Hold My Hand (Sequel to Saved: Adopted by Brendon Urie)

Chapter 15

Over the Christmas holidays, Abby continued to work hard. With the time off school, she was having more therapy more frequently. By New Years' Eve, Abby was walking with a walker just to help her with stability. Her stamina still needed some work, too, and so she couldn't walk long distances, but she walked unassisted from her bed to her bathroom now, carefully and would use her walker at school until she didn't need it anymore.

The first day back after the Winter break, Abby surprised her friends by getting out of the car and standing up against it. They all came running over and hugged her, exclaiming the whole time that Abby was standing.

Brendon got her walker out of the car and came around to Abby's side of the car. He handed her her backpack, which she put on, and then he unfolded her walker.  And Brendon watched, proud once again, of his daughter, her tenacity and her drive.

Once Brendon was sure Abby was safely in school, he drove to that once so familiar medical building.

"Brendon, it's good to see you. You look well.  How's Abby doing?" She knew about the accident. What Abby had been facing the past six months.

"She's doing well. At least, I think she is. She won't talk about what sent her running in the first place. I don't know if she talks to you about it, but she won't talk to me about it.  We fought the day of her accident. I hadn't realized how neglected she'd been feeling. And I got mad because she called me out on it."

"It was pretty publicly, though," the therapist reasoned.

"Yeah. But she's also 13. Well, 14 now. At the end of the day, it was mostly harmless. Yeah, I was angry. But more so that she called me out. But I'm having a hard time getting over the guilt."

"What are you feeling guilty about?"

Brendon sighed.

"I got mad at her. Instead of listening to her, I got mad. I yelled. She yelled back. And then she ran away and got hit by that car."

"Okay. Well, here's the thing about accidents.  We can't predict when they'll occur. I'm certain you didn't yell at her in order to send her running in the hopes she'd get hit by a car," the therapist said.

"Obviously not," Brendon smirked.

"So while your guilt isn't misplaced, it's wasted emotion.  Does Abby blame you? Because what I can tell you is in our sessions, she hasn't once said anything about it being your fault. She doesn't blame you."

Brendon sighed again.

"But I blame me," Brendon said, his face in his hands. "I got mad. I made her mad. I made her run. I know when she feels like she's lost control she's prone to run. I didn't think she'd run from the venue in a strange city. I underestimated her and she ran. And she got hurt. I didn't protect her well enough. Like the assault at school. I didn't protect her."

"Brendon, you know you could not have predicted either event. Just like you could not have predicted what happened to Sarah, you could not have predicted you would have met Abby, let alone adopt her.  Abby's progress, from a psychological standpoint has been truly remarkable. She's really doing very well.  You make her feel safe, Brendon. So we're going to work on your guilt. Because like I said, while it isn't misplaced, it's misguided."

Brendon nodded and he and the therapist talked about what had transpired recently, how he was feeling and why. At the end of the session, he felt somewhat better, but he'd come back again for another session. In a week. His therapist didn't think he needed intensive therapy. The way he was behaving, in her opinion, was completely normal. But he needed to move past blaming himself and feeling guilty for things he couldn't control.

After his session, Brendon drove to the cemetery and sat at Sarah's grave.

"Sarah, my love. I know I say this all the time but I miss you so much.  I didn't think I'd still be here but then I met Abby. And well, you clearly already knew her," Brendon smiled. "She's doing so amazingly well, Sarah. She's walking again. She uses a walker at school to help with balance and stamina, because she still tires easily, physically. But she can walk unassisted. You were right. She is amazing. I'm actually thinking we won't have to cancel the European leg. But I think, maybe, after this, it's time to take a break.  I need to focus on Abby more than I have."

Brendon sat at Sarah's grave, just sitting and thinking, remembering his beautiful wife.  He cried. He mourned his lost love. At 2:00, his watch beeped and Brendon got up, wiped his eyes, told Sarah he still loved her as much as he had the day they met and the day they married. That his love was still growing for her. And for Abby. Then, he walked back to his car and drove to Abby's school.

The sadness he'd been feeling as he'd pulled away from the cemetery disappeared the minute his daughter walked out of her school, surrounded by her friends, smiling, laughing and other than the walker she was using, she looked just like any other 14 year old.

Brendon hugged his daughter as she came up to him and he took her walker from her to stow in the trunk as she climbed, unassisted, into the front seat. Brendon looked at his daughter while she situated herself. He sighed to himself. Before he'd met his daughter, he didn't think he'd still be here. The night he'd met Abby, was the night he'd decided he was going to join Sarah. But Abby had been chased to the pier by her foster "father", and they'd interrupted his plans. And immediately he had known. He needed Abby because Abby needed him.

If it hadn't been for Abby, Brendon would not have still been alive. He would have been another statistic.

But he'd saved Abby and Abby had saved him. And she was his purpose. She needed a loving family, and he could at least provide a loving home.

Brendon got into the driver's seat and looked as his daughter as he did up his seatbelt. Abby looked up and noticed that he was kind of staring at her.

"Everything okay, Dad?" Abby asked, her eyebrow raised on one side.

"I'm fine," he smiled. "I'm great. You ready to go home?"

Abby smiled. Every time her dad said 'home', her heart fluttered a bit. Because it was real. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a promise. It was real. She had a Dad and she had a home where she was loved.

Brendon pulled out of the school's driveway and headed towards the house he thought he'd have to sell because there was so much of Sarah in it. But now he had Abby. And Abby made the house a home again.