Mrs. Gable nodded and sat down next to Ethan, who was still holding the shimmering thread.
“I knew Katie,” she began. “Though ‘knew’ is a strong word. she showed up about three years ago. Tiny thing, always barefoot. I tried to buy her shoes a few times, offered her lunch, but she always politely declined.”
“Did she say where she was from?” Alex asked.
“No. She only mentioned once that she lived on the outskirts, near the old ridge. When I asked about her parents, she’d just smile and say she was being looked after.”
Mrs. Gable paused, gathering her thoughts.
“She was a special child. She’d sit on this bench for hours just watching people. I asked her once what she was doing, and she said, ‘Waiting for my purpose.’ I didn’t get it then. But yesterday…”
Ethan leaned in. “Did you see her yesterday evening?”
“I did,” the woman nodded. “After you left, she stayed in the square for a while. People were crowding her, asking questions, but she didn’t say much. Then she came over to me, smiled, and said, ‘My work here is done.’ I asked what she meant, but she just turned and started walking toward the ridge.”
“The ridge?” Alex asked. “What’s up there?”
Mrs. Gable sighed. “There’s an old cemetery and a small, abandoned chapel. Not many people go up there anymore. But I saw Katie head that way sometimes. They say that chapel is a quiet place to pray.”
Alex felt his heart thumping. “Can you show me the way?”
“Dad, let’s go!” Ethan jumped up.
“Yes, son. We have to find her.”
Mrs. Gable drew a quick map on a piece of paper. Alex thanked her and led Ethan to the car.
The drive took about twenty minutes. They left the town limits, winding up a narrow road until they saw a small hill covered in tall grass and a few scattered trees. At the top stood the weathered white chapel, its paint peeling in the sun.
They hiked up the trail. Ethan kept stopping to look at everything: the wildflowers, the birds, the clouds. To him, the world was a masterpiece, and every detail was a gift.
The chapel was tiny, with a low door and narrow windows. Alex pushed the door open; it creaked on its hinges. Inside, it was cool and silent. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight hitting the simple wooden pews.
“There’s no one here,” Ethan whispered.
Alex looked around. The chapel was empty. But on the windowsill of one of the windows, he saw something sparkling. He walked over and found another thin, translucent thread, identical to the one Ethan had found. He picked it up with trembling fingers.
“She was here,” Alex breathed.
Ethan stood beside him. In the silence of that old chapel, Alex felt something inside him break. All his pride, his need for control, his belief that money could solve everything—it all crumbled. He sat down on a pew and put his head in his hands. Tears started to fall, and he didn’t stop them.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the empty room. “I’m sorry, Katie. I was the one who was blind. Not in my eyes, but in my heart. You gave my son his life back, and I couldn’t even say thank you. I was a coward. Please forgive me.”
Ethan sat next to his father and hugged him.
“Dad, don’t cry,” he said softly. “I think she hears us, wherever she is.”
They sat there for a long time until Alex finally composed himself. He stood up, wiped his face, and looked at his son.
“You know what I realized, Ethan?” he said hoarsely. “I thought I was strong because I could buy anything I wanted. But real strength is admitting when you’re wrong. It’s accepting that some things are just beyond our control.”
“And it’s about having faith,” Ethan added.
“Yeah,” Alex nodded. “And having faith.”
They left the chapel and walked back down the hill. On the way home, Ethan asked, “Dad, are we going to keep looking for her?”
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