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Rabies vaccination administered.
Rabies vaccination.
The words seem to grow larger the longer I stare at them.
Oliver was vaccinated for rabies when he was in Costa Rica with his father. He never mentioned being bitten by anything. Not that I can remember, anyway. He didn’t talk much about the trip when he returned since he didn’t discuss their father around Alden.
The cops overlooked this receipt when they searched, but why wouldn’t they? They were looking for bank statements, financial documents, not medical paperwork.
I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the receipt. In my mind, I can see it all falling apart.
This sheet of paper could destroy everything. If the wrong people saw it, Alden could end up charged again with no way to prove his identity. They both had the antibodies. There was no record of Oliver’s at the state health department because it was administered in another country. Alden’s titer test proved nothing.
If I gave this to Alden, would it make him doubt his identity again? I can’t imagine it would. Even without gaining new memories back, he’s more himself every day.
What should I do?
The choice turns out to be surprisingly easy.
This means nothing. It’s a coincidence. They both had antibodies. So what? I never needed it proved to me. He did that long before the test was an option. That was for court, for people like Tori and Smith, not for us.
“El!” Alden calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Do you want to come down and eat with the guys? Or I can bring ours up.”
“No, don’t come up!” I exclaim. “I’ll be down in a second.” My voice sounds too high and probably suspicious. Toning it down, I add, “Grab me a Sprite from the machine.”
“Okay.”
Once I hear the door close, I scrabble through a small box where I’ve tossed odds and ends until I find a lighter. It’s dusty, but it ignites with one flick. I take the papers into the bathroom and light one end over the sink.
Relief fills me while I watch the words disappear in a swirl of silver-blue smoke. No one will ever know. Nothing will ruin what we’ve fought so hard to get back. The ashes wash down the drain, taking the past with them.
None of it matters now. All that matters is my husband waiting for me downstairs, and the future we have together.
EPILOGUE
THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
“Emily Stokes! What have I told you about charging down those stairs like a herd of buffalo?” I scold, as my daughter rounds the corner of the living room and bounces into the kitchen.
“You said herd of wildebeest last time. I like that better.”
“You should pick something with more feet! Like a centipede! That’d sound real cool running down the stairs,” A.J. pipes up, following her in.
Her expression says he’s probably been tailing her for quite a while. Emily is patient, but there’s only so much of a pestering little brother she can take. “Centipedes are tiny. You wouldn’t hear anything.”
“Not if they were giant, monster centipedes.” He scrambles his fingers across the table, and she rolls her eyes at him.
With a sigh, she pushes her hair back off her shoulder. That little movement gives me a peek of the woman she’s about to become. At twelve going on thirteen years old, she’s already a confident, beautiful young lady. “Why don’t you go tell your dad he wants you?”
He blinks at her suggestion, then darts away, bellowing, “Dad! Emmie said you want me!”
Alden’s chuckle travels through the open kitchen window, and we hear him call A.J. over.
“I can’t believe that worked,” she says. “Do you need me to help with anything before I go to Rosa’s?”
Rosa Martin moved in two doors down when she and Emily were in kindergarten, and they’ve been best friends since.
“You and Rosa could grab the chairs that Tori is loaning us from across the street.”
