Chapter 174

Agnes

I floated back to consciousness slowly, like surfacing from deep water. The first thing I became aware of was the softness beneath me—a bed, not the cold cave floor. The second was a small, warm body curled against my side, and a tiny hand resting on my stomach.

Thea.

I opened my eyes, blinking against the light filtering through the curtains. How long had I been asleep? The last thing I remembered was the cave, the bones, Elijah’s arms around me as darkness pulled me away.

As I stirred, Thea sat up beside me, watching me. She reached out, her fingers touching my cheek with a gentleness that made my heart ache.

“Daddy said you were really sad,” she whispered. “He said you had to sleep for a while. I stayed with you so you wouldn’t be alone.”

My throat tightened painfully. I could only imagine what Elijah had told her—hopefully nothing about the bones we’d found. She was too young to understand, too innocent to bear that burden.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I managed, touching the hand that was pressed to my cheek. Her little fingers were warm and soft.

And then, without warning, the tears welled up and spilled over. I pulled Thea close, burying my face in her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. She wrapped her small arms around my neck, holding me.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” she murmured, one hand patting my back. “Daddy says sometimes adults need to cry, too.”

That only made me cry harder. Here was this child—this precious, perfect little girl—comforting me in my grief over another child. A child I had carried and lost. A child whose bones likely now lay on some cold examination table.

My baby.

“I love you so much,” I choked out, squeezing Thea tighter. “So, so much.”

“I know.” She pulled back just enough to look at me, her little hands framing my face. “I love you too. More than ice cream.”

A watery laugh escaped me. More than ice cream—the highest praise a seven-year-old could offer. I wiped at my eyes, trying to pull myself together for her sake.

The door opened then, and Elijah stepped into the room. His expression was grave, the lines around his mouth deeper than usual. His eyes met mine over Thea’s head, communicating volumes in that single glance.

“Thea,” he said, “why don’t you go play for a while? Maybe draw Mommy a picture to make her feel better?”

Thea looked between us, clearly reluctant to leave. “But what if she gets sad again?”

“I’ll stay with her,” Elijah promised. “And you can come back in a little bit with your picture, okay?”

That seemed to satisfy her. She planted a loud kiss on my cheek before scrambling off the bed. “I’ll make the best picture ever,” she declared as she headed for the door. “With lots of glitter.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Elijah rushed to me in three long strides, gathering me against his chest. The careful composure I’d been maintaining for Thea’s sake crumbled instantly. Sobs tore from my throat with such ferocity that my body shook.

Elijah held me through it all, his hands stroking my back, my hair, his lips pressed to the top of my head. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or tell me everything would be okay. He just let me cry, let me purge some of the grief that had been building for seven long years.

Finally, when my sobs had quieted to hiccups, when I could breathe without it feeling like my chest might split open, he spoke.

“The police are taking the bones for DNA testing,” he said quietly. “They took a strand of your hair for comparison. If... if those are her remains, we’ll know within a month or so.”

I nodded against his chest, too exhausted to speak. Two weeks. Two weeks of limbo, of not knowing for sure. But in my heart, I already knew. Those tiny bones belonged to my daughter. Everything else lined up too perfectly for them to belong to anyone else.

“You fainted,” Elijah continued, his chin resting on the top of my head. “The EMTs checked you over, said it was just shock. I brought you home.”

“How long was I out?” I asked, my voice muffled against his shirt.

“About six hours. It’s nearly dinner time.”

Six hours. I’d lost almost an entire day to unconsciousness, and I hadn’t even dreamed. Just pitch dark, empty nothingness. And what had happened in those hours? I pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“Did they... did they find more? More bones?”

Elijah’s expression tightened. “They’re still searching. The cave system is extensive. But Agnes, there’s something else you should know.”

He hesitated, and I braced myself for more bad news. What could possibly be worse than what we’d already discovered?

“The whole incident has garnered a lot of attention,” he said, his face softening slightly. “There were journalists at the search site. When they heard about your fainting, about the possible discovery of your daughter’s remains, it made the news. And then that girl, Tara, the one who found the bunny...”

He hesitated, flicking his tongue across his lower lip.

“She gave an interview,” he went on. “Told them how you offered her support for her pregnancy even while you were going through your own crisis. How selfless and caring you were.” His thumb brushed over my cheekbone. “She called you an inspiration. Said if she could be half the mother you are, her baby would be the luckiest child in the world.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. I barely remembered the interaction with that girl, had acted on instinct more than conscious thought. The idea that my small gesture had meant so much to her was both touching and surreal.

“People have been calling the house,” Elijah went on. “Sending messages. There’s a candlelight vigil planned for tonight. The support for you is... it’s incredible, Agnes.”

I didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the outpouring of support was touching. On the other, I couldn’t seem to allow myself to deserve it. Maybe because I had spent so long battling this alone, treated like a burden just for my grief, that it now felt like a foreign and unwelcome thing.

“I have an idea,” I finally said, pulling away from Elijah to sit up straighter against the headboard.

Elijah’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

“The Goddess Festival,” I said. “It’s in three weeks. I want to turn it into a charity event for missing persons. All the donations can go toward a fund to help aid in the search of missing people.”

“Agnes,” Elijah said gently, “you should rest. You’ve been through a tremendous shock. This isn’t the time to be planning events. I know you like to throw yourself into your work when you—”

“No,” I cut him off, more firmly this time. “I need this, Elijah. I need something to focus on, something to keep my mind off of...” I gestured vaguely, unable to put it into words. “Off of everything. Please.”

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded. “If that’s what you need, then that’s what we’ll do. But I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise you’ll let me help. That you won’t try to shoulder this alone, on top of everything else.” His eyes were intense, searching mine. “I know you, Agnes. I know you’ll throw yourself into this project to avoid dealing with your grief. And I understand that. But I can’t watch you self-destruct.”

I swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill again. He did know me—sometimes better than I knew myself. And he was right. I did want to hide from my pain in work, to exhaust myself so thoroughly that I wouldn’t have any energy left for grief.

“I promise,” I whispered. “I won’t do it alone.”

Relief softened his features. “Good. I’ll support you however much you need. Or not at all, if you want to handle it yourself.”

“I don’t,” I admitted. “Want to handle it myself, I mean. I’ve been alone for so long, Elijah. I’m tired of being strong all the time.”

I held my arms out to him, suddenly desperate for his closeness, for the comfort of his body against mine. “I just need you now,” I said softly as he moved toward me. “I need all of you right now.”

Elijah hesitated for only a second before standing and locking the door. He then shucked off his shirt and pants and climbed into the bed with me. He gathered me into his arms, his lips finding mine. I clung to him, raking my nails down his bare back.

The kiss deepened, our bodies pressing closer together as if we could somehow merge into one being, share the burden of pain between us. His hands slid under my nightgown, warm against my skin, and I arched into his touch, craving the distraction, the connection, the reminder that I was still alive despite feeling hollowed out inside.

Elijah understood what I needed without me having to say it. He always did.

And so, with gentle hands and tender kisses, he eased me back against the pillows, covering my body with his, offering comfort in the most intimate way possible.