Saving Freya

A/N - Hello lovely readers. This is the third book in a series. The first book is Saving August, then Saving Scarlett. It is best to read the books in order, as there are spoilers and references made to prior books. I do hope you enjoy it!

Scarlett

It’s peaceful as I lay in bed, my eyes slowly opening. It’s that time of morning when the birds are perched and nearly ready to perform their sunrise chorus. I listen intently to the sound of my sweet husband breathing, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body as he sleeps soundly beside me, his head resting easily against the pillow.

How different August looks compared to when I first met him. His skin is tan and healthy, no longer pale as it was. He’s so much stronger now, and when he smiles his dimples are adorable and the happiness finally reaches his eyes; the twinkle that’s there is infectious.

He sleeps most of the time peacefully now, uninterrupted by night terrors that used to fill his mind with monsters and horrific memories that would wake our home with screams and cries in the night. He’s made almost a full recovery from the nightmare that was Victor Baylor. It’s been just over four years since we left and settled in California, and for the first time in August’s life, I think he finally feels at peace.

I reach over and gently stroke the side of his cheek, and my eyes move down his body and settle on the scars that make crisis cross patterns on his thigh and trail beneath the sheets. My thoughts cloud to a hateful feeling towards Victor, but before they can bother me too much a gentle and raspy voice pulls me back.

“Are you going to stare at me all morning, Mrs. Finn?”

I cock my head to the side and look at him, his eyes are sparkling and full of mischief.

“Maybe I am, Mr. Finn. I’m your wife, after all, I have every right to stare at you whenever I want to.” He pulls me tight to him and kisses my forehead.

“It’s too early to be up, you should go back to sleep.” August nuzzles closer to me, burying his face into my neck and kissing me behind the ear, giving me goosebumps. I giggle and then move so I can look him in the eyes.

“Who, my dear husband, will make sure your birthday cake is ready then?”

August doesn’t really know when his birthday is, but when Freya was born I picked a day in late summer that we would celebrate. He had mentioned that he thought maybe it was in the winter, but given he didn’t really know, and this was his favorite time of year, a late summer day seemed perfect. I wanted a day that we could make all about him.

“Scarlett, it’s just another day. I don’t even know when it really is. You know-”

“I know you don’t like celebrating, but your daughter finds your birthday to be the equivalent of a national holiday. Stay in bed. I’ll come back in a little bit. I just want to get a few things started before she wakes up. It’s easier, sometimes, to maneuver the kitchen without little hands helping.” I give him a quick kiss and rise from the bed and put on my robe.

I tiptoe past Freya’s bedroom and quietly go into the kitchen. I fill a tea kettle and place it on the stove, and pull out all the ingredients I need to make the richest of chocolate cakes.

On the top shelf of the cupboard behind Tupperware sits a brightly colored package with curly ribbons, and I grab it. Even if August wants to ignore his special day, little Freya will never allow it. She completely adores her father, she is his shadow, and to her, August has hung the moon and stars just for her. In Freya's eyes, August’s birthday is a holiday, one that is only second to Christmas, and at four years old she loves to celebrate with sweets and will color as many brightly colored drawings of all of her daddy’s favorite things. I try to make it a special day, to make up for so much lost time he had growing up. The house will be filled with the aroma of his favorite cake, and I make his favorite meal for dinner.

A single swirling whistle begins to crescendo, and I wake from my trance as I stir the cake batter.

Once the cake is in the oven I set the timer for thirty minutes and yawn. God, I would love to go back to bed for a bit. I do have thirty minutes. I set my mug down and abandon it and head back to the bedroom only to find Freya’s tiny hands resting on her daddy’s chest and her body snuggled tight into his side, and a father with his arm gently wrapped around his daughter, holding her close to him. Both are fast asleep. When I look at them a calm spreads through me like the warmest of days.

Twenty minutes, I can climb in with them for twenty minutes.

I ditch my robe and slippers and nestle down with them. August lifts his head and opens his sleepy eyes and smiles a beam of light at me. He leans over, careful not to crush Freya, kisses me sweetly, and then snuggles back down, grabbing my hand in his and we drift off to sleep.

“Mommy, mommy is the cake ready?” I hear tiny whispers in my ear and then feel a thumping on my forehead. When I open my eyes a pair of sparkling green eyes are staring back at me and Freya is staring at me, tapping me gently with her finger.

“Did you finish the cake? I want to put the sprinkles on before daddy gets up.” She scrambles over to the side of the bed and suddenly I wake up with a jolt, realizing that it is nearly eight o’clock. I overslept.

“Oh no! The cake! Shoot! Freya, honey, can you go get changed for mommy? Put on your pretty yellow dress, I have it all laid out for you. I can’t believe I overslept!”

I move frantically as Freya runs gleefully into her room. I dash to the other side of the bed and grab a pair of jeans and start to pull them on when I am yanked backward down on the bed.

“Did someone oversleep?” August pulls me down and starts laughing.

“August, stop playing, I left the cake in the oven, it must be burnt to a crisp by now, my God, I could have set the entire house on fire! You know everyone is coming for dinner tonight. I have a to-do list a mile long.”

August flips me over and pins me down beneath him, his eyes bright and playful.

“Mrs. Finn, am I on your list of things to do?”

I try to look annoyed, but it is impossible, and I start to giggle.

“Yes, Mr. Finn. But, you are the very last thing.”

“Last? I’m hurt!”

He cocks his head sideways and then kisses me so passionately that it leaves me breathless.

“Well, you think about that until you get to me.” He scoops me up and sits me upright on the bed, and then he gets a little more serious. His smile turned slightly down.

“You really don’t need to go to all this trouble today. It’s just another day. I’m fine with just the three of us. It’s not even really my birt--”

I silence him. “Today we celebrate you. It is a special day, a day that honors the day you were born, whenever that was. Without you, there would be no us or her.” I gesture towards the doorway which provides a view into the bathroom across the hall. A view of a little girl standing on a stool, dressed in a pretty little yellow sundress, brushing her teeth and humming Happy Birthday.

August

“Blow out the candles Daddy, go on! You hafta make a wish!”

I pick Freya up and peck her on the cheek.

“You help me. On the count of three, okay? One…two…three!” We both blow them out and Freya turns to me and squishes my face between both of her hands. She looks at me seriously.

“Now, don’t tell anyone your wish, or it won’t come true. Not even mommy.”

“Okay, I won’t,” I say with smooshed lips.

I put my little girl on her chair, and we all share cake and ice cream until Freya shouts.

“Time for presents!” She jumps down from the chair and heads for the living room, and everyone follows.

I shoot a look at Scarlett, she knows that I am getting uneasy. I have had my fill of all this attention and I'm getting a bit overwhelmed. I want to shrink into the background where I'm comfortable. Where I belong.

At parties or other gatherings, my best friend is always there to rescue me. Over the years, Calem is the one person, other than my wife, that I feel completely comfortable with. Calem knows the truth about my past, and I trust him completely. He is good at reading situations too, he always can sense when I'm uncomfortable and most of the time will step in and take the attention off of me, but on a man's so-called birthday, well he is no help at all. He just pats me on the back and tells me to hang in there as he takes a seat next to Scarlett in the living room.

I start to open the presents, Scarlett's parents joined us for dinner and gave me a set of books on marble restoration. A new wallet from Calem and Kate and a large box of orange tea and butterscotch candy. Eli and Erin even came for the weekend and gave us airline tickets to come to visit them in Florida.

Scarlett hands me a box that holds a beautiful watch, one that will withstand even the toughest days of hard work.

“Well, I guess that’s it!” I exclaim, knowing there is one more overstuffed envelope on the coffee table.

“Daddy,” Freya pouts, “there’s one more! Don’t you see?” She stomps over and grabs the envelope and promptly thrusts it at me. “You have to open this!”

“Oh! I see!” I smile, “come and sit with me.”

Freya climbs into my lap and I carefully slide my finger under the envelope flap, pulling out a handful of folded construction paper.

“What are all these?” I smile and catch Scarlett's signal that she is going to the kitchen to make coffee.

“For you!” Freya unfolds the drawings and starts to hand them to me one by one with commentary.

“…and this one is of you and me when we caught that fish, remember?” She wrinkles up her nose and then pulls that picture away and reveals the next one, “and this is a picture of your birthday cake…” She continues until she reaches the last drawing, and within a millisecond my entire world collapses around me.

I don't hear anyone anymore. The impact of the last image leaves me numb. The room, and everyone in it, fade away. I only see the picture, and my hands started to tremble. A slow sick feeling starts to consume and suffocate me. A simple white piece of construction paper and a black drawing, void of any other color. The words ‘My Frend’ are written across the top. The drawing is of a person, a man in a black suit, with black hair, and a red handkerchief in the lapel of his jacket. I know who it is, even with a child's eye and drawing skills, I know.

No…no no.

My heart starts to pound so hard that I can feel it thump against my chest and there is a surge of panic that rushes through my veins and my leg starts to bounce frantically.

“That’s my secret friend daddy,” Freya whispers into my ear. “You wanted me to draw him.”

Oh God no.