The Face of Death

. . in Sarah's secret place, in the most guarded part of her heart, Sarah realized that she was beginning to love her foster-mother.

She opened her eyes, looked at the cake, at the presents on the table and the one against the wall.

I could be happy here. Am happy here.

Not everything was perfect. Sarah still had nightmares every now and then. She'd wake up some mornings weighed down with a sadness that had come out of nowhere. And although she liked her school, she'd rebuffed offers of friendship, not by refusing them outright, but by simply never following up on them. She wasn't ready for that, not yet.

Witch Watson had shown up a lot at first, but only once in the last nine months, which suited Sarah just fine. Cathy Jones had stopped by a few times, and seemed to be truly gratified that Sarah was doing well. Sarah had long ago accepted a place in Desiree's arms when comfort was needed. The one thing she still hadn't shared was her story about The Stranger. She didn't think Desiree would believe her. Sometimes, she wasn't sure she believed it herself. Maybe Cathy had been right. Maybe she had been confused.

She shook these thoughts from her head. Today was her birthday, and she planned to enjoy it.

Ned and Desiree came back.

'Ready for candles?' Desiree asked Sarah.

Sarah grinned. 'Yeah!'

Ned had a lighter, and he lit each candle. They sang a raucous, somewhat off-key 'Happy Birthday.'

'Make a wish, honey, and blow!' Desiree cried.

Sarah closed her eyes.

I wish . . . I could stay here for good.

She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and blew out every flame. Ned and Desiree clapped.

'I always knew you were full of hot air,' Ned joked.

'So, do you want to eat cake first, or open your presents?'

Sarah could tell that Desiree was bursting for her to open the mystery present.

'Presents first.'

Desiree snatched the rectangle from its place against the wall and handed it to Sarah.

Sarah hefted it. It was big, but it was light. A painting, or maybe a photograph. She began to tear the paper away. When she saw the top edge of the frame, her heart jumped.

Could it . . . ?

She tore the rest of the paper off as fast as her hands would allow. She saw what it was, and stopped breathing. Her chest hurt. It was the painting her mother had done for her. The baby in the woods, the face in the clouds. Sarah looked up at Desiree, wordless.

'I could tell how much you loved that painting when you told me about it, honey. And you know what? It turns out that Cathy Jones packed away some of the stuff in your bedroom after they . . . well, after the police were done with things. Just some photos and toys and some other stuff. She kept it in storage for you so it wouldn't get lost. That is the one, right?'

Sarah nodded, still wordless. Her heart was thudding in her chest. Her eyes burned.

'Oh my God,' she finally said. 'Thank you so so so so much. I--'

She looked at Desiree, who smiled, at Ned, whose eyes softened. 'I don't know what to say.'

Desiree's hand touched Sarah's hair, moved a lock of it back behind the young girl's ear. 'You're welcome, honey.' Desiree was beaming. Ned coughed, and held out an envelope. 'This is the other part of that present, Sarah. It's a . . . well, a kind of gift certificate.'

Sarah wiped the tears from her cheeks and took the envelope. She still felt overwhelmed, a little bit giddy, and her hands trembled as she opened it. Inside was a simple white card that said Happy Birthday on the front. She flipped the card open and read the inside. Redeemable by Sarah, it said, for one adoption. Sarah's mouth fell open in shock. Her head snapped up and she saw that while Desiree and Ned were smiling, they looked nervous too. Almost scared.

'You don't have to, if you don't want to,' Ned said, his voice soft.

'But if you do, Desiree and I would like to adopt you permanently.'

What's happening to me? Why can't I talk?

She felt as if she was being rolled by an ocean wave. She was a boat hitting the top of a swell and then sliding back down the trough, only to be picked back up again.

What's wrong?

It came to her, a sudden clarity. This was the part of her that she'd kept buried, hidden, locked in a vault. A place filled with Nothings and Puppysheads. Frozen agony, thawed in an instant. It was crashing through her inner barriers and it was filled with thunder and thorns. She couldn't speak, but she managed to nod at them, and then she began to wail. It was a wordless, terrible sound. It caused Ned's eyes to shine and Desiree's arms to open. Sarah fled into them and wept three years of tears.

44

SARAH AND DESIREE WERE LOUNGING ON THE COUCH WHILE NED muttered in the home office as he paid the bills. Cake had been eaten. Even Pumpkin had gotten a lick of frosting that Sarah had snuck to him. He was curled up on the floor, his feet twitching as he dreamed a doggy dream.

'I'm so happy that you want to stay with us, Sarah,' Desiree said.

Sarah looked at her foster-mother. Desiree looked happy. The happiest that Sarah had ever seen her. This filled her heart with joy. Sarah was wanted. No, more than that--she was needed. Ned and Desiree needed her to make their life complete.

The fact of this filled a void inside her that had seemed bottomless. A soul cavern stuffed with darkness and pain.

'It was my wish,' Sarah said.

'What do you mean?'

'My birthday wish. What I wished for before I blew out the candles on my cake.'

Desiree raised her eyebrows in surprise. 'Wow. Is that spooky, or what?'

Sarah smiled. 'I think it's kind of magic.'

'Magic.' Desiree nodded. 'I like that.'

'Desiree?' Sarah watched the floor, struggling with something.

'What is it, honey?'

'I--is it weird that this makes me miss my mom and dad? I mean--

I'm so happy about this. Why would it make me sad?'

Desiree sighed and touched Sarah's cheek. 'Oh, honey. I think . . .'

She paused, contemplative. 'I think it's because we're not them. I mean, we love you, and you've made us feel whole, like a family again, but we're not a replacement for your mom and dad. We're a new thing in your heart, not a substitute for them. Does that make sense?'

'I guess so.' She gave Desiree a probing look. 'So does it make you sad too? About your baby, I mean.'

'A little. Mostly it makes me happy.'

Sarah thought about this.

'It mostly makes me happy too.'

She moved over so she could be cuddled by her new mother. They turned on the television, and Ned came in not long after and they all laughed together even though the shows weren't that funny. Sarah recognized the easy, comfortable rhythm.

This is home.

'Here?' Ned asked.

Sarah nodded. 'Right there.'

Ned pounded the nail into the wall, and hung the painting. He stood back, giving it a critical eye. 'Looks straight.'