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“Daddy, what are we doing today?” Claire asked. “Can we go see the ponies? Constance, you want to come see the ponies?”
“Sure,” I said. “I love ponies.”
Benton drank his coffee. “How about you and your mother go?”
Beatrice exchanged a look with him. A look that said a lot.
“You want to go with us, Mommy?” Claire asked.
“Just you two,” Benton said. “You should spend some time together.”
The little girl looked at me. “What about Constance—”
“You can take her another day,” Benton said. “Now finish your breakfast so you guys can get going.” He wasn’t as sweet and affectionate as he normally was. He must have had a lot on his mind because his words came out harsh. The harshness seemed normal for him, but when he spoke to Claire, it was really out of place.
Beatrice stared at him for a while before she looked down at her food again.
We ate in silence after that.
A private car pulled up in the street, two guys in the front.
Beatrice and Claire were both bundled in their raincoats even though the rain had stopped, but the weather was unpredictable right now. Benton gave his daughter a long hug and a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you when you get back, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Daddy.” She took her mother’s hand, and they left.
I watched from down the hallway, still in the baggy clothes he’d supplied for me.
He stood there and watched them go, one hand on the door. When they were gone from sight, he shut the door and turned to me.
It was the first time I’d been alone with him.
I stared.
He stared.
He was in black jeans, boots, and a dark blue tee. He moved forward, squeezing past me in the hallway, his footsteps announcing his route to the sitting room in front of the fire.
I followed him.
He sat in the armchair, a decanter of scotch beside him. Day or night, it seemed to sit there, ready for him whenever he needed it. The fire burned low in the fireplace and there was a stack of wood to replenish it, but he didn’t make a move.
I sat in the other armchair, my hands in my lap, staring at the man who’d opened the door and granted me asylum.
His knees were apart, one elbow propped on an armrest, his big body sunken into the chair. His fingers reached over the edge of the other armrest, gripping it, just the way Forneus did. His closed knuckles rested against his jawline. An endless stare ensued, his crystal-blue eyes focused rigidly.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
“Because you seem angry.”
“I am angry. Just not at you.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” I wasn’t myself in his presence at all. I’d been around psychopaths that believed they were demons and I never lost my tongue, but with him, I forgot who I was.
He continued to stare, as if he expected me to answer a question he never asked.
“You threw me out…and now…what changed?” He’d welcomed me into his home, cooked for me, never asked me a single question.
“Beatrice told me everything you did for my daughter. Claire would be dead right now if it weren’t for you. And even if she’d somehow survived, she wouldn’t have been the same.” His eyes dropped momentarily, strain in his face as he said these words out loud, thought about a reality that haunted his soul. “Tell me what you need—and I’ll make it happen.”
My hands held all the power suddenly—and I didn’t know what to do with it. My eyes dropped to the fire beside me. Now it was just glowing embers, small sparks of red and orange. The window behind me didn’t vibrate with raindrops, so it seemed like the worst of the weather had passed. “He’s following me.”
His eyes left the floor and focused on me.
“Forneus.” He was somehow more frightening across the street—at least, when he smiled like that. “I knew he wouldn’t really let me go…”
Benton watched me without reaction, like a psychopath stalker was just another day at the office to him. Or perhaps, he wasn’t an expressive person, keeping his thoughts locked behind a cage where no one could see. “I can get you papers. You can start over somewhere. I recommend Canada. Not overpopulated. You can get a cabin in a small town, and he’ll never know.”
“I never want to live in a cabin again…or be in a forest.”
“When I get the papers, we’ll find the right place for you.” His deep voice was pragmatic but gentle, not aggressive and short like it’d been before, and now I felt like an equal to him…and not an annoyance.
“I’m not sure I want papers.”
He stared at me.
“Wherever I am, he’ll find me.” The snowy mountains of Tibet wouldn’t keep him away. The Congo in Africa wouldn’t either. There was no obstacle, no distance that would ever be enough. “He believes I’m his only chance of salvation. He’s not going to let that go.”
