by Lynette Noni
“I was afraid of you then, for many reasons,” she says. “And when Landon called me last night to come and help you … To be honest, I almost didn’t respond.”
Esther continues to rub soothing circles on my wrists, and as I watch, the bruising begins to fade. My eyes widen, having never seen such swift healing. I didn’t realize such an effective ointment existed.
“I became a medic years ago after I was greatly in need but there was no one around who knew enough to help me,” she says. “I almost died, taking my newborn baby — Ethan — with me. When we managed to survive, I made a promise to myself that I would never allow another to suffer if it was within my power to do something.” Her eyes meet mine. “So I’m glad Landon called me to see to you last night. Not just because I can tell today that it made a difference, but also because watching you tonight, especially with my children …” She trails off, smiling again.
Her words spread through my body like liquid sunshine. But then, in the space of a heartbeat, the warmth is replaced by a cold so deep I have to fight a shiver. I don’t deserve her acceptance, her children’s affection, not even the kindness Cami, Ward and Enzo continue to bestow upon me. Esther was wrong in what she said before — I could cause them harm. All of them. I slipped up with Isaac earlier; it was just fortunate that all I did was laugh. But if my defenses keep shattering at the rate they are, it’s only a matter of time before something disastrous happens. And I can’t afford to make another mistake like —
“I have to admit, I’m not sure what to call you.” Esther’s pensive voice breaks into my troublesome thoughts. “It’s clear to everyone that ‘Jane Doe’ is not who you are. But I also have a feeling you’re only ‘Chip’ to one person.” Her eyes light up like silver moons among the stars. “So that one’s out. Which brings us back to ‘Jane’ — unless we pick something else. You’ll end up with a multiple personality disorder if we’re not careful.”
She says it jokingly, but I’m inclined to agree with her.
“Okay, you’re all done.”
Esther screws the lid onto the tube of ointment and places it back in the cabinet. I look down at my hands and see that the bruising is almost completely gone. I wonder again about the balm and how it worked so quickly.
Noticing my look, Esther grins and says, “Secret recipe. It’s great for the rapid healing of smaller injuries — and comes in handy when you have three troublemaker children, believe me.”
It’s a shame it only works on small injuries. I’m guessing there’s no medication in the world that can help with the longer-term damage Vanik has done.
“I hope you like lasagna,” Esther says, leading the way back to the others. “I know you’re not used to eating anything too rich, but hopefully you’ll be all right.”
Lasagna? My mouth waters at the prospect. I used to love Italian food. When I was younger, we had Italian every Friday night. Pizza, pasta, garlic bread; even gelato for dessert. My dad would cook and —
No.
Stop.
StopStopStopStopStop.
“Jane? You okay?”
Busy focusing on my flip-flopped feet and trying to keep my memories in check, I glance up to see that Esther has led me to the dining room. Suddenly I’m the center of attention, with Cami’s concern drawing everyone’s eyes to me.
“You look like you have a sore tummy,” Abby says, entwining her fingers with mine and leading me to a chair at the table. She pulls me down and crawls up into my lap. “When I have a sore tummy, Mummy sings to me. Do you want us all to sing to you?”
“Abby, sweetheart, maybe we should give Chip some space,” Ward says, watching me carefully and missing nothing.
Abby appears adorably confused. “Who’s Chip?”
“That’s what he calls Jane,” Cami tells her.
The little girl scrunches up her nose. “That’s a silly name.”
“It sure is,” Enzo murmurs.
As I listen to them, the knots in my stomach begin to unravel and the memories drift away. I give Abby a grateful squeeze.
“You don’t look like your tummy is sore anymore,” she observes. “But we haven’t sung to you yet. Do you still need space, like Landy says?”
“All right, baby girl. Come here.”
Ward swoops Abby right out of my arms and tickles her sides until she giggles with glee. He settles her into a chair with a booster seat, and Ethan and Isaac jump up into the seats on either side of her, opposite Enzo and Cami. Ward spares me another lingering glance, almost like he’s asking if I’m okay. I tilt my chin up slightly in affirmation. His eyes warm — damn it, I responded instinctively again — and he takes off toward the kitchen. Only a few seconds pass before he returns with Esther, both carrying what looks like an incredible meal.
When I take my first bite of lasagna, all I want to do is moan with delight. But I don’t slip up again; instead, I just fork more into my mouth, then chase it with Esther’s perfectly roasted vegetables.
So many wonderful tastes, so many delectable flavors … I keep being reminded that the real world isn’t segmented into different shades of bland. After all I’ve experienced today, how will I return to my everyday monotony? I had been … well, not happy, but resigned, at least, to my life circumstances.
“How’s your work with the program going, Cami?”
Esther’s question ignites my interest.
All day Cami chatted on about this and blabbered on about that, but nothing she told me was of much consequence — and certainly none of it gave me any idea what she does with her time, beyond babysitting her brother’s charity case. Her only mention of the mysterious “program” was just before we left for Esther’s.
“Oh, you know.” Cami waves her fork in the air. Her eyes flick to me for a split second before she focuses back on her aunt. “It’s going well.”
“How are you handling your training? Are you growing stronger? All of you?” Esther asks.
I fight the urge to frown as I struggle to understand. Is Cami training with Enzo, too? I need more details — I need their words to stop being so … vague.
Cami’s eyes jump to me again. For some unfathomable reason, she looks nervous.
“It’s slow,” she hedges. “But we’re seeing … improvement.”
“Do you think now that Jane is —”
Ward clears his throat loudly, cutting Esther off, and she sends him a curious glance. She presses her lips together and turns back to her plate.
“Next time, I’ll add more garlic,” she says. “Give it more of a kick.”
I’m not sure whether I want to laugh again or to growl with frustration. Or perhaps to throw what remains of my lasagna at Ward’s head.
I do none of the above. Instead, I spear a roasted potato with my fork and raise it to my mouth. I never end up taking a bite, because at that moment the door to the suite opens and in walks a man — a very familiar man. The whole room grows silent.
I stare at Director Falon, stunned by his presence. His eyes move around the table until they lock onto my own. It feels as if the world has stopped. And then my life is turned on its axis by a single word shouted with immeasurable glee.
“Daddy!”
Abby flies from her seat and runs across the room to throw herself at Director Falon. Ethan and Isaac follow, with Esther right behind them.
“Rick, honey, I thought you weren’t going to be back until the end of the week?”
“My plans changed,” Falon says in his deep, gravelly voice. He bends to give Esther a kiss on the cheek. He then ruffles his fingers through Isaac’s hair, squeezes Ethan’s shoulder and pulls Abby up into his arms.
Meanwhile, I’m taking deep breaths and trying desperately not to bring my lasagna back up, all over Esther’s pristine tablecloth.
Falon is the father of Abby, Ethan and Isaac. He’s Esther’s husband. That makes him —
“Hey, Uncle Rick,” Cami greets him, somewhat timidly.
The reason for her hesitant tone
is clear when, yet again, she glances nervously in my direction. But my eyes move quickly away from her. To Ward.
Ward, my evaluator.
Ward, who happens to be Director Falon’s nephew.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So, Landon, it looks like you and Jane are making progress.”
The words fall smoothly from Falon’s lips, and I try to keep my fork from trembling in my hand. I wonder what he is referring to, unless he considers me passing out, spending the night in Ward’s bed and whiling away a day on the couch “progress.”
“You’re two weeks down,” he continues after swallowing a mouthful of lasagna.
I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or Ward this time — or both of us — when he asks, “Other than what I can see with my own eyes, do you have anything else to give me yet?”
I have no idea why he’s bringing up this topic over a family meal, especially given its likely ending. My likely ending. His wife and children are present, for goodness’ sake.
“You’ve read my reports?” Ward says, and he waits for his uncle to nod. “Then you know everything I have to say.”
I find it hard to believe Ward has anything to report on me. All I do with him is read.
Falon’s reaction is almost invisible, but I see the rigidity in his frame. His gaze roams around the table and he asks, “Would anyone like to tell me why Jane is with us tonight?” His eyes settle on me. “Don’t get me wrong — it’s a pleasure to have you join us. I’m just … surprised.”
My forehead crinkles with confusion. His words actually sound genuine.
“You told Landon she could have the day off,” Cami says. “When Aunt Esther invited us to dinner, we brought Jane along.”
Falon looks skeptical, and I can’t say I blame him. “Well, it’s always nice to have someone new to talk with at dinner. It keeps the conversation stimulating.”
Enzo chokes on his sip of water.
“Silly Daddy,” Abby says around a mouthful of giggles. “Jane doesn’t talk. Landy told us all about her. We’re not supposed to ask her questions, because she can’t answer and we don’t want her to be uncomforble.”
“Uncomfortable, Abby,” Esther quietly corrects.
I hear the young girl repeat the word as if from far away, my thoughts spiraling on what she just revealed. Ward told them to make me comfortable? Why would he do that? Why would he care?
I glance up to find him watching me. I wish I had the ability to freeze time, just to decipher all that’s hidden in his gaze.
“Why doesn’t Jane talk?” Ethan asks. “You never told us, Landy.”
“Ethan —” Esther starts to say, but Falon cuts her off.
“I’m curious about that myself.” The director leans back in his seat, his mouth curling with false amusement.
“I like that she doesn’t talk,” Abby says, bouncing in her seat. “She’s like one of my dollies. She and Princess Sparkles would be best friends — I just know it.”
No one seems to know what to say to that, but Abby’s intervention manages to keep anyone from returning to the previous line of questioning. Instead, normal dinner conversation springs up around the table. Ethan and Isaac tell Falon about a video game they played that day, Esther and Ward talk quietly about his shopping trip aboveground, Cami and Enzo fight over the last of the lasagna and Abby mushes her food into shapes on her plate.
I’m amazed to be witnessing something so normal. Something I haven’t experienced in so long. My heart hurts as memories try to flood my mind, but I stay in the moment and enjoy the beauty of what is unfolding around me.
“It’s getting late,” Falon says once the table has been cleared.
Taking the hint, I rise from my seat along with Cami, Enzo and Ward. The director is a living reminder of my limited time, but I am still reluctant to leave. Something has shifted within me tonight — a reminder of all that I once had, of all that I stand to lose.
I’m not ready. Not yet.
But …
Fifteen days.
That’s all I have left.
I can’t allow myself to forget.
I won’t allow myself to forget.
“Daddy, I want to read a story to Jane before she goes,” Abby says, her lower lip trembling. “I’m getting really good.”
“I know you are, sweetheart,” Falon says with undisguised affection. “But maybe another time.”
Her eyes brim with tears. “Please? It won’t take long. I p-promise.”
I think it’s the hiccup that does it, because the next thing I know, I’m being led into Abby’s glaringly pink room and pushed onto her bed as she settles snugly at my side.
Barely seconds pass before Ethan and Isaac creep through the door and climb up beside us.
These three children know nothing about me, yet they’re cuddled against me, just wanting to be held close. They seem to actually like me, as unfathomable as that is.
Abby has almost finished the story, when her words trail off, claimed by sleep. With the boys having dozed off earlier, I find myself trapped in a tangle of limbs.
As I consider how to extricate myself, I sense movement and see Ward step into the room. He takes in my predicament with soft eyes and an expression that causes my breath to catch.
“You look like you could use a hand,” he observes, his dimple showing.
He wades around a mess of toys until he’s beside the bed and moves first Isaac, then Ethan, resting them in positions that no longer have them clinging to me. He reaches for Abby, gliding his hands between the two of us — and causing my stomach to dip — as he gently shifts her away. She whimpers but quickly settles again.
Free now, I slide carefully off the bed, glancing at the children. My eyes well with tears as I feel the phantom touch of their affection still wrapped around me.
“It’s late, Chip,” Ward whispers. “Time for us to go.”
I quickly swipe at my eyes and turn away, hoping he doesn’t notice.
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, telling me that I didn’t turn fast enough. I don’t pull away from his touch, even knowing I should. Instead, I let him lead me from the room, our hands still linked.
“Let’s get you back to your suite,” he says.
I find it interesting that he says “suite” to describe my cell. Then I realize he’s not taking me toward my room — but instead, toward his.
My feet feel like lead, and I grind to a halt, yanking him to a stop beside me.
He turns to me and opens his mouth, then snaps it shut and studies my expression. His eyes light for a fraction of a second before he looks down at his feet.
“It’s not what you think.”
I can’t tell if he’s amused or embarrassed.
“I’m not taking you back to my room. Don’t look so worried.”
I press my lips together as I realize his amusement won.
“Trust me.”
He’s said that to me before. And just like last time, I don’t — I won’t.
I can’t.
But I do let him pull me forward again. I don’t really have a choice.
Ward stops in front of a doorway in another corridor I’ve never seen. He opens our joined hands, gently presses my palm against the touch screen bio-sensor mounted into the wall and waits until the door slides open. He then draws his arm behind my back and uses it to guide me into the room.
“Welcome to your new home, Chip.”
Six words.
Six words, and I’m left gaping at him.
Surely I must have heard wrong.
“I thought you’d never get here!”
My head jerks to the side, and I see Cami skipping up a short hallway toward us.
She’s wearing a pair of drawstring pajama pants with a tank top, her face scrubbed clean of makeup.
I can’t mask my confusion, and it grows even more when she spreads her arms out, twirls on the spot and gleefully cries, “This is going to be so much fun! I’ve always wanted a
roomie!”
I dare not breathe. This can’t be true. I must have fallen asleep with Abby, Ethan and Isaac, because surely I am dreaming.
“Don’t look so happy, Jane,” Cami says with a dry laugh. “If you’re not careful, I’ll think you’re actually excited about staying here.”
I blink once, twice, three times, and then I reach across to pinch the sensitive skin of my inner elbow. I do it hard enough that I flinch at the pain — pain that makes me realize I’m not, in fact, dreaming.
“This is real, you know,” Cami says, grinning. “But if you want to pinch yourself again, go for it.”
“Cam,” Ward says. “Give us a moment.”
Cami looks at her brother for a beat before she turns back to me, her smile wider and brighter than before. “I’ll just go and, um … clean my teeth. Don’t mind me.”
She prances back down the hallway, leaving me alone with Ward. He turns me until I’m facing him.
“You should never have been in that cell — not when you first arrived, and definitely not for any amount of time after that.”
Anger flashes in his eyes before he takes a deep breath and changes the subject.
“Cami can be … enthusiastic … so if you find her too difficult to get along with, let me know somehow, and I’ll see if I can get you a new room allocation. It might take a while, but I’ll make it happen.”
My world is spinning. Every word out of his mouth is like a gift I never imagined I’d receive. I can’t — I don’t — I’m so —
Ward steps into my space, so close that I have to tilt my head up to look him in the eyes. His hand moves out, and his fingers trail whisper-soft against my cheekbone. I’m certain my eyes are as wide as oceans, but before I can decide whether to lean into his touch or jump away from it, he steps back again. He removes his hand and runs it restlessly through his hair, causing it to stick out like golden straw piled into a haystack.
“Someone should have moved you into a place like this ages ago. But we can’t change the past, only the future.”
His voice is rougher than normal, as if he’s speaking more to himself than to me.
