Page 28 of Finding Home

“Oh, God!” Harper's knees buckle, and I sink to the ground with her. Pushing her chestnut hair back from her face, I crouch so we are eye to eye.

“What is it, baby?”

“Lizzie can’t swim, but she’s obsessed with water. I have to watch her like a hawk anytime we are near water because she will make a beeline for it. Jace, it’s been too long, what if…” her words trail off as I kiss her forehead, needing to feel the connection.

“Don’t even think like that. Lizzie is fine. Do you hear me, Harper? She’s strong and smart, all the best parts of you. We will find her.”

“Harper.” Sheriff's words cut through the moment just as Shaina and Daniel come running up the path.

“When Lizzie is scared, she hides, so she might not be in plain sight. She also…” Swallowing convulsively, she blinks back tears. “We should start our search around the water. She loves water.”

“Alright, folks. Let’s get this search going. Come over to the table. My deputy will give you a colored card. That is the area you will be assigned to search. Stick to your area and leave nowhere unsearched. Each group will have a radio to keep everyone in contact. Let us know if you spot anything.” Everyone moves to the deputy, collecting cards, some setting off on foot, others jumping in golf carts to head further into the land.

With our hands still locked together, I take a radio and card from the deputy. Shaina is hugging Harper, but Harper keeps a firm grip on me the whole time. We head out in a cart; I purposefully choose an area not around the water. As much as I don’t want to even let my mind go there, if there is a chance the worst has happened, I don’t want Harper to witness it, but I keep that to myself.

Chapter 20

Harper

Another hour passes, and the shadows are lengthening as the sun starts to set. The temps drop along with the dimming light. I curse the earlier sunsets, knowing visibility will be reduced soon. We continue to search, and Lizzie's name rings out through the farm. It’s eerie. I feel so numb as questions race through my head. Where is she? What if she’s hurt? Is she scared and crying for her mommy? Is she cold or hungry? What if I lose her? Every fear threatens to pull me under the surface as I gasp for air. Jace’s hand holds mine firmly, and I’m pretty sure he’s my touchstone, and the only thing keeping me from sinking into the dark abyss lapping at my heels. Tink keeps by our side, and I pat her head in reassurance, although I’m not sure which of us it’s for.

Time moves slow, too slow, yet when I check my watch, I realize another two hours have come and gone. “Fuck. This isn’t working,” Jace growls at my side. We stop as he looks around. His hair is sticking out every which way from him running his hands through it every few minutes. A nervous tick, I realize. A flicker of light enters my heart as I see the depth of his care for my baby girl.

Suddenly, his eyes light up as he spins toward me. “You said she hides when she’s scared. What is one thing that is guaranteed to put her at ease?” I feel a small tug at my lips, and hope unfurls in me. Sofia the First. Nearly shouting into the radio, Jace orders, “Everyone, play the Sofia the First theme song on your phone. She’s obsessed with the show, and maybe it will draw her out.”

Jace pulls out his phone, opening a playlist titled “Lizzie's tunes,” and I melt. Within seconds, the all too familiar song starts playing. Tink has stayed close the whole time, but suddenly, she bolts ahead, disappearing from view. We speed up, trailing the dog, and my heart races, hoping like hell she found her. After what feels like years, Tink’s bark rings out. We follow the sound, finding her staring at the ground beneath a tree, her tail wagging. I search for Lizzie but can’t make out what has Tink so riled up. We approach and I fight to control the tears. It isn’t Lizzie, but it’s one of her shoes.

“Good girl, Tink!” Jace bends down next to the dog, rubbing her head with one hand, and his other still firmly holding my hand. Tink sniffs the shoe, then raises her head as if smelling the air. She takes off in a slow trot. Jace and I follow, scanning the area as we go. Suddenly, Tink takes off faster than we can hope to follow. We race after her, following the path where she disappeared. I tell myself not to get my hopes up, but who am I kidding? This is my only hope right now, and I am going to hold onto it. Within minutes, we’ve lost sight and sound of Tink, pausing to listen for her every few steps. Just as that tiny flicker of hope starts to wane, Tink's barking fills the air.

Jace and I lock eyes, time freezing for a second, before we set off at a dead sprint, following her barks. Coming around a small copse of trees, my heart stops. Tink is lying across Lizzie’s legs, like she’s holding her in place. Lizzie has her hands over her ears, rubbing her face in Tink’s fur.

“Lizzie!” I shout, closing the distance between us, falling onto my knees, the damp leaf-strewn ground instantly soaks through my jeans. Her head pops up, and her face is tear streaked, but when she spots me, her face transforms into a smile that lights me up inside.

“Lizzie! Lizzie, baby, Mommy loves you so much. I’m here, Lizzie.” Tink rises, and Lizzie crawls into my lap, burying her face in my neck with her little arms looping around me. Her fingers weave into my ponytail, twirling the hair like she does when she gets tired. I hold her, rocking her in my arms, as tears course down my cheeks. I register the sound of Jace’s voice over the radio. “Attention, we found Lizzie. I repeat—we have her. We are in row sixty-five.”

The crunch of twigs behind me signals his approach. I shift so I’m sitting on the ground facing him. He crouches down in front of me. His hand shaking as he reaches out and smooths Lizzie's hair. When I meet his gaze, I see tears pooled in his eyes. Unwilling to release Lizzie for even a second, I whisper, “Come here,” with a slight jerk of my chin. Jace crawls under the low branch with us, encircling Lizzie and I both in his arms. Tink nudges him, squeezing into our little huddle. Without lifting her head, Lizzie reaches out and strokes the dog. The faint rumble of an engine pierces through the haze of this moment of pure relief as we sit wrapped up in each other.

Jace rests his head on my shoulder before kissing my temple. “I’m going to wave them down.” Within seconds, the sheriff and paramedics are there. Lizzie resists their attempts to look at her, crying and clinging to my neck. I search for Jace in the throngs of people suddenly surrounding us.

Like my mind summoned him, he steps beside us. “Could we maybe do the check elsewhere? Back at the shop? There are so many people, and the bright flashlights aren’t making her any more comfortable.”

The paramedics confer for a second but agree as long as Lizzie and I ride back in the cart with them. There isn’t room for Jace with us, and my heart breaks when I realize we will be separated. My face must show that because he steps up, hugging me, shrugging out of his jacket, and draping it over Lizzie and me. “I’ll meet you both back at the store, I’m right behind you.” I nod, words failing me.

When we pull up, the crowd is still present, but they are all standing back from the store, giving us space and privacy. I’m touched by their thoughtfulness as I carry Lizzie into the little country store where they sell all sorts of treats and local crafts. The paramedics guide me to a chair and gently ask if they can see Lizzie. I try to pry her off me, but she’s holding on so tight.

“Maybe this will help.” Jace walks in carrying an iPad with Sofia the First queued up. As soon as the theme song starts, Lizzie lifts her head, her arms reaching toward the device, her little hands opening and closing in a gimme motion. Fresh tears well in my eyes in gratitude for Jace.

The paramedics complete their exam and declare Lizzie in perfect health, just tired. She had been very hungry and refused anything anyone offered her until Bree showed up with dinosaur chicken nuggets for her. Sometimes, I still can’t believe the community and family that I’ve found in Juniper Falls.

Jace walks me and Lizzie to my car, and without even having to be asked, he seats me in the backseat so I can sit beside her. By the time we get to my house, I’m exhausted, as the toll of the day finally catches up to me. Lizzie slept most of the way home, but suddenly, she’s awake and ready for a bath and her night routine. On autopilot, I go through the motions of our nightly routine. Bath, two books, sing a song, then kiss and stuffy, before lights out. I want to stay with her and hold her all night, but she won’t stay asleep if I do that. So, I force myself to stick to our routine for her sake, even though my mom heart screams otherwise.

As I make my way down the stairs, each step feels like a Herculean effort. Suddenly, my feet don’t want to move, and my body feels impossibly heavy. Always aware, Jace sees me struggling and meets me halfway down the stairs. When he scoops me up in his arms, I crumple. Burying my face in his neck and I cry harder than I have ever cried. Every ounce of terror from the day pours out of me. Jace cradles me in his arms. A constant stream of reassurances spoken into my hair as he kisses and smooths it.

“It’s okay, let it out, babe. She’s here, and she is safe. We found her.” On and on, he continues speaking to my fears, soothing and helping me piece myself back together.

I blink slowly, disoriented for a second, and my body feels so heavy. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I look at my surroundings and bolt upright, the events of the day flooding my system, sending panic pulsing through my veins. My chest feels so tight and I can’t get a breath in. A hand rubs slow circles against my back.

“Breathe, Harper. We’ll do it together. In—one, two, three, four. Hold—one, two, three, four. Out—one, two, three, four.” The timber of his voice, and the warm touch of his hand on my back, brings me down from the panic attack that was threatening to consume me. Soon, the band around my chest loosens and my breathing, although still ragged, has calmed.