“Nooooooo!” My father’s scream ricocheted through the hall into my room. His next spine-tingling scream brought me straight to a sitting position from a deep sleep. Instinctively, my mind went to the code that described my armor—belt, vest, boots, shield, helmet, and sword.

 

“No! She’s mine,” my father shouted.

 

“Marco, Marco, wake up,” said Mom.

 

“You can’t take her. I won’t let you!”

 

“Marco!” My mom screamed. “Wake up now!”

 

An icy blast of cold air brushed past. The enemy was here. My armor already on, I stretched my hand up in the air in front of me. “I come against you with the blood of the Lamb . . .” A soft touch on my arm interrupted my prayer.

 

“Christy, can I sleep with you?” My little sister, Alex, stood next to my bed.

 

“Ah, Alex. Let’s see what happens tonight.” I pulled the covers back, and Alex slid in and locked her arms around my waist.

 

“I need to get out of here!” My father yelled in the hall. His footsteps were uneven, and he thudded against the walls as he staggered from side to side. I pictured him trying to walk and pull up his jeans at the same time.

​

“Marco, it’s the middle of the night. Let’s sit in the kitchen until it passes.” Mom paused at my room. “Christy, get the baby if he wakes.”

 

“Wait here, Alex. I’ll be right back.” “No, Christy. I want to go with. I’m scared.”

 

“Stay here. You’re safe. I’m just gonna see if Mom needs help. Be right back.” I tiptoed through the hall and perched halfway down the stairs where I had a clear view into the kitchen. Dad’s wiry frame was silhouetted by the moonlight, his shirtless back to me. He clung to the sink, rocking forward and back at a rapid pace. Mom turned the small light on over the stove. When she gently touched his back, his entire frame shuddered, and his knees buckled. He steadied himself and slowly turned around.

 

“Marco, it’s okay. These dreams will pass. Christy’s recent voyage just triggered your memories.”

 

I leaned in, pressing my face between the banister bars. Dad shook his head. “No, it’s not the same.” His frame gave a violent shudder “They’re more vivid. More real than ever.” He raked his hands through his dark hair. Mom grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and used it to wipe down his face. She rested her hand on his chest.

 

“Your heart’s racing. Take some deep breaths.”

 

“It won’t help. I knew this would happen. My past has caught up to me. I can’t hide anymore. I need to leave. Right now.” “No, Marco! No! Just go to the castle.”

 

“It won’t help. Never does.” Dad took Mom by the shoulders. “Maggie, I’m so sorry.”

 

“But what about the kids . . .”

 

“Stop! We’ve been through this before.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be this way. Just go to the garden. Meet the King. He’ll know what to do.”

 

“For your sake, I’ll go to the garden. No promises, though. You can’t stop me, Maggie. Please just get me a shirt.”

 

I leaned back, trying to absorb what Dad was saying. I had no idea why my recent voyage with the Pirate Girls triggered his latest episodes. He couldn’t possibly mean he would go away indefinitely. He had just mentioned he might start to take long-distance routes in his job as a truck driver. I assured myself that must be to what he was referring.

 

Dad zipped up his jeans, pulled a comb from the back pocket and styled his thick, black hair with a few strokes. Mom returned from the laundry room and handed him a clean shirt. He held it up to his nose to inhale its freshness. “Ah, Maggie. I’m gonna miss you and all the things you do for us, like hanging the laundry outside.”

 

“Marco, don’t.” Mom’s voice quivered.

 

Dad slipped the shirt over his head and styled his hair one more time with his comb. He retrieved his boots, sat down at his place at the kitchen table, and bent over to tie them. Mom stood behind him, holding his leather jacket.

 

“Don’t need that.”

 

“Yes, you do. It’s cold, and you’ll be in the garden.” Dad shrugged and let Mom slip him into it. She stood behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. Dad crossed his left hand over his chest and rested it on top of Mom’s.

 

“Maggie, I’m so sorry.” He stood and turned to face her. “I thought I could live here and forget. It almost worked. But I can just feel the evil inside of me.”

 

“Don’t say that! It’s not true. You have to have faith in the King’s promises.” Mom wrapped her hands around his waist and buried her head in his chest.

 

“I moved here. I changed my outward appearance. It worked for a while, but I can’t undo the past, and it’s closing in on me. Can’t you feel it?” Dad lifted Mom’s chin with one hand. “I can see it in your eyes. You feel it, too.”

 

“But we can go . . .” Dad pressed his index finger against her lips and shook his head. He squeezed her close to him, resting his chin on the top of her head.

 

“You’re right, Mags. Christy has brought everything back to the surface, but it’s not the same as when we first came here. If I don’t do something now . . .” He shuddered violently again. “What did you ever see in me, anyway? You should have taken one look at me and run!”

 

“I saw the same thing I see today: a strong, courageous man. I’d do it all the same again.”

 

“Oh!” Dad leaned his head back and moaned. “I love you, Maggie, always have, always will.”

 

“I love you, too. We’ll get through this, just like everything else. Go to the garden, and come back to me. To us.”

 

“I’ll always be true to you. I’ll love you forever.”

 

I closed my eyes tight as they kissed. This could not be happening. There was no way my dad would leave us. Despite his many problems, I never doubted his love for us. Conrad began crying. I moved as silently as I could up the stairs to his bedroom. My two-year-old brother was standing in his crib, hanging onto the bars, pools of tears in his enormous brown eyes, his lower lip quivering. He held his hands out to me, opening and closing his little fists.

 

“Oh, baby. It’s okay.” As I lifted him up from his crib, he turned and swiped up his favorite blankie. He nestled his chest into mine.

 

I spun around and nearly crashed into Alex.