3. Georgia

3

Georgia

Now

" H ey, sweetheart, it's time to wake up," I tell Auden as I brush her dark hair away from her face. "We're here."

It takes a moment for her to come to. She stretches and yawns loudly before she opens those beautiful eyes of hers and stares right into my own. "Mama, did you say we are here?"

"Yes, sweet girl. We're here. This is where I grew up," I answer as I help her out of the car.

I turn with her, and we both stare up at Crane Manor. Home.

It's a large plantation-style home. I'm not sure why my grandfather decided to call it a manor house. I don't think it's large enough to be considered into that category of real estate, but what do I know. Kids I went to school with, teachers, small shop owners in the town—to them and everyone else, it's always been the manor house.

I suppose Crane Plantation doesn't quite roll off the tongue the way Crane Manor does.

White wooden panels make up the entirety of the front, with long brown pillars to support the balcony on the second story. When I was younger, the shutters were painted bright yellow, one of my mother's ideas. Now, they're painted black to match the roof tiles.

Seems fitting that the bright and happy colors are now completely erased—almost like my mother's death leeched all the joy out of this house, not just my heart.

The front looks mostly the same; new patio furniture and plants adorn the wraparound porch. The main entrance door is still a deep burgundy red; that much hasn't changed.

"Wow, this place is a mansion!" Auden exclaims in awe. "I can't believe this used to be your house. I bet you got lost all the time trying to find the cookies at night!" She giggles and grabs my hand with her own, giving it a tight squeeze and tugging on it excitedly. "Can we go inside?"

"We sure can. Just let me get Horton out of the car first, okay?" I release her hand and watch as she runs toward the front steps of the house, my heart running right alongside her. Movement in one of the windows from the second story catches my eye.

My breath seizes in my throat when I see her .

No, no, no.

White nightgown still covered in dirt. Her face still hauntingly beautiful, even with the blood dripping out of her nose. She's pointing down at my daughter, her eyes wide with fright as she releases a silent scream.

I look toward Auden and notice the steps are wet, probably from Mrs. Foster watering the front garden.

"Wait, Auden! Be careful! The steps are—" I watch in mute horror as she slips on the first step and slams her forehead onto one higher up.

" Auden! " I scream hoarsely, running as fast as I can toward her.

She's not moving.

The deep red door is thrown open as I'm mere feet away from her. "Don't touch her! Don't touch her! Georgia, don't touch her! "

I stop dead in my tracks when I hear my name.

That voice .

The tunnel vision I was stuck in evaporates as I come face to face with Ian. I open my mouth several times, but my brain can't catch up while my heart is threatening to pound right through my sternum.

"Where did she hit?" Ian asks stoically, bending down and checking her pulse carefully. "Georgia, what did she hit?" he asks again, more urgently this time.

I gaze down at his hand, gripped around her small wrist, and then up at him. "Get away from her!" I yell, still hoarse but loudly, my voice finally returning, along with fear for my daughter, and anger at him. I quickly close the remaining distance between myself and Auden, kneeling protectively near her without touching her. Some rational part of me knows I shouldn't touch her. She could have hurt her spine, and moving her could cause fatal consequences.

But all I want to do is scoop her up and run from this place as fast as I can. Run away from him.

I frantically look up into the second story.

She's gone .

She's always gone when I need her most.

"Hey, Georgie. Eyes on me," Ian says in that same calming voice he used to use when I was in the throes of another night terror. Years later, the soothing sound of his voice still has the same effect on me.

The same nickname that only he and my mother ever called me.

Deep breath in, Georgie girl.

"She—she was running up the steps and tripped and hit her head," I stutter out. "I think—I think she hit her forehead."

"How long ago?"

"Not even ten seconds before you opened the door," I answer, my eyes glued to my daughter's unmoving form.

Ian steps away, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Hey. Foster here. I need an ambulance at Crane. Unconscious minor. Hit her head on the porch steps," he says into the phone curtly. "About two minutes now, unresponsive. Pulse is strong and steady. Okay, see you in five." He hangs up and puts his phone back in his pocket before walking over to Auden. "What's her name?" he asks me, his eyes never leaving her.

"Auden," I croak out. "Her name is Auden."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he says as he checks her pulse again. "She looks just like you when you were her age."

"She's my whole world," I tell him, wiping the trail of tears that are streaking down my cheeks. "Is she going to be okay?" I ask him as I sit on the step next to her. "Please tell me she's going to be okay..."

Ian looks at me this time, his gaze unwavering as he holds my own. "I promise, Georgia. I won't let this place take another person from you. We'll make sure she's okay." His eyes still have the power to flay me wide open, making it impossible to look away. He chews on his bottom lip nervously, then clears his throat. Another one of his quirks I had forgotten about. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I saw her fall while I was looking out the window, and instinct took over. I can't tell you how many parents make injuries so much worse because they rush to aid the child, whether it's picking them up to comfort them or moving them to get them into a car so they can take them to a hospital. It's a natural reaction, but it can be dangerous."

Before I can respond, the telltale noises of the ambulance pierce the quiet sky. Auden moves slightly next to me, moaning softly as she tries to sit up.

"Mama?"

"I'm here, honey. I'm right here."

"It hurts," she mumbles as the ambulance stops next to my car.

"I know, I know, baby. These nice doctors are going to make everything feel better. Just hold still for a moment longer," I tell her, lying down on the wet step next to her so she can see me. "Eyes on me, Auden." The phrase escapes from my mouth before I'm able to stop them. It's something I've always said to her to calm her down during any moment of discomfort.

Someone places their hand on my shoulder softly. "Georgia, we need you to move so the medics can get her braced and onto the gurney," Ian says gently, helping me up as I stand on wobbly legs. His arms tighten around me when my knees buckle, keeping me from falling like Auden.

I watch the paramedics wrap the t-spine brace carefully around her neck, then flip her tiny body and move her gently onto the gurney. My eyes scan her the moment I can see her fully, then widen when I see the gash at her hairline. It's not pouring blood, but it's bleeding. It looks like it might need stitches.

They quickly load her into the back of the van. The medic says something that makes her smile, and my heart nearly cracks in two. She's being so calm. So brave. Auden is so much stronger than I was at her age. I follow her into the back and grab her hand, rubbing my thumb across her small knuckles as Ian steps in and sits next to me. I give him a strained smile before I turn my eyes back to Auden.

"How you feeling, little lady?" he asks her as soon as the doors are closed.

"My head hurts real bad," she answers him. Her eyes move from mine to his, and I feel him stiffen slightly beside me.

I pretend not to notice.

There are lots of kids with golden hazel eyes.

If I don't react to his reaction, maybe he'll realize it's just a coincidence. I feel his eyes locked on me, but I refuse to look away from Auden.

He clears his throat loudly. I continue to ignore him. "You took quite the fall. Your head might hurt for a little bit, but we're going to make sure you're as good as new by the time we get done with you," he finally says.

I urge my body to stay still. Give him no reaction.

"What are they going to do to me?" Auden's lower lip trembles. I know she's terrified of the doctor because the last time she went, she had to get her shots for school. I clutch her hand tighter with my own.

"Well, first, they'll get you checked into a room and clean up the small cut on your head. Don't worry, it doesn't look deep, so we should just be able to glue it. No needles allowed near that face. Then they'll take you to get a head scan, just to make sure everything is okay in that big brain of yours. Afterward, you'll get to go home with your mom, and hopefully, they'll prescribe lots of rest and ice cream." Ian's voice is calm but playful as he talks to her. The last time I heard him speak this way to someone, it was when we were about the same age as Auden.

And he was talking to Irene . . . his twin sister.

My best friend.

And she's dead because of me.

Please, please, please. I silently beg whoever will listen.

Don't let history repeat itself.