Blake Pierce - Almost Lost

“That sounds very sad,” Cassie said.

Her glass was almost empty, and Ryan refilled it before topping off his own.

“It was devastating. I can’t explain what a tumultuous time it’s been. When you love someone, you don’t let go easily, and when love goes, you search nonstop for it. Hoping, praying, that you can get back what you valued so highly. I tried, Cassie. I tried with everything I had, and when it became clear it wasn’t working, it felt like a defeat.”

Cassie found herself leaning toward him.

“How scary that can happen.”

“You picked the right word. It’s terrifying. It left me feeling inadequate, and very much adrift. I don’t take commitment lightly. To me, it means forever. When Trish left, I had to redefine my own impression of who I was.”

Cassie blinked hard. She could hear the anguish in his voice. The pain he was going through sounded fresh and raw. It must take immense courage, she thought, to hide it under a joking and lighthearted exterior.

She was about to tell Ryan how much she admired him for the strength he was showing in adversity, but stopped herself just in time, realizing that this comment was far too forward. She barely knew Ryan, and had no right to make such personal observations to an employer after only a couple of hours in his company.

What was she thinking—if she was thinking at all?

She decided that the wine was going to her head and that she must choose her words carefully. Just because Ryan was so good-looking, intelligent, and kind was no reason to behave like a star-struck teenager around him. It had to stop, because she would only end up embarrassing herself dreadfully, or worse.

“I guess I’d better let you go to bed now,” Ryan said, putting his empty glass down. “You must be exhausted after the drive, and meeting my two hooligans. Thank you for joining me out here. It means a lot to be able to speak to you like this.”

“It’s been an enjoyable end to the day, and such a lovely way to relax,” Cassie agreed.

She didn’t feel relaxed at all. She felt amped up by the intimacy of their conversation. As they stood up and headed inside, she couldn’t stop thinking about what he had shared with her.

Back in her room, she took a quick look at her messages, feeling grateful that this house was connected to the Internet. At her last workplace, there had been no cell signal, and it had led to her becoming completely isolated. Until it happened, she hadn’t realized how scary it was not to be able to communicate with the outside world when she needed to.

On her phone, Cassie saw there were a couple of hellos, and one or two memes from friends back in the US.

Then she saw one other message had been sent earlier in the evening. This one was from an unfamiliar UK cell phone number, which raised alarm bells when she saw it, and as she opened it, she felt cold fear clench her stomach.

“Be careful,” the short message read.

Cassie had expected to sleep well in her cozy room with the only sound the wash of surf outside. She was sure she would have, if it hadn’t been for that disconcerting message, sent from an unknown number while she had been sitting out on the verandah with Ryan.

Her first panicked thought was that it concerned her ex-employer’s murder trial; that somehow she’d been implicated and people were hunting for her. She tried to check the latest news, but found to her frustration that Ryan had turned the Wi-Fi off already.

She tossed and turned, worrying about what it could mean and who had sent it, trying to reassure herself that it was probably a wrong number and had been meant for somebody else.

After a restless night, she managed to drift into an uneasy sleep, and was woken by the sound of her alarm. She grabbed her phone and found to her relief that the signal was back.

Before she got out of bed, she searched for news on the trial.

Cassie learned that a postponement had been requested and it was due to resume in two weeks. Researching more carefully, she discovered this was because the defense team needed more time to contact additional witnesses.

That made her feel sick with fear.

She looked again at the strange message, “Be careful,” wondering if she should reply to it and ask what it meant, but sometime during the night the sender must have blocked her because she found she couldn’t send a message back.

In desperation, she tried to call the number.

It cut off immediately. Her calls had clearly been blocked, too.

Cassie sighed in frustration. Cutting off communication felt more like harassment than a genuine warning. She was going to go with it being a wrong number, which the sender had realized too late and blocked her as a result.

Feeling marginally comforted, she got out of bed and went to wake the children.

Dylan was already up—Cassie guessed he must have gone cycling. Hoping he wouldn’t think it an intrusion, she went in, straightened up his duvet and pillows, and collected his discarded clothes.

His shelves were crammed with a huge variety of books, including quite a few on cycling. Two goldfish swam in a tank on top of the bookcase, and on a big table near the window was a rabbit hutch. A gray rabbit was eating a breakfast of lettuce and Cassie watched it happily for a minute.

Leaving his room, she tapped on Madison’s door.

“Give me ten minutes,” the young girl replied sleepily, so Cassie headed for the kitchen to get a start on breakfast.

There, she saw that Ryan had left a wad of money under the salt shaker with a handwritten note, “I’ve gone to work. Take the kids out and have fun! I’ll be back this evening.”

Cassie put a round of bread in the pretty floral toaster and filled the kettle. As she was busy making coffee, Madison walked in, wrapped in a pink robe and yawning.

“Good morning,” Cassie greeted her.

“Morning. I’m glad you’re here. Everyone else in this house gets up so early,” she complained.

“Can I get you coffee? Tea? Juice?”

“Tea, please.”

“Toast?”

Madison shook her head. “I’m not hungry yet, thanks.”

“What would you like to do today? Your dad told us to go out somewhere,” Cassie said, pouring tea as Madison requested it, with a splash of milk and no sugar.

“Let’s go into town,” Madison said. It’s fun on the weekend. There’s lots to do.”

“Good idea. Do you know when Dylan will be back?”

“He usually goes for an hour.” Madison cupped her hands around her mug and blew onto the steamy liquid.

Cassie was impressed by how independent the children seemed to be. Clearly, they were not used to being overprotected. She guessed the village was small and safe enough for them to treat it as an extension of their home.

Dylan arrived back soon afterward, and by nine they were dressed and ready to depart on their outing. Cassie assumed they’d take the car, but Dylan warned her against it.

“It’s difficult to find parking on the weekend. We usually walk down—it’s only a mile and a half—and take the bus back. It runs every two hours so you just have to time it right.”

The walk down to the village could not have been more scenic. Cassie was charmed by the shifting views of the sea and the picturesque houses along the way. From somewhere in the distance she could hear church bells. The air was fresh and cool, and breathing in the smell of the sea was pure pleasure.

Madison skipped ahead, pointing out the houses of people she knew, which seemed to be almost everybody.

A few of the people driving past waved at them, and one woman stopped her Range Rover to offer them a ride.

“No thanks, Mrs. O’Donoghue, we’re happy walking,” Madison called. “We might need you on the way back though!”