The Price of Secrets and the Return of the Forgotten Wife
“Thank you, Marlene,” I whispered.
“You’re home now, dear,” she said, patting my back.
I walked into the small living room, where a fire was crackling softly in the hearth.
I tip-toed into the small bedroom off the hallway.
Leo was curled up under a heavy quilt, his breathing slow and even.
I knelt by the bed and gently brushed a strand of dark hair from his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open for a second, showing that deep, familiar blue, before he drifted back to sleep.
I walked back into the kitchen, where Marlene was pouring two cups of tea.
“The news is everywhere,” she said, nodding toward a small radio on the counter.
“It’s over,” I said, sitting down at the wooden table. “They took Elaine.”
“And Damon?” Marlene asked, setting a mug in front of me.
“He’s in Chicago,” I said. “He wanted us to go back with him.”
“But you didn’t,” she noted, a faint smile on her weathered face.
“I couldn’t,” I said. “If I go back now, I lose myself again.”
My phone, sitting on the table, began to ring.