“I’m not hungry,” he says quietly. I hear his uneven breaths and know that he’s crying.
“Garret.” I get up and go in front of him and hoist him up into my arms. His body is limp, his face wet from his tears. I sit back down on his bed and hold him across my lap. He puts his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder. He should hate me right now, but instead he hugs me. He’s so much better than me. He’s such a better person. And it’s Rachel who made him that way.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him, rubbing his back. “The past few months, I haven’t been here for you, and I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been a good father to you, Garret. I want to be, but I keep failing you. It’s been so hard for me to go on without your mother. But that’s not an excuse for me to ignore you and what you’re going through. I can’t promise you that things will go back to how they were, but I will try to do better. I will do the best that I can.” I hug him tighter, and he does the same to me.
“I love you, Dad,” he whispers.
I don’t say it back. I don’t know why. I think it, but I can’t say it. Why can’t I say it? What the fuck is wrong with me?
Garret pulls away and I bring my hand up to his cheek and wipe the wetness away. His blue eyes look so sad.
“Would you like to have movie night?” I ask him.
He rubs his eyes as he shakes his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes you sad.”
He’s worried about me, and about how I feel. It should be the other way around. I should be worried about him. So why haven’t I been? What is wrong with me?
“It’s okay if it makes me sad,” I tell him. “Sometimes memories can be sad, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still have movie night. So what do you think? Should we have some pizza? Watch a movie?”
He shrugs. “I guess.”
“Would you rather do something else?”
He hugs me again, like that’s his answer. Like he just wants me, his father, who has been absent for months now. Like he just wants me to spend time with him, be with him, listen to him. He wants his father back. The father he knew before his mother died.
I want that too. I just don’t know how to get that person back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
25
RACHEL
Every waking moment of every day I wonder if they’re okay. I wonder what they’re doing. I wonder if they’re struggling as much as I am.
I miss them both so much that some days I can barely function. The first few weeks I was here, I stayed in bed. I couldn’t get up. Celia, the landlady, kept coming up here to check on me. She thought I was sick. I told her I was, just so she’d leave me alone.
She wasn’t trying to intrude. She’s just a nice old lady who worries about people. She rents me the apartment that’s just above her restaurant. It’s a very tiny studio apartment with a twin bed, but it’s all I need. It has a small patio, which is where I spend a lot of my time, just gazing out at the water. The apartment is built into the hillside and looks out at the Mediterranean Sea.
I live in the small village that Pearce and I went to on our honeymoon twelve years ago. I chose it because it reminds me of Pearce, and even though remembering him makes me sad, I still want to remember him, and the time we spent here. Those were happy times. Before I knew the truth about his secret life. Before I knew people wanted me dead.
“Rachel.” Celia’s voice startles me. I glance up and see her offering me coffee. “Sì?”
“Yes. Sì.” I wait for her to pour it, then say, “Grazie.” I’m still learning Italian. Celia gave me a translation book that a tourist left behind and I’ve been studying it every night, trying to learn the language. Living here and being immersed in it has helped me pick up words and phrases faster than learning it from a book, but I’m still not very good.
Most of the people here speak some English. They learn it in school but they don’t use it much so sometimes I find it a struggle to communicate with them. Celia speaks fluent English which is good for me, but also for the English-speaking customers who come to her restaurant. This village doesn’t get a lot of tourists, but there are some who stumble upon it, like Pearce and I did years ago.
Celia offered me a job at her restaurant about a month ago, so that’s where I work. I don’t think she really needed the help. I think she just wanted to get me out of my apartment. She knew I spent all day in there, alone and depressed. It’s good she gave me the job. I only work five or six hours a day but it’s something to do. Something to keep me busy.
Every day, I get up early and make bread. Then I come in later to help serve dinner. The job doesn’t pay much, but it’s all Celia can afford. Jack gave me some money, but not enough to live off of for more than a year. So in a few months, if I’m still here, I’ll eventually need to get another job.
I’m on my break now and having coffee at one of the small tables by the window. I like sitting here and watching people stroll by, going to the little shops, getting what they need for the day. Life here moves at a much slower pace than in the US. People aren’t in a hurry. They aren’t constantly rushing everywhere.
The bells on the front door rattle and I quickly look up to see who’s coming inside. It’s the old man who owns the fish market down the street. He comes in every day to get coffee.
Every time those bells ring, I always look up, hoping I’ll see Pearce come walking through the door. But he never does. I also look up because I worry that someone will show up here to kill me. I’ve even had nightmares about it. It’s always the same dream. A man in a suit walks up to me, says nothing, and shoots me. I wake up sweating and out of breath.
When Jack told me people were plotting to kill me, I didn’t believe it. Sometimes I still don’t. But I saw the video. I saw the plane burning up in the field. I saw the order to kill me. So I know it’s true. I’d be dead if Jack hadn’t stopped me from getting on that plane.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what Jack said. About how this secret organization exists. A group with so much power that they’re able to control things. Big things. Like who will be president. I kept telling myself it wasn’t true. That there was no way such a group could exist. But the more I thought about it, the more I believed it.
When we were first together, Pearce told me he felt like he was living a double life. I thought he was referring to how his life with me was so different than his life with his rich friends. Now I know that’s not what he meant. When he said that, he was referring to his life in this secret group. He was trying to tell me the truth. He knew he couldn’t, but he was trying to hint at it.
I believe Jack when he said Pearce wanted to tell me. I know he would have if he were able to. Maybe he wouldn’t tell me everything, but he’d at least tell me this group exists and that he’s involved in it. But I think he would’ve hidden what they do. He wouldn’t want me knowing that he’s hurt people. Had people killed.
I’ve been trying not to think about that, because when I do, it makes me feel like I never really knew Pearce. I was living with a murderer and I had no idea. But as soon as I think that, I tell myself that it wasn’t him. Jack said Pearce was forced to do those assignments and that the Pearce I knew was not the man who did those horrible things. I want to believe that, and I’m trying to convince myself that it’s true. The Pearce I know is kind and caring and gentle and loving. He doesn’t want to hurt people, even people he doesn’t know. The only way he’d do something like that is if they threatened him. Or threatened to hurt me. Or Garret.
I should be angry with Pearce for getting me involved in this, knowing what could happen. But instead of feeling anger, I feel sadness. For Pearce. He’s had a horrible life. A horrible childhood. And then he was forced to join this group. He didn’t know love until I came into his life. So when I did, he didn’t want to let me go.
Some would say that was selfish. That he should’ve let me go, knowing he couldn’t be with me. Part of me agrees
with that, but the other part of me doesn’t. Because I kind of understand where he’s coming from. It’s like me, wanting a child. I knew the risks. I knew if I got pregnant, something bad could happen to me, or the baby. And yet I still did it, because I wanted that baby so bad. Pearce wanted love even more than that. He wanted someone to love, and someone to love him back. Is that really so wrong? To want to be loved?
I’ve been trying to think of what I would’ve done if I were him. If I’d never been loved, and someone offered it to me, would I turn him away? Knowing I loved him back the same way? I don’t know that I could.
And if someone threatened to hurt my family if I didn’t do what they said, would I do it? Even if it meant harming someone else? I’d like to say I wouldn’t, but the truth is, I probably would.
In my heart, I know Pearce is not a bad person. I know he doesn’t want to do bad things. And I know he loves me more than anything and would do everything in his power to keep me safe.
So despite the bad things Pearce has done, and despite the fact that he kept that part of his life a secret, I still love him. I always will. Some might say that’s wrong, but it’s how I feel. Pearce is my best friend. My husband. The love of my life. My soulmate. And it kills me to know that he’s forced to be part of this secret organization. That he can’t get out. And that he couldn’t tell me about it even though he wanted to.
I guess, if anything, I should be mad at Pearce for pursuing me all those years ago. If we’d never dated, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him and I wouldn’t be in the situation I’m in now. But we can’t go back and change the past. And truthfully, I wouldn’t want to. I had a life with Pearce. One that I loved. Aside from the past three months, the past twelve years were the best years of my life. If I hadn’t married Pearce, I wouldn’t have the memories that I now cherish and use to get through each day. And if Pearce hadn’t come into my life, I wouldn’t have Garret, my little ray of sunshine. My sweet little boy who I love with everything I am.
I miss him so much. I miss them both so much. It’s torture not seeing them. Not being able to hug them and kiss them and be with them.
I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Jack didn’t give me any kind of timeline. I thought Pearce would come find me after a couple weeks. But then those weeks turned into a month, and then another month, and another after that. I keep waiting, wondering when he’ll show up.
The wait is agonizing. What is taking so long? Even if he hasn’t found a way to be with me and keep me safe, he could at least come and see me. Nobody would have to know. This is a tiny village. Nobody here knows him. He’d be safe coming here. And I need to see him. I’m desperate to see him.
So where is he?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Three Years Later
PEARCE
“Welcome back,” I say to Garret as he walks in the front door.
He lets out harsh laugh. “Yeah. No thanks to you. If you had your way, I’d still be over there.”
“Your actions cost us a fortune!” Katherine says, appearing behind me. “You don’t even care, do you?”
I wish she’d just let me handle this. Things are bad enough with Garret. I don’t need Katherine making them worse.
“Don’t fucking talk to me,” he says as he passes her on his way to the stairs.
Katherine gasps. “Pearce! Don’t let him use that foul language in the house.”
“Katherine, please. He just got home. Let’s not start fighting already.”
“Good luck with that,” Garret mumbles as he goes upstairs.
I follow him up there. “Garret, wait. I want to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to say.” He goes in his room and slams the door.
I open it before he can lock it. He’s sitting on his bed.
“You didn’t even say hello.” I sit next to him.
“And you’re mad about that? Seriously? You didn’t even call to see if I was okay. You shipped me off to boarding school and forgot about me. And you’re pissed I didn’t say hello just now?” He huffs. “Just go.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I was just—” I sigh. “I’m sorry we sent you there. We shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right.”
“WE?” He turns to me. “There was no ‘we’ in that decision. It was all Katherine’s idea. She hates me and she wanted to get rid of me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just not used to being around children.”
“I’m NOT a child.”
“You’re only 13. You’re still a child.”
“So you thought it was okay to send your CHILD all the way to London to go to school?” He rolls his eyes. “Great parenting there, Dad.”
“I admit it was a mistake. You won’t be going back to boarding school. You’ll live here and go to Tolshire Academy.”
“What?” He stands up. “You’re saying I can’t go back to my old school?”
“It’s too far from where we live now. Tolshire is much closer and it’s an excellent school. Even better than your old school.”
“No. I’m not going there. I’m going back to my old school, where my friends are.”
“That isn’t an option, Garret. You’re going to Tolshire. I’ve already enrolled you there. You start next Monday.”
He points at the door. “Was this HER idea?”
“No. And you need to stop blaming her for everything. We can’t all live under the same roof if you two are always fighting.”
“She’s the one who starts it!” he yells. “She purposely says things she knows will start a fight!”
“I don’t care who’s at fault. This fighting needs to end.”
“Why are you sticking up for her? You know she lies. You know she manipulates you and everyone else. She’s a bitch, Dad. Why the hell did you marry her?”
I stand up and face him. “You need to clean up your language. I mean it, Garret. You can’t use that kind of language around the baby.”
“You mean the baby you had to replace me?”
“Garret, that’s not fair. You know that’s not why we had her.”
“Then why? Why did you do it?”
“Katherine and I are married. It’s not surprising we would have a child together.”
Garret throws his hands in the air. “You don’t even like her! Why the hell would you have a kid with her?”
“Of course I like her. She’s my wife.”
“MOM was your wife! You loved MOM. You don’t love Katherine. She’s too young for you. You have nothing in common. You fight all the time. And she treats you like shit.”
“You know nothing about our marriage. And you shouldn’t, because it’s none of your business.”
“It is when she’s trying to interfere with my life. Ship me off to boarding school.”
“I told you that wouldn’t happen again.”
“Katherine wants me gone. She only wants you and Lilly living here. And since you always do what she says, you’ll ship me off again.”
“I don’t always do what she says. You don’t know what goes on between Katherine and me so stop acting like you do.”
“You forgot my birthday last year,” he says quietly. “Because of her. Because she told you to.”
I sigh. “I didn’t forget. We just weren’t able to have a party for you. It was a very busy time with the baby being born so close to your birthday.” I pause, thinking back to the day I first held Garret in my arms. A day that now seems like a lifetime ago. “I will never forget your birthday. I still remember the day you were born.”
Garret gazes at the floor. “If I’d known this would be my life, I wish you’d never even had me.”
“Garret, don’t say that.”
“Just go away. Go be with your wife.”
“I want to be with my son right now. You’ve been gone and I’ve missed you.”
“Then why did you send me away?” He yells it. “And why didn’t you call me?” His voice cracks.
I
step up to him and force him into a hug. “You’re right. I should’ve called. And I shouldn’t have sent you away. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not!” He shoves me away and wipes the wetness from his eyes. “You always do this! You always say you’re sorry, but then nothing ever changes. You apologize for not spending time with me, but then you work a hundred hours a week. You say you’re sorry for missing my swim meet, but then you don’t show up to the next one. You say you’re sorry for never talking about Mom, but then I say her name and you yell at me. You’re a fucking liar, Dad! Just stop trying to be a father and leave me alone! I’d do a better job raising myself than having you do it!”
He storms off to his bathroom and slams the door and locks it. He’s sad and angry and frustrated, with both me and our situation. But I don’t know what to do to make him feel better. This is our life now, and he’s right. I’m a horrible father. He probably would be better off raising himself.
After the plane crash, our lives went to hell. Part of that was my fault. I couldn’t get past my grief, so I buried myself in work. It was the only thing that distracted me enough to lessen the excruciating pain I felt from losing her.
But all those hours at the office meant that I never saw Garret. The first few months after Rachel died, I tried to be home every night for dinner. But then I started working later. Charles was with Garret every day after school, but when he left at six, Garret was alone. Most nights, he ate dinner without me and was asleep by the time I got home.
The parents of his friends took him to his swim practice and basketball games and football games. They offered to help because they felt bad about what happened to Rachel. But it wasn’t their job to take care of Garret. It was mine, and I didn’t do it.
Knowing I couldn’t help him with his grief, I did as Charles suggested and sent Garret to see a child psychologist. He didn’t want to go, but I made him, and it ended up being good for him. After months of counseling, Garret was feeling better, and it gave me hope that I, too, could someday feel better and move on from this tragedy. And the first step in doing that was to be a father again. Rachel and Garret had always been the only light in my life. Rachel was gone, but Garret was still here and I needed him as much as he needed me.
Protecting Her Page 29
