“Ms. Hudson, you need to come with me.”  The social worker tugged on Sarah’s arm and the young woman moved slowly, her eyes void of emotions.  “We’re taking you to your son now, and the two of you will be getting on a plane shortly.”

Sarah nodded, her mind numb and her heart heavy. 

The only emotion that showed on her face happened when she was brought into a small back room of the police station, her eyes landing on her son.  Tears fell down her cheeks as the boy ran into her arms, fiercely clinging to his mother.

“It’s over, Ma,”  He spoke into her hair.  The social worker watched the two together, noting that the twelve-year-old was offering comfort that Sarah seemed incapable of at the moment.  “It’s over.  He’s gone.  We’re fine.”  The words tumbled from the boy’s mouth over and over.  A mantra.

“I love you.”  Sarah finally spoke, allowing some distance to come between her and her son.  She was afraid to let him go for fear of losing him.  “I love you so much.”  She kissed his temple and rested her chin on his head.

“I know, Ma.  I love you too.” 

“Ms. Hudson, we have to get going.”  The social worker broke into their moment and reminded them that it wasn’t really over, not yet.  “Your father is here.  You have five minutes to say goodbye and then we have to leave.”

Sarah noticed her father for the first time since entering the room.  He was standing in the corner, waiting for his moment.  Her eyes filled with tears again and she nodded, understanding the words but refusing to believe the meaning.

“Buck up, Kiddo.”  He opened his arms and she stepped into the warmth of their circle.  “You’ve got great things ahead of you.  You and that boy of yours.” 

“Oh God, Dad.  I can’t do this without you.”  The tears fell harder and hiccups shook Sarah’s body.  “I can’t.”

Red’s fingers found Sarah’s chin and he lifted her head so he could look her in the eyes.  “I raised you better than that, SJ.  You’re strong.  I raised you to be strong.  You’re it now, baby.  You’re all that your little boy has and you’ve got to be strong for him.  He needs you.”  He wiped the moisture from her cheeks.  “No more tears.  You hear me?”  He waited for Sarah to nod her understanding.  “You’re not going to cry about this anymore.  You are going to take that boy of yours and bring him up the way I taught you and together you’ll do great things.”

“Ma’am, we have to go.”  A new officer had stepped into the room, interrupting the moment. 

“Come here, Jackson.”  Red called his grandson over, smiling in spite of the ache in his chest.  “You take care of your mother, you hear?  You respect her word and you watch out for her.  You’re the man now, J.”  Taking the tattered hat out of his pocket, Red settled it on the blond hair of his grandson.  “I love you.”

Jackson’s eyes widened, looking up at the hat on his head.  “Gramps, your Beckett hat.”  The Red Sox ball cap had been signed by Josh Beckett, the famous pitcher.  Red had worn it daily for the past five years and Jackson had known that the hat was sacred.  “You’ll need it to watch the games.”  Superstition said that Red couldn’t miss a game and he had to keep the hat on for every inning.  To remove the hat meant a loss. 

Red took a new cap out of his pocket and settled it on his head, grinning.  “I’ve got a new one.  And Joe down at the park says he can get Beckett to sign this one, too.  Don’t you worry, kid.  We’re safe.”

“Ms. Hudson, we have to go.”  The officer stepped in and gently tugged Sarah and Jackson away from Red.  “The car is waiting.”

“I love you.”  Sarah whispered, holding back the tears because she had been told to.

There wasn’t time for anymore words as the small family was ushered from the small room and out toward the back of the building.  Red watched them leave, his heart heavy.  He knew that he would never see those two again, and suddenly his life felt void of purpose.

Sarah and Jackson followed the officers out to the back and they piled into a waiting SUV.  The world blurred past the widows as they headed toward the airport, and one of the officers spoke, reminding them they their life was now going to be separated into old and new.

“Have you decided on your name?”  The man with the stiff, black mustache asked, flipping through paper work and not looking up.

Sarah turned to Jackson and nodded, letting her son make the choice.  “Beckett.”  He answered, his voice shaky and thick with emotion.

“And your first names?”  More papers flipped, a pen made notes.

“Bailey,” Sarah spoke.  It was her mother’s maiden name.  “And Carter,” she answered for her son.  It was her father’s real name, even though he’d been called Red as long as she could remember.

“Well, Bailey and Carter Beckett,” The mustache finally looked up and smiled.  It didn’t reach his eyes.  “You’re heading to a beautiful little town called Shelby Forest, Tennessee.  You’ll love it.”

And in an instant, Sarah and Jackson Hudson cease to exist.