Lost and Found

Chapter Seven

Almost a month passed without further problems or convulsing episodes to darken Lillian's days further. The scar on her forehead looked better with each passing day, but she knew it would always be a reminder of the hellacious months she'd suffered in getting to where she was now.

Nightmares plagued her, tormenting her in gruesome detail, replaying moments that stained her soul. The only time she found a modicum of peace was when she was with Sawyer and the children. But she worried about what would happen should they ever discover the truth about her past or the terror that held her firmly in its grip.

She could deal with the nightmares, but the thought of having to verbalize any of it was more than she could handle. Her refusal to speak of what had happened proved to be a sore subject with Sawyer, but Lillian feared what retelling and reliving the events would do to her.

Verbalizing the past four months' atrocity in the light of day was more than she could endure. More than anything, Lillian feared the stress would bring about another convulsing episode. She would rather wither up and die than speak of it.

It became glaringly apparent her unwillingness to tell anything other than her name irritated Sawyer. It seemed that on a daily, if not weekly basis, he was asking her questions. Where had she come from? What had brought her to them in such a terrible state? And who he should notify of her health?

The terrible fact of the matter was that she had no one. Her parents were dead for almost seven years now, and her husband had died earlier that year in February.

There was no one left to miss her and not one soul alive that she needed to worry about sending word to. Worst of all, Lillian had learned several weeks ago from Abigail that her cousin Maggie had died over two years ago.

Her entire reason for even making the impulsive, dangerous trek out West was gone, and it had exacted a steep price. Many times in the past four months, she'd almost paid with her pathetic life while trying to finish her journey, determined to believe she'd be rewarded for her perseverance and have the life she'd always dreamed of.

But it was all for naught now that Maggie was dead, and her children were unknowingly caring for her.

Lillian hung her head. What was she to do now? The question had replayed repeatedly in her mind every day since Abigail's revelation. She had nothing to give them; Sawyer was able to care for Paul and Kitty in a manner she could never offer them on her own if she divulged her relationship to them.

The sad truth of it was, they would all be better off to believe her to be a stranger; for her to leave them with nothing other than the memory of helping a woman who'd been near death, and then had mysteriously left one night.

And if that realization wasn't torturous enough, the remnants of the nightmare that had forced her from her fitful sleep slithered through her mind, leaving her unsettled and lost. Standing alone in the kitchen with her miserable thoughts, Lillian stared blankly out the window overlooking the northern pasture.

Stars twinkled bright and happy in the midnight sky as the moonlit night cast an eerie spell around her in the silent house. Everyone slept. Everyone but her, she amended.

Doc Brennan had told her just the other day that after her injured arm should only need a few more weeks in the splint, although he cautioned it would take a few months to get the strength back.

Currently, it rested in a sling across her chest, making her skin itch where the bandages kept the sturdy boards in place to stabilize the bones.

She stood in confusion, forgetting why she had come into the kitchen so late at night, but she didn't want to return to her room just yet.