Oliver couldn’t talk, but I saw him nod.
Keith broke the hug when the first officer stepped into the restaurant, one hand on his gun. “Keith Sawyer?” he said. “Put your hands where I can see them.”
Keith did just that, lacing his fingers behind his head as Oliver reluctantly let go of his dad. “It’s okay,” Keith said to him, but then the officers descended and got him on the ground. I don’t know why, but I was standing on the booth’s plastic-lined seat by that point, and I put my arms around Oliver’s shoulders and hung on to him. He cupped his hands around my wrists in response, as we watched his father be arrested for kidnapping.
“Son?” one of the officers said, and both Oliver and I looked at him. “You all right?”
“Fine,” Oliver said, wiping at his eyes. “I’m fine. Is he—you’re not going to hurt him, right?”
“No, son,” the officer said. “Why don’t you both come outside with me?”
They took Keith out first, handcuffed with his head down, his thin jacket flapping in the wind. Oliver and I and the officer followed, and that’s when I saw Maureen jumping out of another police car.
I waited to see if she would throw herself at Keith, tear him apart for putting her through ten years of torturous days and nights, but she never even glanced in his direction. She was only looking for one person.
“Oliver!” she cried, and when he heard his mom’s voice, Oliver looked up at her.
“Mom!” he said, and then she was grabbing him in her arms, holding on tight and not letting go. He was taller than her by at least a few inches, but it didn’t matter. Right then, she was the strong one, and he sagged against her and buried his face against her shoulder.
“Emmy!” someone else called, and when I turned around, I saw my own mom coming toward me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she just pulled me into a hug and held on, and that’s when I finally started to cry.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
After.
After Keith was booked at the local police station and taken into custody. After Oliver threw up in the bushes outside the restaurant, then rode with his mom to the police station to give a statement on what had happened. After my mom drove me home and we sat in the kitchen with my dad and I told them everything that had happened. After they didn’t yell or get upset, after they just listened to me.
After all of that, it was just me in my bed at night, watching for Oliver’s light.
“Emmy?” There was a knock at my door, then my mom’s head poking through. “You asleep, sweetie?”
“No,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing, it’s all right. Just wanted to talk for a minute.” She slipped into the room, then crawled up on the bed next to me and lay down. We both stared at the ceiling for a minute, then she started to talk.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “I wish I could talk to Oliver, but I know he probably can’t.”
“Maureen texted and said that they’re still at the station, so, yeah.” My mom reached down and took my hand. “Sweetie, I wanted to talk to you.”
I didn’t say anything. The lump in my throat was too big.
“Do you know,” my mom said, “when you were little that every time I used to try and use the bathroom, you would stick your fingers under the door?” She laughed at the memory. “I’d be peeing and look down and see these tiny fingers!”
“What?” Now I started to laugh. “Gross! Sorry about that.”
“No, don’t be sorry. That’s what kids do. They want to spend all this time with you. You take them to school and they cling to your legs and they don’t want to go in the door.” She took a shaky breath. “But the funny thing is, you blink and the next thing you know, they’re trying to leave and you’re the one clinging to them.”
“Mom . . .” I started to say.
“No, let me finish,” she said, squeezing my hand. “You know how we reacted after Oliver was kidnapped. I don’t need to tell you that, you were there. You lived it. Love makes you do the most insane things for your children, crazy stuff that you never thought you’d be capable of, and your dad was right the other night. We panicked. But the idea of losing you was just too much.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Mom, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” she said. “And I’m really sorry that I’ve never seen you surf.”
Now she was crying, blinking the tears away as she stared up at the ceiling. “You’re so much stronger than me,” she said. “You lost Oliver, too, and when he came back, you just went with the flow. You became friends again. You’ve always rolled with the punches and I love that about you, and you deserve more than just being our safety net. I’m sorry I didn’t see that.”
It hurt too much to talk, so I just nodded.
“Okay?” my mom said, rolling over to face me. “I just wanted to say that to you. I know we don’t usually talk like this, but I wanted you to hear it.”
“Okay,” I managed to squeak out, and then I hugged her hard.
“Good,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
After she let go of me, she grabbed the box of tissues on my desk and handed one to me before taking one for herself. “I don’t think I’ve cried this much in my life,” I admitted as I blew my nose.