Tori cut in sharply, hitting the table with her hand, “I wasn’t taken. They searched all the missing children’s records for the last twenty years; I’m not one of them.” Her face pained, she continued, “It’s like I don’t exist, or I came from nowhere.”
Michael longed to stroke her hand again, to comfort her somehow. “You do exist and you came from somewhere. I’m afraid the nightmare won’t go away until you discover its meaning.” He shrugged slightly and went on with a shake of his sandy curls, “And stop worrying about how you’ve put me in danger. I chose to be here, remember? You need people, Tori. You need to have people to care about and people to care about you. It’s what makes you a human being; a person.”
She sank back against the booth, dejected. True, the past few weeks she had begun to feel much more relaxed. Chris had brought over some homework to the shop, a bit of math and science, and asked if she or Michael knew anything about it. Tori had wiped her hands on one of her red rags and taken the paper from him to look it over before they moved to the small kitchen table, where she took the time to teach him her way of solving the problems.
“That’s not how my teacher showed us to do it,” Chris had stated in a patronizing tone.
Tori had only smiled, and explained that often there is more than one way to get from point A to point B. “You just have to decide which way works for you, or makes the most sense to you.” She really liked the boy, finding him very smart, and she loved the way he listened and learned what she was willing to teach and share. It brought back fond memories of Henry and her own education, and this pleased her in a sad way.
They worked for a couple of hours on the assignments, and she really wasn’t sure if it had been of any use until he brought his test down to show her his 98 a few days later. Tori had never earned grades for herself, but helping him do so well had made her feel ecstatic. Watching him across the diner, she suddenly felt lost, as if she were missing something she should have done.
Turning back to Michael, she switched to German so their words would remain more private should anyone overhear them. “Do you think I have a purpose?” He raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner, but said nothing, so she went on slowly.
“I’ve been thinking about The Organization. I told the Feds a lot of what I know about them, which isn’t much, but I think I could get inside if I wanted to. What if I went after them myself? Tried to put a stop to them on my own. I mean, I have Henry’s vault. I could use the equipment and weapons to do something, rather than hide here like a coward, waiting for them to find me.” She stared at him intently as she spoke, searching for his approval.
Michael had begun shaking his head back and forth slowly, “You’ve given up enough. You deserve to have a life. A future. You took out the Dragons, and that’s more than your share. You don’t need to go all vigilante on those guys. I really don’t think they’ll bother to come after you.” A puff of air escaped him in a disbelieving sound, “I mean, you’re just one girl, right? You stay here; you lay low, and you enjoy your new life.”
Tori tried to see things from his point of view, but deep down she had a knot in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. She was more than just a girl, and she knew it. If the Dragons had kept her a complete secret, what he suggested might have been enough for her, but she knew there were others who had seen her; only once, but it was enough, and it could come back to haunt her and those she cared about.
Old Friends
Tori had seen lots of bodies in her life. Hell, she was responsible for a large number of them herself. Funny, she had never been to a funeral. The spring morning dawned crisp and clear, and she and Michael dressed in their darkest clothes to join the rest of the town at the small white building a few blocks over. This would only be Tori’s third visit to a church, and it reminded her of the time Terry had taken her to meet his friend.
Thinking back, she wondered if Brother Thomas had been the friend, or if it had been the Jesus that the preacher had spoken about that he intended for her to meet. Staring down at the black cover in the book drawer of her dresser as she got ready, she remembered bringing the bible with her from the halfway house.
For a moment, she had thought she wouldn’t need it, and started to leave it behind. But some hidden urge had caused her to pick it up anyway, along with the journal, and slip them into her bag next to the German Fairytale book that she had kept hidden in her suitcase.
Sliding the drawer shut, she thought about the reason they were going to the church. On this occasion, they would be honoring the memory of George, the old man who sold them the garage. She found it a little disconcerting that he had succumbed to his illness a short two days after Michael had told her that she should enjoy her life. His passing almost felt like an omen, weighing heavily upon her as they walked together to the small white structure.
Climbing the stairs to the tiny building, Tori could feel the tension in her body, keenly aware of Michael as he moved beside her. She longed to reach over and take his hand, to hold it and know that she was not alone in that moment that terrified her. But she couldn’t do that. He wasn’t allowed to touch her, and he respected that. She wasn’t ready to bring that wall down; not yet.
Choosing a seat close to the back, the couple sat next to one another. Michael allowed her to take the seat on the aisle that ran through the middle of the pews, and he sat to her left. From that vantage point, he appeared to be looking at the speaker, listening carefully to what he or she said about George.
What Michael actually did, was study her. He had tilted himself at an angle that put a small distance between them, yet allowed him to rest his arm on the bench behind her so that his hand would occasionally brush her ebony locks.
Propping his right ankle on top of his left knee, he felt quite comfortable as he watched her changing expression. He could see she tense jawline, perhaps afraid of this tradition she had never experienced. He remembered his mother’s funeral, the last one he had attended, and felt an ache for the things we lose over time.
He could see Tori clenching her jaw as the preacher spoke about George’s life. How he had worked to provide for his wife and family. He had been a caring man, not one for chasing worldly riches. Glancing across the aisle, Michael could see the pews that held the family.
Tori watched them also; Chris and Steven both crying at the loss of their grandfather. Even Trish, seated next to them, was visibly distraught at having lost her father-in-law. Family meant a lot in that little town, and they had pulled the couple into it, and treated them as one of their own.
His eyes sweeping the interior of the building, Michael could see the front of the small structure had been covered in flowers. They had not gotten to know the old man very well, but from the looks of the mourners, he had been a good man who had left behind many who cared for him.
Reaching up, Michael accidentally stroked the hairs that were closest to his hand. Tori moved slightly, and he felt a jolt of excitement at having gotten away with the small caress. Sitting with her like this, the event could have lasted all day, even if it were a funeral.
The service ended and everyone broke up to go their separate ways. Trish caught the pair out front and insisted they come to the house with the family. Michael had a sudden urge to grab Tori’s arm and head for home, not wanting to be a part of the group any longer. Trish hugged the girl, stroking the hairs he had been toying with, and he knew they were going to follow her.
Tori had made a big fuss about keeping to herself, but Trish had seemed to have a sixth sense about the girl and her need to be taken in. The older woman included her whenever she could, always reaching out to the couple and doing whatever she was able to make them feel like a part of the small, close knit community.
Arriving at the massive Victorian, the mood lightened, and although the occasion sad, laughter could be heard as children played, and grownups discussed the future and reminisced about the past. Realizing the situation was all new for her, Michael stayed close to Tor
i while she looked around with wide eyes and a docile expression.
Eventually, she made her way to the kitchen to join the other women in preparing the meal that had been delivered by the church family. Her exit freed him to visit with the men on the wide veranda in the afternoon breeze, a surprisingly warm day for the tail end of February.
Visually taking in the grounds, he noticed the tall trees that grew around the property. “How old is the house?” he found himself asking. Another elderly man, George’s brother Carl, made a long moan as he thought about the answer.
“Well, Marge and Georgie bought this place back in 1960, right after they got married. Before that, it had belonged to another couple, an’ I wanna say it was built back before the war.”
Michael gathered he meant the Second World War. He smiled at the way the old man spoke, his southern drawl matching that of Trish, but his delivery a great deal slower. The people there were so friendly, so accepting of Tori and himself. They had opened up and brought them in, giving her things she had never had before without question. He felt grateful for that.
Soon, the men were called inside, as the bed had been removed from the dining area, and a large wooden table had reclaimed its position within the house. Michael grinned as he noticed the smaller tables set about for the children along the porch, as more adults had taken over the kitchen table, as well. Taking his place beside Tori, he gave her a small smile, which she returned.
Looking around the spacious kitchen from his vantage point, he could see that it needed many of the repairs and updating that they had recently completed on their small house down at the shop. He could see Tori having a peek around as well, probably thinking the same thing. Their eyes met periodically, and although it would have been rude for them to break into their typical German, their eyes spoke what they were each thinking: this place feels like home.
The delicious meal, a variety of the best dishes from all the neighbors, had been delivered to feed the family. Both Michael and Tori had their fill, each listening to the stories the relatives shared in respectful silence.
Michael knew she had no stories of her own; not like this. Not that she could share with strangers. He could see the somber look in her eyes, painfully aware of all that she had missed, being raised the way that she had been.
After the meal, he gently persuaded her the time had come to go home, and she seemed reluctant to walk away from the warm atmosphere the family created. Ambling quietly along beside him, he could tell she had sunk deep in thought. He knew she would not share them with him, not being her way. She tolerated his presence; he was not her confidant.
When they reached the house, she went to the back and closed the door to her bedroom where he could not see her cry. But she did not cry for herself. She cried for Trish and her sons and the loss they faced. She cried for the families her hand had touched and all the lives she had taken.
Opening the drawer to her dresser, she thought back to her previous visit to a place of worship, remembering Brother Thomas and the words he had spoken to her. He had explained to her about forgiveness; how God had forgiveness in his plan for her. But to receive it she must forgive those who hurt her, and moreover forgive herself.
Laying her trembling fingers on the dark cover of the text, Tori sobbed. In her heart, she wanted the peace that she could see in so many people around her. Slowly lifting the book, it felt heavy in her hand.
Michael had chosen a plain wooden rocking chair for her room, and she sank into it, flipping through the pages of the volume, stopping when she saw the word Job at the top of one of them.
Starting at the beginning, she began to read about this man named Job, and all of the bad things God had allowed to happen to him, while rocking gently back and forth in Michael’s chair. Reaching the end, she shifted the tome to close it.
Hugging the bible to her chest, she rested her chin along the top edge, her mind turning as she considered what the story had been about. She thought about the inertia of her own life and how she often felt caught in the flow that carried her forward, whether she wanted it to or not. She could see the resemblance between Job and herself, having everything they cared about taken from them, being at the mercy of greater forces.
Finally, she considered the place that she lived, in the little house with Michael. She could feel her heart skip a beat when she thought about Henry’s brother, and she wondered if she could trust the strange feelings she knew were growing inside of her, like the tendrils of a fungus as it spreads across a forest floor.
The world outside remained dark and full of danger. However, in their place, reconciliation; in their place there was forgiveness to be had, if she were strong enough to accept it. Tori began going to the small white church the following Sunday to listen to the preacher talk to her as she sat alone in the last pew. She never mentioned it to Michael, never asked him to go with her. The matter would remain between her and Terry’s friend, the one she was finally ready to meet.
The Life You Have
Tori seemed preoccupied the next few weeks, as if she were thinking deeply about what they had discussed at the diner, as well as the funeral and all it had awakened inside of her. Considering Michael’s advice, to enjoy the life she had, she become tempted to give it a try in earnest.
Steven and Chris were coming over daily after school, and Trish had wanted to pay them for taking care of the boys. Michael had insisted it wasn’t necessary, having noticed that their visits were helping Tori in ways she did not seem to see for herself.
He watched her when she worked with them, and felt happy that her gentle, nurturing side was finally able to grow and be set free. He knew she had begun sneaking off to the church on Sundays, but as she kept the activity a secret, he allowed her that time for herself, and could see the changes slowly taking place within her.
Working on the motorcycles, Tori talked to him more than ever. She would explain everything, and he did his best to be a good student; she had learned far faster than he did, when their roles had been reversed. As she directed him, he could feel her watching him, and wondered what she was thinking.
Michael kept the bag with his surprise for her inside his pocket. He would often reach his hand in to rub the two rings through the soft grey felt. He had insisted on coming to Texas with her out of loyalty, because it had been the right thing to do. He had promised Henry and Terry both he would take care of her, and he had done that. But, he had remained there because he loved her, and he could think of no place on earth he would rather have been.
Michael lived in purgatory, strung out on the longing to give her his special gift. He grew quieter as she opened up to him, afraid of what he might say or do and the consequences his actions could hold. He wasn’t ready to make his move, not sure if her increasing comfort meant she had grown to love him in the way that he loved her. He feared she was happy because she would soon be rid of him for good. And of course, his change in behavior had an effect he could not have predicted.
Tori began to regret her choice to make him leave, and she struggled to understand his quieter persona. She speculated that he was cutting ties with her, and the realization made her forlorn. One minute she would be thinking how good it would feel if he were to stay. Then the next, she would consider how sending him away would be the best option for both of them. She pondered the question endlessly and could not decide which emotions were the truth.
Terry’s words came back to haunt her, and she would shake her head in disgust when she recalled them. “There will always be people,” he had said. She did not want to let people get close to her. Having them around meant so much more to her; so much more to risk for who she was. She did not want to care for anyone, including Henry’s brother, but she did, and she hated Terry for being right in the end.
By the last week of March, the weather grew warm, and summer would soon be at hand. Michael was finally becoming adept at working on the motorcycles, and Tori felt pleased with his efforts. To test his skills, she gave
him a list of tasks to complete, and then sat back to watch him perform them. A smile crossed her lips as she realized how far he had come, and she pondered how he would use his new skills after he left her.
The thought brought her mood down, so she excused herself to retrieve a bottle of water from the house. Considering what finally being alone in her life would mean, she found herself staring at the empty table in their tiny kitchen; the table that had once held a large bouquet of pink roses she had never allowed herself to accept. With a deep sigh of regret, she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, one for herself and one for the man who plagued her.
The girl returned to discover that Michael had removed his shirt to combat the heat of the afternoon and the sight of him caused her mind to race in a wild and unnerving direction. She could feel her face flush as she watched his muscles move beneath the smooth flesh of his broad shoulders. He had a thin mat of curling hairs on his chest, and for an instant she thought of running her fingers through it.
With only a few days before his departure, she discovered that old familiar ache burned inside her; the craving to touch and be touched. She struggled to push the longing away, and she sought desperately to hide her shameful thoughts and desires. She knew such feelings were not to be trusted after the pain they had brought her in the past.
Deep down, this made Tori feel beaten. She felt fairly certain he would never want her in that way. He had told her once about his past loves, and she had known from their first meeting he thought of her as a dirty whore. All the more reason to guard your heart, she warned herself with a sigh.
He hardly looked at her as she handed him the refreshing offering. Opening the bottle, he chugged it quickly and got back to work without giving her a second glance. See? You brought this on yourself, she thought wryly, keeping him away when you had the chance to be close to him. He doesn’t want you now, if he ever did. With a heavy breath, she resigned herself to watch in silence, sticking to the course she had chosen.
A New Life Series - Starter Kit Page 42
