The cop stopped me as I was closing the bakery for the midday rush. Polite but serious—serious enough to make your stomach knot before you even understand why.
He displayed a picture of a young girl, about seven or eight years old, beaming and beaming. He inquired, “Have you seen her around here?”
I spent more time looking at the photo than I should have. Because I had actually seen her.
Not lately, though.
Not here, either.
Clear across town, a week ago. She had been holding a shabby plush bunny as if her life depended on it while sitting on the front stairs of this dubious apartment complex. I nearly stopped, so I recall. Nearly inquired about her well-being. I nearly got engaged. But that day, life had been hectic. I arrived at work late. I assured myself that someone else would take over. Someone more capable.
I could feel the words burning in the back of my throat now that I was facing the officer. However, something else struck me more forcefully before I could respond:
At that age, she resembled my sister exactly.
I hadn’t seen my sister in years.
which was illogical.
due to the fact that my sister was childless.
Correct?
Correct?
My downward spiral was abruptly stopped as the officer cleared his throat. “Madam? Are you familiar with her?
Like a fish struggling to breathe, my mouth expanded and closed. “I uh uh.” Like a wave of the ocean, the weight of the situation swept over me. What would happen if I said yes? What if they believed that I was involved? Then there was the other thing, the impossibility, which was that she resembled my sister in childhood. Like a phantom from a different existence.
“I might have,” I eventually said, my voice breaking under the strain. However, it wasn’t present. Eastside Apartments was close by. A week or so ago.
He raised his eyebrows. “Eastside? That is not even close to here. In his notebook, he scrawled something. “Could you elaborate on what you witnessed?”
Therefore, I told him nearly everything. I omitted the bit about how she looked familiar and how she had been on my mind ever since I had spotted her sitting on those filthy steps. Her eyes, which were large, sorrowful, and filled with secrets too weighty for someone her age, left me with a lasting impression.
The cop smiled tightly at me when I was done. “Thank you. This is beneficial. We’ll investigate.
Guilt tore at me like a tenacious terrier as he left. What prevented me from stopping that day? Why hadn’t I taken action? I chose to let her become inconspicuous in the midst of my hectic existence. She was gone now, and who could tell what horrors she may encounter?
I couldn’t sleep that night. Her face was always staring back at me when I closed my eyes. Her likeness to my sister persisted in bothering me and would not go away. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence. Or perhaps it wasn’t.
I took out my phone at midnight and looked through old pictures that had been stored in a forgotten section of my cloud storage. Since we moved around a lot and cameras weren’t always a priority, there weren’t many photos of my sister Lena from our early years, but one in particular caught our attention. During a rare summer, we managed to stay put long enough for Mom to purchase identical sundresses for us. Lena was sitting cross-legged on the grass with a floppy plush bear cradled to her bosom in the picture. Her face reflected the same blend of calm strength and fragility that I had noticed in the face of the missing girl.
Painfully, my heart pounded against my ribs. Is it possible? Had Lena somehow conceived a child and kept it a secret? She vanished soon after high school, leaving only a vague letter about needing to “find herself,” so we weren’t exactly close anymore, but wouldn’t she have mentioned something? Would she not have made contact?
In an attempt to find her, I Googled every possible spelling of “Lena Harper” over the next hour. Only false leads and dead ends were found. I buried my head in my hands and tossed my phone onto the bed in frustration. This isn’t possible. It must have been a cosmic joke, a horrible turn of events intended to confuse me.
I made the decision to act independently the following morning. I reasoned that I could begin looking into Lena’s past if the police were going to concentrate their search close to Eastside Apartments. Perhaps there was a hint concealed within the shards of our common past.
First destination: Mom’s home. Surrounded by overgrown hedges and memories neither of us wanted to discuss, she lived in a little duplex on the outskirts of town. She answered the door when I knocked, dressed in her go-to outfit of faded sweatpants and a soiled T-shirt. Her gray-streaked hair was pushed back into an untidy bun.
“Maisy?” She squinted at me as she spoke. “Why are you in this place?”
I hurried inside without waiting for an invitation, saying, “I need to ask you something.” “Regarding Lena.”
After a brief period of blankness, her face hardened. “How about her?”
“Are you aware if she ever had children?”
Mom’s coffee mug was halfway to her lips when she froze in mid-step. She might drop it, I thought for a moment. With a harsh voice, she shouted, “Where is this coming from?”
“A girl is missing,” I hastily clarified. She resembles Lena exactly as she did in her early years. Additionally, I can’t get rid of the sense that something is connected.
I was shocked as Mom dropped into the closest chair and appeared older than I had ever seen her. “You’re right,” she said softly. “A connection exists.”
“What do you mean?” I sank down next to her and asked.
She paused, as though considering whether or not to be honest with me. She let out a final sigh. “Yes, Lena had a daughter. Many years ago. Prior to her departure.
My mouth fell open. “What kept you from telling me?”
Mom said, “She didn’t want anyone to know.” She was afraid. The father wasn’t a decent guy. She fled to keep the baby and herself safe.
“Now, where is she?” I pushed. “Where is the girl?”
Mom gave a headshake. “I’m not sure. When she was gone, Lena disconnected communication. claimed that was a safer option.
Equipped with this new knowledge, I immediately made my way to Eastside Apartments. The structure towered over me, its windows gloomy and unwelcoming. As I climbed the crumbling concrete steps, looking for any sign of life, my stomach churned. Then I saw it: an old, faded pink backpack in the woods. My heartbeat accelerated. Did she own this?
I was bending over to pick it up when I noticed a shadow behind me. With my heart racing, I whirled around and saw Lena standing there.
She was clearly the same, but she appeared older and more worn out. When she spotted me, her eyes widened in surprise. “Maisy?” she said in a whisper.
“Lena,” I inhaled. “Do you own her?”
She was silent for a moment. Then, with tears running down her cheeks, she nodded. Daisy is her name. She is everything to me.
“What took place?” Gently, I inquired.
She coughed out, “They took her.” “Those to whom he owed money.” They located us.
We came up with a strategy to win Daisy back together. We located the men at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town thanks to Lena’s knowledge of them and my will to put things right. I had previously called in an anonymous tip, and the cops showed up just in time to apprehend them.
I had a knot in my throat when Daisy rushed into Lena’s arms, crying with relief. As I saw them get back together, I thought about all the times I had failed to act, care, or assist. However, it also taught me that there’s always time to try.
Lena and Daisy moved in with Mom and me in the weeks that followed. We started to reestablish the family we had lost gradually. Although difficult, it was worthwhile.
In retrospect, I see that sometimes we are given second chances by fate—not because we deserve them, but because we need them. to serve as a reminder that even in the most difficult circumstances, love and bravery can triumph.
If you found this tale entertaining, please tell others about it so they can benefit from its message. Let’s share hope and kindness, one click at a time. ❤️
