Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
A flush crept up Eliza’s neck. “Just weekend gigs to pay for college,” she said dismissively. “Usually bars who couldn’t get the up-and-comers. Nothing special.”
Two women appeared from the storage room carrying folding chairs, which they began arranging in the common area. Eliza excused herself to help them, leaving me with Lily, who continued chattering about the upcoming event with more animation than I’d seen from her yet.
“Mom says I can sing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ with Brynn,” she explained, pointing to a girl a few years older than herself sorting through a stack of CDs. “And we’re going to have juice and cookies after.”
The security door buzzed, and Hannah and Lavender, Brynn’s mother, entered carrying a plate of cookies covered in plastic wrap. Lily spotted them immediately and her face lit up.
“Lavender!” she called, waving the arm not in a sling enthusiastically as best she could. “You brought cookies like you promised!”
Lavender set the cookie plate on a nearby table as the girls hurried to them. The two had met the previous day when Knight had brought his family to visit Haven, and they’d bonded instantly despite their age difference. At eleven, Brynn was considerably older than six-year-old Lily, but the girls had connected over shared medical experiences which included a great distaste for needles in all forms.
“Mom made chocolate chip cookies for karaoke,” Brynn announced as she and Lily helped themselves to the cookies. “And I helped decorate them with sprinkles.”
The two girls huddled together, whispering and giggling as they flipped through a binder of song options one of the women had compiled. I watched in amusement as the two began planning their performance. God, I remembered those days in my childhood. Before everything got so serious with my music. When I sang for the pure joy of performing.
I leaned against the doorframe, content to observe without interrupting. Lily’s laughter rang out as Brynn showed her how to hold the microphone properly, both girls dissolving into giggles when the feedback squealed. Eliza glanced up at the sound, her eyes softening as she watched her daughter. Her fingers unconsciously tapped along to the music playing softly through the speakers they’d just set up.
I watched as the people in Haven worked their particular magic, creating space for otherwise traumatized individuals and families to take a breath and live in the moment and to begin healing. But even as I felt satisfaction at seeing them settle in, an unexpected pang of sadness twisted in my gut. Here, Eliza and Lily had found community, other women and children who understood their struggles. My presence was becoming less necessary with each passing day. I should have been relieved. Instead, I found myself wondering where I fit in this new picture they were creating for themselves. Or if I even had the right to imagine being in their lives.
* * *
Later that evening, I heard the music before I reached the door to Haven, the bass line vibrating through Haven’s open windows into the evening air. My boots crunched on gravel as I completed my perimeter check, the compound quiet except for the joyful sounds of people singing. Karaoke night was in full swing, children’s voices occasionally rising above the recorded music in enthusiastic if off-key renditions of pop songs. I hadn’t planned to stop in, convincing myself my presence wasn’t needed with so many other residents and volunteers around. But somehow my feet carried me toward the entrance anyway, drawn by curiosity about how Lily and Eliza were faring in their new community. And because I found myself hungry for the sight of both of them.
The security guard nodded as I approached, recognizing me immediately. Inside, I found the common room transformed. Someone had strung lights across the industrial ceiling beams, casting a warm glow to soften the utilitarian space. Chairs were arranged in a semicircle facing a cleared area where a makeshift stage had been created. Children of various ages occupied the front row seats, their faces bright with excitement as they watched two little girls perform a princess song I vaguely recognized from commercials.
I slipped through the back door, keeping to the shadows near the supply closet. From this vantage point, I could see everything without drawing attention. Several Kiss of Death brothers and their old ladies lingered near the walls, some nodding along to the music while others chatted quietly. During fun events like this, Hannah liked to have the men with old ladies in the common room. That way the kids got to interact with the big men in a fun environment and learned to associate our brothers with something positive. Hannah stood near the refreshment table, serving juice in plastic cups to a line of eager kids.
The song ended to enthusiastic applause. The little performers bowed dramatically before skipping back to their seats, faces flushed with pride. Then I saw Lily step forward with Brynn, both girls giggling nervously as they approached the microphone stand, which Hannah adjusted to their height.