. You adore my unasked-for wisdom. Marjorie's eyes were bright as she leaned forward. "How is married life going for you this week?"
Lorna stirred her cappuccino and hesitated.
"It is good," she remarked. "It's stable."
Marjorie's eyes narrowed. "Stable. Sweetheart, that's a very safe word.
Lorna gave a slight smile without responding. It was not pressed by Marjorie. She didn't. Her eyes, however, lingered, gentle and knowing.
Lorna was looking at a man who had just entered as they talked about parenting, work, and the potential for a beach vacation. tall. dark hair. European attire.
For no apparent reason, her heart thumped.
She shook the idea and turned away. He wasn't the one. It isn't possible.
She was five years past that life, the one of darkness, intensity, and unfulfilled promises.
She also had no plans to return.
However, a silent tremor started to rumble somewhere deep within, where her secrets still existed and breathed.