"Izzy—that's your name, right? Isn't this your stop?"

A sharp tap on her shoulder. Startled, Izzy turned from the train window. The younger girl seated beside her raised an eyebrow.

"You did say Grand Rapids, didn't you? You don't want to miss it. Next one isn't for miles."

The girl had chattered non stop since she'd boarded the train. She didn't seem to mind that Izzy had only told her two things, her name and her stop.

With a nod, Izzy grabbed the bar to stand, her knees shaking violently underneath her. Fear had a tight hold on her, it had been bearing down the closer she came to home.

What if no one was there to greet her? What if they'd decided she couldn't return? Even worse, what if they all seemed like complete strangers, playing the part of her family like actors on a set?

She grabbed her bag and made her way to the door. With each reluctant step, her heart knocked painfully against her ribs. At the doorway she froze, feeling as if her entire life would be determined in the next few moments.

The station was busier than usual. People lined up to board, tickets in their hands. A sweep of the crowd brought no familiar faces. No one called out her name. Izzy's heart sunk as she started down the stairs.

But then there was the sound of shoes smacking the pavement. A couple of men in suits parted for a red headed girl to charge through—Maria.

Izzy rushed down the rest of the stairs to her sister's arms, dropping her bag on the ground beside her. They both burst into tears as they embraced.

"Oh my gosh, I think you've grown at least a foot since I've been gone," Izzy cried, her voice muffled in her sister's curls. She stood back to look at her. "Oh Maria, I missed you so much!"

Her little brother Sam appeared next, a wide smile on his face when his eyes met hers. He grabbed her around the waist and buried his face in her side, sobbing. Izzy grabbed his cheeks so she could see his shining hazel eyes.

"Don't cry Sammy. I'm back. I'm home."

"Mama said you were sick," Sam said, wiping his eyes. "I thought you were gonna die."

Izzy and Maria exchanged glances. Secrets and lies. Izzy feared it would be her new way of life. "I'm not sick anymore," she said. "I'm all better."

Her mother and father walked through the crowd and stopped a few feet from her. Glimpsing them, Izzy straightened, her heart working up speed.

Her father's eyes were soft and sad when they met hers. He opened his arms and she raced to greet him, casting aside all of the doubt and worry she'd harbored since she'd left the home.

"How are you?" he asked. "Are you alright? We've worried so much about you these past few months."

Beside her, her mother dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

Her father reached down and grabbed her bag. He was never one to dwell long on emotional moments.

"Let's get you back home where you belong," he said in a gruff voice.

His simple words sparked such relief in Izzy, she exploded into tears. As hard as she tried she couldn't rein them back in. Her ragged breaths brought stares from a couple walking by.

"Come now," her mother pushed, placing a stiff hand on her back. "Let's not make a scene."

Izzy sat between Maria and Sam as they rode home in the family's blue station wagon. It seemed surreal to be back with her family once again. She had to keep reminding herself that she would never see that foreboding stone prison by the lake again. It was over.

But, she sensed that things were far from how they used to be. The usual light and happy banter they enjoyed on many a road trip as a family was replaced by tense silence. Everyone understood that questions about Izzy's stay were forbidden, leaving them with nothing to say at all.

Instead she focused on the town whizzing by, the sound of dogs barking, horns honking—the giggle of a child on the sidewalk. All things she hadn't heard for months. As they drew closer to home, the familiar buildings sent warm hugs to her heart, but along with them a sprinkle of anxiety.

Eventually her father broke the silence, casting her a quick glance from the driver's seat. "We have a surprise for you, Izzy. You're going to have your own room."

"We fixed it all up for you," Maria chimed in. "Mama and I made curtains and everything."

"Since Ricky's in college, we thought you would enjoy some privacy," said her mother, turning in her seat to smile at Izzy.

"And there needs to be a space for the new baby," said Sam.

Izzy drew in a sharp breath, looking from Sam to her parents in the front seat. She quickly tried to pull herself together. An awkward silence followed and Maria gave Sam an angry glare.

The little boy shrugged, looking confused. "What?"

Her father sighed, frowning as he looked ahead. "This isn't how we wanted to tell you, Izzy. But I guess it will have to do. Your mother's expecting. You'll have a baby sister or brother in a few months."

Izzy stared out of the window, her lip trembling. Inside, her world once again tipped and fell off a cliff. But, on the outside she kept very still, her eyes fixed on the houses lining the street.

"That's great," she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

They made a right on Griggs Street and cruised up the steep hill to her childhood home. It looked the same as she left it, comforting—familiar. No more cold stone floors or winding empty halls. No more painful moans or terrified screams echoing at night. She was home.

It was half past four when they pulled into the driveway and parked in the cinder block garage. Sam and Maria leapt out of the passenger doors, eager to show Izzy her new room.

She pasted a smile on her face as Sam dragged her along the sidewalk, past the family picnic table and barbecue, the large oak and the laundry poles, to the side door. There was less snow on the ground than when she'd boarded the train, only a thin layer to cover the grass.The narrow walkway was slick, and she lost her footing a couple of times as she was pulled along.

The air was crisp and fresh, her breath billowed out like smoke into it. Her new life had begun. She'd wished for this day for months when she was living at the home. Still reeling from her mother's pregnancy, she knew she had to cast aside her baby, Saint Mary's Home for Unwed Mothers and anything to do with it—otherwise she wouldn't survive.

Once inside, it seemed easy to forget all of those things as the sweet smells of home met her nose. She followed the two up the staircase, noting the same creak on the fifth stair, just as she remembered it. The oval, gold framed mirror at the top captured their faces and the old framed picture of her mother as a child with her grandfather watched them as they passed by.

Maria swung open the door to her room with great bravado. "Ta da!" she said.

Izzy had to admit she was happy to have a space to herself, although she wouldn't have minded having Maria room with her. Her bed and flowered chair were beckoning, her record player and radio stood waiting to be played. She hadn't heard a song on the radio for months.

Hours later, after dinner, forced smiles and awkward silences, she was able to retreat back to her room and the comfort of her own bed. As the radio played softly she cried, making sure not to let a sound escape, which lead to her throat aching painfully in the end.

"Ladies and Gentlemen that was Wes and the Flames," the announcer said over the radio. "Hottest new group in Hollywood."

Izzy's stomach fluttered and she sat up in bed, her eyes fixed on the radio. Wes? Could it be? Yes, Wes and the Flames was the name of his band! It was him on the radio! Imagine that!

The excitement only lasted for a moment before reality set in. The brief memories she had of Wes were something she'd held onto, like a dream, to pull out and think about when times were hard. She fantasized about meeting him again, but only to get her through that awful place.

The truth was, should they truly meet again, Wes wouldn't even remember who she was. She was a speck of sand in the beach of girls who were most certainly available to him, wherever he was.

Probably at a big fancy party in Hollywood rubbing elbows with Elvis, she thought.

Wes was another memory she needed to remove, she decided.

She lay back down on her bed and stared at the ceiling as a slow, sad song from the Everly Brothers started to play. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach. There were times she swore she could still feel her move. Her eyes had almost shut when there was a small tap on the door.

"Come in," she called. For a moment she forgot where she was, half expecting a nurse or a nun enter her room.

Maria opened the door a crack and slid through, shutting it quietly behind her. The freckled girl looked cautiously towards the door, then back to Izzy. She hoisted herself on the bed.

"Mama doesn't want us to talk about what happened. But I can't stand it anymore. Was it horrid? What was the place they sent you like? Did you have it—the baby?" She frowned, working her fingers together. "Well of course you did, that was a stupid question."

Izzy put her hand up to stop her. "Those are a lot of questions," she said.

Although she didn't want to churn up bad memories, it felt good to stop pretending things never happened. Looking at Maria, she couldn't help but think of Dottie. In another life, the two could have been great friends.

"First of all, you must promise that you won't go blabbing to Mama or Dad the first time you get mad at me," Izzy said, casting her a serious look.

Hurt filled Maria's eyes, making Izzy instantly regret her words. "I promise I'll never do that again, Izzy. I know it's my fault you had to stay at that awful place. I wished I hadn't done it right afterwards, but it was too late. I don't blame you if you don't trust me anymore, or if you hate me forever. I'm really, really sorry."

"Maria, I don't blame you at all," said Izzy. "I would have had to go regardless if you told them then or they found out later. It's not your fault."

Maria burst into tears and hugged Izzy tightly, her words muffled in her chest. "I was so scared you'd hate me when you came back."

"How could I possibly hate you?" asked Izzy, looking into her big, round eyes.

Maria smiled, hot tears dripping down her cheeks. Izzy brushed her red curls away from her face. The girl never kept her hair in a neat ponytail or down and brushed out. It was always a flaming mess of curls around her head. She didn't care what people thought of her. Izzy secretly hoped she'd never change.

"Will you promise me one more thing?" Izzy asked.

"Yes, what is it?" asked Maria.

"Promise me you won't fall for a boy like I did," said Izzy. "That you won't be a fool and believe all his lies. And make him marry you before you give him anything, even a kiss."

"I hate Donny," said Maria with disgust. "Him and his family."

They talked for awhile about the Home and the nuns and the girls Izzy met. She left the most painful details out, including the baby.

An abrupt knock on the door caught them both of guard. Her mother came inside, a laundry basket resting on her hip. She frowned at Izzy and Maria on the bed.

"Maria, it's getting late," she said. "It's time to go to your room. Let Izzy rest."

Maria sighed heavily, climbing off the bed. "I still wish I didn't have to share a room with Sammy. He talks in his sleep."

Grumbling, she shuffled out of the door.

Izzy watched her mother, her heart picking up pace. She could tell by the flat expression on her face that she was angry.

Her mother turned to her when Maria was gone. "I want to make sure you understand that you are not to talk about where you were with anyone, especially Maria," she said. "You're home now, and things are back to normal. It won't do any of us any good to bring up the past."

Izzy swallowed, feeling nothing but cold inside as she stared at her mother's face. Her words were like knives jabbing into her and twisting painfully.

She'd gone through labor terrified and alone, she'd never seen her baby and the guilt of giving her up had led to an overwhelming sadness that nearly wasted her away. Her mother knew nothing because she didn't want to know.

Because then she might be forced to care, Izzy thought.

"Izzy, did you hear what I said?" her mother asked.

"Yes," said Izzy, looking her straight in the eyes. "You want me to pretend like everything is normal."

Her mother sat the laundry basket down on the floor next to her, her eyes narrowing. "I don't like that sass, Izzy. Show some respect. You're back at home and you're going to follow our rules, do you understand?"

"I understand," Izzy said.

"Good," said her mother, a smile on her face. "From now on we look forwards, not backwards."

Thanks for reading, as always votes and comments are much appreciated!