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She nodded. “You seem like a decent man,” she says. “Why would you get involved with kidnapping and extorting others for money.
I sighed, the weight of her question heavy on me, and it took a moment to formulate my response. I didn't know why, but I felt like I could be honest with her, needed to be honest with her. There was just something about her that inspired me to give her truthful answers to her questions. She didn't ask for this mess any more than I had. “I didn't want to. But, I did it because I just found out I have a son, and I needed the money,” I said. “Now Killian has my son, and while I don't think he'll hurt the kid – I can't be sure. And I don't want to take chances with his life. So for now, I go along with what he says, and I hope you will too. Not just for your sake, but for my little boy's sake too.”
My honesty seemed to touch something inside of her. Her eyes no longer looked angry, her mouth was open as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
“I – I'm sorry to hear all of that. That must be awful,” she whispered. “But, what I was actually asking was, why you'd protect me? Why you'd keep me safe? I mean, I'm no one to you. Just the daughter of some scumbag who owes your family money.”
“That back there? What you saw? That's not my family,” I said, shaking my head. “Not anymore, at least. I'm not like them and I'm not going to let an innocent woman get hurt in a mess that wasn't her doing in the least. No matter how much money they pay me. Nothing is worth killing for. Nothing at all. Their beef is with your father, not you. And I aim to keep it that way.”
“Not even your son?” she asked me, tilting her head to the side. “What if it comes down to making a choice between him or me?”
I didn't have an answer for that. Averting my gaze, I took a step back and motioned for her to follow me.
“Come on. Before it gets dark,” I said. “We should get inside.”
I took her arm but held it gently as I guided her toward the front of the house. Surprisingly, she followed me inside without another fight.
Stepping inside, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. Memories came flooding back to me in bits and pieces, but it was all abstract and fuzzy. There was nothing solid or concrete forming in my head. It was all just snippets of images from childhood. My mom and my dad were in those little fragments of memory, which meant I had to be young.
Kara watched me, closely, as I studied the inside of the cabin. Nothing had changed. The furniture had been kept up well but was old. The wood paneling on the walls dated the cabin, along with the dark brown shag carpeting. A leather sofa sat against one wall, with a loveseat running perpendicular to that, facing a fireplace. The walls were empty of pictures, but in my head, I could see the frames lining the walls. My eyes and memory filled in the gaps, the missing memories. Remembering what once was.
I walked through the house in a daze, searching for something I couldn't comprehend. The kitchen on the right side opened up, and the appliances were old, but sufficient enough to get us by. A large white refrigerator, 70's style wood cabinets, and a small Formica table with matching chairs was crammed into the corner of the room.
This was where the memories hit me the hardest. In my mind, I saw my mother, standing at the kitchen sink. My brothers and I, not even school-aged yet sitting at the table, coloring. My father was nowhere to be found, but music and laughter filled the room.
We were happy.
“What is it?” Kara asked.
She'd stepped up behind me and I jumped. Startled. I'd almost forgotten she was there.
“This is my childhood home,” I said. “I lived here, a long time ago.”
She looked around. “Looks like no one has lived here in a while.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But, it looks almost the same as it did back then.”
I turned and left the kitchen, making my way down the hallway. I passed the first door, then the second, and stopped at the last door at the end. It was shut, so I opened the door. As it swung inward, it creaked and squealed on hinges that desperately needed to be oiled.
The door opened up onto a child's bedroom. Bunk beds were stacked against one wall, a single bed squished onto the other one. There was hardly enough room for anything else. The walls were painted a dark blue, which only made the room seem smaller. A smile tugging the corners of my mouth, I looked up, and it was just as I remembered it – the ceiling was dotted with glow in the dark stars.
The beds had no bedding on them. They were just old mattresses on older bed frames, but I could still picture the vibrantly colored blankets we used to hav
e. Rory's had cars on them, while Killian and I had matching bedding with Star Wars characters. I couldn't even remember if we'd seen the movies at that point, or if we had merely enjoyed the concept.
A smile pulled at my lips as wave after wave of nostalgia rolled over me.
Again, Kara stepped up behind me, her voice taking me by surprise. “This must have been your room?” she said softly.
“It was.”
I had forgotten all about this place. I'd probably been too young to really remember it the last time we'd been there. Only being there now and seeing that it had been left almost as it had been when we moved – preserved, almost like a tomb – brought all the memories crashing back down over me.
We couldn't have lived there long. Most of my memories were of living downtown Chicago, in a number of nicer homes. That was after my father had gone from being a measly bar owner to selling drugs and guns, among other things. He'd done what he had to do to lift us out of our situation, helping us to live better lives.
Many might call him a hero for that. But, considering the things I'd seen growing up, I had a hard time believing that our lives actually were for the better.
After all, we were happy there, in that tiny little house once upon a time too. I remember there had been laughter and playing, kids being kids. A family that maybe didn't have the nicest of things in life, didn't have a lot overall – but at least, we'd had each other.
