The Hudsons would never have allowed it. Now,
it was easy. Once the shackles are broken, the
spirit starts to fight back.
The sky was clear the day we left. We traveled
by train, the rhythmic rocking lulling me in and
out of those unsettling dreams. The expedition
followed a loop through Nevada, Utah, and
Arizona. From Las Vegas to the Grand Canyon,
across the Bonneville Salt Flats, past ghost
towns and red rock canyons. We explored
ancient ruins, marvelled at the night sky. The
team was mostly geologists. Quiet at first, but
passionate about every rock, every plant, every
tiny desert flower. They were surprisingly funny,
bringing life to the vast, empty landscape. My
upbringing, the Hudson’s “training,” had
exposed me to a lot, but my world had been
small. I’d always thought travel was something
you did with family. Now, hiking through
canyons, camping under the stars, eating burnt
hotdogs around a campfire, covered in dust… I
saw a whole new universe. I knew Holden could
track my itinerary, but it didn’t matter anymore.
After the Southwest, I exchanged contact
Rainier, I was hit with altitude sickness.
Breathless, head pounding, I thought I was
going to die on that mountain. But then the sun
broke through the clouds, illuminating the
snow–capped peaks, and everyone around me
cheered. I burst into tears, a mix of relief and
something else I couldn’t name. The team
fussed over me, giving me oxygen, sugary
drinks. They thought I was in pain. “Don’t cry,
honey, you’re okay now! We got you! You ain’t
gonna die!” “Yeah, girl, you’re young, you’ll be
fine! You got a whole life ahead of you!” Their
Southern drawls made me laugh through my
tears. With their help, I stood up, facing the
sunlit mountain, facing my new life. No matter
the obstacles, no matter how hard the climb, I
could reach the summit on my own.
Back home, I rediscovered old passions. Rock
climbing. Racing. Getting a dog. Before the
Hudsons, I’d been a carefree, energetic girl,
drawn to anything vibrant and alive. But when
you lose your freedom, you lose your passions
<
too. I got a Maltese–Poodle mix and named her
Annie. Caramel–colored fur, big innocent eyes.
When she ran, her ears flapped like little wings.
Dogs are easier than people. They understand
your needs. They never neglect you. They know
you love them, and they love you back. I saw
Holden again at my apartment door. I was
taking Annie for a walk. I opened the door and
there he was, standing by the elevator with
Henry, who was staring nervously at Annie.
“What are you doing here?” I asked coldly,
sitting across from Holden. Henry perched on
the edge of the sofa, frowning at Annie, who
was happily gobbling down her kibble. Holden
studied me silently for a moment. “You’ve lost
weight, Amelia.” I raised an eyebrow. “Answer
the question.” “Henry wanted to see you. I
couldn’t stop him.” “Holden,” I said, “Do you
remember what I told you? We’re divorced.
Stop intruding on my life. Are you having
trouble understanding that?” His lips tightened
into a thin line. “Henry’s too young to be
<
without a mother.” I laughed. I called building
security and had them escorted out. Henry
resisted, standing in my doorway, looking at
me, his mouth opening and closing like he
wanted to say something. I held Annie tight and
closed the door without a glance back. I was
afraid that if I looked, I’d soften. He was my
son, the child I’d risked my life to bring into this
world. I had held him, loved him, soothed him,
cherished him. His first word had been “Mama.”
As a baby, he cried with everyone but me. In my
arms, he was quiet and content. But then
Holden’s mother had decided I wasn’t raising
him right, pushing for their “elite education.” A
child’s upbringing shapes them. They absorb
what they’re told, act accordingly. As he grew
older, he’d distanced himself from me, treating
me with the same polite detachment as Holden.
He called me “Mother,” addressing me formally.
“Mother, could you ask Father to help me with
this? Grandma says you’re not as educated as
Father, and you won’t teach me properly.”
