The Sister Who Didn't Die
Chapter 13 - The Sister Who Didn't Die
Mara appeared on the video call in a blue sweater, her hair cut shorter than Isabella remembered. A faint scar crossed her temple. For several seconds, she stared at the screen.
“Izzy?”
Isabella made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Mara.”
Ben leaned into view. “You missed my seventeenth birthday.”
Mara covered her face. “I know. Oh, Benny, I'm sorry.”
They talked for nearly an hour. Mara had gaps in her memory, frequent headaches and anxiety around unfamiliar men. Her care team helped her understand that her disappearance wasn't her fault. She had been moved between facilities under inaccurate information, then struggled to prove her identity once she recovered enough to ask questions.
“I thought you stopped looking,” she admitted.
“Never,” Isabella said. “Not for a day.”
When Ethan appeared briefly at the edge of the screen, Mara studied him.
“The driver,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said. “You saved my life.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “I remember the rain. Your hand. I remember someone saying to stop asking questions.”
“You don't have to tell me anything now.”
Her eyes filled. “Did you get help?”
Ethan looked at his wheelchair. “I did. I use this chair. I'm working, living, getting stronger at the things I can control.”
Mara smiled shakily. “I'm glad.”
Within the week, Isabella and Ben traveled to Wisconsin to see her. At the door, Mara held out her arms. The three siblings collapsed into a fierce, awkward embrace and cried until the social worker brought tissues.
Afterward Isabella sent Ethan one photograph: Mara asleep on the couch while Ben sat beside her watching television.
May you like
The message read: SHE'S HOME.
Ethan sat with the photograph for a long time. He had come to the gala wanting to test the character of strangers. The choice that mattered most now was whether he could be worthy of the trust Isabella had placed in him afterward.
