When I ducked under the front door with my bag, I looked back to see Fin, standing in the middle of the room, facing the door, her arms wrapped around herself, rocking back and forth from foot to foot, making my stomach drop. Her go-to coping mechanism. I pierced her eyes with a gaze so fierce she stopped rocking, staring straight back at me, her mouth parted. I nodded slowly at her, reassuring her that I was here, that I was there with her. Her breath noticeably steadied and she nodded back. When I turned away from her, it physically hurt. I gripped the fabric of my shirt near my chest, pressing to relieve the screaming need to protect. I wanted to run back to her, stay with her, but Sister Marguerite would have shooed me with a broom right back out so I continued on, ignoring my instincts. Men weren’t allowed on property at night so I fought the urge and followed Father to the houseboat down the shore. We walked the sandy path through the canopy of trees and came upon the beach where Finley and I had sat earlier that evening.
