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Ellie’s heart thumped. “She did save her, didn’t she?”
“She did,” Emily said.
Ellie’s chest eased slightly making it a little easier to breathe. “They know about Frank Wahlburg and what he did? About Paisley being dragged across the country, living out of her boxes?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “They’ve already met with the counselor and are committed to supporting her through therapy.”
“It won’t be easy,” Ellie said. “She may suffer long-term trauma and PTSD.”
“They’re aware and they’re all in, Ellie,” Emily assured her. “They’re good people.”
“Have you told Paisley?”
Emily and the social worker exchanged looks. “We thought you might want to,” Emily said.
Ellie smiled. “Yes, I want to see her.” An idea struck her as she remembered reading the girl’s journal. “But first I need to pick up something on the way.”
Paisley needed a new journal, one with clean pages where she could write a new story.
Hopefully this one would have a happy ending.
ONE HUNDRED FORTY-SIX
BLUE JAY LANE
Paisley sat in the back seat of the car, her arms wrapped around her box. Ms. Ellie had picked her up and was taking her to her new home, although she hadn’t told her anything about it.
But she had given her some new notebooks to write in.
So far, all she’d done was look at the blank pages, thinking they were as empty as the road in front of her.
Ms. Ellie turned the car down a street lined with small houses, in a neighborhood that looked like it had a lot of kids. Bikes and toys were in the yards, a plastic blow-up, baby swimming pool in another, and a basketball goal sat in a cul-de-sac where two boys and a girl were outside, shooting hoops.
The houses looked nicely painted and flowers dotted the yards. Ms. Ellie veered into the drive in front of a blue house with white shutters and marigolds dancing in the breeze in the window boxes. Rocking chairs and a porch swing were front and center and a “Welcome” sign hung on the yellow front door. The house looked cheery and pretty like a fairy tale house and made Paisley want to cry.
Ms. Ellie cut the engine and turned to her with a sympathetic look. “We’re here, Paisley. I think you’re going to be surprised when you go inside.”
Paisley didn’t like surprises. She’d had too many of them lately.
She gritted her teeth though and simply nodded, then retrieved her box from the floor.
“I’ll get your books,” Ms. Ellie said, pointing to the second box in the back seat.
Paisley climbed out, her legs rubbery, her body numb with fear and uncertainty.
Swallowing back emotions, she followed Ms. Ellie up the front porch steps. Next door, she saw two girls pushing doll strollers in their yard and a boy and girl were kicking the soccer ball in another.
Ms. Ellie knocked and Paisley held her breath as they waited. Like a fireball suddenly shooting through the sky, the sun burst through the dark clouds overhead and lit up the porch.
Paisley gripped her box with sweaty hands. The urge to run took hold. She wanted to hide. Come back and do this another day.
But then the door opened and the entire Hammerstein family stood there, smiling and looking at her. Mr. and Mrs. Hammerstein, Cade and little Betsy and the kitten.
Her heart stuttered.
“Come in, come in,” the mother said.
Mr. Hammerstein gave her what looked like a real genuine smile. “We’ve been getting ready for you all day.”
