Chapter 5: Home Again—And Never the Same

......

During this time, Lila’s soul floated everywhere, busy with something.

She slipped through walls, eavesdropping on servants, searching for answers. Sometimes she’d come back with news, sometimes just a sad smile. I wondered what she’d find.

The day before Halloween, she brought news.

She burst into the room, eyes shining. "I found something!" I sat up, heart pounding.

"Pastor Thompson at Trinity Church on the edge of town can see me, and I found out the prayers she says aren’t in Latin, but in English."

We stared at her, mouths open. Was this our ticket home? I felt hope rising.

Harper and I looked at each other.

A spark of hope flared between us. Maybe, just maybe, we had a chance. I grinned.

What a twist!

I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. It was almost too good to be true. I wanted to jump up and down.

Another time traveler?

The idea was wild, but nothing surprised me anymore. I was ready for anything.

"She also said, ‘Come from where you came, go where you go. Those with faith can seek me at the church, and if you’re sincere, it will work.’"

It sounded like something out of a fairy tale, but we were willing to try anything. I nodded, determined.

Did this mean we had a way back?

My heart pounded, hope and fear warring inside me. I was ready to risk it.

"Frog legs! Fried chicken, milkshakes, and ice cream are calling!"

I laughed, picturing my favorite diner back home—greasy fries, thick shakes, and a jukebox playing classic rock. I missed comfort food more than I’d ever admit.

The three of us hugged, excited.

We clung to each other, hope making us giddy. For the first time, escape felt possible. I almost cried.

On the first and fifteenth of each month, the Whitaker women went out to leave flowers at the cemetery.

It was a somber ritual, but it gave us the perfect cover. We planned our escape down to the minute. Harper drew a map on the back of a recipe card.

So, on Halloween, Harper went out without trouble.

She slipped out in her best dress, head high. I followed, nerves jangling. The moon was bright, the air crisp.

But we didn’t rush to the church.

We had unfinished business. Samuel needed to learn a lesson first. I grinned at Harper, and she grinned back.

Samuel had snuck into Harper’s room twice at night before. She’d thrown him out each time, but if we didn’t get him back, it wouldn’t feel right.

We waited in the shadows, watching as he crept toward the summer house, oblivious to the traps we’d set. I held my breath.

When we arrived, he’d already fallen into the traps, sitting in the mud with a bloody leg, howling like a banshee.

He flailed, cursing, his suit ruined. I snapped a mental picture, savoring the moment. Harper laughed.

But tonight, all the servants were gone, so his cries were useless.

He was alone, his pride shattered. It was almost poetic. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Cousin, cousin, help me, please help me," he saw Harper and clung to her, trying to crawl out.

He reached for her, but she stepped back, eyes cold. She didn’t flinch.

But then he stopped smiling.

He realized she wasn’t going to save him. Panic flickered in his eyes. Harper looked fierce.

Harper pulled out a riding crop and whipped him hard. "For harassing me! For creeping me out!"

She didn’t hold back, her anger sharp and justified. I cheered her on from the shadows. He howled.

"Ow... cousin, have mercy..."

He whimpered, finally learning what "no" meant. Harper didn’t care.

For a while, the whole property echoed with his cries.

It was music to my ears. Justice, at last. Harper high-fived me as we left.

After dealing with Samuel, we hurried to Trinity Church by moonlight.

The night was cold, the moon bright. We ran through the empty streets, hearts pounding. I could feel the adrenaline.

Lila’s soul floated ahead and had already gone to see Pastor Thompson.

She led the way, her glow lighting our path. I clutched Harper’s hand, afraid to let go. We were almost there.

When Harper and I got there, we saw candles everywhere and a crowd of people.

The church was packed, the air thick with incense. I spotted Old Whitaker near the altar, his eyes cold and calculating. My heart sank.

Old Whitaker and a bunch of staff.

They blocked the doors, flashlights and bats in hand. My heart sank. I glanced at Harper, ready for anything.

"You just can’t sit still, can you?" He clutched two silver cufflinks, his eyes cold and calculating.

His voice was low, dangerous. I glared back, refusing to be intimidated. Harper just rolled her eyes.

Harper rolled her eyes: "You knew I wasn’t your daughter all along, didn’t you?"

She stood tall, defiant. Old Whitaker sneered, saying nothing. He looked furious.

Old Whitaker looked knowing, silent.

He tapped the cufflinks, a silent threat. I braced myself. Harper squared her shoulders.

"I warned you, as long as you played along and worked for the Whitaker legacy, you’d be my daughter. But you don’t deserve that blessing!"

His words dripped with contempt. Harper just laughed. I wanted to punch him.

Harper sneered: "You steal my inventions, erase my name, lock me away, your wife gives me scraps, makes me sew and copy verses at midnight—what blessing is that?"

She listed every injustice, her voice rising. The crowd shifted, uneasy. I cheered her on silently.

Old Whitaker’s face darkened: "If you weren’t still useful, I’d have sent you packing."

He stepped closer, menace in every line of his body. I stepped between them, ready to fight. Harper didn’t back down.

"So you just want more. Greed will be your downfall! Harper shot back."

Her words echoed through the church, a challenge and a warning. The crowd murmured.

"Enough. Hand over the blueprints for the new machine and I’ll let you go."

He held out his hand, expecting her to obey. Harper just laughed. I glared.

Old Whitaker glared at us, the staff behind him holding flashlights and bats, ready to pounce.

I looked around, searching for an escape. The odds weren’t good. Harper squeezed my hand.

"I don’t buy it, you old fox!" I grabbed Harper and ran the other way.

We bolted, dodging hands and swinging bats. My heart pounded, adrenaline surging. We nearly tripped over a pew.

The staff chased us fast.

Their footsteps thundered behind us. I glanced back, fear and excitement mingling. We ran faster.

As we neared the church doors, Lila suddenly appeared, blocking them.

She stood tall, her presence commanding. The crowd froze, staring in shock. She glowed in the candlelight.

"Father, they saved me. Don’t hurt them."

Her voice was clear, strong. Old Whitaker’s face twisted in disbelief. He stepped back.

She’d formed a new body; now everyone could see her.

She glowed, radiant and real. The staff stepped back, murmuring in awe. I felt hope surge.

She pushed us inside.

"Go ahead, the way back is in here!"

Her eyes pleaded with us. I grabbed Harper’s hand, ready to run. We raced forward.

Harper and I grabbed her: "Come with us."

We couldn’t leave her behind. She shook her head, tears in her eyes. I wanted to argue.

She shook her head: "I don’t belong in your time. This was a glitch in time and space. Now, it’s time for everyone to go home."

Her words were final, her smile bittersweet. I wanted to argue, but I knew she was right. My throat tightened.

So she knew all along she couldn’t come with us.

I bit my lip, fighting tears. Harper squeezed my hand, silent. We both understood.

Before I could react, she stepped forward, facing her father.

She looked him in the eye, unafraid. "I’m not your property anymore." My heart swelled with pride.

"Lila?"

His voice trembled, uncertainty flickering for the first time. He looked smaller, somehow.

Seeing his daughter again, Old Whitaker wasn’t happy, just glared at Harper and me.

He looked at us like we were insects, not worth his time. I glared right back.

"Now you’re back, come to me. Whatever the problem, we’ll talk at home."

He held out his hand, expecting obedience. Lila stood her ground. She didn’t move.

Lila’s face was calm: "If you insist on catching them, you’ll have to go through me."

Her voice was steady, her eyes bright with unshed tears. I felt a surge of love for her.

She raised her hand, and the church doors began to close, separating us.

The candles flickered, the air grew cold. I felt a pull, dragging me away. My heart hammered.

"Lila..." I called out, reaching for her, but my body was pulled away, farther and farther from her.

My vision blurred, her face growing smaller and smaller. I tried to hold on.

She turned back, eyes shining with tears, smiling gently.

Her smile was soft, forgiving. I tried to memorize every detail. I didn’t want to forget her.

"Sister Harper, thank you for explaining every problem, taking me to every movie, sharing every book, and for the phone, the AC, the fridge. Sorry I was so slow, I still didn’t learn everything. My first sixteen years were gray, but seeing the light for a moment was enough. Now, I want to live for myself, for once."

Her words wrapped around me, warm as a favorite blanket, aching in all the best ways. I wanted to shout that she was enough, that she was brave, that she was loved.

Her voice was gentle, but I felt a bad chill: "What are you going to do, Lila?"

My heart raced, fear clawing at me. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Not like this.

She still smiled with tears: "Please thank Mr. and Mrs. Brooks for me. If there’s a next life, I’ll pay them back."

Her voice faded, her face grew blurry. I tried to hold on, but the darkness swallowed her up. I whispered, "Goodbye."

Harper and I were swept into darkness, drifting away.

It felt like falling, like flying, like letting go of everything you’ve ever known. I held onto Harper’s hand, refusing to let go.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a white hospital room.

The sunlight streamed through the blinds, the beeping of machines steady and reassuring. I blinked, disoriented, then relief washed over me. The air smelled like antiseptic and hope.

Doctors, nurses, Mom, Dad, everyone around me.

Mom was crying, Dad clutching my hand. I tried to smile, my throat dry. I wanted to tell them everything.

"You’re finally awake. Fever’s gone."

The doctor’s voice was gentle, almost reverent. I looked around, searching for my sister. Was she here too?

I was wrapped up like a mummy—it was from the car accident a month ago.

Bandages covered my arms, my head ached. But I was home. I was safe. I blinked back tears.

My sister woke up too—Harper was back. I could have cried.

She smiled at me, her eyes clear and bright. I wanted to hug her, but the IV got in the way. We just grinned at each other, both of us knowing.

And Lila, she stayed in that world.

I closed my eyes, whispering a silent thank you. I hoped she found happiness, wherever she was. She deserved it.

......

After that, I healed day by day. By the time I left the hospital, I could walk fine. Every step felt like a miracle. Harper cheered me on.

Physical therapy was slow, but I pushed through. My family cheered me on, every step a victory. We celebrated with ice cream after every session.

I went back to college, my sister went back to school to get ready for next year’s SATs.

We fell into a new routine—late-night study sessions, coffee runs, laughter echoing through the house. It felt good to be normal again. We even started Sunday pancake breakfasts.

Mom and Dad stopped working late; they came home every night for dinner with us.

We cooked together, watched old sitcoms like Friends and The Office, played board games on Fridays. For the first time in years, we felt like a real family. I never wanted it to end.

Life went on, like nothing had ever happened.

But sometimes, I’d catch my sister staring out the window, a faraway look in her eyes. We never talked about it, but we both remembered. Some things you just can’t forget.

Half a year later, my sister got into Northwestern, just like she wanted.

The acceptance letter came in a big white envelope. We screamed. We danced. We called every relative we knew. It was the best day ever.

She lost a year, but it didn’t hurt her grades.

She worked harder than anyone I knew, determined to make up for lost time. I was so proud, I could burst. She deserved every bit of it.

We were all so happy.

Dad popped champagne, Mom baked a cake, and we spent the night reminiscing about everything we’d been through. It felt like the happy ending to a long, hard movie.

When the acceptance letter came, I spent a whole day with her by the lake, acting crazy. When night fell, hungry, we went to eat.

We skipped rocks, raced down the pier, told each other secrets. By the time the stars came out, our stomachs were growling. We laughed until our sides hurt.

Walking down the crowded street, I suddenly heard a familiar voice: "Sister Harper, can I come with you?"

I froze, heart pounding. The voice was soft, hopeful, unmistakable. I turned slowly, breath caught in my throat.

I turned around—it was Lila Whitaker.

She stood in the crowd, a backpack slung over one shoulder, her hair in a neat ponytail. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a coming-of-age movie, sweet and shy, her eyes full of wonder. My heart leapt, hope blooming inside me. Maybe, just maybe, some stories never really end.