Of Blind Fate (Operation: Middle of the Garden Book 5)

by Micah Persell

  Another pang. Oliver would not let this man talk to her this way if he were around—that is, if he even cared how another talked to her anymore. And the guard was so wrong. Farrah didn’t think the world revolved around her; the world simply rolled right over her, flattening her in the dirt.

  Farrah pulled in a slow breath, forcing herself to focus. She needed to use her skills; she had them for a reason. “You are right, of course. I am simply anxious. I am in a new world and now I am without the one person who was looking out for me.” Her voice quivered a little, and Farrah worried that her distress was real instead of feigned.

  The guards were silent for a bit before releasing a simultaneous sigh. “Woman—” one began. “You know, we wouldn’t have to call you woman if you told us your name…”

  Farrah pinched her lips closed and did her best to smile. She hoped her message was clear: not on your life, mister. It didn’t matter how much she needed to soften them up.

  Another sigh. “Fine. Woman. Dr. Johnson truly won’t be able to accommodate you today. But I’ll give her a call and see if she has time for you tomorrow.”

  Farrah’s brows shot up. Doctor? “Yes,” she said quickly. She could tell it was the best offer she would get. “That would be wonderful.” It was not ideal, but she could get the fruit tomorrow with Abilene and then quietly slip out the door. Hopefully. Even though it hadn’t worked last time.

  She shook her head to displace that line of thought. “If you’ll excuse me.” She needed to pray. The past two days without Oliver’s application telling her when it was time to pray had been inconvenient to say the least. She hadn’t felt comfortable enough with the two guards who barely tolerated her to ask them the time of day repeatedly, and so she estimated the best she could. She was getting tired again, the evening meal they’d brought her sitting heavily in her gut as she was unused to eating so much and so well, so it must be around sundown.

  She slipped from the living room into the bedroom, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible. She went through her prayers and then curled up on Oliver’s bed, drawing one of his pillows to her stomach and wrapping her arms around it. She couldn’t resist burying her nose in the linen and inhaling his cardamom scent—an aroma that pervaded their apartment still even though it had been days since he’d last eaten firni around her.

  Their apartment. Her little mental slip rocked her. She tightened her arms around the pillow and tried to calm her breathing.

  Oliver, please come back.

  If he walked through that door right now, she might even run to his arms.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell asleep only to have nightmares of Oliver trapped in a room, screaming for her at the top of his lungs until his voice broke, and he lost consciousness.

  14

  Day Six of the Cycle

  Farrah’s eyes popped open. Warm sun streamed across her cheek and chest. It was morning. And Oliver had not come home last night.

  A sick feeling crowded Farrah’s throat as she pushed up from the bed.

  She couldn’t wait any longer. She would be leaving today, and she may have blown the best chance she’d been given in her life to have happiness.

  There was a tickle on her cheek, and Farrah reached up, brushing across a tear with her fingertips. She was crying?

  She swallowed down the tears. Tell no secrets. Find Mother. This was her path now; she would embrace it. Gladly.

  She moved through her morning prayers, cleaned up in the bathroom, and made her way out into the living room.

  The guards greeted her with a silence so loud Farrah had no trouble surmising their location. She turned toward them. “Will Abilene see me now?”

  “There is breakfast on the table,” one guard said. Was his voice kinder than yesterday? “Abilene said she would meet you for lunch in her lab. We’ll take you there in a few hours.”

  Farrah nodded. Plenty of time to get her meager possessions together and hide them on her person. “Thank you,” she said, wanting to get on the guards’ good sides today. Make them a bit less wary of her. She picked up the plate of food from the table, drawing in its scent and discovering that, along with eggs, she had inexplicably been served firni for breakfast. Perhaps because of Oliver’s affinity for it the Americans did not know it was a dessert? Her heart lurched. “I will just eat this in my room, if that’s all right with you. I’m not feeling very well.”

  “Of course,” the other guard said. “We’ll come get you at lunch time if you’re still feeling up to it.”

  She closed herself in the bedroom and settled on the bed with her legs crossed. She didn’t feel like eating, but she needed to in order to keep up her strength. Who knew how long her meager stores of crackers and water would sustain her. She lifted the bowl of firni to her nose, hoping a smell that she’d grown to love would pique her appetite, but instead of the earthy cardamom and pistachio she expected, the overly-sweet tinge of hard candy pervaded her senses.

  That couldn’t be right.

  She inhaled again, and, yes, the firni smelled like candy. Farrah frowned and set the bowl aside. A tingle shot up her back, making Farrah roll her shoulders. The movement didn’t assuage the discomfort, however. Was someone watching her? She craned her head around, straining her ears for any sound. There was none.

  Suddenly, the feeling vanished—there one second and gone the next. When she smelled the firni again, it smelled as it should. How odd.

  With a sigh, Farrah resigned herself to eating a meal she knew would taste like sand in her mouth.

  She set the tray aside when she’d eaten as much as she could stomach, and without anything to distract her, except for her prayers, Farrah sat on the bed and thought of Oliver. Constantly.

  The feel of his fingers intertwined with hers that one particular morning. His touch on her cheek. His chest beneath her hands.

  It made no sense. Farrah could recognize that her draw—no, it was definitely attraction—to Oliver was against everything she had schooled herself to feel since she was a child. Yet here she was, sitting on the bed, devastated by the fact that she was leaving a man who had decided he did not want her.

  The answer to what does he want in return was proving elusive as he’d given her no indication as to what it was. He asked for nothing. He took her tongue lashings and her harsh treatment without retaliation.

  If he had wanted something in return, she would now never know what that was and if, maybe, she would have been willing to give it to him.

  There was a knock on the door, and Farrah jumped. “Y-yes?” she called out.

  The door hinges squeaked. “We’re ready to take you to Abilene’s lab,” a guard said.

  At last. No more sitting in far-too-contemplative silence on the bed. Farrah leapt to her feet and schooled herself to calm down and not give anything away. Adrenaline tightened each muscle. If everything went according to plan, she could start making her way to her mother—with the gift of immortality on her person—within an hour.

  They walked through the building, Farrah’s hand in the crook of one guard’s arm. The other guard’s gaze burned Farrah’s back, producing the same tingling feeling she’d felt earlier while eating breakfast alone. Someone had been watching her, then. She was sure of it. She needed to proceed with her plan as quickly as possible.

  She counted every step, and sucked in a breath when she realized they were going to walk her right by the Trees on the way to Abilene’s mysterious lab.

  It was not long before Farrah felt the breezes of the large room on her cheeks. The closer they got to the Trees, the tenser Farrah’s muscles became. Now. She needed to do this now. Then, with the fruit in hand, she need only escape sweet, gentle Abilene and her unsolicited advice.

  She just had to distract the guard behind her.

  The strange rustling of the Trees’ branches filled Farrah’s ears, and the sudden coolness on Farrah’s head let her know that they were now passing beneath their shade. It was time.

 
Farrah tripped forward, gasping loudly and bracing her hands to accept impact. As expected, both guards grabbed her, lunging forward to keep her from falling. They pulled her upright, and Farrah raised both hands over her head to straighten her hijab. Only, she raised her right hand higher until her fingers brushed against a fruit that was rough, almost crystalline, beneath her fingertips. It was the fruit she’d eaten. She recognized its odd peel. A quick flick of her wrist, and the fruit was in her hand. She continued to straighten her hijab over her forehead, and surreptitiously dropped the purloined fruit into the sling of material that crossed her shoulders. The heavy weight settled there, pulling at the material and letting Farrah know she’d been successful.

  “Thank you so much,” she said to the guards with a breathlessness that did not need to be feigned. She had done it. She had the fruit for her mother.

  One of the guards patted her on the back, while the other threaded her hand through his arm again, and then they were on their way once more.

  Farrah’s head turned to the right as they walked by where she knew the exit to the outside world lay. She’d be coming back soon. Maybe within mere minutes.

  Her stomach churned and fluttered.

  They stopped, and the guard whose arm she held knocked on the door.

  “Come in!”

  Wind wafted past Farrah, stirring the material around her face, as a door opened outward. “We have your visitor,” the guard said.

  “Great, thanks.”

  There was some silence, and then Abilene spoke again. “You can leave her here and go get some lunch yourselves if you’d prefer. There are plenty of potential guards in the main room.”

  Farrah held her breath. Were they really going to make it this easy?

  “That would be wonderful,” said the guard behind her.

  Farrah blinked. She was ushered inside. A gust of cold air slapped her side and back as her guards left her, and then the door closed behind her.

  Bolt now? No, best to wait a few moments and let the guards get farther away.

  “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” Abilene’s sudden question reverberated through the space.

  Farrah jumped and barely caught a gasp before it escaped her lips. “L-leave?” She swallowed and tried speaking again, hopefully without the stutter. “Where would I go?”

  “As my father-in-law would say, ‘never kid a kidder.’” Abilene was closer, and Farrah flinched back. Would the woman strike her? Would she have to fight her? She didn’t want to do that. “Why don’t you take my arm?” Abilene said. “We’ll talk a bit before you go.”

  Farrah frowned. Was Abilene going to…let her leave? She reached forward and found Abilene’s arm waiting for her. The woman led her to a stool. As Farrah sat, the creaking of metal and plastic announced that Abilene was doing the same.

  “Now, do you have enough supplies? A good plan?” Abilene’s questions were free of judgment.

  “I am sorry,” Farrah struggled to say. “I am not quite sure I understand what is happening here.”

  “Well, I certainly hope you’re planning on escaping, or I’m going to have a hard time respecting you. You strike me as having far too much spirit to stay put just because someone told you to.”

  All right, this was definitely a what does she want in return moment. What was her angle? Was she spying? Farrah was hiding plenty, but she couldn’t think of anything in her cache of secrets that would interest Abilene.

  “A-are you setting me up?”

  Abilene sighed. “No, hon, I’m not. I’ll let you go if you want to. I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to stay gone—Anahita is very dedicated to…well, she may want you back.”

  Farrah didn’t know what to say. When she hesitated, Abilene said, “You know, if you want to see Oliver before you go, I’ll take you to him.”

  The gasp did escape Farrah’s lips this time. “Oliver is…here?”

  “Of course he is. Wait…you didn’t know he was here? Where did you think he had gone?”

  Farrah’s thoughts were rioting. “I did not know where he had gone. I simply thought he had left m—” She cut off her words just in time to keep her conflicted emotions a secret.

  Abilene’s cool fingers brushed Farrah’s arm. “You thought he left you?” Her words dripped with sympathy, and Farrah cringed. She was losing her grip on what was important. Finding her mother and keeping her secrets were all she had left in the world, unless Oliver truly hadn’t abandoned her.

  “Oh, sweetie, Oliver would never leave you. He needs you.”

  Farrah’s lips parted. “He…what?”

  There was a rustle. An exasperated sigh. Farrah thought Abilene muttered something that sounded like as bad as Dahlia. “I can’t say more and honor my friend’s wishes, but if you were hurt by the thought of Oliver leaving you, then there is hope, and that is good. I think you should be with Oliver right now. He won’t know you’re there, but it may help him with what’s to come. It may help both of you.”

  A tight, clawing crawled up from Farrah’s gut into her chest and throat. It nearly strangled her. What is wrong with Oliver?

  She had not realized she’d spoken aloud until Abilene said, “Everything. More than you can imagine.”

  Farrah recognized the clawing feeling of fear. She was scared for Oliver. Worried about him. She was suddenly on her feet. “Take me to him now.” Her tone left no mystery as to the fact that she’d just issued an order.

  Abilene’s stool squeaked, and Farrah reached forward, finding Abilene’s arm immediately. “Hopefully he’ll be so happy to see your face tomorrow that he won’t kick my ass for what I’m getting ready to do,” Abilene muttered. “And if he doesn’t want you there, then he can boot you out and still hold on to his damn secret,” Abilene whispered so softly that there was no question she hadn’t meant Farrah to hear her.

  Oliver has secrets, too?

  Farrah nudged Abilene forward, impatient that the woman wasn’t walking yet.

  “All right, all right.” Abilene, blessedly, began to move.

  The muscles in Abilene’s forearm were tight beneath Farrah’s hand, almost as though she regretted taking Farrah wherever it was they were going. Farrah started walking faster, prodding Abilene forward, hoping they made it to their destination before Abilene could change her mind.

  They entered the wing where Farrah had first arrived; the scent of medicine and antiseptic stung Farrah’s nose, and she wrinkled it, resentful of the distraction.

  Abilene’s upper body jolted a bit, and the breeze of a door opening brushed across Farrah. They stepped into a room, the ambient noise becoming smaller and contained.

  A steady beep filled the air, and Farrah forgot how to breathe, sure the beep was not a positive sign.

  “He’s right in front of you,” Abilene said. “About five steps.”

  Farrah nodded and dropped her hand from Abilene’s arm. While she hadn’t been able to hold back in her hurry to get here, now that Oliver was mere feet away, she was scared of what she’d find. He was here with her, but he hadn’t greeted her. Was that because he was unable to?

  Farrah shuffled her left foot forward. Then her right. Before she knew it, she’d covered the distance.

  She could feel him. Her heart seemed to tug in his direction, and she reached out, her fingers unerringly finding his. She grasped his hand.

  He didn’t grasp back.

  Farrah’s breaths grew ragged, and with her free hand, she traced a path up from their joined hands, over the muscles of his arm, up his shoulder and neck. She paused at his jaw, but then forced herself to brush her fingers over his eyes as gently as she could.

  They were closed.

  A broken sound left her. “Is he dead?” she asked, her words sounding as though they contained tears.

  “No,” Abilene said after several long seconds.

  The way the woman said that simple word—there was a very heavily implied not yet tacked on. “But he will be.” It was not a question.r />
  Abilene sighed. A frustrated heaving of breath. “I cannot divulge that information to you. He is my patient, and I do not have his consent. You will have to ask him about his condition yourself.”

  So, that was a yes. The fruit. It had to have something to do with the fruit. Farrah couldn’t breathe. “Will I die, too?”

  “No.” The word was quick. “You will never die.”

  “Then, why—” Farrah couldn’t bring herself to ask the question, knowing by instinct that the answer had something to do with her. That the what does he want in return—why he would bring her to this country and give her the fruit —led back to this, and Farrah herself was the key.

  “Another thing you will have to ask him yourself,” Abilene said softly.

  Farrah’s fingers clenched around Oliver’s. How was she supposed to do that if he died? She felt lost. She had so much to do, and yet, she did not want to leave this man’s side. Her body physically rebelled against the very idea.

  There was a scraping on the floor. “A chair is right behind you.”

  Farrah took a step back, felt the seat against her legs, and sank into the chair’s comforting embrace. “When?” Farrah was able to grind out.

  Abilene knew what she meant, thank God, and perhaps even more miraculous, Abilene answered the question with barely a hesitation. “Tomorrow.”

  Farrah nodded. Tomorrow. She could—she would—wait with him until then. Why she felt compelled to do so, she didn’t quite know. But she did know that this man’s impending death was linked to her, and that she owed him what comfort she could give him. If her presence was that comfort, she would gladly give it. The truth was, she didn’t know exactly where her mother was; immortality or not, striking out without a key destination in mind was foolhardy. This small delay was the right thing to do in more ways than one.

  She cradled his hand in her left and with her right, she began a slow stroke up and down Oliver’s arm, from his wrist to his elbow and back again.

  Abilene gasped.

  “What is it?” Farrah asked, her words coming so quickly they tripped over themselves. “What’s wrong?”