Page 4 of A Sister's Secret
"Passed away?" Oliver echoed, his mind recoiling, seeking refuge in denial. How could it be? Michelle, with her rebellious spirit and wild laughter, was gone? She was out there somewhere, or so he had always believed, living her life.
Memories surged through him, unbidden. Images of a young girl with braided hair, her face alight with mischief as they played along the rugged coastline. He had been a protector from childhood’s squabbles and scraped knees. And then, the years peeled away to reveal darker times when their paths diverged into forests thick with silence and unspoken regrets.
"Oliver?" The sheriff's hand rested on his shoulder, grounding him to the present.
"Wh-what happened?" Oliver's words stumbled out, tripping over themselves as his thoughts raced. She had been gone so long, a whisper of a life that once ran parallel to his own. What had claimed her? Was it the wilderness she sought or something more sinister?
"Details are scarce right now," Sheriff Coleman admitted. "But I promise you, we will find out. We owe it to her… to you."
Oliver nodded, numbness seeping into his limbs. A lifetime of questions bloomed in his chest, thorny and wild. Yet amidst the tumult of grief and confusion, one thing stood clear and unwavering: he would unearth the truth of his sister's fate, for the love that persisted through absence and silence, for the bond not even death could sever.
Lisa paused, the clink of coffee cups and murmurs from the café fading into a distant hum as she caught sight of Sheriff Coleman leaving the office and finding a seat at a nearby table. He caught Lisa’s eye, and his expression seemed to give her permission to go to Oliver. The subtle furrow of her brow spoke volumes of her intuition that something was amiss. A mother's instinct, woven with threads of past adversities, honed her sensitivity to the unseen troubles lurking beneath the surface of everyday life. She wiped her hands on her apron, the fabric a testament to countless hours of nurturing and care within these walls, and moved with purpose toward the narrow hallway leading to the back office.
The door was ajar, revealing Oliver standing still as a statue, his usually warm eyes now pools of despair. Lisa's heart contracted at the sight, a silent alarm ringing through her veins. Without hesitation, she crossed the threshold, her footsteps soft but swift. As if guided by a force greater than herself, she reached Oliver's side in an instant, her arms enfolding him with a strength forged from years of facing her own demons and emerging resilient.
"Oliver?" Her voice was gentle yet laced with concern as she held him close, feeling the tremors that shook his frame.
His voice was fractured by emotion, barely louder than a whisper. "It's Michelle… she's gone, Lisa."
The words hung between them, each syllable laden with a heartbreaking finality. Lisa's embrace tightened as she absorbed the blow of his grief, the sharp edge of loss cutting through the air.
Tears blurred her vision, empathy blooming within her like a delicate yet persistent flower pushing through winter's frost.
"Oh, Oliver, I'm so sorry," she managed to say, her voice thick with sorrow. Her hazel eyes, always so attentive and kind, now reflected the shared pain that connected their souls in this moment of raw vulnerability.
In the quiet of the office, with only the faint sounds of life continuing outside, they stood entwined by more than just their arms. Heavy with the loss of a sister he had both adored and mourned for years, Oliver's heart found a glimmer of solace in Lisa's unwavering support. And as the reality of his loss seeped into the depths of their being, they leaned on one another, finding a semblance of peace amidst the turmoil.
Sheriff Coleman's silhouette loomed in the doorway, his presence a solemn anchor in the storm of emotion that raged through the small office. The lines etching his face seemed to deepen as he took in the sight of Oliver and Lisa, their bodies interlocked in a desperate bid for comfort.
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such news," he said, his voice a low rumble of empathy that resonated in the confined space. "Oliver, Lisa, I want you both to know that I'll turn over every stone to give you answers. We owe Michelle that much. We all loved her."
The sheriff's eyes, usually so sharp and assessing, now held a softness that belied his gruff exterior. It was clear that beneath the badge and the years of upholding law and order, Jim Coleman's heart bled just as theirs did.
Oliver nodded, his jaw clenched in an effort to stave off the swell of emotions threatening to spill forth once more. Lisa, feeling the tension in her husband's frame, drew him closer, her own grief mingling with his as they sought refuge in each other's arms.
"Thank you, Jim," Oliver managed to say, his words muffled against Lisa's hair. The café around them faded into irrelevance, the clinking of dishes and murmur of patrons nothing but a distant echo against the gravity of their loss.
Lisa's tears were silent. Her strength at this moment manifested not through stoicism but through the tenderness with which she held Oliver.
Together, they stood, wrapped in a cocoon of shared sorrow and love. The world outside might continue its relentless march forward, but within the confines of the office, time seemed to pause, allowing them just a moment to breathe—to absorb the shock of a universe abruptly and irrevocably altered.
In the quiet aftermath of the sheriff's promise, the air buzzed with unspoken questions and fears about what lay ahead.
Chapter Three
The edges of the worn wooden table bit into Oliver's fingers as his grip tightened, a futile attempt to anchor himself against the news that had just capsized his world. The sheriff's words still echoed in the room, bouncing off walls hung with pictures of happier times, now tainted with the grief of loss.
Oliver nodded silently to Sheriff Coleman, his throat too tight to form words. He could feel the shock painted across his face, a mirror of the heartbreak he saw in Lisa's eyes.
"We should go," he finally managed. His voice was a stranger's—a hollow sound that seemed inadequate amidst the swirling emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
"Your parents are expecting us," Sheriff Coleman added gently, his stern features softened with empathy.
As they drove through town, the familiar sights blurred past Oliver and Lisa, leaving them wrapped in an oppressive silence broken only by the occasional gravel crunch beneath the tires. The sheriff's cruiser rolled to a stop outside the Thompson family home, secluded amongst the evergreens on the outskirts of their small town.
“I’ll wait for you here,” the sheriff said. “Give you some privacy to talk. I’ll take you both home after. I already spoke with them earlier.”
“Thanks, Jim,” Oliver said.