Willa begins a new life after her divorce by renting a comfortable house in a small town. However, her new beginning takes a startling turn when the cops show up and insist on inspecting her cellar, where they find something unexpected. Something that will permanently alter Willa’s life.
Willa begins a new life after her divorce by renting a comfortable house in a small town. However, her new beginning takes a startling turn when the cops show up and insist on inspecting her cellar, where they find something unexpected. Something that will permanently alter Willa’s life.
I’ve come to terms with my infertility at the age of thirty-five. However, that didn’t make it any easier to see my marriage fall apart under its burden. My former spouse want children. frantically.
So did I, after all, but life had other ideas.
Seth said, “Willa,” one night. “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take…”
“What do you mean?” I asked, fully aware of the direction the conversation was taking.
“I want kids, Wil,” he informed her. “Neither you nor I are getting any younger. Additionally, we haven’t been successful in finding surrogates or foster children who fit our needs.”
“What would you like me to do?” Placing my teacup on the coffee table, I inquired. “Are you okay with me leaving? To dissolve our union? To… give you a fresh start?”
Seth remained silent. All of my questions were answered by his silence.
Here I was now, starting over in a rented home far from the city I had previously called home. In a nostalgic sense, the house itself was charming. It felt like a time capsule with its groaning flooring, flowered wallpaper, and subtle wood polish scent.
Mr. Nolan, an elderly man who died a few months ago, had owned it. Lauren, his granddaughter who inherited it, chose to rent it out since she wasn’t ready to sell.
The house seemed like the ideal spot to start afresh, despite all of its peculiarities. Or, at the very least, provide a private space for me to lament my mistakes before moving on. It was modest, comfortable, and peaceful.
Just what I required.
But a piercing pounding at the door that morning broke my brittle sense of tranquility.
Two policemen were there on the porch when I opened the door with my coffee mug in hand.
The taller one said, “Good morning, ma’am,” while holding his hat.
“Morning, Officer,” I said, tightening my robe’s belt. “How may I assist you? Is everything all right?
The officer who was shorter cleared his throat.
“We apologize for bothering you, ma’am, but we must inspect your basement. It has to do with the property’s former owner.
The basement? My heart was racing. Basements were often the scene of spooky incidents! I did glance around the basement when I first moved here, but I hadn’t gone through the old furniture or anything else. Lauren had just placed some of her grandfather’s items in there when I informed her that I had no interest in it, and I didn’t have many things.
She questioned, “Are you sure?” “Because I can put everything into a storage unit if you need the space.”
“I’m sure,” I said. “I brought very few items with me. I don’t need the extra space because it was meant to be a new beginning.”
Now, though, I was doubting everything.
“Why… what’s going on?” With a shaky voice, I asked.
“There’s been a situation,” replied the taller cop softly. “No information will be withheld from you, ma’am. Simply put, we don’t have the answers to the queries you have. Down there, we’re hoping to uncover some answers. Could we please enter?”
“We can get a warrant,” the other cop stated. “But it’s not about you, ma’am, so can we do our jobs?”
I paused, my head buzzing with questions for which there were no solutions. Was Mr. Nolan involved? Before I moved in, had something unlawful occurred in the house?
I wasn’t sure how to feel, but I wasn’t going to stop the policemen from carrying out their duties. I also didn’t want to give them the impression that I was involved in their visit.
I answered, “Of course,” and moved aside.
The door to the basement loomed like a shadow in the kitchen, where they followed me through the home. I hadn’t been down there often. There were cobwebs all over it, an old workbench covered in paper, and bins of neglected trinkets that Lauren was going to sort through when I finally got there.
It was far from friendly.
As I turned the knob and guided them down the groaning wooden stairs, my hand shook. The scent of moist earth and neglect filled the basement. As I hovered near the stairway, the larger police turned on a flashlight and looked around the room.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Trying to speak steadily, I asked.
The one who remarked, “We’ll know when we see it,”
We all noticed it before I could inquire further.
From behind a pile of crates came a little figure holding a frayed blanket. My throat tightened each breath. The youngster was little more than seven years old, his cheeks streaked with grime and his eyes wide with fear.
He glanced at me, then at the officers.
A whisper, “Don’t make me go back,” he said.
The officers crouched to his level and approached him cautiously.
For the taller one, “It’s okay,” “Childo, you are not in trouble. All we want to do is assist.
The boy gripped the blanket tighter, his lip quivering.
“I don’t want to go back to the shelter.”
A place to stay? My perplexity grew.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
With a softer tone, the shorter officer turned to face me.
“An orphanage is located approximately half a mile away. At night, this little kid, Jake, has been escaping from it. We believe he used to pay a visit to Mr. Nolan, the house’s former owner.
The mention of the elderly man’s name made my heart turn.
He was a friendly man who enjoyed solving crossword puzzles and feeding the local cats, according to Lauren, who had spoken well of him when I first moved here.
However, I felt guilty because, for a split second, I believed he had committed a crime.
“How did he get in here?” I looked at the walls of the basement and asked.
The taller officer indicated a little metal hatch set into the room’s corner. It appeared to be an afterthought, corroded and outdated.
This is what we believe Jake has been utilizing,” the officer said. There is an underground storm drain beneath the street, and the lock is broken. Jake most likely found it on one of his midnight escapades.
Jake’s face brightened a little as he nodded.
“I always had Grandpa Nolan leave it unlocked for me. He read me pirate stories and made me peanut butter sandwiches. I could remain as long as I wanted, he replied.
My chest constricted when the officers looked at each other.
That day, they returned Jake to the shelter. I kept thinking about his tiny, filthy hands and the way his voice cracked as I watched the patrol car drive away.
He had remarked, “Don’t make me go back,”
I ended up at the front desk of the shelter the following morning.
The woman at the desk responded, “You must be here about Jake,” with a kind smile.
“He has been discussing you. claimed that you reside at his former hiding place.
I was struck by the words like a wave. She led me to the playroom, where Jake was sitting on the floor constructing a block tower. He grinned broadly when he looked up and spotted me.
“Hi,” he murmured timidly.
“Hi, Jake,” I said. “I’m Willa.”
Without hesitation, he reached for my hand, and I felt a change in myself. We read a pirate book, constructed LEGO castles, and played board games for hours.
By the afternoon’s end, I was reluctant to go.
“Do you think… I could come back tomorrow?” As I was leaving, I asked the woman behind the counter.
She gave a knowing smile.
Her words, “Jake needs this,” Some of the older lads have targeted him since he is a shy and kind youngster. These children have seen some things, but I don’t think they’re attempting to be awful. You know, their lives are…
I gave a nod.
I remarked, “I can’t imagine any of it,”
I went to see Jake every day for weeks, occasionally bringing toys, books, or baked foods. Every second I spent with him was like applying lotion to a wound I was unaware was still open.
I discovered that his favorite color is green, his favorite bedtime story is anything involving pirates, and his favorite foods are mac and cheese and chocolate-covered donuts.
I might be his mother.
I hadn’t given myself permission to see a new kind of family since I had been grieving for the children I couldn’t have for so long. Jake, however, needed a companion.
And perhaps, just possibly, I also needed him.
Jake arrived at the front door of my rental home months after a flurry of paperwork, house inspections, and restless nights.
As my son, not as a guest.
“Welcome home, baby,” I introduced myself.
Jake smiled as he around my neck with his arms.
“Can we read the pirate book again?”
I replied, “Of course, we can,” “And I made you some pirate ship cookies!”
With the freshly laundered blanket from the basement wrapped over us, we cuddled up on the couch. I became aware of something as I held him close.
Even when you no longer think it’s possible, life has a way of providing for your needs.
To recover, I had hired this house. I never thought I would get back the one thing I believed I had lost forever.