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Back Until I Find You Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  57. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  58. Also by Rea Frey
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

“Which friend?” I run through their names in my head, the ones I’m close with and the ones I’m not.

I hear the syllables form before the name is even out of his mouth:

“Beth. Beth Harrison.”

36

CRYSTAL

“Savi?” Crystal calls her name when she arrives home. Her stomach grumbles, and she passes through the house, already knowing it’s empty. She checks upstairs anyway and texts Pam to see where they are. She makes herself lunch and attempts to sort through all of the information Rebecca provided.

Her mind drifts to Paul. When Paul was alive and Savi was a baby, Crystal was bone-tired. She was always weepy, hormonal, and unexplainably sad. She literally wouldn’t have survived Savi’s first year without Paul. If Paul had already been dead and she’d had no support, what might she think was real?

Someone knocks on the front door and interrupts that dark train of thought. Crystal swallows the last of her sandwich and wipes her hands on her jeans.

“Hi, so sorry to drop by unannounced. Caroline Walker.” On the other side of the door, an elegant older woman with cropped hair, linen pants, and a cream top thrusts a flyer into her hand. “We’re holding a candlelight vigil tonight at seven for one of our own. Please come. It’s important.” She’s gone before Crystal can ask questions, leaving a trail of expensive perfume. A vigil? She shuts the door and glances at the paper. Her stomach bucks. It’s for Rebecca. The flyer is vague, but the message is clear: a baby is missing and this community is going to find him.

After Paul died, people placed bouquets of flowers on the side of the road to commemorate the crash. They were hideous arrangements that reminded her of a funeral every time she passed by. The same for his grave. Tacky plastic flowers from his friends or coworkers, who insisted on getting bigger and better ones every few months.

How can you move on when everyone keeps reminding you?

A few minutes later, the front door opens. Savi steps through, breathless. Her cheeks are red. “It’s still so hot!” she exclaims. She kicks off her shoes and scratches her calf with one socked foot.

“Just wait a few months and you’ll be begging for sunshine.” Pam closes the door and waves at Crystal and then moves around her to drop bags.

Savi tells Crystal about the latest tricks she was attempting from her magic kit, and she rotates her wrist in a circle. “I even healed my own wrist! See?” On cue, she produces a wand from thin air. “Ta-da!” She taps in her mother’s direction. “You’re healed too.”

Crystal refrains from asking what she’s supposedly healed from and tells her to go upstairs and wash her hands.