Chapter 2
2129words
Emma adapted faster than I'd imagined. By the third day, she was already asking to visit Luna downstairs. I watched her skip down the stairs, my heart a tangle of emotions. In New York, she'd never voluntarily sought out company. Mark's rage and our home's constant tension had made her quiet and watchful, always scanning adult faces for warning signs. But now, her steps were light, her eyes bright again.
"Sarah!" Luna waved from the garden below. "Come down! We're heading to the beach to practice our new song."
Beach. The word itself was seductive. During my five years in New York, I'd barely left Manhattan. Mark always claimed beaches were filthy, overcrowded, full of "those people." Now I realized he simply didn't want me experiencing anything that might bring me joy.
"I don't know..." I hesitated. "I still need to organize the apartment, and Emma might get restless."
"Bored?" Luna laughed. "Sarah, this is Florida. Nobody gets bored at the beach. Besides, Jack's bringing his guitar—he can teach Emma more chords."
Jack. The name made my pulse quicken, though I hated to admit it. After returning to our apartment last night, Emma couldn't stop talking about him—how patiently he'd taught her, how he'd encouraged her not to fear mistakes. She even said his voice reminded her of her dad's, but "the gentle dad."
"Mom, I want to go!" Emma darted out from behind Luna, her face alight with excitement. "Luna says there are tons of seashells, and we can collect them to decorate our new home!"
Looking at that long-absent innocent smile on my daughter's face, I knew I couldn't say no. "Alright, but just for a little while."
An hour later, we were cruising down the highway in Jack's weathered Honda Civic, heading toward New Smyrna Beach. Jack drove steadily, patiently fielding Emma's endless questions about Florida. I sat rigid in the passenger seat, trying to relax but failing miserably.
"What did you do back in New York?" Jack asked as we stopped at a red light.
"Journalist," I answered tersely. "The New York Times."
"Wow, impressive. What beat did you cover?"
I fell silent for a moment. The question touched a nerve. "Social issues, mainly... domestic violence cases."
Jack nodded, not pressing further. I appreciated his sensitivity. In New York, people would bombard me with questions once they learned my beat, as if my profession made me some kind of authority who could explain the psychology of violence. But I was a victim myself—if I couldn't save me, how could I save anyone else?
"Now I freelance," I added. "Travel and lifestyle pieces, mostly."
"Quite the pivot," Jack remarked. "But maybe it's healthier. Sometimes we need distance from the things that wound us."
There was an understanding in his words that caught me off guard. I glanced at him and found him focused on the road, but something in his eyes suggested depths. Perhaps he too had ghosts he was running from.
The beach was more stunning than I'd imagined. Pristine white sand stretched to the horizon, meeting a sea of translucent turquoise. Emma bolted toward the waves the moment we arrived, Luna chasing after her. They immediately began hunting for seashells.
"She's happy," Jack observed, watching Emma. "Kids bounce back fast."
"Yeah," I sighed. "Faster than adults."
We spread a blanket on the sand, and Jack pulled out his guitar. He began playing a gentle melody that floated on the sea breeze. I closed my eyes and felt my muscles truly unwind for the first time in years. The sensation was so foreign I'd almost forgotten what relaxation felt like.
"What's that song?" I asked.
"'A New Day,'" Jack replied. "Wrote it myself. It's about second chances."
Of course it was. I opened my eyes to find him watching me. His gaze held no judgment or curiosity, just simple kindness—something I hadn't seen in a man's eyes for years.
"You write music?"
"A bit. Mostly for my students." He smiled. "In the classroom, traditional methods sometimes fall short. Music speaks when words can't—it reaches places in kids' hearts nothing else can touch."
"Emma's taken to you," I said. "She rarely trusts anyone so quickly."
"She's special. Smart, sensitive, musically gifted." Jack stopped playing. "But I can also tell she's weathered some storms."
My defenses shot up instantly. "What do you mean?"
"Easy, Sarah." Jack's voice remained gentle. "I'm not prying. As a teacher, you develop a sense for which kids need extra care. Emma's one of those kids."
His words made me realize I was overreacting. "Sorry, I... I'm still learning how to trust."
"No apologies needed. Trust takes time."
Luna and Emma came racing back, hands overflowing with shells and sea glass. Emma excitedly displayed her treasures, describing each one's shape and color in detail. Her happiness warmed me from the inside out.
"Luna, can we practice that Spanish song again?" Emma asked.
"Of course!" Luna smiled. "Jack, can you play 'Cielito Lindo'?"
Jack nodded and began strumming a lively Latin melody. Luna's rich voice soared, and Emma—though clearly not understanding the lyrics—hummed along enthusiastically. I watched them, feeling as though I'd stepped into someone else's life.
"My grandmother taught me this song," Luna explained afterward. "She always said music bridges different worlds. No matter where you're from or what language you speak, music touches something universal in all of us."
"What about your family?" I asked. "Are they in Orlando too?"
Luna's expression clouded slightly. "My parents are in Miami. They... they want me focusing on my degree, not music."
"They don't support the band?"
"Quite the opposite. They think music is a waste of time," Luna said with a bitter smile. "My father wants me studying business to eventually take over his construction company. My mother wants me to marry rich and live a 'proper' life."
I understood that kind of family pressure. Though our situations differed, the core was identical—others dictating what constitutes a "good" life, what the "right" choices are.
"But music is your passion," I said.
"Yes." Luna's eyes flashed with determination. "Music is everything to me. When I sing, I feel complete, authentic. I can't sacrifice that just to please someone else."
"Then don't," I heard myself say. "Don't let anyone dictate your path. Trust me, when you live to please others, you eventually lose yourself entirely."
Luna studied me, something shifting in her gaze. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience."
"I am," I admitted. "It took me years to learn this lesson. Paid for it dearly, too."
Jack, who'd been quietly listening, spoke up. "Courage isn't the absence of fear. It's doing what's right despite being terrified."
We stayed until sunset. As the sun melted into the horizon, the sky exploded into a canvas of orange, pink, and purple. Emma leaned against me, her head on my shoulder, clutching her favorite seashell.
"Mom," she whispered, "can we come to the beach every week?"
"Of course, sweetheart," I replied, suddenly realizing this was the first promise I'd made without mentally calculating someone else's reaction.
On our way back to the apartment, my phone rang. The New York area code made my heart leap into my throat.
"Not answering?" Jack noticed my hesitation.
"No, I should take it. Might be work," I lied.
"Sarah, I know exactly where you are," Mark's voice slithered through the phone, that familiar threatening tone making my skin crawl. "I hired a PI. How long do you think you can hide?"
My hand began to shake. "You can't do this, Mark. We're separated."
"Separated? Who the hell said we were separated? You took my daughter on a little vacation. Now playtime's over—it's time to come home."
"This is our home now." I struggled to keep my voice steady. "You can't force us back."
"I have plenty of ways to make you come back, Sarah. You'd better think very carefully about what you're doing."
The call ended. I sat there, trembling. Jack had already pulled over and was watching me with concern.
"Sarah, you okay?"
"I'm... I'm fine." I tried to compose myself, but tears betrayed me.
"Was that Emma's father?" Jack asked quietly.
I nodded, words failing me. In the back seat, Emma sensed the shift in atmosphere and watched me anxiously.
"Listen," Jack said firmly, "whatever's happening, you're not alone anymore. Luna and I, and everyone else here—we've got your back."
"You don't understand," I shook my head. "He has money, connections. If he really wants to make trouble..."
"Then we'll fight him legally." Jack's voice hardened. "This is America—no one can force you to do anything against your will."
When we returned to the apartment, a FedEx package waited at our door. My stomach dropped. Only Mark knew our address. Only he would send something like this.
Inside was a divorce agreement and a letter. The terms stunned me—Mark offered a substantial alimony payment, but only if I surrendered custody of Emma. The letter read:
"Sarah, this is my final gesture of goodwill. Sign the agreement, take the money, go wherever the hell you want. Refuse, and I'll make you regret it. You know I always keep my promises."
My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the paper. Luna came up from downstairs and rushed over when she saw my face.
"Sarah, what's wrong?"
I handed her the letter. Her expression darkened as she read.
"This is straight-up blackmail," she said bluntly. "You can't sign this."
"But if I don't..." My voice sounded tiny even to my own ears. "He'll make things worse. He has the power to destroy everything."
"He's already done his damage once," Luna said, sitting beside me. "But this time is different. This time you have people in your corner."
Jack arrived moments later with a steaming mug of tea. He didn't ask questions, just sat quietly across from us.
"I need a lawyer," I finally said. "I need legal help."
"I know an excellent attorney," Jack said. "Lisa Carter. She specializes in family law and has helped many women in similar situations."
"I can't afford a lawyer," I admitted. "My savings are minimal, and my income is unstable right now."
"Don't worry about money," Luna insisted. "Lisa sometimes takes pro bono cases. And if needed, we'll figure something out."
"I can't let you shoulder my problems," I protested. "This is my mess."
"No, this isn't just your problem," Jack said firmly. "When someone's threatened, it concerns all of us. When a mother and child need protection, that's everyone's responsibility."
I stared at them—these two people who were practically strangers, yet willing to stand with me. In New York, I couldn't have told you my neighbors' names.
"Why?" I asked. "Why are you helping me?"
Luna squeezed my hand. "Because this is what friends do. Because everyone deserves to choose their own path. Because no one should live in fear."
"Because it's the right thing to do," Jack added simply.
Emma emerged from her room clutching her new teddy bear. She approached me and reached up to wipe the tears from my cheeks.
"Mom, don't be scared," she said with surprising conviction. "Luna and Jack will help us. This is our home now—nobody can make us leave."
Hearing those words from my eight-year-old daughter sent a wave of warmth through me. Yes, this was our home. No matter what threats Mark made, no matter his money or power, we wouldn't run anymore.
"I'll call that lawyer tomorrow," I said, my voice steadier than before.
"I'll come with you," Luna said without hesitation.
"I can take the day off too," Jack added.
That night, after Emma fell asleep, I sat in the living room gazing out the window. Orlando nights were peaceful, with occasional birdcalls drifting through the darkness. I thought about our day at the beach—Luna's singing, Jack's guitar, the pure joy on Emma's face.
I wouldn't let Mark take this away. I wouldn't let him control my life again.
I pulled out my phone and texted Mark: "I won't sign your agreement. If you want a legal battle, bring it on. But we're never coming back."
After sending it, I switched off my phone. Whatever tomorrow might bring, tonight we were safe. Tonight we were free.
From downstairs came the soft sound of Luna's guitar, the melody of "A New Day" drifting upward. I closed my eyes, letting the music wash away my fear.
Yes, tomorrow would be a new day. And we would face it head-on.
