Page 73 of The Vanishing Place

New Zealand

Effie pushed the front door open and stepped out onto the deck. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was just a blanket of endless space, so blue it almost looked purple. Tears misted her eyes, but she walked toward the swinging porch chair with a smile on her face.

She was sitting in the shade with her back to Effie, her eyes locked on the horizon.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Tia. “This country of ours.”

She turned, her movements still slow, still painful, but every time Effie looked into her sister’s eyes, she saw the flicker of light. Of life. Every day, a little bit of her came back.

“Come.” Tia patted the spot next to her. “Sit. It was too noisy in there for me.”

The bullet from Daniel’s gun had ripped through Tia’s stomach, diaphragm, and left lung, and she’d spent two weeks in hospital.

But it was the beating—the force of Daniel’s fists and feet—that had caused her to lose consciousness that night.

After two follow-ups, she’d finally been discharged; the appointments with the therapist, however, were ongoing.

“It’s easier to breathe out here,” said Tia.

Her sister’s brain would need a lot longer than two weeks to heal. The doctors said to take it slow, one day at a time. Tia was no longer living in survival mode, but as Blair explained, the shift from the survival part of her brain to the processing part of her brain was not a quick or easy one.

Effie sat next to her sister, taking her hand, and for a while they sat in comfortable silence.

“I’ve been reading Harry Potter with Anya,” Tia said eventually. “The boy with white-blond hair…”

“Malfoy?”

“Yes.” Tia gave a half smile. “He reminds me of Adam.”

“Oh god, I didn’t even…” Effie squeezed Tia’s fingers. “I can get her another book. Something that—”

“No, no.” Tia patted Effie’s hand. “It’s nice. I enjoy reading it with her. I can feel her warming to me again.”

“Anya loves you, Tia.”

“I know she does, deep down.” Tia smiled softly. “But she’s still clouded by what Adam taught her.”

Effie looked at the pain and fear visible on her sister’s face. The trauma was etched into her skin, no matter how often she smiled.

“Sometimes,” said Tia, “I think that maybe I deserve it. That I should have done more for her. That there was—”

“Stop, Tia. Stop.”

She smiled again and leaned into Effie. And for a moment, they stayed like that. Two children who’d run together through the trees and washed their hair in the river. Who’d lost each other for so long.

“So,” Tia said, “are you going to tell me what that poor piece of paper ever did to you?”

Effie glanced down at the letter crumpled in her hand. She turned to Tia as the tears fell. “It’s Dad. He—”

“Dad?” Tia frowned.

“He’s alive, Tia. Dad’s alive.”

Tia’s body stilled—as if she’d stopped breathing. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

“Dad’s not dead?”

“No.” Effie dabbed at her eyes. “Dad’s not dead.”

Tia pressed a hand to her chest, her words spoken between shallow breaths. “He can meet his granddaughter. Dad can meet Anya.”

“Yes.” Effie couldn’t keep her eyes dry. “When you’re ready, he can meet his granddaughter.”

“Effie…” Tears stole her sister’s words.

“I know.” Effie pulled her into a hug. “I know.”