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He opens one bleary eye and glares up at me. “What?”
“The bells are ringing. And Tristan will be home soon to get ready for church. Try to pull yourself together.” I pick up the bottle and take it to the kitchen, then bring back a dish towel to mop up what he spilled on the floor. All he does is sit up and hold his head in his hands, groaning and muttering in misery.
At least he perks up a little when Tristan comes through the door. “Let me go upstairs and get dressed,” Tristan says, and as always, the words spill out one on top of each other. He always talks so fast, like he’s in a hurry. All that energy makes me jealous right now since my body hates me for not giving it any rest last night.
“Better hurry up. We don’t want to be late.” He’s the reason I’m doing this. I need to remember that.
“You better take him today,” Dad mutters, rubbing his temples. The sight of him makes me sick. This is all his fault.
“What, you can’t get it together long enough to sit through services? How’s that going to look? You being one of the elders and everything.” I can’t afford any extra attention. It’s bad enough Leona’s here. I don’t need the rest of us being under a microscope.
“We can’t leave her alone. What if something happens, and she’s tied to the bed? A fire, something like that?”
He might as well be made from glass; he’s that easy to see through. “Do you really think you should be left alone with her?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You weren’t that drunk last night—yet,” I remind him, and I can’t help but smirk when he winces. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. If there is so much as a scratch on her, Rebecca won’t be able to get as much money as she’s counting on. And you know how unhappy that’s going to make her.”
He hates that I’m right. He hates that his son can see through him. I don’t really care. So long as he’s out of here and away from her, he can think whatever he wants.
He drags himself upstairs and washes up while I check on Tristan in his room. “I’m going to hang back today,” I tell him. “I’m not feeling well.” He has no idea what I’ve planned, of course. How this is our last day at New Haven. The last time he’ll ever see his friends here. One day he’ll understand. He’ll even come to understand why Dad can’t come with us.
I run a hand over his curly, dark hair and force myself to grin. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get home.”
He rolls his eyes and blows out a sharp breath. “It’s boring.”
Now I don’t bother grinning as I crouch in front of him and take him by the shoulders. “Make sure nobody knows you feel that way.”
“Oh, I know.” It’s the way he says it, how he scowls, that reminds me of what I’m doing. Why I’m doing it. He shouldn’t be so aware that something’s wrong. I doubt he could put it into words if I asked him to. He feels it, though, and that’s enough.
I pretend to ignore the nasty look Dad gives me before leaving the house with Tristan, and I watch from the window until they blend in with the other families headed in the same direction. The white wood plank building is set up higher than the rest, like it’s always reminding us of how we’re supposed to act and what we’re supposed to do. I can’t wait to never see it again.
By the time I get back upstairs, Leona is awake, and I watch as the fear on her face softens to relief when she sees it’s me coming in.
“Good morning.” I go straight to the rope around her ankle and untie the knot so she can use the bathroom, which she gets up to do without saying a word. I’m not going to force her to talk. I’m sure she has a lot on her mind and in her heart. I don’t want to make it worse.
Still, I wait for her, fighting with myself while staring at the closed door. Back and forth, yes or no, right or wrong. How am I supposed to do this? Yes, I’ll get Tristan out of here, but I’ll carry her in my memory for the rest of my life. There will never be a day when I don’t wonder what happened to her. Where she ended up, and what they did to her.
But this is the only way. It has to be. My brother needs me.
When she opens the door, though, and looks at me with those dark eyes full of fear and pain, it’s easy to forget what I’m in this for. “I don’t know what to say,” I have to admit.
“You don’t have to say anything. I meant it last night. You can’t help me, and I understand.”
But I want to. I’m not brave enough to say it out loud, so I don’t, taking her back to the bedroom instead.
“Do you know when they’ll come for me?” She’s trying so hard to be brave, but I hear the tremor in her voice.
“Sometime tonight. They always come at night, so people won’t notice.”
“That makes sense.” She sits down on the bed, bouncing her knees up and down. “So all I have to do is wait. No big deal.”
“Dad and my brother are at church. We could go downstairs and get something to eat.”
“No, I don’t have any appetite. I would probably throw up,” she confesses with a grimace.
“Is there anything I can do?” It’s kind of a shitty thing to say. I’m surprised she doesn’t laugh and call me out for trying to make myself feel better. Like eating breakfast in a kitchen rather than tied to a bed is such a huge gesture.
