Twisted Lies

by Robin Patchen

  "I'm going to have to let you go to give you a bath," Marisa said.

  Ana held on tighter.

  She couldn't blame her. Marisa didn't want to let Ana go, either. Still... "How about this? How about we both get in the tub. Will that work?"

  A tiny shrug.

  Marisa didn't mind getting wet. She wasn't thrilled about the idea of soaking her pajamas, but Rae had left a second pair, and these were bloody anyway. She shut off the water, tested its temperature—a little cold for her taste, but Ana would like it—and stepped inside. She sat, let the warm water soak her pajama pants and realized how very cold she'd been.

  She eased Ana down, a little at a time, until the girl was sitting on the bottom of the tub between her legs.

  "You okay?"

  Ana didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "This is like a swimming pool." Her eyes were wide as she took in the bathroom. "Is it safe?"

  "It's safe. I promise."

  The little girl giggled, and the sound dripped like honey over Marisa's soul.

  "Mama, you forgot to take our clothes off!"

  Marisa smiled. "How could I take our clothes off when you wouldn't let me go?"

  Ana's smile faded.

  "But it's okay. We can do it right now. Arms up!"

  Ana lifted her arms, and Marisa slid the filthy dress over her head and urged off the stained underwear. Had her child really worn the same things for week? The dress barely resembled the one Nate had bought her back in Acapulco. She squeezed some of the water out and set it on the side of the tub.

  She took a fortifying breath and studied her daughter's skin.

  No bruises that she could see.

  She soaped up the washcloth and set about washing the week of terror off the tiny girl, studying every inch for marks. Except for a small bruise on her arm, Marisa didn't see any evidence that the man had hurt her.

  She closed her eyes. Gracias, Dios. God had kept her safe.

  Ana was thinner than she had been, her little ribs outlined beneath her skin. The thought of her sweet pajarita, hungry, held captive...

  Tears filled her eyes. She tried to hide them, hoped Ana wouldn't notice. But her daughter was far too observant for that.

  She sat opposite her mother and brushed the tears away. "I'm sorry, Mama."

  "Oh, sweetie, you have nothing to be sorry for."

  "I told Aunt Leslie I couldn't get in the van with that man, but she said it would be okay. That we were playing a trick on you. I didn't want to, but she picked me up, and I couldn't get away."

  Marisa held her daughter's hands and looked into her eyes. "Listen to me, Ana. Nothing that happened was your fault. None of it. Aunt Leslie shouldn't have done what she did. This was her fault. And that man's fault. It wasn't yours."

  Ana stood and climbed into Marisa's arms. Marisa stroked her slippery back and wept into her hair. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you better."

  "I know you didn't want me to go with that man."

  "I didn't. And from the second you were taken, I never stopped looking for you."

  Ana backed up and looked into Marisa's eyes. "I knew you'd find me."

  MARISA CONVINCED ANA to let her get out of the tub. After she traded her wet pajamas for dry ones, she returned to the bathroom with a cup snagged from the kitchen, washed Ana's hair, and rinsed the remains of the soap and dirty water from her skin.

  With a towel wrapped around Ana, Marisa lifted her from the tub and was carrying her into the bedroom when she heard a quiet knock, then the sound of the key in the lock. The front door opened.

  Marisa froze and stared toward the living room. She was about to search for a weapon when she heard the whispered words. "Marisa? Are you up?"

  What was Sam doing there?

  "It's okay." She patted her daughter on the back and walked to the living room, where Sam stood beside the sofa.

  "I hope I didn't scare you. I thought I'd just sneak in, if you'd gone to sleep."

  Marisa started to ask where Sam got the key before she remembered that Sam owned the cabin. "It's fine. We just got out of the tub. What are you doing here? It's"—Marisa looked at the clock glowing on the stove—"nearly three a.m."

  "Brady called Rae to tell her the good news, and she called me. A few days ago, Rae and I bought some things we thought Ana might need. Clothes and pj's and stuff." Sam set a giant white plastic sack on the couch. "I didn't want to leave it sooner, because I thought... Well, it seemed wise to wait."

  "I was just trying to figure out what I was going to put her in."

  Sam dug through the bag and brought out a pair of blue pajamas with princesses on them. "Nate said her favorite color is blue."

  Ana turned to look at the pajamas, which Sam held up for her inspection.

  "Pretty."

  "I'm glad you like them." She crossed the room slowly.

  Ana squeezed her tighter.

  "You must be Ana," Sam said. "We've been looking for you."

  Marisa whispered in Ana's ear. "It's okay, pajarita. This is a friend of mine. She helped me find you. Her name is Sam."

  Ana lifted her head slightly. "Sam is a boy's name. Like Sam, I Am."

  Sam smiled and shifted to meet Ana's eyes over Marisa's shoulder. "That's right. But my name's really Samantha."

  "That's pretty."

  "You can call me Samantha if you want."

  "Okay."

  Sam smiled at Marisa before looking back at Ana. "I prayed for you a lot while you were gone."

  Ana lifted her head. "You did?"

  "I did. Every time I thought about you, which was about a thousand times a day, I prayed that God would be with you and keep you safe."

  Ana pushed away from her mother and leaned toward Sam. She placed her index finger on Sam's cheek. "You're not an angel."

  Sam tilted her head to the side. "Nope. Just a woman."

  "But God listened to you, because Jesus was with me."

  "He was?"

  "Uh-huh." Ana glanced at her mother. "Every night when it got dark, he came into my room and told me stories until I fell asleep. Not like Mama tells, though. Different stories."

  "What were they about?" Sam asked.

  She shrugged. "I don't remember. Just that I always fell asleep while he told me stories, just like I do when Mama does."

  Sam's eyes filled with tears, and she swallowed hard. "That sounds like Jesus. He loves you very much."

  "I know. And you know what else? I could smell him. When I got really scared, I knew he was there, 'cause all of a sudden, I could smell him."

  "What did he smell like?"

  "Rain." The answer was so matter-of-fact, as if everybody knew that. But Sam's eyes filled with wonder.

  Marisa could hear her father's words. Whenever you smell the rain, that's God's reminder that he's near.

  "What a beautiful gift he gave you," Sam said.

  "And he told me Mama would find me, so I wasn't scared." She paused, looked at Marisa, and said, "I was scared sometimes, but sometimes I wasn't. That's okay, right?"

  Marisa held her daughter tight, all the words her daughter had said dripping over her like...rain. "Of course, pajarita. You were very brave."

  Chapter 38

  "I TOLD YOU IT WASN't bad." Nate's frustration must have been palpable, because the doctor, a heavyset Hal Holbrook doppelganger, sighed and looked up.

  "You'll forgive us for taking stab wounds and head injuries seriously."

  "I feel fine."

  The doctor ignored the comment and continued stitching the minor flesh wound on his back. After four stitches, he finished and adjusted Nate's hospital gown. "There. Now maybe you won't bleed to death."

  "I wasn't going to bleed to death. You guys are just being paranoid."

  Brady chuckled, and Nate glared at the man standing in the corner. "And another thing. How come, whenever there's serious crime in this town, I end up in the ER, and you come out without a scratch?"

  The man shrugged. "Years of training."
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  "In avoiding danger," Nate said.

  Brady didn't rise to the bait. He addressed the doctor, who was pulling off his latex gloves as the nurse put away the supplies. "Good to see he's back to his jolly self."

  "If this is jolly," the doctor said, "I'd hate to see him cranky."

  "I can hear you, you know." Nate wanted to strangle them both.

  The doctor straightened. "Because of the head wound, we're keeping you until morning."

  "Not a chance."

  Dr. Hal peered at him over his glasses. "Son, what's the rush?"

  He thought of Marisa and Ana, alone in that cabin. Marisa was probably nervous, and even if she wasn't, it didn't matter. Nate wanted to be there with them, be there when they woke up, be there to eat breakfast. He needed to put his eyes on Ana again, make sure she was okay. He needed to hold Marisa, kiss her, tell her how much he loved her. Because he wanted to be there, with them, forever.

  And he didn't want to wait another minute for forever to begin.

  He saw Brady's narrowed eyes, knew his friend had been observing the emotions play across his face. Brady turned to the doctor. "See, there's this woman..."

  "Ah." The doctor faced Nate. "You have a minor concussion. Rest is the most important thing you can do. If you want to go rest elsewhere, that's your prerogative. Tylenol for pain, and if it gets unmanageable, come back."

  "Thank you, Doctor."

  The man shook his hand, held it a moment longer. "Good luck with the girl."

  "SHE'S PROBABLY ASLEEP."

  "Obviously. It's nearly five in the morning." Nate hoped Marisa and Ana were both asleep. They sure needed it. He watched the trees speed by outside the car window. Only the white birches were distinguishable in the darkness.

  "I called Marisa when we knew you were going to be okay. That was about an hour ago. I told her you were fine and would have to sleep in the hospital. That was before I knew how stubborn you could be."

  "Thanks for calling her. And thanks for everything you did. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

  "Man, you nearly died trying to protect my wife. You think there's anything I wouldn't do for you?"

  "Nearly died, and still didn't manage to protect her."

  "She's here, isn't she? And so is Ana, thanks to you."

  "I'm not a hero."

  Brady blew out a breath. "You know, Superman's not real. We're all just people, doing our best. Tonight, you were heroic. You called me. Despite a major concussion, you followed Marisa, told me where she was, fought the guy, and stopped him. Now the bad guy's in custody, and all the good guys—girls—are safe. I mean, what do you think a hero is?"

  Nate wasn't sure how to answer that.

  "A hero," Brady said, "is a guy who fights to do the right thing despite the dangers to himself. You were a hero tonight. You were a hero last fall. You need to accept that you're human and fallible and scared. But you did the right thing, anyway. That's heroic."

  Nate allowed himself to hear Brady's words. To soak them in. Nate was no hero, he knew that. But maybe, tonight, he'd acted like one. Maybe that was all anybody could ever do.

  OF COURSE THE CABIN was quiet when they pulled into the short drive and parked beside Sam's Isuzu Trooper. Nate hadn't thought to bring the keys.

  Brady reached for the console between the seats, lifted something, and jingled. "I got 'em."

  "Good thinking."

  "Figured you'd want to get back in sooner rather than later." He jumped out of the car, ran to the house, and bounded up the three steps like they were nothing.

  Nate cursed Brady's ability to move so fast. Despite what he'd told the doctor, his brain was battering the inside of his skull as if trying to get loose. His two stab wounds throbbed. In fact, his whole body ached as he pushed himself out of the sedan and stood.

  Brady walked back down the steps. "Need help?"

  "I'm fine." He wouldn't allow himself to hunch as he started toward the porch, one slow step at a time. Had the stairs always been that steep?

  "You should have stayed at the hospital. They'll still be here tomorrow."

  Nate stopped, faced his friend. "Will they? Because they live in Mexico. In a tiny little town I never knew the name of and wouldn't be able to find again on a bet."

  "You think she's going to run away?"

  Nate shrugged. He didn't, not really, but he wasn't willing to take the chance. He needed to be here. With Marisa and Ana. If they decided to go back to Mexico, then he'd go with them. No way was he returning to his life of solitude now that he'd been shown a better way.

  Marisa.

  Nate gripped the stair rail, and Brady grabbed his other arm. Together, they navigated the steps.

  He made it into the cabin and saw Sam sound asleep on the love seat. She was short, but not that short.

  "We talked," Brady whispered. "I told her you were too stubborn to stay in the hospital."

  Nate looked at his closed bedroom door and the yellow crime scene tape secured across it.

  No matter. He wanted to be out here when Marisa woke, anyway.

  He collapsed on the sofa.

  Brady pulled a blanket from the chair—Sam must've left it there for him, along with the pillow on the end of the couch—and draped it over him. "You need anything else?"

  "No. Thanks."

  "You got your phone?"

  Nate closed his eyes. "Lost it on the street, I think."

  "Okay. I'll check in later today."

  Chapter 39

  MARISA TIPTOED OUT of the bedroom, careful not to wake Ana as she closed the door gently behind her. There was just enough light coming from outside that she didn't need to turn a lamp on. She crossed the room into the kitchen and started the coffee machine. It steamed and gurgled, and she thought about shutting it off so it wouldn't wake Sam. But she needed coffee, badly. After she'd brewed a cup, she turned and saw a lump on the sofa.

  Wait. There was a lump on the love seat, too. Sam was on the love seat.

  Who was on the couch?

  She crept forward, thankful that her noise in the kitchen hadn't woken either of them. When she got closer, she barely made out the sleeping face.

  Nate.

  When had he gotten here?

  She set her coffee on the counter and sat on the coffee table across from him. His curly hair was tangled, his body mostly hidden beneath his blanket, a landscape of rises and valleys that hid the man who'd nearly sacrificed everything for her. Just one hand was visible, hanging off the narrow couch and nearly touching the floor. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly open.

  She looked at the head wound. Two staples. A wave of discomfort flowed over her midsection as if it were she who'd endured that pain, not Nate, this man that she...

  Yes, she could admit it.

  She loved him. And it wasn't because he'd saved their lives. She loved him for a million other things he'd done. She loved him for the meals he'd delivered to her when she'd been in hiding—Greek salads stuffed in pita bread he refused to call sandwiches, not to mention pizzas and subs and soups and noodles and whatever else she'd requested. She loved him because he'd stayed with her to eat so she wouldn't be lonely. She loved him for flying to Mexico, simply because she'd asked him to. She loved him for the way he'd stood beside her every terrifying moment of the previous week, worked just as hard as she had to find her daughter, and never once lost hope. She loved him for the way his eyes had filled with tears when he'd seen her daughter again. Marisa loved him for the way he'd kissed her on the dock, and then, when she'd climbed into his bed, she loved him for the way he'd not kissed her.

  She loved him for all of it, and all of it wasn't enough to describe the reasons she loved Nate.

  Her fingers itched to touch him, but she wouldn't risk waking him. She brushed a light kiss on his temple and stood. She lifted her coffee from the counter and headed for the bedroom.

  MARISA SAT ON A CHAIR on the back porch, Ana asleep in her arms. They were both wrapped in a blan
ket off their bed. She'd sat beside her daughter for less than an hour before Ana awoke, crying, from yet another bad dream. She'd had them all night. Not surprising, all things considered.

  Marisa had pulled her daughter into her arms and tried to get her back to sleep, but Ana had wanted nothing to do with it. Instead, they'd come outside.

  Ana had fallen back to sleep within just a few minutes.

  The back door opened, and Sam stepped out. She surveyed the scene, smiled, and sat in the other chair. "How's she doing?"

  "Considering the week she's had, great."

  Sam sipped her coffee. "How about you?"

  "I kept waking up to make sure she was really with me. All in all, not a great night's sleep. But the best I've had in a long time."

  "I bet." Sam set her coffee on the little table between them. "Nate's sound asleep."

  "Yeah. I don't know why he didn't stay in the hospital."

  "Really? You don't know?" Sam's smile said the answer was obvious to her.

  Marisa shrugged and looked at the calm lake water.

  A car's tires sounded on the gravel road in front of the cabin. It had been such a quiet morning, the noise surprised her, as did the slamming of a car door a moment later.

  Sam stood. "Bet that's Brady. I'll just get him before..."

  Her words trailed off as the sound of knocking came through the house.

  "Too late." Marisa stood and followed Sam inside, careful to keep Ana cradled in her arms.

  Her daughter stirred. "Mama?"

  "I'm right here, pajarita." She kissed her head. "You're safe. I promise."

  The girl settled and fell back to sleep.

  Marisa smiled at Brady and Rae, then at Nate as he sat up slowly. She ducked into the bedroom and laid her daughter on the bed. She kissed her head and waited to be sure Ana was asleep.

  She returned to the living room and looked around. Like every other morning she'd been here, Nate, Brady, Rae, and Sam were congregating in the kitchen. This time, Nate wore scrubs he must've gotten from the hospital. He yawned and turned toward her. "Hey."