Slowly, Sabin turns his head to Chris. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m not. See?” Chris holds out his arms, and he turns around once, letting Sabin scan his body. “Do you see? I’m not hurt, and more importantly, you are not hurt. You’re in one piece. I’m in one piece.”
Sabin’s eyes fall back to Christopher’s upper arm area, to a place where I know there is damage from a burn. “You are hurt. I remember that.”
“That’s over.” Chris takes a stride forward and puts both hands on Sabin’s shoulders, forcing them to lock eyes. “Listen to me. We’re safe, and we’re free. Look around. Do you see where we are? We’re not back there.” He takes Sabin’s hand and presses it under his arm. “See? It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“I want to go home,” Sabin says.
“Okay.” Chris is so gentle with him, so caring. But it’s as though he were speaking to a child.
And, I realize with pain, that is what he’s doing. He’s speaking to Sabin as he must have done years earlier.
“I need to go take care of Mia. She needs the exercise.”
“If that’s what you want to do, that’s what we’ll do.”
A glimmer of brightness peeks through. “You haven’t been to the ranch yet, Chrissy. You can see the tree house and Mia.”
“I think that’s a great plan,” Chris says.
I’ve never heard Sabin call him Chrissy. I bet he used to though. It’s something a little kid would say.
We usher Sabin back to the car, and I hurriedly text Zach again. I don’t need to tell him more than that we had to get Sabin out of here. He’ll understand.
Getting back to the ranch seems to restore a bit of whatever happened to Sabin downtown. It’s the first time he’s wanted to show Chris where he’s made his home, and I stay in the background while he gives Chris the tour. The truth is that I’m too unnerved, too frightened, to do much else. Chris is very good with Sabin, whereas I’m afraid that, if I open my mouth, I’ll fall apart. Chris is admiring the exquisite paneling of the tree-house walls and commenting on the view when I excuse myself to go visit Mia.
I walk the path back to the paddock and try to clear my head. Mia is by herself today, and she clops toward me.
“Hi, pretty,” I say.
I’m not scared to reach my hand to her now, and she waves her tail and makes a few nickering sounds while she lets me pet her.
There is too much swirling through my mind, and I am overwhelmed by Sabin’s evident pain. I don’t think it was until today that I understood how he was still haunted. It sounds stupid to me now, but I thought he’d worked through so much. But maybe it’s too much to escape—or too much to escape alone.
Estelle, Eric, and Chris all have a significant relationship. While we cannot undo childhood trauma, James, Zach, and I do provide the person we love with some level of help and comfort. Love doesn’t fix everything, but it helps.
Sabin is alone. I’m not there enough. I’m not truly his—or his alone.
Alone. It’s a word that fits here because I suddenly see how alone Sabin must feel.
The understanding surges through my system and crushes me. He has an added layer of pain that his brothers and sister don’t have. In fact, I suspect he might have other layers that I don’t see yet.
Each sibling had their own experience growing up in that sickening household.
I’m not sure I know what Sabin’s was.
I’m not sure I can stomach knowing.
Sabin brings Chris out and introduces him to Mia. I stroll to the edge of the arena with Chris while Sabin gives the same riding demonstration he gave me. This time, however, we are all subdued. Chris has managed to bring some peace and calm back, but something significant happened today that none of us can shake entirely.
We lean against the rails and watch.
“You’re very quiet, Blythe,” Chris finally says.
I nod.
“It must have been scary to see Sabin like that.”
