“I know.”
“You and Tom,” she whispered. “You’re who I can count on. You’re who I’ve got.”
Caroline leaned in closer. “You have a lot more than that.”
“You know what I mean. You’re the ones.”
“Chrissy-”
Christine pivoted awkwardly and grabbed Caroline in an unexpectedly fierce hug. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Sure you can. We’re still going to see each other. As often as we want. And you can call and text and email until you’re sick of me.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Did you expect everything to stay the same?”
Christine pulled back a little. “That would have been nice.”
Caroline tightened their hug again. “Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see.”
“I’m going to miss you,” Christine said softly.
Caroline let out a shuddering breath. If she lost it, Christine was liable to go crazy. “I’m going to miss you too. Maybe I can get Jack to put you on some statewide committee or something. Then you’d have excuses to visit.”
Christine laughed. “I don’t care if it would look bad. I’d take it.”
“I am so proud of you,” Caroline whispered. “I want you to know that. Proud of who you are, not just of what you’ve accomplished.”
“You always know the right thing to say,” Christine said.
“I’m a skilled politician.”
Christine laughed again. “You’re hitting them all today. May I come visit you while you’re in Rockville for the next couple of weeks?”
“Dinner every night, if you want.”
“Are you doing the cooking?”
“Jack will be in Philadelphia, so probably.”
Christine freed herself from their embrace. “I might not be that desperate for food. Though I hear the Senate dining room leaves a lot to be desired.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “What is it with you people and your constant joking? My cooking is not that bad. My children are still alive.”
Christine patted her arm. “We’re all grateful that you’ll have a chef at the Governor’s Mansion.”
Caroline pretended to be offended. “Jerk.”
Christine put her arm around Caroline’s shoulder, pressing them both toward the window. She was showing so much affection that Caroline wanted to ask her if she’d been drinking.
“Not a bad view, huh?” Christine said.
“You earned it.”
“I had some help.”
“It was mostly you. You never give yourself your due.”
“I really am going to miss you, Punky.” Christine tilted her head toward Caroline. “It’s good to see you so happy. It’s been a long time and I – it’s very good to see you this way.”
“I feel different,” Caroline said. “I mean, I feel good but I’m terrified that something will come along and take it all away.”
“I doubt that. You earned this too. You deserve to be happy.” Christine turned to look Caroline in the eye. “I’m glad you have Jack. It’s clear that he brings joy into your life.”
Caroline smiled. Jack was pummeling the hell out of Jacob in the Christine popularity contest. “It took a long time to get back to this place.”
“You’ve never been this way before. This is what you’re supposed to be. Punky Enhanced.”
Caroline laughed. “Now you’re being silly.”
Christine sniffled. “That’s because I’m trying not to lose it and lock you in that side closet over there.”
Caroline gave her a big hug, knowing she’d be willing to accept it. “You have two weeks before I go to Harrisburg. I know we’ll both be busy but I will make time for you if you’re free. Understand?”
“Yes.” Christine pulled away, straightening her jacket and smoothing her hair. “You can tell Thomas and the girls I’m ready to go to lunch.”
Just like that, sensitive Christine was gone. Caroline squeezed her shoulder. “I will. I love you, Chrissy.”
Christine didn’t say anything for a long time.
“I know,” she finally whispered. “But thank you for reminding me.” She turned back toward the window.
Caroline silently stepped out the door. “Give her a minute,” she told Tom.
He nodded, and she knew he understood. “Sure.”
She hugged each of them in turn. Jess held on for a while but Susannah accepted the gesture rigidly.
“Thank you for letting me share this with you,” Caroline said.
Tom kissed her on the cheek. “See you in a couple of weeks,” he said.
Caroline glanced back at the office door. She considered going back for one more hug but she needed to cut the cord as much as Christine did. “Take care of her,” she said.
Tom laughed. “That’s harder than it sounds.”
“Try anyway.”
“You know I do.”
Caroline looked at her watch. “I gotta go. If I’m late I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Give the girls a hug and kiss from us,” Tom said.
“I will,” she said, grabbing her coat and running out of the office.
Chapter Twelve
The Safe House
Caroline woke up in a tangle of sheets, tears staining her pillow. She took a deep breath, wincing as she exhaled. Months later and her ribs hurt. Her nose hurt. Her cheeks hurt. Did it matter if the pain was psychosomatic? It was nothing compared to the ache she felt in a place she couldn’t quite identify.
Her memories had no rhyme or reason. No order, no predictability. They’d engulf her, choke her, pull her under. Every night she fought a losing battle but kept trying; there was no way to move forward without trying to pretend the past had never happened.
She felt smothered. That overwhelming, constricting panic that rose in your throat when you realized you were utterly alone. Oh, she had her friends. The precious few. Three people she could trust out of a nation of millions. The men who had risked their lives to save her. Outside the confines of their home she was a target. The enemy. A woman who lived in constant fear of being recognized, being caught, being sent back to the people who would never be satisfied with anything less than her total eradication.
None of her memories were safe. All of them touched off other emotions, reminded her of other things, made her think of other people. She hated that she kept dreaming about them. Hated herself for not being able to stop.
She pressed her face into the pillow, weeping softly. What kind of life did she have now, with only brief glimpses of the past to sustain her? She knew what she had. She had nothing. Caroline had nothing because Caroline didn’t deserve to exist.
She rolled over and examined her passport again. Stared at the photo she hated. At the new name. The new identity.
Diana Marie Pascal.
The words blurred but she shed no tears. It was all so unfamiliar, so unusual. To see this foreign woman on a fake document that looked so incredibly real. There was no more Caroline. Caroline Gerard was gone. She put the passport back on the nightstand and closed her eyes.
Diana Marie Pascal.
Caroline had loved hard. Laughed loud. Smiled and dreamed and hugged and hoped.
Diana could be anyone or anything. She could be mean. Quiet. Serious. Isolated. It would be quite easy to be Diana, because no one knew who Diana was.
Was she charming, faithful, and devoted….or cold, aloof, and detached? Caroline had always thought her default was set to nice and polite and kind but the opposite seemed so much easier. Diana was easier.
Caroline could be thrown by the wayside, dumped off the back of the truck, tucked away in the attic, never to be seen or heard from again.
She could battle for Caroline. Battle to feel her heart beat as she danced through life with the rain on her face and the wind at her back. Or she could become Diana. Diana was simple, straightforward, withdrawn. Caroline and all of her beloved memories would need a fight.
/>
Given enough time, Diana was destined to win out.
* * * * *
None of them used their fake names, not yet. But they all knew what they were. The guys hardly ever called Caroline by her name anymore. Partly because they were trying to break habits and partly because Jonesie and Crunch in particular got a kick out of calling her Princess. It didn’t bother her since she knew it was done out of genuine affection. It was nice to have relationships with people who didn’t require anything too complicated. Complicated wasn’t exactly her cup of tea.
Caroline managed to slog through the rest of October, helping Crunch make orange and black frosted cookies for Halloween. There were no trick or treaters, which was both depressing and soothing at the same time. The fewer people who came knocking, the better.
It was early November now and fall was leading into what would be a very ugly winter. Every day that Caroline got through without thinking of her friends and family was deemed a success. She wasn’t gaining a ton of weight but she’d started to gain strength and muscle. Which, in the end, was all that really mattered.
Until the Saturday before Thanksgiving came. Weekends were the hardest times. Crunch knew her best, knew when to keep his distance, but Gabe and Jones were constantly trying to cheer her up. They’d never push her to talk but they’d want to play games or goof around or do something to make it far too obvious that they were trying to entertain her. It would get to be too much, the social interaction. Going from isolation to constant conversational bombardment proved to be quite difficult. Her emotions couldn’t handle the overload. It reminded her of other conversations, other evenings. Other friends.
The three of them had spent Saturday afternoon working out and sparring in the basement. Afterwards, Gabe had been so pleased that he’d gone out and splurged on hamburgers, fries, and shakes for them all. Caroline almost wept at the sight, and the smell. The three men always made sure she had plenty to eat but they hardly ever got food from a restaurant. Her reaction must have been noticed because Gabe made a comment after dinner that they needed to have random celebrations a little more often. Or maybe not, since Jonesie and Crunch both complained of heartburn and went to bed shortly after the meal. They were getting too healthy for their own good.
Caroline, on the other hand, was wide awake and drawn to the heavenly smell of burgers and fries wafting in the air. She’d never been a big fan of greasy spoons but that indulgent feast had reminded her of how much she loved highly unwholesome food. She stayed in the kitchen, relishing every second until the scents faded away.
Gabe came in and got two beers out of the fridge. “Want one?” he asked, taking the seat across from her.
She’d never been one for beer before, but Caroline knew better than to ask if he had a bottle of Moscato chilling somewhere. This was the best she was going to do. It wasn’t the worst way to chase a burger and fries. She took the bottle from him and twisted the top off. “Sure.”
“Today went really well,” he said. “You’re gaining a lot of strength. Don’t you think?”
“I guess so.” Caroline flexed her fingers against the bottle. They ached a little but it had rained earlier in the day. They always swelled up and hurt when it was lousy outside. How nice to be a human weathervane.
“You are.” Gabe took a giant swig of beer. “You were in pretty rough shape when you first got here.”
He hardly ever talked about that. No one did. Much like her, the other residents of the house were trying to forget those first few months.
“I know,” she whispered. She studied the label on the front of her bottle. Some local brewery she didn’t recognize. “Thanks again for getting me out.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Gabe said. “You were worth it.”
What could she say to that? She took another sip of beer and stared over at the wall.
“I used to watch C-SPAN when you were in Congress,” he said.
Well, if that wasn’t boring as hell. “On purpose?”
Gabe laughed. “Of course.”
Caroline would rather watch paint dry or listen to someone read the phone book, the latter being possible during a filibuster. “Why on earth would you do that?”
“I like the process,” Gabe said. “Or, I used to. I wasn’t all that interested in politics but I took a peek now and again to see what was going on.” He tugged at the label on his own bottle. “Sometimes I’d do it just to get a glimpse of you.”
The sentiment would have seemed mildly stalkerish coming from someone else, but Gabe sounded earnest. Reverential, even.
“Well,” Caroline said. “Thanks, I guess. Ever see any of my floor speeches?”
“The afterhours ones?”
“Yeah.”
Gabe grinned at her. “I once watched you give a fascinating two hour lecture on human trafficking.”
Because the bastards she worked with wouldn’t pass the fucking legislation already. She stayed on the floor every night for three weeks talking until she was hoarse. The House leadership finally agreed to bring it to a vote because they were so sick of seeing her speeches in the Congressional Record. An impressive feat considering she was a member of the minority party. Caroline had always wondered if the Speaker of the House had played a part in that decision making. He was never one to interfere with the legislative agenda but Robert Allen did occasionally favor his favorite Democrat, especially when he knew she was right.
“That was one of my finest moments,” she said.
“Your keynote address at the Democratic National Convention was pretty good, too.”
How much did he know about her? “You must have followed my career pretty closely,” she said.
Gabe shrugged. “You came across as very sincere. I liked that.” He took another sip of beer. “Still do, actually.”
A strange thing to say since she wasn’t nearly the nice and generous person she’d been before. Her determination to become Diana had seen to that. No doubt about it, this guy liked her despite her near constant bitchiness. Not that she had an inkling as to why.
“I’m not that woman anymore,” she said.
“You can be,” Gabe said. “In time.”
She didn’t bother telling him that it didn’t matter. That she wouldn’t go back to that identity ever again, even if she could. Too much had happened. And she didn’t want to spend the entire night talking about herself.
“Tell me what it’s like,” she said. “Out there.”
He frowned. “You mean, in the District?”
“Not just in Washington. Everywhere.”
“I’ve told you everything I’ve heard.”
She sighed. “I don’t mean that. I mean how does it feel when you’re at work, or at the store, or even what it’s like when you go to pick up burgers and fries.”
He tapped his bottle on the table. “I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s kind of hard to describe. It’s like everything’s the same but it’s different. Know what I mean?”
A momentary flash, a female voice. His words were all it took.
“You don’t know what it was like driving across the country. It was surreal. It appeared normal, but it was like there was this weird film over everything. Nothing was quite what it seemed.”
Caroline swallowed a large gulp of beer, almost choking on it. Maybe she could drown the memory of Jen’s voice in booze. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”
“For the most part, day to day life hasn’t changed,” he continued. “Some prices have gone up, you might see a few more homeless people, more vacant houses, that sort of thing. But there’s traffic, there are people milling around, and there are plenty of folks acting as if everything is the same. I don’t know what that says about them. Or us.”
“Do you think we have a chance to get to California safely?”
Eyeing her almost empty bottle, Gabe grabbed another two beers out of the fridge. “I have no idea. We gotta leave, though. You and Crunch can’t hide away forever.”
&n
bsp; Part of her wanted to get the hell out of Washington but another part of her was terrified to leave his house. She felt almost safe there. She’d never feel truly secure but knew she’d get three meals a day and some damn privacy while tucked inside its four walls. But he was right. They had to go. And if they failed…well, she wouldn’t think about that. Not yet.
“When do you think we’ll leave?” she asked.
“It’s almost December. Maybe after Christmas? I was thinking late January or early February. Far enough after the holidays to avoid any extra security measures but close enough to have a defined end goal. How does that sound?”
She smiled. “Sounds good to me.”
They drank another beer apiece before Caroline realized she was ready to go to bed. Gabe offered to walk her to her room and she stupidly agreed. The alcohol hadn’t made her drunk or buzzed or even mildly giddy. Strange, since it left her no excuse for any poor judgment she might exercise. She knew it was a bad idea to let him come in but beckoned him inside anyway. They both sat down on her bed with Caroline pulling at a string on her bedspread and him staring at the empty walls.
She turned to him. “So,” she said.
One word. Not even an invitation. Or a declination. It was no big surprise when Gabe leaned over to kiss her.
Caroline told herself to give in. To try to enjoy it. Hell, she’d practically put up a neon sign letting him know it was okay for him to make a move. Why, she had no idea. But she instinctively pushed him away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t want this.”
“No,” he said. “It’s my fault. Shouldn’t have had that last beer.”
Gabe cared. The way he was looking at her was telling enough that she knew what he was trying to convey. She’d assumed his attraction to her would fade once he got to know her. Once he saw that she was broken.
He scooted away from her when she didn’t respond. “I want to help you,” he said. “Any way I can.”
That meant physical affection. Was that what she wanted? She didn’t even know anymore.
Caroline would let him down easy. Comfort him. Make him feel better before telling him to leave.
The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn) Page 77
