Young Writers Society

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, Sara Sidle, or any characters mentioned on the show. However, all original characters are mine.

Spoilers: Nesting Dolls, No Humans Involved, Committed. (Season 5)

Summary: A past that has been shrouded in mystery is pulled into the light. (Sara Story)

~*~

Prologue

“Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.”

--Oscar Wilde

September 16, 1976

Sunlight poured into a medium-sized room from a small space between two navy blue curtains. The rays shone on the windowsill, spreading down to the maple wood flooring, sweeping over the brass-framed bed and light blue walls. Two figures dozed beneath a blue and white quilt draped across them, peacefully unaware that morning had come and that a small somebody was about to alert them to the news.

Beside a large oak vanity was a door, and the blissfully silent morning was interrupted when it creaked open, a small pair of eyes peeking out from the room on the other side of it. When nothing inside the room changed, the door opened completely and the girl behind the eyes stepped cautiously into the room.

A yellow, red-balloon patterned scrunchie held her dark, curly hair back. She wore a matching sundress, inside out and back to front, with the buttons in the front only partly done. White sandals on the wrong feet pinched her toes. Yet after all the wardrobe mishaps, she smelt faintly like lilac—the smell of the perfume her grandmother had given her at her birthday party a few days before.

The girl cautiously shut the door behind her and stepped outside the shadow of the vanity, into the sunlight. Quietly, she crept across the faint blue rug on the floor next to her parents’ bed and stood silently beside it, gazing thoughtfully into her father’s closed eyes as if contemplating the best way to tell him it was morning.

Avoiding decision, she stood on her tiptoes and peered across the quilt at the other form, sleeping deeply. A mane of thick, wavy, dark brown hair blocked the girl’s view of her mother’s face. She was almost a miniature version of her mother, but her face was more youthful, being only five years old, and her eyes were brown, like her father’s, instead of a deep ocean blue.

The girl sighed, standing normally again, turning her head to the window and squinting into the sunlight. It was barely 7:30, and she knew her parents wouldn’t appreciate an early awakening, but this was urgent!

“Daddy…” she whispered apprehensively, tearing away from the window and looking back into his closed eyes.

Instead of answering, he took in a deep breath, pulled his blanket closer, adjusted his pillow, and fell back asleep with a smack of his lips, without even opening his eyes.

“Daddy!” she said, slightly louder. “Daddy, it’s important.” No answer. Her young face scrunched up in frustration and her eyebrows furrowed. “Daddy!” Again, he did nothing but doze on. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

She was almost shouting now, bouncing up and down, her bob of curly hair bouncing off her back. Somehow, he continued to snooze. With an exasperated groan, she laid her chin on the mattress edge and let out a puff of air that sent a stray curl flying behind her face.

She reached forward with her hand, placing a finger atop her father’s softly snoring nose.

“Daddy, wake up or I’ll poke your nose really hard,” she threatened. When he didn’t answer, she pressed her finger against it as hard as she could, but her hand slipped and her finger jabbed his eye.

“YOW!” The man shot bolt upright, startling the woman next to him awake, and causing Sara to jump back in fright, hiding behind the mattress with only her eyes showing and the ends of her fingers gripping the edge.

“Sara!” he roared in anger.

“Waz…what’s going on…?” her mother mumbled.

“I’m sorry!” Sara squeaked. “I didn’t mean to! You wouldn’t wake up so I told you I’d poke your nose if you didn’t get up but you still didn’t wake up and-and I-I I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Uggh, it’s okay sweetie,” he muttered, rubbing his right eye in pain and reaching around blindly with his left hand, trying to find his daughter’s head. “There you are. Come here sweetheart…”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, grabbing onto her father’s large hand with one of her small ones and using the other to clamber onto the bed beside him.

“Really, it’s all right. You just startled me is all. I had a late night at work yesterday.”

“I had to tell you something important.”

“And what would that be, honey?” Her mother entered the conversation, speaking lightly and with a sweetness that came naturally.

“I’m five now!” she cried happily, with no introduction.

“And what a grown up five-year-old you’ve become. I can see you’ve got yourself dressed for the occasion?”

“Yes, and I think my sandals are too small now. I must be growing.” She beamed.

“They might fit a little better if they’re on the right feet,” Allen, her father, pointed out.

Sara’s smile turned into a frown.

“I tried,” she said flatly.

“I know you did,” he replied. “Try to fix them.”

“I tried to get it right,” Sara repeated, undoing the buckles and pulling them off.

“Don’t be hard on yourself. We know you tried and you even got those tricky buckles right.” Laura pulled a brush from her bedside drawer and quickly redid Sara’s ponytail with ease as her daughter attempted to fix her simple mistake.

“And we might need to fix that dress, too,” Allen added, looking at the tag that showed at Sara’s chest.

“It looks the same on both sides,” Sara offered in defense, placing her sandals on the right feet.

“So…” Laura cut in, changing the subject from Sara’s honest, everyday five-year-old mix-ups. “What would you like to eat for your birthday breakfast?”

Sara sighed as she carefully did the buckles on her shoes. “Can I have pancakes, please?”

“Of course you can…” Laura said, smiling. She reached forward for Sara’s head, pulled it to her lips and kissed her temple. She then placed a tender kiss on the cheek of her husband, peeling the blankets from herself and easing out of bed. She headed out the door and to the kitchen.

Silence ensued as Sara finished up the last of her buckles. Allen reached out and peeled the dress off, turning it right side out as he went. He then put it in the right direction and pulled it back over Sara’s head.

“I tried to get dressed right.”

“You put the perfume on nicely,” Allen noted, buttoning the red buttons in back.

“I did it just like Grandma Taylor said.”

“And it smells wonderful.”

Sara grinned, then reached her arms forward and hugged her father tightly around the neck

“I’m sorry I poked your eye.”

His smooth, freshly shaven cheek brushed against Sara’s and she breathed in the musty scent of his hair.

He patted her affectionately on the shoulder, then replied, “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

They hung there for a moment until the scent of freshly cooking pancakes wafted in.

“Hey, Sara,” Allen whispered into her ear.

“What?” she whispered back.

“Guess what sneaks out every once in awhile when it’s really, really hungry, just to eat little girls like you.”

Sara choked on a giggle and pulled away quickly.

“What?” she managed through an impending laugh.

“The…the…TICKLE BUG! AH! Run! Quick! Into the kitchen where Mom can protect you!” he yelled, pulling out his hands, hooking them together at the thumbs and waggling his fingers around like some mutant spider.

Sara screamed and hopped off the bed, sprinting out into the kitchen where Laura had set out a plate of pancakes, one special one in the shape of a smiley face.

~*~

A half hour or so later the family sat at the kitchen table, empty, syrup covered plates in front of each person. Laura was slowly wiping sticky syrup from Sara’s fingers and face with a damp dishrag. The sounds of people loading into their cars and driving off for work leaked in through the front door.
“So,” Laura began, tossing the dishrag over to Allen who was heading to the sink with the stack of dishes. “Since we gave you your birthday presents at Grandma Taylor’s house, we’ve decided that for your birthday we’ll take you somewhere. Anywhere you like.”

Sara, who had been watching a group of birds outside, turned her face to the empty plate in front of her, thinking. “Can I go to the beach?”

“Actually, honey, it’s probably best if you go somewhere inside, like the bookstore,” Allen offered.

.“Well I’d like to go to the beach.”

“It’s supposed to rain, sweetheart.”

“It’s sunny outside!” Sara cried, and she was right.

“But the weatherman said today that it’ll get cloudy very soon and then it will rain really hard.”

Sara frowned.

“But you said—”

“Okay, okay! We’ll go to the beach…but you have to promise not to whine when we have to go somewhere else out of the rain.”

“I promise.”

Allen cut in again from the sink where he stood washing dishes. “Now what do you say to your mother?”

“Thank you Mommy!” She crawled into her lap and gave her a tight squeeze. “I’ll go get the beach blanket from the garage.” And she scampered off through the front door.

~*~

“Do you think we’ll see the seals like we did when we went fishing?”

“I don’t see why not,” Allen replied, pulling the blanket out of the trunk of their tan station wagon and handing it to Sara, who struggled under its weight. “They’ve been here every time we’ve gone.”

“They’re really cute,” Sara declared, turning on her heel and heading across the deserted asphalt parking lot. Scattered clouds shielded the sun, beams of yellow shining from behind them. When she reached the sand, she walked a few more yards before setting the blanket down and unfolding it. Laura joined her, holding onto a small cooler filled with water and snacks and behind her, Allen held onto a camera.

Sara sat down on the blanket and looked out at the crashing waves.

“Smile, Sara,” Allen ordered.

She turned and grinned at the camera as he took her photo.

“Good one,” he said, sitting beside her, as Laura also sat on the blanket.

“Daddy, I want a piggy back ride,” Sara stated, not quite as an order, but as more of a suggestion.

“Alright…” He squatted, pulled Sara onto his back, and stood up. “Let’s head over to the water, see if we can’t see those seals.”

Sara nodded, her chin resting on her shoulder, her arms resting gently around his neck—she knew he wouldn’t let her fall. He plodded through the sand in his sandals, before reaching the place where wet sand met dry.

“Daddy, I see them! I see them!” Sara said excitedly, pointing at the numerous harbor seals along a different shore across the bay. Their brown fur was shimmering, and their loud barks just barely reached the lone family on the beach.

“I do too,” he said softly. “Sara, you want to play airplane?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, even as Allen eased her from his back into the crook of his arm.

He put on a crackly voice and said, “And we have takeoff!” He walked towards the waves, slowly swinging Sara back and forth as she held her arms out.

The cool, salty water sprayed Sara’s face as she moved forward, her father’s legs going further and further into the bay until they were knee deep. He continued to swing her until a particularly large wave came and splashed into Sara’s face, causing her to sputter and flail wildly.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he said, lifting her up as she scrambled. “Hey, you’re okay! Sara, you’re alright!”

She continued to cough, taking in shuddering breaths.

“I couldn’t breathe,” she choked, trying to clear her throat more effectively.

“You’re fine. You just breathed in some water.”

“I want to go back to Mommy.”

“Okay.”

Allen trudged slowly back to shore, holding Sara over his shoulder.

“Somebody looked like they were a little frightened,” Laura noted cheerily when they reached her. “Smile!” she exclaimed, holding the camera up. Sara smiled as best she could, with a little tickling help from Allen.

“Ah, Sara just got a mouthful of water.”

“Did you like the water, sweetie?”

Sara sat down on the blanket and cuddled up to her mother who was leaning back on two hands. “No, not really…it was really cold.”

“It usually is, especially when it’s not summertime.”

Sara sighed and buried herself into Laura’s side. She picked at a seashell in the sand as Allen munched on a bag of chips from the cooler. As they sat there quietly for several minutes, the sky slowly darkened. Then suddenly thunder rolled and the sky broke, letting forth the raindrops that saturated it.

Sara moaned angrily.

“We haven’t even been here that long!” she cried, folding her arms and pouting.

“We warned you Sara,” Laura said as she stood. “Get to the car.”

Sara sighed and stormed to the parking lot, thrusting open the car door and climbing into her car seat. Laura buckled her in as Allen piled in the cooler, blanket and camera back inside the trunk.

The rain was coming down harder now and lightning flashed past the dark clouds. Allen turned the engine over and pulled out of the lot as Sara sat frowning in the backseat. Laura reached a hand back and rubbed Sara’s knee comfortingly.

“If you want, sweetie, we can go down to O’Neil’s bookstore and get you a new book. I’m sure Mr. O’Neil would give you one cheaper than usual since it’s your birthday.”

“I want to.”

Laura smiled and pulled her hand back into her lap, looking out the front window.

“Thank you for taking me to the beach like I wanted,” Sara said quietly, staring out her rain-splashed windowpane.

“Anything for you Sara,” Allen said absentmindedly as thunder clapped heavily in the distance. “You know we love you.”

Okay, maybe its just me but the quality of fanfiction seems to be increasing...or maybe its only apparent here on this site. Anyways, this was very well written, bravo! Despite its exceptionally well-writtenness (that is totally a word, you just didnt know it) it is kinda boring. So, make sure to, if not actually provide really interesting scenarios then to at least hint at interesting things to come, so as to keep the reader reading. If you get what Im saying.

Is this a novel your writing or just a story? If its a story then the interesting needs to be immediaetly apparent, if its a novel then a gradual build up is understandable, but again you have to keep the reader hooked.

~Jiggy.

That a good story, nothing much happened but it sucked me in straight away and makes me want too see that CSI epidsoe. Do more of this or another CSI fanfiction, cause i'll read them all keep it up, also welcome you'll fit right in i'm sure.

Don't worry! There will DEFINITELY be more than just this. In the (pathetic) original, there were about 15-20 chapters...can't remember the exact number. And there is a lot of action/drama/suspense/angst/whatever.

Fontroy wrote:That a good story, nothing much happened but it sucked me in straight away and makes me want too see that CSI epidsoe. Do more of this or another CSI fanfiction, cause i'll read them all keep it up, also welcome you'll fit right in i'm sure.

Pretty much my feelings of the piece, you need to edge your way into the genre and this type of fanfiction.

Chapter Two

October 11, 1977

Sara startled awake to the loud crash of a storm outside the shelter of the moving school bus. She peeled her cheek from the cool glass and stretched tiredly. Sara sat alone and quiet, although the rowdy students around her were making a large amount of noise as they threw things across the seats and shouted down rows to their friends. Falling asleep on this bus seemed a difficult thing to do, but somehow she had managed it.

She had dreamt about a trip to the beach about a year ago. It was a pleasant dream, and the pleasantry was doubled when she was actually recalling the memory. Despite the fact that the trip had been rather short-lived, for some reason it really, truly stood out in her mind.

In the past year or so, things had changed slightly. Laura had it set in her mind that she wanted to own a bed and breakfast. She had set to work right away—researching the business and working on things around their house that needed to be fixed and expanded. She had always said that the attic weren’t being put to any appropriate use.

While Laura was immersed in her B&B fantasies, Allen had been hard at work trying to earn the promotion he’d been fighting towards for a year. Then finally, around the third week of April, he managed it. Longer hours, but much more pay, which would also support Laura’s wishes. He also received an office with a view, which is what he’d been dreaming of ever since he started at the company. A personal secretary guarded the way into his office, and he was almost obsessive with the gold nametag on the front of his door.

And Sara had a bit of excitement in her life as well in the past month. Because she had needed to be five when entering kindergarten, she couldn’t start until she was nearly six years old. But her aptitude for reading, writing, and simple arithmetic put her far ahead of the class, and after a bit of discussion with the principal, Sara was permitted to simply skip kindergarten and enter first grade. She had settled into the position, but the other kids viewed her as a strange foreigner. Nobody really talked to her, or played with her at recess.

Sara stretched again in her seat, shifting so she was sitting straight. She peered around at the other students, when a paper ball was flung in her direction, hitting the side of her head. She looked toward the offender and saw Max Hall sitting a couple seats back, sticking out his tongue and making a face. He was in first grade with Sara and had messy brown hair and a permanent guilty smirk showing his missing two front teeth. He wasn’t really a bully, but more of a goof-off. Sara glared back at him and invented her own face before turning around.

The glass was covered in the streams of water dripping down as the bus moved. She couldn’t see out too well, but she knew the bus route and prepared to get off, standing up along with a handful of other kids, including Max. She wedged herself between a couple of third graders and shuffled along.

As they stepped off the stairs, she was met with a small group of adults with umbrellas held over their heads. Some were walking away with their children. Others were shooing their kids into cars parked across the street. Sara’s dad was the one who waited for her at the stop, walking her home in rain or shine. However, when Sara searched through the masses for him, it was quickly apparent that Allen wasn’t there.

“Dad?” she called into the dispersing crowd of people and umbrellas. She was holding her backpack over her head for limited protection. “Daddy?” Still, nobody answered her. Her stomach felt as if it had been turned inside out. She turned around and watched the backs of every parent as they walked away. She recognized nobody.

The bus stop was located in the center of town, nestling at the intersection between Aberdeen Way and Cameron Street. The bay could be found if you traveled north on Aberdeen and then turned east on Madrone. The outskirts of town were located south and west, the suburbs were to the southeast towards San Francisco and the main part of town with older houses and stores was to the east. Sara’s house was in that area, being one of the older homes.

Sara looked down all the streets and saw nobody walking down the sidewalk, except she did see Max and his dad who was tying the boy’s left shoe. When the man straightened and stood, he spied Sara, standing there in the rain looking frantic.

“Sara? Are you alright?” Mr. Hall questioned pleasantly.

Mr. Hall had been to her house before. He owned a small roofing business, and Sara’s mother had been talking to him about prices and installation.

“Have you seen my dad?” She peered up at him, still gripping tightly to her backpack.

“Uh, no…I’m sorry, I haven’t.”

Sara sighed heavily. She was wearing a pair of tennis shoes and they were getting soaked through to her socks. Her light blue t-shirt was also being dripped on and the sides of her jean shorts were beginning to gather water. Her stomach still felt twisted, and a feeling of unease hung with her.

“Here,” Mr. Hall said, moving the umbrella over his, Max’s, and Sara’s heads.

Sara took the opportunity to pour the water off the top of her backpack.

“We can walk you home if you like, Sara,” Mr. Hall offered. “We live just one street down from you.”

“What if he shows up later though?” Sara wondered. Mostly she didn’t feel like walking with Max, but she was soaked and needed to get home for a change of clothes.

“I’m sure he’ll understand. Besides, I’ve been meaning to talk to your mother anyway. I’ve got a sample booklet of shingles that I was bringing home from work.”

Sara sighed and took one more anxious look around. Her gaze lingered as she and Max stared at each other, but then she turned to Mr. Hall and said, “I guess we can go then…”

The group took off walking east, crossing over Cameron and heading down Aberdeen. Max splashed in the puddles as he walked along, kicking some of the muddy water up at Sara and getting her even more wet than she already was. Her backpack was once again where it should be, on her back, but she was starting to think that maybe she needed it again what with all the water Max was splashing at her.

Cars hissed past them as they continued down Aberdeen. They passed a movie theater, a bakery, the library, O’Neil’s bookstore, and Main Street Market, before turning left on Balmoral Street. Balmoral was a side street that led to the end of a cul-de-sac. Sara’s house was on this road, next to other similar houses. They were tall and narrow homes, on narrow lots with medium sized backyards fenced to hold in kids and dogs. The front yards were about half the size of the backyards, and were decorated to the taste of its owner. A few held flamingos, while others had birdbaths or statues of the Virgin Mary.

“Number 232, right Sara?” Mr. Hall read off the mailbox.

Sara nodded quietly, turning onto the footpath that led to her front door. Her home was like the others—old with well-detailed, tall windows. The front door was implanted with a stain-glass window and it connected the indoor area of the house with the tiny inlet of a porch. Wooden stairs attached to the porch and led down to the footpath. Laura had installed elegant, black railings on the sides of the stairs and planted flowerbeds along the sides of the house. The original, faded, pale blue siding had been replaced with a nice yellow color, and Laura had changed the ugly brown trim with a mixture of white and pale green.

Sara sprinted through the rain up to the front door and rang the doorbell to announce her presence before opening the door and entering the foyer. The first room was a living room, large and spacious filled with a medley of functional and classy furniture. Stairs to the second floor was to the right of the front door. They were wood, covered with a single strip of carpet from top to bottom.

There was a door across the living room that led into the kitchen and dining room. Both rooms were roomy, and had been partially refurnished. Sara’s parents’ room was in the far left corner of the house behind the dining room. The current game plan for Laura’s vision was to finish the final touches to the first floor and then start redecorating the second floor and attic.

“I’m in the kitchen, honey!” Laura called from beyond the door. Sara walked quickly to the kitchen, dripping water along the floor. Her shoes squelched and squeaked on the hardwood as she entered the room.

Laura was stirring something in a pot that smelled like spaghetti sauce. The smells wafted into Sara’s nose and she hurried over to see inside.

“We’re having spagh—sweetie, why are you all wet?”

“Hey, Laura.”

Mr. Hall had shown up in the kitchen doorway, Max standing by his side, sneaky smirk still plastered on his face.

Laura’s mouth hung open in confusion as she set the wooden spoon on the counter.

“Where’s Allen?” she asked.

“Daddy wasn’t at the bus stop, so Mr. Hall walked me home,” Sara replied.

Laura looked down at her and brushed a wet string of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Sara, go get some dry clothes on…I need to talk to Mr. Hall.”

Sara nodded and brushed past the two people in the doorway. She squeaked through the living room and then squelched up the stairs to the second floor. The house’s main bathroom was directly across from the stairs. A hallway led from the top of the stairs to the left. Sara walked down it and turned left into her room, the only door on that side of the hallway except for the door that led to the stairs for the attic.

Sara’s room was painted pale yellow. The one continuous strip of wallpaper bordering the middle of the wall was Winnie the Pooh, and had been since Sara was born. There were two large windows on each end of the front wall, placed at equal distances from either side of the room. They faced the street outside, cars hissing along on it, spraying water from beneath their wheels. Sara peeked out her window and watched, trying to see if her father was one of them. He wasn’t.

Sara’s closet was on the right side of the room, next to a toy box filled with animals and random toys. Sara opened the door and flipped on the light to her closet. It wasn’t quite big enough to be considered a walkthrough, but it was good-sized—approximately two by three feet, covered with faded wallpaper. Sara pulled a pale lavender shirt and white shorts from a hanger and put them on, tossing her wet clothes into a laundry basket in the back of the closet. Her feet went bare.

She headed back downstairs to see Max sitting in front of the television in the living room. He ignored Sara’s presence, so she walked past him and headed into the kitchen. Laura and Mr. Hall were sitting at the island in the kitchen where Sara usually did her homework while her mother made dinner.

“I’ve got a comb here, Sara…” Laura said in acknowledgement. Sara stepped over to her and Laura hoisted her into her lap and began to comb the snarls out of Sara’s hair.

“Anyway,” Mr. Hall continued, beginning from where he had left off when Sara entered. “With the yellow siding and white trim, I was thinking a color like dark brown would be nice…”

An hour later, Sara’s hair had been combed through at least a dozen times, and Laura had settled on an appropriate color and price for a new roof, as well as a date later in the next month for it to be installed. The spaghetti had finished up, and Laura had welcomed Mr. Hall and Max to stay for dinner as thanks for taking Sara home safely.

Now Sara and Laura sat in the kitchen. Laura was washing dishes and Sara was doing homework with her backpack leaning against the stool she sat on. The rain had softened to a drizzle, pattering softly against the kitchen window overlooking the backyard and garage. The garage wasn’t connected to the house, but off in the far right corner of the lot.

Sara suddenly heard a car rolling into the driveway. She and Laura turned their heads and saw Allen pulling up to the garage in the station wagon. He quickly cut the engine and exited the car, slamming the door behind him and jogging up to the backdoor.

“Laura!” he gasped upon entering. “Is Sa—oh thank God…there you are…” He went over to Sara at the stool and swept her up into a tight hug.

“You weren’t at the bus stop,” Sara stated, nestling her head between his shoulder and neck and breathing into the slightly damp leather jacket he was wearing.

“Time got away from me, I’m sorry.”

Laura stood with one arm holding the dishrag and leaning on the counter, the other on her hip. Her facial expression was one mixed between relief and incredulity.

“Hey babe,” Allen said, setting Sara on the floor and sweeping over to Laura, giving her a kiss and hug. He rubbed her back gently and heaved a sigh.

“I need to talk to you…” Laura said quietly, setting her chin on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around him.

“Alright.”

“Sara, you stay,” Laura ordered.

Sara clambered back onto her stool and continued her homework while Laura gently grasped Allen’s wrist and led him out into the living room. Sara waited for a couple of seconds, but curiosity got the best of her (as it usually did) and she wandered over to the closed kitchen door and listened quietly.

“Where were you?” Laura’s voice was stern, no-nonsense, definitely not sugarcoated as it usually was. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it was the kind of tone that made you want to be yelled at.

“Look, Laura, I’m sorry. I really am. But there was this sales pitch Bill and I had to work on and time got away from us--”

“Time got away from you for two hours? You forgot to bring your only child home from the bus stop!”

“I didn’t mean to! It was an accident!”

With every response, on either side, the decibel of the conversation increased a little. Laura stopped the trend with a soft sigh, before speaking again in a slight whisper.

“Steve brought Sara home.”

“Oh, he was here? Great. Just great—you can’t even wait a couple extra hours for me to get home?”

“So you would have preferred Sara stay out in the rain and wait for you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“But nothing. Steve was very polite and helpful. I even settled the date for when we’re getting that new roof.”

“Oh, and while I was gone, you were settling plans about my house without me? Just because you want this bed and breakfast, doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want with the house. You said you’d tell me when you wanted to make decisions.”

“Settle down, Allen. I chose the color shingles you said you would like.”

Sara could hear him take in a deep breath and heave a sigh.

“I don’t like Hall over here.”

“Why not?” Laura snapped. “He’s a good man who’s doing a good a job as any at raising those three boys by himself.”

“They’re all brats, especially Max.”

This peeked Sara’s interest and she opened the door a crack.

“How can you be so inconsiderate?” Laura hissed.

“I hear he hits them with a belt.” Allen smirked snidely and reached for Laura, a cheeky gesture saying he didn’t want to argue about it anymore.

“Stop it.” She pushed his hands away. “I don’t have to hear this. I know for a fact that information is a pure, cold-hearted rumor concocted by Mrs. Perkins and her daughter. They’re awful gossipers, and you know that.”

There was a pause as Sara’s mother let out an angry groan and Allen let his arms drop to his sides. Laura rubbed the sides of her head, and without another word headed towards the stairs. Allen let out a frustrated noise and jogged after her.

“Laura—Laura, get back here!” He reached out and seized her wrist, trying to pull her around.

“Let go Allen!”

“Laura—you’re being irrational—”

But she continued to struggle against his grip and when she wriggled her hand free and began to clamber the stairs, Allen thrust himself forward and grabbed the back of her shirt.

“Listen to me!”

But he had pulled back too hard, too quickly, and Laura fell backwards down the stairs. The back of her head hit a step, and she slid down the other five steps before coming to a stop at the foot of the staircase, unmoving and eyes closed. Her chest moved up and down with breath, but there was no other sign of life.

“Ah, hell…” Allen muttered, bending down to her, but then he saw Sara standing stock-still, dumbstruck, in the kitchen doorway