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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
~~Disclaimer: The Centre and all characters, with the exception of Sarah, are not mine,
and I didn't come up with the idea for the Pretender, so I only take credit for the storyline
and the characters I have created.
Let Be There A Light
Part 1
By Tchabu
Raines led the young girl into a small, dark room. On one wall was a large window. She knew that,
to those on the other side, it appeared to be a simple mirror, enabling her to watch without being
seen. She crossed the tiny space, gazing intently at the men in the room beyond.. One of them she
knew right away: Sydney, one of the men who worked here at the Centre. The other man's back was
turned to her, but the figure seemed familiar–she knew him somehow. The girl searched her mind for
his identity until Raines finally provided an answer to her unspoken question.
"It's Jarod," he rasped in a flat, yet somehow triumphant, tone of voice. "You did it. You helped us
find him."
Just then, the man turned to face Sydney. She instantly recognized him. This was the man she had
spent so many hours simulating; this was the man Raines had forced her to become time and time
again. She looked at him curiously, moving closer to the window. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to meet
hers and she stepped back under the weight of his gaze. She knew that he couldn't see her, but she
could feel his intense stare burning into her. His eyes were so different than anything else she had
ever seen. Dark, angry, cold eyes, filled with deepest pain. Somehow, she knew that he was kind
and compassionate, but she could not have said whether she knew this, too, from those eyes or had
simply sensed it. She whirled around to face Mr. Raines, her own eyes flashing with anger.
"This is Jarod? You told me he was a dangerous man, that he was a killer! You lied to me," she
screamed, trembling with anger. "We took his freedom away from him! You can't use him anymore."
At a quick motion from Raines, Sam and Willy grabbed the distraught, struggling girl and dragged
her out of the room.
***
Jarod sat in his space, finally alone. He was handcuffed to a chair in the middle of the room. It was
late. Dark bags circled his eyes; he'd hardly slept since they had brought him in the prior week. He
was still mentally raging at himself for being so easily caught. After three years of giving the Centre
the slip, they had simply come for him, taking him out of the apartment in which he had been staying.
Jarod's train of thought was broken abruptly as the vent in the ceiling was removed and a young girl
literally dropped, lightly as a cat, into his cell.
"The ceiling ones are always harder," she muttered, dusting her hands off on the dark slacks she wore.
Jarod sat there, speechless and wondering who this could be. Her hair long red hair was pulled into
a messy ponytail; he noticed wavy tendrils pulling loose around her face. She seemed young–he
guessed somewhere around thirteen years old. "Don't worry," she said, in response to his glance at
the security camera in the corner. "It's been temporarily disabled."
"Who are you?" he asked in hushed tones..
"My name is Sarah. I am a pretender, like you." Jarod was silent again, unable to hide his amazement
as she pulled a paper clip from her back pocket and went around to the back of the chair. He felt her
lean down over the cuffs and begin to fiddle with the lock. "I'll try and get you out of these as soon
as I can. They look pretty uncomfortable."
"I'm Jarod."
"I know," she replied.
"How do you know me? Why are you here?" Jarod finally let his questions spill out.
"Got it!" The cuffs fell away, and Jarod rubbed his wrists. "Let's just say that I owe you, and leave
it at that for now."
"How?''
"There isn't much time. Somebody will be in here soon. Do you want out?"
Jarod could not believe his ears. "How do I know I can trust you?" He searched her eyes for the
answer, though he already knew.
"Why else would I come in through the ventilation system?" He sighed, glanced away for amoment
and then nodded. "Good. Be ready tomorrow night, and I will be back. We have help." He looked
at her, and decided that she was really on his side.
"All right, I'll be ready."
"I have to go now. Would you mind giving me a little help?" He nodded again and silently boosted
her up into the hole in the ceiling. Sarah replaced the vent, crawled away, and was gone.
***
Sarah was sitting on her hard mattress, going over the plan in her mind. Everything seemed to be right
so she gathered up the few things she thought of as her belongings: a sketchpad, an extra pair of
slacks, and a turtleneck that she knotted into a make-shift backpack. As she finished up, she heard
a familiar tap. The vent high in the wall swung outwards to reveal Angelo's face. With practiced
ease, she took it his extended arm and swung up into the opening. She glanced backward into the
only home she had known for so long, set her jaw resolutely and worked her way through the walls
of the Centre.
***
Jarod, too, was ready. They had let him stay out of the handcuffs, but he hadn't left the space for over
36 hours now. He had grown increasingly anxious as hours passed, running questions and possibilities
through his mind. What if they failed? How would they get out? Who was helping them? He
expected to see a red head poking through as he heard the grating pulled aside. Instead, he saw
Angelo's grinning face. In silence he took the outstretched arm, and with a small jump, was lifted out
of the cell. They replaced the grating and scrambled off through the heating duct.
Jarod could just barely make out Angelo's form in the thick darkness. His heart was pounding; he
hated the lack of answers and his own lack of control in the situation, but he obediently followed and
accepted that he had no idea where the girl was or what exactly this night would bring.
Left, right, and left again, they crawled until they came to the huge chimneys of the Centre. Sarah
was waiting there for them, her face smudged in soot. She didn't seem to notice. Jarod mouthed
the words "now what?" and she pointed upwards in reply. They were going to climb up the
chimneys.
Sarah and Jarod embraced Angelo, whispering thanks before he disappeared back into the vents. The
redheaded girl immediately began to climb a small maintenance ladder. Jarod followed her without
question, gritting his teeth resolutely. The rungs were slippery with smoke residue, but slowly and
carefully, they continued to climb, finally emerging into the bright moonlight.
"How do we get down?" Jarod asked, leaning out over the immense drop.
"More climbing," Sarah replied. "There is another ladder down to the roof, and more over on the
west end of the building. After that, all we have to do is get past the Sweepers, and then we are out
of here!"
Jarod led the way on the descent and soon they reached the ground. Jarod grabbed Sarah's hand, and
firmly commanded her to stay close behind him as they crept across the lawn. This he had done
before and he knew exactly how to avoid the spotlights and security measures. Ducking and weaving
in and out of shadows, the escapees kept as quiet as possible. Every sound seemed magnified by the
stillness and tension of the night. Soon enough, however, they made it to the highway and each took
a deep breath.
"Come on, we're not safe yet," he said quietly. They began walking quickly down the highway,
simply wanting to put some distance between themselves and the Centre.
***
Two days later, Jarod and Sarah were hundreds of miles from Blue Cove and both were much better
for it. After the first, tense night of escape, Jarod's curiosity about the young girl had returned. He
had so many questions about her identity, her life at the Centre, whether her parents were out there
somewhere like his own. Still, he hadn't been able to get her to say much about herself.
Something in him wanted to know everything about this other pretender, and so he continued to press
her. Finally, he was able to get a very brief overview of her work. As she mentioned various sims,
Jarod's heart sank. So many sounded similar enough to his own simulations that he knew Sarah's
would have been used in the same ways. He wondered whether she understood that the chemical
research and supposed rescue missions would actually cause the destruction of many lives. He said
nothing as she spoke, knowing she would discover the ugly truth soon enough.
Suddenly, Sarah stopped speaking. She searched his eyes intensely for a moment–the thought struck
him that she was seeking answers to silent questions, but he could not be sure. Her voice became
tight and small as she turned her face away and continued to speak.
"Then I began to simulate you." Jarod was only vaguely surprised. He'd had suspicions that they had
been using another pretender. "Mr. Raines told me that you were a very dangerous man, a murderer.
I believed him." Here she dropped her eyes ashamedly. "I took your freedom away."
Before Jarod could respond, she turned and walked quickly into the adjoining room, shutting the door
behind her. He sighed deeply, sat on the edge of his bed and decided to leave her to herself.
***
Jarod passed the door to Sarah's room later that night. It was well after midnight and he was finally
preparing to settle down for a few hours of rest. He heard muffled cries and decided to check on her.
"Sarah? Are you all right?" He tapped at the door but received no answer, so he opened it and
looked into the room. "Sarah?"
He crossed the room to her bed, where she was sleeping restlessly. He switched on the bedside lamp
to see her tense face covered in sweat as she mumbled and cried in her sleep. He tried again to gently
rouse her from the nightmares. "Wake up, Sarah, it's only a dream, he said, laying a hand on her
shoulder.
At the touch, she sat bolt upright and let out a short scream. Her wide, frightened eyes glanced
quickly around the room before settling on Jarod. She tried to stammer out an apology through her
ragged breathing. "Oh, Jarod, I'm so sorry. I thought it was him, and I thought he was coming for
me..." She trailed off as Jarod put his arm around her.
"Will you tell me what you were dreaming about, Sarah?" he asked gently, surprised to note how she
was still trembling.
She shook her head. "I can't! He'll kill you!"
"It was only a dream, Sarah, and I promise that nobody will hurt me if you tell me about it. Now, will
you please tell me what it was about?"
She took a deep breath, obviously reassured by his soothing tone. "When I was a baby, I was
adopted. I don't remember my birth parents–in fact, I don't remember much from when I was very
little. I know my adoptive parents loved me, but not much else.
"I do remember the time a man came to the door in the middle of the night–I was still very young.
I watched him shoot my mother and stab my father..." Sarah closed her eyes for a moment as Jarod
wondered if she would continue. After a moment's silence, she spoke through gritted teeth. "He told
me that if I ever told anybody, what happened to my dad and mom would look like fun. I didn't see
him again for a long time.
"As my father lay there dying, he told me to be a good girl. He gave me this key," she showed Jarod
a small key that hung from a chain on her neck, "and said that it opened a box in a bank in Iowa, and
to never forget the address, and never let anybody take it from me. After going through several foster
homes, I wound up in the Centre. They tried to take my key away, but I kicked and screamed until
they finally gave up."
Jarod was quiet for a few moments. Something about the story bothered him. "You said that you
didn't see the murderer for a long time. Do you know who he is?"
She nodded slowly. "Mr. Lyle, from the Centre."
He had to struggle to keep his face calm, knowing he had to be soothing and strong for this young
girl. Still, the hatred and contempt threatened to surface as he again saw his brother killed by Lyle,
so he pushed the thought firmly from his mind. He smiled at Sarah in encouragement.
"Thank you," he said. "Lyle will never know that you told me." He paused. "Can you go back to sleep
now?"
"Yes." Sarah flashed the first smile she ever gave him as she crawled back under the blankets and
switched off the light.
***
"Where are we going?" Sarah asked. The two pretenders were rolling down the highway in the small
car Jarod had bought that morning. For a while, she had been content to just watch the scenery go
by and to take in all of the colors of which her previous life had been so devoid. She was amazed at
the smallest details: the fresh, clean taste of the air coming through her window, the bright, vibrant
blue of the sky and even the way the sunlight played upon leaves. Now, however, she had finally let
her curiosity get the better of her.
Jarod answered without taking his eyes off of the road. "To Iowa."
"Really?" She was absolutely incredulous.
"Really." He smiled. "Do you remember the address?"
"I've never forgotten. 4130 East Highland Drive, Willow Ridge, Iowa, box number 209," she recited
without hesitation.
"Good. We'll be there in about three hours."
Sarah turned to look out the window again, wondering silently what she might find in Iowa.
***
Willow Ridge was a good-sized town, judging from the sign that loudly proclaimed "Population
15,729." After renting a pair of adjoining hotel rooms for the night, they pulled up to the small bank.
Jarod parked the car and grinned encouragingly at the younger pretender. She seemed nervous.
"Do you want me to go in with you?" he asked.
After a moment's consideration, she replied. "No, if you don't mind, I think I should do this alone."
"I understand. I'll wait here."
Without another word, Sarah swung the door open and walked up to the building, clutching the tiny
key. Jarod sat in the car and waited. He was wishing that he had a safe deposit box waiting for him
as a link to his past when Sarah finally returned. She clutched a large manilla envelope to her body
like a security blanket. Sliding back into the passenger seat, she read the name, her name, that was
written in beautiful handwriting on the front.
"Do you want to open it now?" Jarod, too, was curious.
"No, I think I would rather wait until we get back to the hotel," she said, wondering what the
envelope could possibly contain. She knew that it would tell her something about herself, something
she desperately needed to know, but she wasn't sure what that could be or how she would react. She
held the package with her arms crossed tightly over her body until they reached the hotel and then
immediately disappeared into her room, wanting to be alone.
After closing the door behind, Sarah sat down on the bed and looked once again at the fine script on
the envelope. She took a deep breath. Her hands trembled as she gently opened the flap and slid the
contents out onto the bed: another envelope, letter sized this time, and a delicate pendant. It was a
tiny cross that perfectly matched her chain; she slid the pendant onto the gold cord she always wore,
then fastened it back around her neck. She glanced at her reflection for a moment, tenderly fingering
her completed necklace.
Sarah then turned her attention back to the smaller envelope. Inside she found a small photograph
folded into a letter. The picture showed a man and woman holding a tiny baby. She couldn't help
but notice the infant's red hair and that the woman was wearing a small gold pendant just–the one
she had found–before she turned to the letter. After reading it once, she paused, and then read it
twice more, letting the truth sink in.
***
After Sarah had disappeared into her room, Jarod decided to check for any new information in the
search for his own family. He'd received a few emails, but all were dead ends, so he was working
on the website with his mother's photo when he heard Sarah's door open. She walked over to the
desk where he was sitting and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound would come. Her eyes
widened as she saw the woman's face on the computer screen and wordlessly handed Jarod a photo
and a sheet of stationery.
He looked at her questioningly before studying the photo for a long while. Finally, he read the letter.
Stunned, he re-read it, just as Sarah had done. He now understood the pleading in Sarah's eyes as
he looked up at her in silence.
Then he found his voice. "You're my sister?"
She nodded.
and I didn't come up with the idea for the Pretender, so I only take credit for the storyline
and the characters I have created.
Let Be There A Light
Part 1
By Tchabu
Raines led the young girl into a small, dark room. On one wall was a large window. She knew that,
to those on the other side, it appeared to be a simple mirror, enabling her to watch without being
seen. She crossed the tiny space, gazing intently at the men in the room beyond.. One of them she
knew right away: Sydney, one of the men who worked here at the Centre. The other man's back was
turned to her, but the figure seemed familiar–she knew him somehow. The girl searched her mind for
his identity until Raines finally provided an answer to her unspoken question.
"It's Jarod," he rasped in a flat, yet somehow triumphant, tone of voice. "You did it. You helped us
find him."
Just then, the man turned to face Sydney. She instantly recognized him. This was the man she had
spent so many hours simulating; this was the man Raines had forced her to become time and time
again. She looked at him curiously, moving closer to the window. Suddenly, his eyes seemed to meet
hers and she stepped back under the weight of his gaze. She knew that he couldn't see her, but she
could feel his intense stare burning into her. His eyes were so different than anything else she had
ever seen. Dark, angry, cold eyes, filled with deepest pain. Somehow, she knew that he was kind
and compassionate, but she could not have said whether she knew this, too, from those eyes or had
simply sensed it. She whirled around to face Mr. Raines, her own eyes flashing with anger.
"This is Jarod? You told me he was a dangerous man, that he was a killer! You lied to me," she
screamed, trembling with anger. "We took his freedom away from him! You can't use him anymore."
At a quick motion from Raines, Sam and Willy grabbed the distraught, struggling girl and dragged
her out of the room.
***
Jarod sat in his space, finally alone. He was handcuffed to a chair in the middle of the room. It was
late. Dark bags circled his eyes; he'd hardly slept since they had brought him in the prior week. He
was still mentally raging at himself for being so easily caught. After three years of giving the Centre
the slip, they had simply come for him, taking him out of the apartment in which he had been staying.
Jarod's train of thought was broken abruptly as the vent in the ceiling was removed and a young girl
literally dropped, lightly as a cat, into his cell.
"The ceiling ones are always harder," she muttered, dusting her hands off on the dark slacks she wore.
Jarod sat there, speechless and wondering who this could be. Her hair long red hair was pulled into
a messy ponytail; he noticed wavy tendrils pulling loose around her face. She seemed young–he
guessed somewhere around thirteen years old. "Don't worry," she said, in response to his glance at
the security camera in the corner. "It's been temporarily disabled."
"Who are you?" he asked in hushed tones..
"My name is Sarah. I am a pretender, like you." Jarod was silent again, unable to hide his amazement
as she pulled a paper clip from her back pocket and went around to the back of the chair. He felt her
lean down over the cuffs and begin to fiddle with the lock. "I'll try and get you out of these as soon
as I can. They look pretty uncomfortable."
"I'm Jarod."
"I know," she replied.
"How do you know me? Why are you here?" Jarod finally let his questions spill out.
"Got it!" The cuffs fell away, and Jarod rubbed his wrists. "Let's just say that I owe you, and leave
it at that for now."
"How?''
"There isn't much time. Somebody will be in here soon. Do you want out?"
Jarod could not believe his ears. "How do I know I can trust you?" He searched her eyes for the
answer, though he already knew.
"Why else would I come in through the ventilation system?" He sighed, glanced away for amoment
and then nodded. "Good. Be ready tomorrow night, and I will be back. We have help." He looked
at her, and decided that she was really on his side.
"All right, I'll be ready."
"I have to go now. Would you mind giving me a little help?" He nodded again and silently boosted
her up into the hole in the ceiling. Sarah replaced the vent, crawled away, and was gone.
***
Sarah was sitting on her hard mattress, going over the plan in her mind. Everything seemed to be right
so she gathered up the few things she thought of as her belongings: a sketchpad, an extra pair of
slacks, and a turtleneck that she knotted into a make-shift backpack. As she finished up, she heard
a familiar tap. The vent high in the wall swung outwards to reveal Angelo's face. With practiced
ease, she took it his extended arm and swung up into the opening. She glanced backward into the
only home she had known for so long, set her jaw resolutely and worked her way through the walls
of the Centre.
***
Jarod, too, was ready. They had let him stay out of the handcuffs, but he hadn't left the space for over
36 hours now. He had grown increasingly anxious as hours passed, running questions and possibilities
through his mind. What if they failed? How would they get out? Who was helping them? He
expected to see a red head poking through as he heard the grating pulled aside. Instead, he saw
Angelo's grinning face. In silence he took the outstretched arm, and with a small jump, was lifted out
of the cell. They replaced the grating and scrambled off through the heating duct.
Jarod could just barely make out Angelo's form in the thick darkness. His heart was pounding; he
hated the lack of answers and his own lack of control in the situation, but he obediently followed and
accepted that he had no idea where the girl was or what exactly this night would bring.
Left, right, and left again, they crawled until they came to the huge chimneys of the Centre. Sarah
was waiting there for them, her face smudged in soot. She didn't seem to notice. Jarod mouthed
the words "now what?" and she pointed upwards in reply. They were going to climb up the
chimneys.
Sarah and Jarod embraced Angelo, whispering thanks before he disappeared back into the vents. The
redheaded girl immediately began to climb a small maintenance ladder. Jarod followed her without
question, gritting his teeth resolutely. The rungs were slippery with smoke residue, but slowly and
carefully, they continued to climb, finally emerging into the bright moonlight.
"How do we get down?" Jarod asked, leaning out over the immense drop.
"More climbing," Sarah replied. "There is another ladder down to the roof, and more over on the
west end of the building. After that, all we have to do is get past the Sweepers, and then we are out
of here!"
Jarod led the way on the descent and soon they reached the ground. Jarod grabbed Sarah's hand, and
firmly commanded her to stay close behind him as they crept across the lawn. This he had done
before and he knew exactly how to avoid the spotlights and security measures. Ducking and weaving
in and out of shadows, the escapees kept as quiet as possible. Every sound seemed magnified by the
stillness and tension of the night. Soon enough, however, they made it to the highway and each took
a deep breath.
"Come on, we're not safe yet," he said quietly. They began walking quickly down the highway,
simply wanting to put some distance between themselves and the Centre.
***
Two days later, Jarod and Sarah were hundreds of miles from Blue Cove and both were much better
for it. After the first, tense night of escape, Jarod's curiosity about the young girl had returned. He
had so many questions about her identity, her life at the Centre, whether her parents were out there
somewhere like his own. Still, he hadn't been able to get her to say much about herself.
Something in him wanted to know everything about this other pretender, and so he continued to press
her. Finally, he was able to get a very brief overview of her work. As she mentioned various sims,
Jarod's heart sank. So many sounded similar enough to his own simulations that he knew Sarah's
would have been used in the same ways. He wondered whether she understood that the chemical
research and supposed rescue missions would actually cause the destruction of many lives. He said
nothing as she spoke, knowing she would discover the ugly truth soon enough.
Suddenly, Sarah stopped speaking. She searched his eyes intensely for a moment–the thought struck
him that she was seeking answers to silent questions, but he could not be sure. Her voice became
tight and small as she turned her face away and continued to speak.
"Then I began to simulate you." Jarod was only vaguely surprised. He'd had suspicions that they had
been using another pretender. "Mr. Raines told me that you were a very dangerous man, a murderer.
I believed him." Here she dropped her eyes ashamedly. "I took your freedom away."
Before Jarod could respond, she turned and walked quickly into the adjoining room, shutting the door
behind her. He sighed deeply, sat on the edge of his bed and decided to leave her to herself.
***
Jarod passed the door to Sarah's room later that night. It was well after midnight and he was finally
preparing to settle down for a few hours of rest. He heard muffled cries and decided to check on her.
"Sarah? Are you all right?" He tapped at the door but received no answer, so he opened it and
looked into the room. "Sarah?"
He crossed the room to her bed, where she was sleeping restlessly. He switched on the bedside lamp
to see her tense face covered in sweat as she mumbled and cried in her sleep. He tried again to gently
rouse her from the nightmares. "Wake up, Sarah, it's only a dream, he said, laying a hand on her
shoulder.
At the touch, she sat bolt upright and let out a short scream. Her wide, frightened eyes glanced
quickly around the room before settling on Jarod. She tried to stammer out an apology through her
ragged breathing. "Oh, Jarod, I'm so sorry. I thought it was him, and I thought he was coming for
me..." She trailed off as Jarod put his arm around her.
"Will you tell me what you were dreaming about, Sarah?" he asked gently, surprised to note how she
was still trembling.
She shook her head. "I can't! He'll kill you!"
"It was only a dream, Sarah, and I promise that nobody will hurt me if you tell me about it. Now, will
you please tell me what it was about?"
She took a deep breath, obviously reassured by his soothing tone. "When I was a baby, I was
adopted. I don't remember my birth parents–in fact, I don't remember much from when I was very
little. I know my adoptive parents loved me, but not much else.
"I do remember the time a man came to the door in the middle of the night–I was still very young.
I watched him shoot my mother and stab my father..." Sarah closed her eyes for a moment as Jarod
wondered if she would continue. After a moment's silence, she spoke through gritted teeth. "He told
me that if I ever told anybody, what happened to my dad and mom would look like fun. I didn't see
him again for a long time.
"As my father lay there dying, he told me to be a good girl. He gave me this key," she showed Jarod
a small key that hung from a chain on her neck, "and said that it opened a box in a bank in Iowa, and
to never forget the address, and never let anybody take it from me. After going through several foster
homes, I wound up in the Centre. They tried to take my key away, but I kicked and screamed until
they finally gave up."
Jarod was quiet for a few moments. Something about the story bothered him. "You said that you
didn't see the murderer for a long time. Do you know who he is?"
She nodded slowly. "Mr. Lyle, from the Centre."
He had to struggle to keep his face calm, knowing he had to be soothing and strong for this young
girl. Still, the hatred and contempt threatened to surface as he again saw his brother killed by Lyle,
so he pushed the thought firmly from his mind. He smiled at Sarah in encouragement.
"Thank you," he said. "Lyle will never know that you told me." He paused. "Can you go back to sleep
now?"
"Yes." Sarah flashed the first smile she ever gave him as she crawled back under the blankets and
switched off the light.
***
"Where are we going?" Sarah asked. The two pretenders were rolling down the highway in the small
car Jarod had bought that morning. For a while, she had been content to just watch the scenery go
by and to take in all of the colors of which her previous life had been so devoid. She was amazed at
the smallest details: the fresh, clean taste of the air coming through her window, the bright, vibrant
blue of the sky and even the way the sunlight played upon leaves. Now, however, she had finally let
her curiosity get the better of her.
Jarod answered without taking his eyes off of the road. "To Iowa."
"Really?" She was absolutely incredulous.
"Really." He smiled. "Do you remember the address?"
"I've never forgotten. 4130 East Highland Drive, Willow Ridge, Iowa, box number 209," she recited
without hesitation.
"Good. We'll be there in about three hours."
Sarah turned to look out the window again, wondering silently what she might find in Iowa.
***
Willow Ridge was a good-sized town, judging from the sign that loudly proclaimed "Population
15,729." After renting a pair of adjoining hotel rooms for the night, they pulled up to the small bank.
Jarod parked the car and grinned encouragingly at the younger pretender. She seemed nervous.
"Do you want me to go in with you?" he asked.
After a moment's consideration, she replied. "No, if you don't mind, I think I should do this alone."
"I understand. I'll wait here."
Without another word, Sarah swung the door open and walked up to the building, clutching the tiny
key. Jarod sat in the car and waited. He was wishing that he had a safe deposit box waiting for him
as a link to his past when Sarah finally returned. She clutched a large manilla envelope to her body
like a security blanket. Sliding back into the passenger seat, she read the name, her name, that was
written in beautiful handwriting on the front.
"Do you want to open it now?" Jarod, too, was curious.
"No, I think I would rather wait until we get back to the hotel," she said, wondering what the
envelope could possibly contain. She knew that it would tell her something about herself, something
she desperately needed to know, but she wasn't sure what that could be or how she would react. She
held the package with her arms crossed tightly over her body until they reached the hotel and then
immediately disappeared into her room, wanting to be alone.
After closing the door behind, Sarah sat down on the bed and looked once again at the fine script on
the envelope. She took a deep breath. Her hands trembled as she gently opened the flap and slid the
contents out onto the bed: another envelope, letter sized this time, and a delicate pendant. It was a
tiny cross that perfectly matched her chain; she slid the pendant onto the gold cord she always wore,
then fastened it back around her neck. She glanced at her reflection for a moment, tenderly fingering
her completed necklace.
Sarah then turned her attention back to the smaller envelope. Inside she found a small photograph
folded into a letter. The picture showed a man and woman holding a tiny baby. She couldn't help
but notice the infant's red hair and that the woman was wearing a small gold pendant just–the one
she had found–before she turned to the letter. After reading it once, she paused, and then read it
twice more, letting the truth sink in.
***
After Sarah had disappeared into her room, Jarod decided to check for any new information in the
search for his own family. He'd received a few emails, but all were dead ends, so he was working
on the website with his mother's photo when he heard Sarah's door open. She walked over to the
desk where he was sitting and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound would come. Her eyes
widened as she saw the woman's face on the computer screen and wordlessly handed Jarod a photo
and a sheet of stationery.
He looked at her questioningly before studying the photo for a long while. Finally, he read the letter.
Stunned, he re-read it, just as Sarah had done. He now understood the pleading in Sarah's eyes as
he looked up at her in silence.
Then he found his voice. "You're my sister?"
She nodded.
