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Leah

Leah and Quinton sat hand in hand across from Martha and Skye. One of the nurses told them about the garden in the back of the hospital, and they thought it would be a good time to speak openly and honestly with each other while Nova was in her therapy session.

The garden should’ve offered a sense of peace, but peace was nowhere around, especially after what happened in Nova’s room when she couldn’t stop laughing at the thought of Leah, Quinton, and Skye being a family.

Leah understood why Nova thought they’d find it insulting for people to think that, but that was because Nova only knew the relationship that Leah and Quinton used to have.

The one where they couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other.

After losing Nova, all the pettiness they held for each other instantly went away.

Leah made it her mission to take care of and look out for Quinton and Skye, and Quinton did the same for Leah. Those weren’t the people Nova knew yet.

“It’s nice out here,” Martha said, looking around the garden.

Since it was the second week in October, most of the flowers were gone, but Leah’s imagination allowed her to picture the riot of colors that existed there in the spring and summer months.

The hospital administration was right; the garden was surrounded by huge hedges that hid everything on the other side.

Around the hedges was an iron gate that provided a sense of safety and security.

“Today sure don’t feel like a Sunday, does it?” Martha asked, reaching over and closing Skye’s jacket.

“I’m fine, Gran.” Skye opened the jacket again.

On the inside, Leah laughed because she knew exactly how Skye felt. Martha hovered over her granddaughter just as much as she used to do with Leah and Nova. Back then they didn’t know the term helicopter mom , so Leah and Nova used to say she was too overprotective.

Turned out that Leah was just like her mom.

When it came to Skye, there wasn’t such a thing as being too overprotective.

Actually, she’d take that back, there was a thing, and it was Quinton, not Leah, who took overprotection to a whole new level.

Unfortunately for Skye, Nova’s disappearance caused Quinton to become borderline obsessive when it came to protecting Skye.

He tracked everything. Her phone. Her car.

Leah wouldn’t be surprised if he’d looked into putting a chip in Skye so he could track her too.

Even though Leah didn’t agree, she understood.

Skye was his whole world, and keeping her safe was his top priority.

She’d probably have done the same had she’d been in Quinton’s place.

“No, it doesn’t feel like a Sunday at all,” Quinton said, answering Martha’s question. “To be honest, it doesn’t feel like any particular day.”

Leah squeezed his hand. The same way she and Nova did when they knew the other person needed a little support, encouragement, love, or maybe all three at once.

“What do you think that therapist is asking her?” Martha asked Leah.

“Well, I’ve never had a case like this one, of course, but I’d assume she’s just talking with her to gauge her mental state before they release her to go home.”

Quinton shifted beside her. Leah looked over at him, and his head was lifted toward the sky. Martha’s hand was cupped over her mouth, and Skye stared at Leah intently, as if hanging on to her every word.

Leah apologized, but she wasn’t sure why.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t heard the details of the abuse Nova endured.

Leah and Quinton had seen the pictures of the bruises on Nova’s back and arms. They looked old, but still evident.

And even though no verbal abuse had been confirmed, Leah was sure Adam had done that too.

Leah didn’t know any cases where a person was physically abusive but not verbally.

She did, however, know of cases where someone was verbally abusive but not physically.

“I know this is hard to hear, but we have to accept that Nova did experience these things. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen or shut down when we hear it.

If Nova wants to talk about it, we need to be a safe space for her,” Leah told them.

“That means not reacting when she talks, like y’all just did. ” She looked from her mom to Quinton.

“We understand that, Leah, but it’s not easy knowing it happened to someone you love,” Quinton said.

Leah stiffened as the word love flowed so easily from Quinton in reference to Nova.

Leah wished her brain didn’t expand everything he said when he talked about her sister.

It was hard for her not to question the meaning behind his words.

That was what she was trained to do: hear what wasn’t said as well as what was and decipher the true meaning behind the words.

“What happens when she goes home tomorrow? That’s what the doctor said, right? She may be able to go home tomorrow?” Skye asked, flipping her phone from one hand to the other.

“Tomorrow or Tuesday,” Leah corrected, “but most likely tomorrow if nothing changes.”

Skye’s eyes widened. “I can’t miss two days of school.”

“Then let’s hope it’s tomorrow, because we can’t leave here without Nova,” Quinton said.

“Sure can’t,” Martha agreed.

Skye sat back and folded her arms. For Skye’s sake, Leah hoped the discharge would come tomorrow.

In Skye’s world, very little came before basketball, and not being able to play in the game this Friday would devastate her.

It was the first home game of the season, but it wasn’t just any game.

Skye and her teammates had been waiting to meet up with their rival team from Baton Rouge, who they lost to last season by one point.

“Hey, let’s go grab a snack.” Quinton stood and reached his hand out to Skye.

He knew Skye well, and there was never a time when a snack didn’t lift her mood. They didn’t even know if Nova’s discharge would be pushed back yet, and Skye was already sulking about the possibility.

Leah and Martha watched as Quinton put his arm around Skye, and they walked back toward the hospital. Like Skye, Leah could use some comfort from her parent as well. Leah left her bench and went and sat next to Martha.

“How are you doing, baby girl?” Martha put her arm around Leah.

Leah exhaled, unsure if she should be totally honest with her mom or if it was a time to keep her feelings to herself.

Martha was always vocal about her disapproval of their relationship in the beginning, and Leah wasn’t sure if that had changed now that Nova was alive.

She didn’t know if she could handle going through the fights and silent treatments again.

“You can always talk to me, Leah. You know that?” Martha said when Leah remained silent.

“I don’t know if I should. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position,” Leah admitted.

“As your mother, it’s my job to worry about you. Not your job to worry about me. And right now, I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Mom. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because you sat there and talked about your sister being abused like you were talking about a stranger. We were all in shock listening to you say it, but you looked like you were talking about the weather or something.”

“It’s like Quinton said, I’m used to it,” Leah explained.

Martha’s head dipped to the side. “You work with rich couples, Leah. That’s not the same.”

“What makes you think they’re rich?”

“Because po’ people don’t have a therapist. They talk to their pastors and their friends. Free therapy.” She opened her purse and pulled out her compact mirror and her tube of blush lipstick.

“That’s actually not true.” Leah shook her head at her mom’s words.

Talking about her clients made Leah think about the one client she needed to deal with as soon as she made it back home.

After her conversation with Quinton, there was no way she could continue working with Lance.

Quinton saw it as betrayal when Nova went behind his back and spoke with Lance.

She didn’t want to imagine what he’d think about her helping Lance recover from what could only be described as the darkest time in his life.

“But anyway,” Martha said, her words tapping Leah back to focus, “I would still expect you to be a little more emotional when you’re talking about your sister, but, as your daddy used to say, I’m not going to borrow trouble. You said you’re fine, and I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Why couldn’t she open her mouth and tell her mom how she was really feeling? Why did she always have to be the strong one?

She knew the answer to that, of course. It was the title their dad assigned to her way before she understood the pressure that came along with it.

“Nova’s my sensitive child,” he’d say, “and Leah’s my strong one. She don’t let nobody get under her skin.”

The funny thing was, what her dad called strong, her mom called bullheaded and stubborn.

Leah called it survival. It was easier to ignore her feelings and focus on everyone else’s.

That way she could fool herself into thinking that she was okay.

Of course, Leah knew that her way of dealing with things wasn’t healthy.

In fact, it was the very thing she warned her patients not to do.

Emotions were like boomerangs; they always found their way back.