Sometimes, there are truths so painful that people cannot face them. That was what happened to Carly Dingles. When she was five years old, her mother took her for a drive in her big red car.
They drove far, far away from the streets Carly knew. The little girl watched the trees and houses rush past until they reached a big white church standing alone in a field of green. Carly’s mother pulled the car to a stop and turned to her daughter with a sweet smile.
“Carly, honey,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from the girl’s face. “You wait right here, baby, and Momma’s gonna be right back.”
She pressed a warm kiss to Carly’s cheek. Her bracelets, the ones she always wore, jingled as she pulled away. Then, without another word, she climbed back into the car. Carly watched as her mother’s golden yellow hair caught the sunlight, streaming behind her like a flag in the wind. The red car roared to life, rolled forward, and sped off down the road. Her mother’s hand lifted in a wave, the bracelets clinking softly, until the car became nothing more than a tiny dot on the horizon.
Carly waited. And waited. And waited some more.
She sat on the church steps, staring at the road, expecting to see that red car come back any minute. But it didn’t. The sun climbed high into the sky, and still, her mother did not return. Carly’s throat grew dry. Her stomach rumbled. Still, she waited.
Then, as the afternoon heat made her head feel dizzy, a woman arrived, carrying an armful of flowers. She was tall and elegant, with dark skin and warm eyes. When she spotted Carly sitting alone, her face filled with concern.
“Child,” she cried, setting the flowers down. “What are you doing here in the sun?”
Carly blinked up at her. “I’m waiting for my mom,” she explained. “She said she’d be right back.”
The woman frowned, muttering under her breath as she placed a hand on Carly’s forehead. “Lord have mercy, you’re burning up out here!” she fussed. “You come with me. We need to get you some water.”
She hurried to her car and returned with a bottle of cool water and a handful of ripe peaches. “Now you sit over here in the shade,” she told Carly gently. “Drink some water and eat a peach. I’ll be right back.”
The woman disappeared into the church, returning a few minutes later with a tall man dressed all in black. Carly thought he was wearing a long dress, but he later told her he was a priest. The two adults spoke in hushed voices, their expressions serious. Then, the woman pulled out a phone and made a call.
As the sun dipped low in the sky, a police officer and a thin woman arrived. Carly didn’t want to go with them. “I have to stay!” she protested. “My mom is coming!” But no one listened. They took her away, placing her in an orphanage.
At first, Carly refused to believe she had been abandoned. She was angry. She wouldn’t talk to the other kids. “I’m not an orphan!” she shouted whenever someone tried to befriend her. “My mom is coming back for me!”
Most of the other children stayed away, whispering about how mean and bitter Carly was. All except for one boy.
His name was Peter. He was a pale, thin boy with tired eyes and a gentle smile. The other kids said he had a bad heart. Not that he was mean—his actual heart didn’t work right. He couldn’t run or play like the others, so he built paper airplanes instead. Every day, he sat at the top of the staircase, sending them flying through the air to see how far they could go.
One afternoon, Carly sat at the bottom step, hugging her knees, silent tears rolling down her face. Suddenly, a paper plane swooped toward her and landed gently by her feet. Frowning, she picked it up and noticed something written on the wings.
“You’re gonna be alright.”
She looked up and saw Peter watching her. “Did you make this?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Peter said with a grin. “I can’t run, so I make planes that can fly high.”
Carly hesitated, then climbed up the stairs to hand him the plane. That was the beginning of their friendship. Slowly, Peter became the only person Carly truly trusted.
Every time she felt sad, a paper plane would appear, floating onto her desk, her bed, or right into her hands. No matter how bad things got, Peter’s message was always the same: “You’re gonna be alright.”
Years passed. Carly grew up. When she turned seventeen, she made a decision. The moment she was legally an adult, she would leave the orphanage and find her mother.
She went to the director, a kind older woman, and asked for any information about her past. But the director only sighed. “Carly, you have a bright future,” she said. “A scholarship. You can build a life for yourself. Maybe it’s best to let go of the past…”
“Never!” Carly shouted. “I know my mother has been looking for me! She came back, but I was gone! And it’s all your fault!”
She ran outside, blinded by tears. In the garden, she sat down, her heart aching with anger and hurt. Then, as if out of nowhere, a paper plane landed in her lap.
Fury boiled inside her. She grabbed the plane and crushed it in her fist. “STOP IT!” she screamed. “Your stupid planes don’t help me, Peter! I HATE THEM! I HATE YOU!”
She regretted those words immediately. She wanted to apologize, but she was too ashamed. Peter stayed out of her way. Three days later, Carly left without saying goodbye.
For two years, she traveled across America, searching for her mother. Finally, she found her in a run-down trailer park in Missouri. Heart pounding, she knocked on the door.
A woman answered. Carly’s breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t the mother she remembered. The woman’s hair was brittle, her face older, tired.
“Yes?” the woman asked. “I ain’t buying anything.”
Carly’s voice trembled. “Mom? Mom, it’s me. Carly.”
The woman squinted. “Carly? Well, I’ll be… What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” Carly said. “I know you came back for me, but I was gone…”
Her mother threw her head back and laughed. A harsh, bitter laugh. “Came back? Honey, I left that town before sunset! I had a new man. He didn’t want no other man’s kid.”
Carly’s stomach twisted. “You left me? Just like that? A five-year-old outside a church?”
“Well, ain’t they always saying children are God’s gift?” Her mother smirked. “I was just givin’ you right back.”
Something inside Carly shattered. Without another word, she turned and ran.
Three days later, she returned to the orphanage. She told the director everything. “I was hoping to see Peter,” she finished.
The director’s face fell. “Oh, Carly… Peter’s heart… It gave out just a few weeks after you left.”
Tears blurred Carly’s vision. She walked to the garden, sinking onto a bench. She had chased a fantasy, but Peter had been her real family all along.
“Oh, Peter,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Just then, a yellow leaf drifted down from a tree, landing softly on her lap. Carly picked it up, her breath catching. It was shaped exactly like one of Peter’s planes.
Maybe it was just a coincidence. Or maybe, just maybe, Peter was still sending her a message.
“You’re gonna be alright.”
