Chapter 28: The Knock

The rain hadn’t let up.

It slid down the windows in sheets, the sky still the same oppressive grey, and the house still wrapped in that heavy, aching silence. Faith and Paul sat close on the couch, wrapped in each other’s warmth but lost in their own quiet thoughts. Outside, the wind rattled the tree branches and the soft patter of drops against glass filled the space between them.

Then came the knock.

A gentle rap at first—almost tentative. Neither of them moved.

Faith blinked, then glanced at Paul, who stared straight ahead. Both were still caught in that slow drift through memory and grief.

Another knock. A little firmer.

Paul stirred slightly, brow furrowing. He turned toward the front of the house as a third knock came, soft and brief. It broke the spell.

Faith stirred, sitting up. She looked at him, eyes wide but unreadable. Paul stood slowly. “I’ll get it,” he said, but Faith’s hand reached out to stop him.

“No,” she whispered. “Let me.”

He nodded, and they moved together down the hallway toward the front door.

As Faith reached for the handle, they both caught a glimpse through the frosted glass. A figure was walking away from the porch, head bowed under the brim of a wide hat, a long trench coat shielding their body from the downpour. A rolling suitcase trailed behind, bouncing slightly over the cobblestones.

Faith froze. Paul stepped up behind her, placing both hands gently on her shoulders. Her breath caught.

The figure hadn’t turned.

Faith’s voice, thin and trembling, pushed through the silence.

“Kacie?”

The figure stilled. The rain drummed on the pavement.

Her shoulders began to shake.

Faith stepped out into the rain, barefoot on the wet stone. “Kacie?” she called again, louder now, voice full of fragile hope.

The woman turned slowly.

Her face was shadowed beneath the brim, but the voice—choked and soft—cut through the storm.

“Please forgive me?”

The suitcase handle slipped from her fingers.

Faith let out a gasp, a strangled sound, and ran to her, the rain soaking her to the bone in seconds. She threw her arms around Kacie, who collapsed into her embrace, both of them sobbing, clinging tightly as if afraid to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Kacie whispered again and again, barely audible between the sobs. “I’m sorry ... I was scared ... I didn’t know how to—”

Faith held her tighter, kissing her wet cheek, her hair, her trembling lips. “You came,” she whispered back. “Oh god, you’re here.”

Paul stood frozen on the porch for a heartbeat longer, his own heart racing. Then he moved, crossing the wet path, lifting the abandoned suitcase with one hand and placing the other gently on Kacie’s soaked shoulder.

“It’s okay now, love,” he said, voice steady despite the storm raging around them. “You’re home.”

The three of them moved slowly back toward the door, arms around each other, soaked and breathless. Faith leaned into Kacie, their hands still tightly intertwined. Paul opened the door, guiding them gently inside.

The warmth of the house enveloped them as the rain continued to pour outside.

And then, quietly, the door closed behind them.