Rain had been falling since afternoon, showing no sign of stopping.
Raindrops struck the roof of Evelyn Grace's small house in a steady rhythm. In the corner of the living room, which also served as her workroom, the fifty-seven-year-old woman still sat at her sewing machine.
Her scarred hands moved nimbly as she finished the last stitches on a custom dress for a client.
She was used to working late into the night. Work kept her mind occupied. Work meant she didn't have to remember the past.
That was what she had done for the past twenty years.
Evelyn cut the thread, carefully folded the dress, and set it on the table.
The wall clock showed nine o'clock. The house felt silent.
Sarah, her daughter, still hadn't returned from the city library. The girl often spent her time there reading or helping organize newly arrived books.
Evelyn rose from her chair, rubbing her back as it began to ache.
She walked to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of warm tea.
But before she could take a sip, a knock sounded at the front door.
Evelyn turned. Who would come by this late at night?
She set down her cup. The knock came again, softer this time.
The woman drew a deep breath before walking toward the door.
The moment she opened it, a cold wind blew straight into her face.
A woman stood on the threshold. She looked to be around thirty.
Her black hair was wet from the rain. The brown coat she wore was spattered with mud. It wasn't her appearance that made Evelyn freeze. It was her eyes. There was something strange about that gaze, as if the woman knew her.
"I'm sorry," the woman said with a faint smile. "Are you Mrs. Evelyn Grace?"
Evelyn's heart began to beat faster. "Yes."
The woman dipped her head. "I've finally found you, ma'am."
The furrow between Evelyn's brows deepened. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?"
The woman shook her head. "Perhaps you don't remember me."
"I suppose I don't."
The woman exhaled slowly. "My name is Mercy."
The name didn't remind Evelyn of anyone.
She tried to recall the face of the woman standing before her, but found nothing.
"Have we met before?"
The woman nodded. "Yes."
"When?"
"A very long time ago."
Evelyn felt something she didn't like.
The feeling was like a shadow moving behind the door of a memory she'd kept tightly locked all these years.
"I'm sorry, but I truly don't remember you."
Mercy smiled again. "That isn't surprising."
"Then how can I help you?"
Mercy looked at her for several seconds. Her gaze was gentle, yet held something difficult to explain. Pity, or perhaps loss.
"I came to thank you," she finally said.
"Thank me?" Evelyn frowned. "For what?"
Mercy swallowed. "Because you saved me once, Mrs. Grace."
The world seemed to stop moving. The cup of tea still sent up steam on the kitchen table. Rain battered the windows. The hands of the clock kept moving.
Everything seemed to recede. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."
Mercy shook her head. "I couldn't be mistaken."
"I've never saved anyone."
Mercy shook her head slowly. "You saved me. A long time ago."
Evelyn's throat went dry. "Who are you, really?"
Again, Mercy looked straight into Evelyn's eyes. Her gaze was so calm that it made Evelyn uneasy.
"Twenty years ago, in a place called Black Hollow, you saved me."
Evelyn's body went rigid. Black Hollow. The name struck her like lightning. For decades, she'd tried to erase it from her life. For decades, she'd convinced herself that the place had vanished along with the past.
Yet tonight, that name had returned. And with it came the shadows that had been hiding in the corners of her memory all this time.
The forest.
Crying.
Darkness.
A small child.
Evelyn's fingers began to tremble. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Mercy took something from her bag. A small, faded piece of cloth. She unfolded it slowly. In one corner was an embroidered wildflower. Evelyn's face suddenly went pale.
She recognized the stitching. She was the one who had made it.
Her hand rose unconsciously. "That..."
"I've kept it all these years."
Evelyn took a step back. No. This was impossible. She had left everything behind. She had changed her name. She had built a new life. She had buried her past. How could the past never truly be buried? How could it simply wait for the right moment to come knocking at the door?
Unfortunately, tonight it had come in the form of a woman named Mercy.
In the distance, footsteps sounded outside the house. Sarah had finally come home.
But Evelyn no longer heard anything. Her gaze remained fixed on the small piece of cloth in Mercy's hand. And for the first time in decades, the fear she'd kept buried rose to life again.
Because she knew one thing. If Black Hollow had returned to her life, then all the secrets she'd hidden for so long might be exposed as well.