A little girl gave her sandwich to a homeless man…the next day, a helicopter hovered over her house

Lily Crawford had her hands full with her cards and gifts. Coming to a stop before the fireplace, she dumped the whole pile on the plush rug and sank to her knees. With a smile curving her pale pink lips, she began to sort through her gifts—14! That was five more than last year's. Lily always looked forward to her birthday; every year, it was the only day of the year she got to feel really special, the only day her mother got to really splurge on her. Lily knew they didn't have the money for a large birthday

party; she never missed the crease of frustration on her mother's forehead any time she mentioned one. But her mother never made it any less special for her. Her mother had really gone all out for her today. Lily reached for the largest gift in the pile, a box about as wide as their TV. She was very sure it was the computer she'd always badgered her mother for. She ran her hand over the pretty blue wrapping paper, then grabbed it, ready to tear it apart when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Oh no, you don't," Lily

groaned and fell backward on the living room rug. "Seriously, Mom, just this once, this year, please!" Her mother's face hovered above her, and even the curtains of ginger hair that framed her face didn't hide her stern frown. "No can do, young lady. Go and get ready for school. Now!" "But it's my birthday!" Lily simpered. "You can't order a birthday girl around, can you?" "Watch me do it." Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Now, don't make me repeat myself." Lily let out a huff of frustrated breath and moved to her feet, glancing dolefully at the pile of birthday

gifts behind her. She whispered, "I'll come back for you." Lily turned toward the staircase and shuffled forward. She stopped at the foot of the staircase and turned to her mother, who was in their cramped kitchen preparing breakfast. She watched as the woman tucked a stray strand of carrot-colored hair behind her ear, bare arm flexing as she buttered a slice of bread. Her mother was all she'd known for as long as she could remember. It had been just her and her mother for years now, moving from city to city on the East Coast of the U.S.,

having nothing else but each other. They had been in New Jersey for two years now, which was longer than they'd ever spent in one place. Perhaps her mother had finally left her demons behind. Lily never understood why, but her mother never talked about her father or about the world she'd lived in before she'd given birth to her precocious daughter. Lily had asked and pleaded and tried to coerce, but her mother had given the same response: that her father didn't want her and that she'd rather not talk about why. Until Lily had finally learned not to

ask. But the questions never left her head, nor did the wondering—was her father a monster? Had he been abusive? What exactly was her mother protecting her from? For once in all her 13 years of being alive, she wanted to know another face, she wanted to see her father. "If you keep staring at me, you just might bore a hole through my forehead," her mother spoke up. Lily blinked in confusion, then turned away. "Sorry, Mom." She turned and bolted up the staircase, leaving her mother behind in the kitchen. One shower and several grumblings later, Lily found

her way downstairs again. A bowl of Rice Krispies was waiting for her on the kitchen island, right beside a box of milk. Lily dug in, pushing spoon after soggy spoon of cereal into her mouth. She couldn't wait to go to school and see her friends' excited faces as they wished her a happy 13th birthday, as they pushed gifts into her eager hands. She knew what the gifts would be this year, as it had always been for years since she was six—either tickets to see whatever was out in the cinemas at that moment or a box

full of the Marvel Comics she'd always liked. Her mother pushed a blue lunch pack toward her. "Remember to come home immediately after school. Don't go to the park, no matter what your friends tell you. Don't go to their houses, and don't loiter around in school. Come straight home." Lily's face fell. "Not even just this once, Mom?" Lily's mother's expression softened. She let out a soft sigh, then came around the kitchen island to where Lily sat, lifting her chin up with her hands. She pushed back her curtain of orange-red hair and planted a kiss on her

forehead. "Don't forget that we're still new here." Her mother waved an idle hand around. "I just want you to be safe and familiar with New Jersey before you start to go around on your own." "It's been two years since we moved here, Mom," Lily murmured quietly. "And I'm 13 now! Two years isn't a very long time." Her mother insisted, "And your age won't matter if anyone wants to do something bad to you in such a big city." Lily's hand joined her mother's on her cheek. "Whatever you're running from, whatever we've been running from, it's gone,

Mother. It's been 13 years, and you won't see it again, I promise." "God, how I wish I could believe you." Her mother's eyes were so full of wistful desperation that it broke Lily's little heart. She absolutely hated to see her mother like this. "Can I ask something?" Lily spoke up. "Spill, birthday girl." "Can you..." She paused, uncertain, then threw caution to the wind and blurted out, "Can you tell me about my father when I come back from school? You promised to do so when I'm older." "And, well, I think I'm old enough now." Lily watched

her mother's hands slip from her cheeks as the woman turned away, and she couldn't shake off the feeling that she'd done something her mother didn't like. Perhaps her mother gripped the edge of the kitchen island tightly. "You know I don't like to talk about your father, Lily. He is one part of my life that is still a sore spot. I'm not making any promises, but go to school for now." "Whatever you say, Mom." Lily grabbed her bag at the foot of her chair and leaned upwards to kiss her mother on the cheek. As she turned

to go, her mother sniffled and wiped at a tear. Lily pretended she didn't notice. Her boots skipped stray pieces of gravel as she walked down to school, sending them tumbling down the street. The cool morning breeze sliced through her long reddish hair, cooling her scalp just the way she liked it. This was the time of the day she loved the most, when most of New Jersey was on the fringes of wakefulness. The man she met wasn't like the dangerous, tattooed, weapon-wielding men her mother always warned her about that roamed the streets of New Jersey. No,

this man was just like any other poor, hungry, ragged man she saw in every alley on her way to school. Lily would have looked at him and walked past without another thought, but the pebble she was kicking down the road somehow found its way to his feet. The man picked up the pebble, turning it over and over again in his dirty fingers. Then he glanced up and smiled at her. Lily paused; her first instinct was to run. This was what her mother always warned her about. However, the man's smile was not the eager, toothy, slightly

manic ones she'd seen on other homeless men. It was soft, barely a raise of both corners of his lips, and very sad—so sad that it reminded her of the one her mother wore mere minutes ago. The man threw the pebble back in her direction; it skipped past her, ending up on the other side of the road. "You must be going to school," he noted. "I am," Lily replied hesitantly. The man still scared her quite a bit, even though his demeanor was calming. "Well, you should get on with it," he prompted. "You don't want to be

late, do you?" "No, I don't." Lily didn't move. "You look hungry," she finally spoke after an endless stretch of silence. The man did look hungry, with his faded blue shirt hanging from his neck like rags from a skinny clothes rack. Hollows framed his neck and collarbone, and his cheeks were dark and sunken as well. "I am hungry," the man replied. Lily did the first thing that came to her head. She reached for her lunchbox and unzipped it, then pulled out the tuna sandwich her mother had prepared for lunch that morning. "Here you go," she reached

out, offering the sandwich. The man stared at her, face blank, then glanced down at the sandwich, then back up. Lily's hand was starting to ache, and so she reached out and grabbed his hand, placing the sandwich in his palm. "My mom didn't make much because we're going to have a big birthday lunch later today, but it should serve you," she added. "I hope it's..." Its plastic bag crinkled as the man held the sandwich tight. "Thank you, sweet girl." Lily nodded. A drop of cold rain fell against her cheek, and she squinted at the sky. "It's

about to rain." The man's smile widened. Placing the sandwich on the ground, he turned into the alley behind him and emerged a second later with an umbrella. "Come stay here until the rain passes." Lily didn't hesitate. She could hear her mother's warnings ringing in her head like her alarm clock back home, but she didn't care. Putting one step in front of the other, she reached the homeless man, taking shelter under his umbrella. She pushed her bag from her shoulders and placed it on the alley ground beside her. At that point, the rain had taken over

with full force. It tore through the streets with a howling wind, scattering debris, dead leaves, and twigs through its blinding sheets. Lily could see her schoolmates rushing to school, shielding their heads with everything from tarpaulin sheets to collapsed cardboard boxes to their school bags. Lily was glad she was under the umbrella with the nice homeless man. She turned and stared up at him curiously. His eyes were fixated on the rainy scene in front of him, mouth working as he chomped down on his sandwich. He had a full head of dark brown hair and a darker

stubble along his jaw. His skin looked smooth, gleaming even though the weather around them was dull and gloomy. "He doesn't look very poor up close," Lily thought. "What are you thinking?" he asked. Lily hastily pulled her gaze away, a thin blush coloring her cheeks as she spoke. "You don't look very homeless. Except for your clothes. You look like..." "I lost a lot of weight within a short period." "No," he offered. Lily nodded. The man sniffed and wrapped up the rest of his sandwich, slipping it into the pocket of his shirt. "I did lose a lot

of weight in a short while, sweet girl. Trust me, when life hits you hard, your body has no choice but to take the blow to protect your spirit. Your spirit is all that matters." Lily frowned; she wasn't sure she understood the bulk of what he was saying, but nodded anyway. "My mother used to say something similar," she murmured. The man turned to her, brows shooting upwards in interest. "Did she?" "Anytime I see her falling sick and losing a bit of weight..." she'd tell me not to worry. She would tell me her body could survive and

bounce back from any blow, and it was much better than bruising her spirit. Lily watched the man swallow and look away into the bleakness that unfolded before them. "Your mother sounds like a very wise woman." "She is," Lily couldn't resist a smile as she thought of her mother. "She moved me from city to city all over this part of the U.S., even when I was a baby, just her and nobody else. I know she was protecting me from something, even though she never told me what. She is the bravest person I know." Lily felt rather

than saw the man turn to stare at her. She kept her gaze on the rain before her, ignoring his stare until she couldn't. Turning to face him, Lily caught a look of awe and incredulity on his face. It was gone in a flash the moment her eyes met his. Replacing the look with a small smile, he asked, "What is your name, sweet girl?" "Never ever tell a stranger your name or any personal information about yourself," her mother's voice bellowed in her head. The man's smile was gentle but insistent, and Lily found her mouth opening as

though being controlled by someone else. "Lily," she murmured. "My name is Lily Crawford." The man let out a soft gasp and took two steps backward. His back hit the alley wall, and Lily frowned in uncertainty. Had she said something he didn't like? "Sir," she called out, "are you okay?" "I am," he murmured. His head pivoted towards the rain, and Lily watched his throat work in a swallow. "There, the rain has stopped." Lily turned to see that he was right; the sky released only a few droplets now, calm enough for her to walk to school without

getting drenched. "Right," she bent to pick up her school bag and lunchbox. "I should be on my way. Goodbye, Lily." Lily sauntered out of the alleyway, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She turned to glance at the man again, who was standing as still as the walls beside him, the umbrella still raised above his head. "What's your name?" she called out in question. The man gave her his soft, sad smile again. "Charles," right? "Charles," she repeated, then turned and joined a handful of her schoolmates as they hurried down the road to school. A few meters

away, she turned to bid the man goodbye again and thank him for the umbrella, but what she saw shocked her into silence. The man had his back to her and a cell phone against his ear. She wasn't very far away and could hear every word that slipped from his lips: "I found her." An uncomfortable taste of fear settled on Lily's tongue. She turned and hurried off to school. Lily arrived at the entrance of her school, her mind still riddled with thoughts of the homeless man and the mysterious phone call she had witnessed. The sound of

the bell snapped her out of her reverie, but she remained rooted to the spot, lost in contemplation. "Lily." She turned to see her bespectacled classmate Jaden approaching her, his helmet haircut bouncing with each step. "Good morning, Jaden." "Hey, Lily, we've got math now," he said hurriedly before bouncing off to join the stream of students heading to their classrooms. Taking a deep breath, Lily followed suit and made her way to her math class amidst the throng of students. She slipped into her seat as Mr. Bolton, the math teacher, walked in through another door. "Good morning, class,"

Mr. Bolton's abysmally drab voice echoed around the room. He launched into his lesson quickly enough; the day's topic was algorithms, a subject that failed to capture the interest of most students, including Lily herself. Five minutes in, and her classmates were already dissociating from the class. Maya, in the corner, was idly doodling on her desk; Tracy, who sat beside Lily, was staring at the ceiling, mouth open and eyes glazed in a hypnotic fashion; Cole was right in front of Mr. Bolton and snoring away. Mr. Bolton's monotone voice droned on as he wrote equations on the whiteboard,

but Lily's thoughts remained elsewhere. Her eyes remained fixated on a spot above the math teacher's head. She fought the urge to sleep; something within her told her that this was not a mere coincidence. The homeless man didn't exactly look homeless, and why had he acted so taken aback when he heard her name? Was he coming back for her? Her heart thundered against her rib cage as these questions crashed against each other in her head. Lily was getting increasingly uncomfortable in her seat. She had to get out of here and find that homeless man again. As

Mr. Bolton turned to write another algorithm on the board, Lily seized the opportunity. She glanced around the classroom, ensuring that no one was watching, before discreetly slipping her phone out of her pocket. With trembling fingers, she sent a quick text to Jaden, asking him to cover for her if Mr. Bolton noticed her absence. Lily waited for a tiny ding. A few seats in front of her, Jaden jerked as the ding woke him from his slumber, then stared at his phone screen. Then he swiveled and gave her a thumbs-up. Lily returned the thumbs-up, glancing at Mr.

Bolton to see if he'd noticed anything. As usual, his attention was fixed on the board before him. Then, with a firm grit of her teeth, Lily quietly slipped out of her seat and made her way to the door, picking up a stray bathroom pass from a shelf in the back. She would need an excuse if a teacher was to find her loitering in the hallways. Lily closed the door quietly behind her. The hallway was deserted; the muffled... Sounds of Mr. Bolton's voice faded as she hurried towards the exit. Thankfully, no other teacher was in the

hallways at that moment. Lily slipped the bathroom pass into her pocket as she pushed the glass doors open and walked out. Lily retraced her steps back to the alleyway, her heart thundering in her chest with each hurried stride. Questions and possibilities chased themselves in her head as she imagined what she might uncover. But when she reached the familiar alleyway, her breath hitched. Lily paused in her tracks, glanced into the dark alleyway, and looked around. She even turned the corner and peered down the street beyond. There was no sign of the homeless man. The alley was

eerily quiet, and the only sound was the distant hum of traffic from the street behind her. Panic came alive inside of Lily as she frantically scanned the alley, searching for any trace of the homeless man. Had he moved on? Was he in danger? She did the only thing she could think of at that moment. With tremulous hands and frayed nerves, Lily pulled out her phone and dialed her mother's number, her fingers shaking as she tapped on the screen. The phone rang once, twice, before her mother's voice answered on the other end. “Mom! Mom!" Lily gasped,

trying to keep her voice steady despite the overwhelming anxiety in her heart. "I need your help! Something's happened.” Lily stumbled to the door of their house with tremulous legs and quivering fingers. Those fingers slipped into the pockets of her skirt, rummaging for her copy of the house key. Her fingers found and closed around the cool metal of the key. Lily closed her eyes for one grateful second, then pulled out the key and jammed it into the lock. For all the hurry she showed to get into the house, she’d told a man she'd never met before

all about her. The man knew her name, knew her school, knew she had a mother. God, this was exactly what her mother warned her against. Everything was playing in front of her eyes like a terrible, sickening movie. She'd watched enough true crime stories to see how this would end. The lock finally obeyed her, pushing and jamming and swearing, and she heard the familiar clicking sound. The door swung open with a creak, and Lily had one foot inside the house. That was when she heard it. It was a sound that started off as dull and far

away. At first, it could have been a work site man drilling away at the ground some streets away. It could have been the homeschooled 12-year-old boy next door, who always flew his drone too close to her bedroom window. But the sound grew steadily, rising in crescendo until it was all that Lily could hear. Slowly, she turned around to see a great dark shape soaring in the sky towards her house. Wind lashed against her face from what she thought was the object's wings, and she raised an arm to block debris from finding its way into her

eyes. The great shape hovered above her house for a moment before slowly beginning its descent downwards. Lily peeked through her fingers to see that it was a helicopter before panic took over her limbs again. “No,” she murmured, and pushed against the front door, stumbling into the living room. She had no idea what she was running from, but she knew it had something to do with the homeless stranger she’d seen today. Lily quickly shut the door and pressed her back against it, panting heavily. She shut her eyes and counted to twenty silently, then peeled them open

and looked around. Her gifts still lay at the foot of the fireplace, the way she’d left them that morning. A few yards away, her bowl of cereal sat on the kitchen island, unmoved. “Mom!” she called out, her voice tinged with a hint of desperation. “Mom, I’m back.” Stiff silence answered her. Lily took a shuddering breath, fear gluing her to the spot before the door. Of course, her mother wasn’t home; her mother worked at a convenience store on the other side of New Jersey. It would take her at least one and a half hours of hard

driving to get back home on time. Lily listened intently for any sign of life on the other end of the door. The whipping of the wind had stopped now, and she didn’t hear anything for a while. Then she heard short, sharp footsteps as someone moved to the front door. Lily's heart began to thunder again. A curt knock on the door forced a gasp from her lips. “Lily?” came a curious voice. “Lily Crawford, go away!” Lily snapped a pause and then, “I am not here to harm you, Lily. I merely want to show you something.” “Go

away!” “I will not go away until you open the door, Lily. I mean no harm, I promise,” the voice, steady and patient, replied. Lily tried to decipher it, tore her thoughts apart to tell if it was the man she’d met in the alleyway, but try as she might, she couldn’t. Another knock. With a sigh of resolve, Lily pushed away from the door and turned to open it. The man standing before her looked nothing like she would have expected. He wasn’t the alley man either. This man looked as old as her mother, with blue eyes like

chipped pieces of sapphire and a blonde buzzcut. Lily's eyes slid from his face down to take in his blue dress shirt, pants, and loafers. “What do you want with me?” she finally mustered the courage to ask. The man's lips lifted in a small smile. “My name is Dylan. Your ally friend sent me here, Lily. He wants to meet with you.” Whoa. The alarm bells in her head were going crazy now. Lily began to shut the door. man's face when he blurted, "He's a friend of your mother's." "He's not," Lily retorted. "You're lying." The man let

out a soft, impatient noise, then reached into his pocket and pulled out an old picture. He pushed it into Lily's hands, and she held it gingerly. The picture had more than a handful of wrinkles across its face, as though it had spent a lifetime being passed from one hand to another. A corner of the picture had been chewed off. Lily looked closely at the picture. Was that her mom? She looked more carefree and wilder than the steel-framed woman in a flowery blue sleeveless dress. When had Lily ever seen her mother in anything but ugly blue

jeans and a threadbare, paint-smudged shirt? Beside her was a man—no, a boy—with mousy brown hair whose tips dusted his shoulders. He had more hair than the man Lily remembered from the alley, but she couldn't mistake those sharp hazel eyes. He was hugging a guitar to his chest, and they were both laughing. Curiosity flooded her like a wave, and so did the questions. Who was the man in the picture? When was this taken? Why did mother look this happy? How could this guy, Arnold, have the picture? Was this some sort of trick? What to do now?

She stared up at the man again. "Where'd you get this?" "Like I said, I'm a friend of your mother," Arnold replied. "That's an awful lot of friends." "I agree." He stepped back and gestured to the massive aircraft behind him. "Now, I would be delighted if you came along. He's dying to meet you, you see." "But I don't know you." The man pursed his lips. "No, you don't. It's a visible problem. I explained to him, but if I know your father well, he's a lover of theatrics." The rest of what he said was lost on Lily;

only one word made sense to her: father. He pursed his lips again, this time what looked like regret passing over his eyes. At last, he sighed and said, "Yes, Lily, your father. He wants to see you." Her hesitation was worn thin at that point. She could go and could return before dinnertime. She had one chance to find out who her father was, to understand why she never grew up with him, to be complete, like she always wished. Jutting her chin forward, she stepped out of the house, ignoring the instincts screaming in her head. The helicopter

loomed before them like a great big firefly that couldn't wait to devour them. Lily had never been in an aircraft before, and this chopper did look terrifying enough. The silver body shimmered in the sunlight, and the blades towered above her, casting long shadows on the grass. She could hear the hum of the engine and feel the faint vibrations in the air, even though the great machine was still and unmoving. It was as if a piece of the sky had descended right onto her doorstep. "I'm nervous," she confessed. "Right behind you," Arnold said. "I don't like

flights—never have. But they cover great distances that you can't cover on foot or on wheels, and they've got a great view." She looked at the helicopter tentatively again. The pilot, a blonde lady with large headphones and a wide smile, waved at her. She waved back. "Dinner time," she repeated, "or my mom would make you all regret knowing her." "I have no doubts about that." Slowly, Lily crossed the lawn with Arnold and walked up to the chopper. She could see the neighborhood kids staring in awe. Her senses seemed to shut off as soon as she stepped

into the spacious cabin adorned with plush leather seats, each one seemingly more comfortable than the last. Soft ambient lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, adding to the rich atmosphere. "All right, buckle up, folks. We're clear for takeoff," said the pilot as she clicked dials into place. Arnold calmly and gently steered Lily to one of the seats and sat down beside her, then clicked in her seatbelt and then his. "Don't worry, sweetie," said the pilot. She was staring over her shoulder at Lily, and her smile made her a bit more comfortable. "I've flown these

babies since birth." "Since birth?" The lady chuckled. "No, no, babies can't fly helicopters, but I've been doing this for a long time. Just sit back and enjoy the view." As the helicopter's engines roared to life, Lily felt a surge of excitement coursing through her veins. The cabin vibrated gently as the rotors spun faster, and she instinctively gripped the armrests with anticipation. The sound of the engines grew louder, drowning out any other noise, and soon enough, she felt gravity's pull as the helicopter began to lift off the ground. The ground slowly left them while they pulled

up into the air. The world below shrank steadily until the houses were large dots in the landscape and the people were smaller dots. She thought she would throw up. "It'll be over soon enough," Arnold assured her. "It helps if you've got a comfort song." She frowned. "A what?" "A comfort song. Here, let me plug these in for you." He gently placed headphones over her ears, and soft music started playing on the speakers, drowning out any other sound. "Not bad, eh?" he mouthed. She nodded and settled back a bit. "We'll be there soon enough," he repeated.

He was right. The song was barely over when the rotors slowed down and the aircraft began to descend. Lily looked out the window and beheld the largest building she had ever seen up close. She took off the headphones and pointed at the mansion. "Is that it?" "Is the house of your host." Yes," she turned back to admire the building as the chopper touched down. a wealthy oil magnate threatens you, you pay attention. He told her to stay away from his son or else. This frightened her, of course, but the girl in question was no ordinary

girl. She didn’t run away. Instead, she stood her ground and spoke back to him, which only infuriated the father further. Arnold continued, "Now, the son had a choice to make. Did he follow his heart or did he obey his father? He knew it wouldn’t be easy; the path of love seldom is. But what did he do? He fought for the young woman he loved. He stood up to his father and told him that he would choose love over wealth and expectations any day." Lily listened intently, her eyes wide with anticipation. "And what happened next?" she

asked, eager for the conclusion. Arnold chuckled softly, "You see, love has a way of prevailing, despite the obstacles. The couple devised a plan. They met in secret and shared their hopes and dreams, planning a life they wanted together. But they also knew that time was not on their side. They had to be careful and clever, as the father was ever-watchful.” "And did it work?” Lily inquired. Arnold smiled knowingly. "Well, that’s the thing about love stories; they have twists and turns. You’ll find that nothing is ever straightforward. Though things got complicated, they held onto each other

and fought for their right to love." Lily couldn't help but be captivated by the tale. As they continued through the house, she marveled at the beauty surrounding her but couldn’t shake off the lingering questions in her mind. She felt an attachment to the story but also to the location, perhaps because of the connection it hinted at with her own life. Could she be like the lady in the story, defying the odds for love? As they entered another room, Arnold turned to her and said, "Remember, Lily, life may not always be fair or kind, but it

often leads you to places and people you never expected. Embrace your story, whatever it may be." Lily nodded, feeling a sense of hope as the afternoon light streamed in, illuminating her path forward in ways she had yet to fully comprehend. He walked up to you and told you a few harsh words you'd melt right down to your shoes. He stopped in front of a door and clicked it open. The room was empty, but there were realistic paintings of a meadow on the walls. He never put this room to use, Arnold murmured; his face had suddenly

grown wistful. Lily's eyes widened slightly. "My mom's got design patterns like those in her notebooks." "Does she now? That's interesting," he closed the door and continued the tour and the story. Now, the lady was made of steel, but this man was fire, and it seemed she melted outright. So she left without a word; she left the state and never looked back. His mother begged him to honor his father's dying wish, which he did. He married Ivory, who, of course, tried to be a good wife to him, but it was never like his first love; nothing

ever is. To be honest, our lover boy was heartbroken after his first love disappeared. He didn't eat for days, didn't leave his room, or take a shower. I assure you, that can get very unpleasant to watch after a while. He didn't even show up to his own father's funeral. All he could think of was his lady love and how she'd slipped through his fingers. His marriage with Ivory fell apart after a while, as she was tired of sticking to him when he didn't care as much about her. Arnold shook his head slowly as he continued,

"I have to admit, she was difficult to find at first. We soon came to realize that painting wasn't the only thing your mother was great at; she was great at hiding too." "But why did she keep running and hiding?" Lily asked, her voice hushed. "The old scary man is dead now, isn't he? He can't harm her anymore." Arnold shrugged and gave her a small smile. "Some things cannot be forgotten, Lily. Trauma cuts deep, and your mother, she loved your father very much, but she was very wise. I'm sure she is still. Your grandfather would have

harmed you if he knew she was pregnant with you. She wanted to protect you from this life, Lily, and she did a good job of it too." Lily's eyes were starting to smart. She pulled her gaze to Arnold's shoes. "She never told me why we kept running." His hands settled on her shoulders in a comforting gesture. "Your mother was doing it to shield you. She successfully kept that life away from you for 13 years." "I guess," Lily sniffled and wiped at her face before glancing up again. "Can I see my father now?" Lily caught herself

feeling and sounding eager; she couldn't believe she was this excited to meet a man she never knew existed until a few hours ago. Arnold let out a great sigh again, and his hands slipped from her shoulders. Lily frowned. "He's here, is he not? You told me I'd find him here." "I did, and you will," Arnold replied patiently. "But it's late; you should get some rest first." Lily's eyes darted around. There were no windows in the corridor, and it was hard to tell what time it was. "My mom will be worried, and I have school tomorrow,"

her voice trailed off. She didn't care one bit about school; if she had to pick between learning about her past and enduring Mr. Bolton's mechanical droning, she'd rather go for the former. "One miss day of school won't hurt, and I'm sure your mother will understand," Arnold smiled and gave her a wink. In that moment, she realized just how much he looked like that stranger in the alleyway. "Charles, come on now, Miss Crawford," he urged, steering her down the corridor. "Let me see you to your room." Lily followed Arnold down the corridor, her mind turning with

thoughts and emotions. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was turning the sandwiches in her stomach, nor could she ignore the burning curiosity that drove her forward. As they walked, Arnold filled the silence with more anecdotes about the mansion and her parents, but Lily only listened quietly, not catching a word of what he said. Her attention was divided between his words and the questions that buzzed incessantly in her mind. Finally, they reached a set of ornate double doors at the end of the hallway. Arnold paused and turned to face her, a gentle smile on

his lips. "Here we are, Miss Crawford," he gestured towards the doors. "Your room for the night." Lily's heartbeat increased in tempo as she gazed at the doors, a mixture of excitement and apprehension coursing through her veins. She took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. The room was bathed in soft candlelight, casting a warm and inviting glow over the beautiful beige furnishings. More paintings hung on the walls, and when Lily looked closely, she realized a lot of them were some of her mother's artworks. How had her father gotten his hands on them? A large

four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, its rich velvet curtains drawn back to reveal crisp white linens and plump purple pillows. "This is... wow," Lily murmured, her eyes wide with wonder. Arnold chuckled softly. "I'm glad you like it. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask; your comfort is our top priority." Lily nodded, her gaze lingering on the bed. She suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, her eyelids becoming as heavy as lead with sleep. "I think I'll take you up on that offer," she murmured, a yawn escaping her lips. Arnold smiled

warmly. "Of course. Get some rest, Miss Crawford. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow." With that, he bid her good night and left her alone in the room. Lily stood in the center. Of the room for a moment, taking in her surroundings before crossing the room to the bed, she slipped under the covers, the softness of the mattress engulfing her like one of her mother's warm hugs. In a matter of seconds, Lily was asleep. "Striking image of her mother, don't you think?" "Yes, especially with that fiery red hair; it's uncanny." Lily slowly stirred

from her sleep, becoming more aware of the soft murmur of voices floating around her. The whispers seemed to dance on the edge of her mind, like sleek shadows flitting just beyond her grasp. "But she has beautiful eyes, just like her father's." "I saw her when she arrived yesterday. It was the most sublime thing." Lily's brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of the snippets of conversation filtering into her room. She clenched her fists under the blankets, and even though she was wide awake now, she didn't want the world around her to know yet. The

bed beneath her was so soft that she didn't ever want to get up from it. However, the sudden creak of the door opening startled Lily, and she cracked open one eye to peer into the dimly lit room. A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, its appearance making the whispering people quiet down. "What's going on here?" the voice was firm, authoritative, slicing through the soft murmurs like a blade. "We're just tidying up, sir," came the reply. "Well, get on with it. Mr. Crawford will be here shortly." Lily's heart skipped a beat at the mention of that

name; she held her breath, straining to catch any further snippets of conversation as the voices faded and the footsteps receded. Alone once more, Lily lay still in her bed, her mind racing with questions and uncertainty. Was Mr. Crawford her father? Most likely; the name had been said with a sort of reverence and respect that left her in no doubt. "Miss Crawford," came the voice again. "Lily, I know you're awake." Lily let out a small groan of frustration and threw her covers aside. Arnold was standing at the foot of her bed, dressed in a simple t-shirt

and a pair of corduroy trousers. He had his usual smile on. With a resigned sigh, Lily ran a hand through her tousled red hair. "Good morning, Arnold," she greeted him, trying to mask her lingering sleepiness with a smile. Arnold crossed the room to the side of her bed with a grin, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "Did you sleep well?" he asked. Lily nodded, her smile widening. "Yes, I slept very well, thank you." "Excellent!" Arnold clapped his hands together. "Now, how about a refreshing bath to start the day?" Lily shook her head, a spark of

excitement lighting up her eyes. "Actually, Arnold, I'd like to see my father now, please." Arnold's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Of course, of course," he said, gesturing towards the door. "But let's have breakfast first, shall we? Your father is on his way and he's assured me he will soon be here." Lily hesitated for a moment, torn between her eagerness to meet her father and the prospect of a delicious meal. Ultimately, her growling stomach made the decision for her. "All right, breakfast it is," she agreed, her mouth watering at the thought of freshly baked

pastries and perhaps a cup of steaming coffee. With a nod of approval, Arnold led the way out of the room and into the corridor. Lily trailed behind him eagerly. They soon arrived at the doors of the dining hall, where the aroma of breakfast greeted them like an old friend. Lily pushed open the mahogany doors to the dining hall, and her eyes widened in amazement at the sight before her. The room was just as grand as she remembered from yesterday, with golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and more paintings running from

one wall to the other. But what truly caught and held her attention was the long dining table that stretched across the room, groaning under the weight of an extravagant feast. Platters of food covered every inch of the table, from delicious-looking roast chicken with golden, crispy skin to steaming bowls of buttery mashed potatoes, marmalade, and salad. There were mountains of fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and fluffy pancakes drowned in syrup. Bowls of fresh fruit glistened enticingly while jars of jam and preserves added a splash of color to the spread. It was a veritable feast fit for

a king. Lily's mouth watered at the sight of so much delicious food; it was like the birthday lunch she dreamed of having but somehow never had the chance to experience. She wished her mother were here to see this. Arnold chuckled at the awe on her face and guided her towards the table. "Impressive, isn't it?" he remarked, a hint of pride in his voice. "Help yourself, Lily; there's plenty to go around." Taking a seat at the table, Lily wasted no time in filling her plate with a generous portion of scrambled eggs. As she took her first

bite, she couldn't help but moan in delight at the thick texture and rich flavor. Looking up at Arnold with a grin, she exclaimed, "These eggs are amazing! Thank you, Arnold." Arnold smiled back at her warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Crawford," he replied. "There's plenty more where that came from, so don't be shy about helping yourself." Lily opened her mouth to thank Arnold again when the doors of the dining room suddenly swung open. She turned to watch a man strut inside, wearing a three-piece suit and a dove gray

coat. The first thing that occurred to Lily as she sat there was that the man looked familiar, and then her eyes widened in surprise. "Charles!" Charles gave her a smile. A hesitant smile, he glanced at Arnold, who gave him a reassuring nod of the head, then back at Lily. "Hello, Lily." Questions were crashing into one another in Lily's head. She shook her head, standing to her feet slowly. "How did you—how did you get here? You look totally different, too." Charles pushed his hands into his coat's pockets and smiled again. "Well, I didn't need that attire

anymore and left the streets to prepare for this moment." "Prepare for what?" The smile slowly faded from Charles's face as he regarded her. "I had to prepare to meet my daughter." Lily's heart pounded in her chest as she stood before Charles, rooted to that very spot. Was this really happening? Was the man she had encountered in the alleyway truly her father? Charles took a tentative step forward, his face lined with worry. Lily could tell that he didn't know what to do. "Lily, I, uh—I'm sorry for being absent all these years," he began. "I should have

been a part of your life." But before he could say more, Lily's instincts took over, and she rushed forward. Charles staggered backwards as her arms wrapped around his midriff, covering him in a hug. For a moment, Charles stiffened; he seemed taken aback, as if he hadn't anticipated the gesture. Then slowly, he eased into the embrace and wrapped his own arms around her. Tears streamed down Lily's cheeks as she held on to her father, feeling a flood of emotions wash over her. It was a moment she had longed for, a moment she had imagined countless times

in her dreams, and she was here right now, living the moment. As they pulled away from the hug, Charles crouched down to Lily's eye level, a tender smile playing on his lips. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, Lily. How much I ache to see you." Lily smiled through her tears, her heart swelling with warmth at her father's words. "I've missed you too, Dad," she replied. That singular word rolled off her tongue with a sense of familiarity she hadn't felt in years. Charles chuckled softly, the sound filled with both joy and sorrow. "I

still have your sandwich." Lily's voice joined her father's in laughter. "You can keep it." With a gentle pat on her shoulders, Charles stood to his feet, his gaze lingering on Lily for a moment longer. "Come on, let's go see your mother," he said. "She must be worried to death." This time, they took a car back to Lily's house in downtown New Jersey. Arnold pulled the car to a stop in front of the house and peered out of the window. "Oh God!" he exclaimed. Lily followed Arnold's movement and looked out to see about half a dozen

squad cars parked before their front porch. Of course, her mother had alerted the police. Lily opened the car and got down, then waited for her father to do the same. She slipped her hand into his and led him to the front door. Lily reached for the doorknob, but before she could open the door, it swung open to reveal her mother. Her mother's hair was in a messy bun, her face streaked with worry and tears. She glanced from Lily to her father, and then back, her expression morphing from worry to confusion. "Hello, Nancy," Charles spoke up

after an endless stretch of silence. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the years peeled away, leaving raw the emotion that had been buried under a myriad of "what ifs." Nancy's eyes widened in disbelief, a torrent of memories crashing over her as she took in the sight of Charles—not just as the boy she once knew, but as a father with their daughter by his side. Without a word, tears breached the dams of her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks. She had lived with the ghost of their love, haunted by the specter of Charles's father, who

had driven a wedge so deep between them that it seemed insurmountable. Yet here he was, the embodiment of every dream she had forced herself to forget. As Nancy sobbed into Charles's shoulder, Lily moved closer, her heart in her throat. When Nancy finally looked up, her eyes met his, a silent conversation passing between them. "Charles, I—I never thought..." Nancy's voice broke, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Charles took her hand, the familiarity of her skin against his igniting a spark that had never truly been extinguished. "Nancy, I'm so sorry for everything— for not

being there, for not fighting harder, for letting the shadows of the past dictate our future." Nancy shook her head, a fragile smile dancing on her lips through the tears. "It was not just you, Charles. I was afraid—too afraid of your father, of the world, of losing you so completely that I hid away, thinking it was better to cherish the memory of us than face the reality of our separation." Charles's gaze was steady, his resolve clear. "I've lived every day with the 'what ifs,' Nancy, but standing here now with our daughter, I can't help but think

that maybe it's not too late for us—for a new beginning, for a chance to write the wrongs of the past." Nancy looked from Charles to Lily and back again, the magnitude of the moment enveloping her. "A new beginning," she echoed the words, a whisper of possibility. "Yes," Charles affirmed, squeezing her hand gently. "Together, as a family, it's all I've ever wanted." The room was thick with emotion, the air charged with the potential of what could be. As Lily watched her parents, a sense of belonging enveloped her, the pieces of her identity clicking into place. And

in that small, vine-covered cottage, a family began to heal, their love a testament to the enduring power of second chances. Day, Lily and Charles sat facing each other in a local café. The air was filled with the scent of fresh coffee and pastries, a comforting backdrop to their profound conversation. Lily, her curiosity piqued, leaned forward, her eyes wide with the anticipation of a story long awaited. "Dad," Lily began, her voice a mix of wonder and skepticism, "what were you doing sitting on that street if you were so well off? It just doesn't add up." Charles

leaned back, a warm smile spreading across his face as memories flooded back. He chuckled softly before replying, "Ah, that was all Ivory's doing." "Ivory?" Lily echoed, her brows knitting in confusion. "Yes, Ivory," Charles affirmed, his eyes twinkling with the remnants of old laughter. "She was an old friend of mine, quite unique in her ideas. Ivory was the one who suggested I sit on that very street, promising me that one day I'd see a girl—not just any girl, but one with a heart of gold—walking to school." Lily listened, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to

piece together this unexpected fragment of her father's past. Charles continued, "And she was right; that girl was you, Lily. It was your kindness that brought us together." Then Charles sighed, his expression turning more serious. "Ivory was much more than just a friend, you see. My father, your grandfather, had always hoped I would marry her, but my heart belonged to your mother." Lily nodded, absorbing the weight of her father's words. Charles leaned in, lowering his voice as if to share a secret. "Despite everything, Ivory admired my commitment to Nancy. When we lost touch, it was Ivory

who took it upon herself to find your mother and you." Lily's eyes widened in disbelief. "She found us?" "Yes," Charles said, nodding. "Ivory has her ways—she's resourceful and determined. She learned about Mommy's workplace, your school, everything. It was her who indirectly led me to you." A silence fell between them, heavy with the realization of the intricate connections that had shaped their lives. "But why didn't you ever tell me about her before?" Lily asked, her voice a mere whisper. Charles reached across the table, taking Lily's hand in his. "I guess I was waiting for the right

moment, and maybe a part of me wanted to keep some stories just between us until we got to know each other better." Lily squeezed her father's hand, a gesture of understanding and acceptance. As they sat there, surrounded by the soft hum of the café, Lily realized that the tapestry of their lives was woven with threads unseen, each twist and turn guided by the hands of those who had walked their paths before them. In the warmth of the autumn sun, she found a newfound appreciation for the mysterious ways in which their destinies were intertwined.