Free The Girl in the Window by Valerie Douglas Page B

considering the way she’d left.
    And afraid she wouldn’t.
    He didn’t know why she’d left the way she had. It had stung.
    It was such a beautiful day.
    She was late.
    The horse waited, too, standing in the center of the paddock, his head up and looking toward her house.
    His ears flicked forward, his head came up.
    Beth walked across the yards, bending gracefully to gather a couple handfuls of bright green grass. Her hair fell forward like a pale curtain to hide her face, but the sunlight on it made her hair glow as if it were lit from within. Her fingers tied the sheaf of grass together deftly and he imagined her as a girl making necklaces from daisies as some of the girls he’d known growing up had done.
    The light was soft, giving the morning a touch of magic.
    Josh’s heart lifted, with a small breath of hope, as he watched her walk to the fence.
    Irresolute, he stood there for a moment, uncertain, afraid to go out and maybe frighten her away again.
    Maybe he should give her a little more time.
    *****
     
    It had taken an act of almost astonishing courage for Beth to walk out of the house. She was embarrassed, almost ashamed, of how she had acted. Josh hadn’t done anything to deserve that, to be treated that way. He’d been nothing but kind and helpful.
    After they’d taken her away, the system had put her into therapy. For a time she’d gone every week to that oddly institutional brick office building just outside of town. The interior had been carefully designed in soft colors of pale pink, soft mauve, and aqua. Colors intended to soothe, but instead somehow seemed false.
    One day she’d come out and gotten in the truck, but Ruth hadn’t started it, she’d just sat there. She didn’t put the truck in gear, but had instead stared out the windshield thoughtfully.
    She’d turned to look at Beth, her face homely and warm, a small wiry woman, a little frown of concern between her brows, clearly debating what it was she was about to say.
    Then she’d waved a hand toward the office.
    “Don’t let them define you, Beth. Don’t let what’s happened to you define you. Don’t let what happened to you be what you’re all about. You’re so many things, so much more than just this.”
    She’d brushed Beth’s hair back, lightly, affectionately, tucked it behind her ear. In the short time Beth had been with her she’d received more hugs and gestures like these from Ruth than she could remember from either of her parents in her entire lifetime with them. Her most vivid memory was of her father putting her off his lap, telling her she was too big to sit on it any more.
    “You’re a beautiful girl,” Ruth said, “with a good heart. Nothing against your parents, but I don’t know how they birthed you. You’re kind, smart, and creative. You can cook better than I can.”
    She smiled a little, her tone teasing. “Your handwriting could use some work, though…”
    Beth ducked her head, abashed, but grinned shyly back. As Ruth had intended.
    Taking Beth’s chin, Ruth had lifted it to look her square in the eyes. “Keep this up. It’s not what happens to you, Beth, but what you do with it that matters. Don’t let them declare you ‘damaged’ and don’t you do it to yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just fine the way you are. Those folks in there? They’re like a doctor who cleans out a cut that got infected and that’s all. Cuts heal. So will you. It just takes time. Just don’t wear the labels anyone gives you. Make your own label for yourself, and call it Beth, or Elizabeth, or whatever you want, but make it yours.”
    With a brisk nod, Ruth had then turned away, and started the car. “Now, that’s enough of that. Let’s go home.”
    Her words had echoed inside Beth for days afterward and they’d come up to her at odd times now and again when she’d needed to remember them.
    For a time she’d forgotten.
    So she walked across the yards toward the horse wondering if Josh