Footsteps stomping toward them made her spin around. It was the butler again. Hands clasped behind his back, he stopped halfway to them, in the middle of the main room, tilting his head slightly in the direction he’d come. “This way.” He spun on his heel to leave without waiting to see if they would follow.
“Wait here,” he said, as they entered a large sitting room with another enormous window view of the front yard willow trees. A cascading two-tier water fountain overflowed as birds played in the pools. The door slammed shut behind him, making them jump.
Evalene picked a broad chair and sank into the cushions, unable to stop a sigh of enjoyment at the soft furniture. Olive sat on the couch, but Sol chose to stay standing.
They held a respectful silence, as if the house itself might be offended by chatter. Evalene figured her eyes were as wide as Olive’s as they studied the rest of the room. The designs on the walls were painted in gold, and there were sculptures of flowers here that mimicked the real flowers out in the gardens.
The wait stretched out into long minutes. Evalene wondered if they were even going to see anyone at all, or if this was just a delay before showing them back out.
At least a half hour passed before the door opened. The butler stepped inside, holding the heavy wooden door for a dark-skinned woman with pure white hair and warm brown eyes. She entered gracefully, nodding to the butler, dismissing him. “Thank you, Sergei.”
He bowed ever so slightly, before he left, closing the door behind him. But when she turned to face them, the warmth had disappeared. Maybe Evalene had only imagined it. Her stern face as she crossed the room, heels clicking ominously on the marble, made Evalene shift in her chair. Everything about Lady Beryl spoke of elegance.
The elderly woman chose a high-backed chair that looked almost like a throne with her sitting in it. Getting comfortable, she folded her hands in front of her. “I’m told you’re inquiring about my son?”
“Yes—I’m sorry,” Evalene stuttered, “I was told he was here, I–” Evalene strained against every instinct that told her to be quiet and leave it alone, to apologize and leave. “Your other son, Luc,” her voice came out almost a whisper but she forced herself to finish, “told us we could find Jeremiah here.”
“Unfortunately, Luc was wrong,” Beryl told her. She stood, moving toward the door, ending the conversation as abruptly as it had begun. “And you should know that Jeremiah has no interest in leading the Council, even if he were here. Good day.”
“Please Lady Beryl,” Evalene stood without thinking, clasping her hands in front of her to keep from grabbing the older woman’s arm. “We’re not here about the Council. Jeremiah is my friend—our friend. And I need his help, please… is there any way you could get word to him?”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Beryl shook her head firmly, placing her hand on the doorknob. “As I’ve already said, he isn’t here.” She swung the heavy door open.
Evalene’s hopes fell. She dropped her gaze to the floor. “Thank you for your time,” she choked out, each word feeling like defeat.
“It’s okay, Evie,” Olive whispered, as she stood too. “We’ll find him.”
Evalene nodded, straightening her shoulders. When she looked up, Lady Beryl still stood in the doorway, halfway out, but she’d turned back, her gaze pinned to Evalene’s face. “Evie, was it?” Beryl asked, not moving, blocking their retreat. “That’s an unusual name. It just occurred to me that I skipped introductions. My apologies, that was terribly rude. As you know, I’m Lady Beryl VanderMeer. What are your names?”
Olive’s smile lit up her face, and with her blonde hair like a halo around her she looked like an angel as she introduced herself, “I’m Olive.”
The very opposite of Olive in almost every way, with his dark skin, darker hair, and subdued countenance, Sol gave the woman his full name minus his old Regulator title: “Chase Solomon.”
Evalene cleared her throat, nodding once more as she gave her full name as well: “Evalene Vandereth.”
Beryl stared at her intently. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said, relaxing into a soft smile. “My apologies.” She waved at the butler, who’d arrived in the doorway. “We’ll need a few more minutes after all, Sergei, thank you.” She lightly touched Evalene’s shoulder, leading her back to the sitting area.
“You look exactly like he described,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?” Evalene said.
“Jeremiah mentioned you.” Beryl returned to her throne chair, but now she was smiling, like a benevolent queen. “I apologize for the attempts to misdirect you earlier. You’re not the first to call on Jeremiah and most do not have good intentions.” Her gaze narrowed, “They’re either furious with him for starting the revolution, or they’re here to encourage him to take a leadership role in the Council. More specifically, a role disguised as another Number One.” A return to a dictatorship. Beryl’s stern eyes pinned Evalene to her chair as she stated exactly what Evalene was thinking, “If you know Jeremiah at all, you know he would never do such a thing.” It was not a question. Beryl was clearly very protective of Jeremiah. In a strange way, the intimidation on his behalf made Evalene like the old woman.
Under her stare, Evalene felt compelled to answer. “I promise I would never ask that of him,” she said, louder than she’d intended.
“Well.” Beryl nodded, and her features relaxed into a smile once more. “Glad to have that matter settled. The truth is, Jeremiah is here, but I admit I’m not certain where exactly at the moment. I sent a few servants to look for him when you first arrived, but it’s difficult to say when he’ll come home. You’re welcome to stay the night, and we can wait for his return.”
A voice came from the archway on the other side of the room, “No need to wait. Ira found me.” The man’s voice with its soft tones, as well as the fact that they hadn’t heard a single footstep on the marble, told Evalene who it was before she even turned to look.
Jeremiah entered the room on silent feet, as the group swiveled to look at him. Evalene’s cheeks felt warm. He looked just like she’d remembered. His caramel-colored skin tan from the sun, but light next to his dark hair and chocolate brown eyes with those long lashes. No sign of his injuries as far as she could tell.
He smiled at their surprised faces, but before he could say another word Olive jumped up and threw her arms around him in excitement. “You’re alive! I was so worried, and we had no idea where you’d went, and I still can’t believe Luc didn’t tell us you were here all along—we’ve missed you! You’ve missed so much!”
Jeremiah chuckled as he hugged Olive back. “I know, I’ve been keeping up with the news. You’ve all been doing a wonderful job.” He met Evalene’s eyes as he said this.
Sol stepped forward and held out a hand to shake Jeremiah’s. “Chase Solomon… Sol,” he introduced himself. “Thank you for what you started. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The stream of words, all in a row and unprompted, spoke volumes. He clasped Jeremiah’s hand before stepping back, clearing his throat. Jeremiah’s eyes landed on the Number 11 tattoo on Sol’s neck that Sol never bothered to hide, which declared him a former Regulator, flickering in recognition. And maybe a bit of wariness?
Evalene felt glued to the couch. She wanted to jump up and hug him like Olive, but something held her back. She stood slowly, as Jeremiah turned to face her. Putting a hand in her pocket, she touched the note again; the reminder that, at least at one point, he’d cared for her. She wanted to pull it out, but the other’s eyes on them kept her hand still.
“Evie,” he said, sliding his hands into his own pockets. “Or should I call you Evalene?” The reminder of her lies when they’d first met made her flinch. She’d given everyone a nickname, not telling them who she truly was, until that moment on camera in front of the whole country during the revolution, when she’d revealed the truth. She’d never had a chance to apologize. She wished desperately that they were alone, so she could do so now. But everyone
was staring.
Instead, she cleared her throat to keep her voice from shaking. “You can still call me Evie.” She forced a calm over her face even as her heart pounded, and held out her free hand to shake his, just like Sol had. “It’s good to see you.”
He stepped forward to take her hand. His was warm. The heat spread from where his skin touched hers throughout her whole body and she pulled away, turning to sit and hide her red face.
He sat too, in a chair near Beryl. His gaze kept drifting to her and away again.
“This young lady said she needs your help,” Beryl spoke into the stretch of silence.
Evalene cleared her throat. “Yes, we do...” But she was even more confused now that he was directly in front of her. Why hadn’t he come to find her like he’d promised? Was coming here a mistake? Sol and Olive’s presence, not to mention Beryl’s, made it impossible to get her thoughts in order. “Can we talk in private?” was all she managed to say.
“Of course,” he stood immediately, leading her away from the group through the archway he’d come in. On the other side of the greenery was a door that led outside. They stepped into the lovely backyard Evalene had admired earlier. It was lush and vibrant. But the second Jeremiah touched her elbow, guiding her toward the path, all thoughts of the yard flew away.
Now was the moment she’d been dreaming of for the last six months.
Her fingers brushed her pocket and she felt the note inside. She reached in and grasped it again. Turning to face Jeremiah, she gathered up the nerve to pull it out and tell him how much it had meant to her.
But he spoke first.
“I saw your speech that day on television,” he said, when they reached the gazebo by the water. He leaned on the railing. “You did well.”
She came to lean on the railing next to him. She’d given many televised speeches in the last six months, but she knew immediately which one he meant. The day she’d revealed the truth about herself to the world. Not just her full name, but her identity as a low Number, taking a stand against the way people were labeled like animals, declaring instead that everyone was equal and worthwhile. The entire thing had been inspired by him, by everything he’d said to her, but she couldn’t quite find the words to say so.
“Thank you,” she replied finally. It felt so formal. Her fingers curled up around the note, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull it out.
“If Luc sent you, he must have an important request,” Jeremiah said, when she didn’t say anything further.
Evalene’s hand slowly let go of the paper in her pocket. He was busy. And impatient. Why would he want to talk about the note now, if he hadn’t before? She tried to clear the haze of thoughts from her mind as well. Focus on business, she reminded herself. She’d come here for a reason.
Pulling her hand out of her pocket, Evalene mimicked his casual stance. They leaned on the gazebo railing, both staring out at the water. “Yes, it’s important. But, it’s not Luc’s request, it’s mine…” She looked down at her hands, struggling to find the right words for what she knew was a monumental favor.
“I told you once how my mother died in the Bloom Rebellion—in your parents’ rebellion,” she corrected herself, as she remembered his last name and heritage.
“I remember,” he said. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t read him at all.
Her words came out in a rush. “I just learned she didn’t die after all. She escaped to the Divided States as a refugee...” She swallowed hard. “Now that I know, I need to find her…”
Evalene bit her lip, arriving at the most important part: “Luc said you’ve been to the Divided States before, so… I came to ask for your help.”
Jeremiah eyebrows rose at the revelation, but he didn’t say anything right away.
“Luc thought you might be willing to be our guide. It was his idea that we ask you.” Evalene felt like she needed to explain. “I know you’re probably busy, but I could pay you…” She trailed off. Was it insulting to set a price on his time? It was no small request.
He still wasn’t answering. She watched him rub a hand across his face as he stared at the water, scratching the stubble forming on his cheeks and chin, drawing her attention to the shadow of a beard that made him look more wild, untamed.
“I probably should’ve just asked around Delmare.” Evalene caught herself wringing her hands and clasped them together tightly. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me,” Jeremiah said. He picked at a piece of paint chipping off the railing. She noticed a scar across his thumb that hadn’t been there before. “I’m just taking it in. You must be dying to see her.”
Evalene nodded, waiting for more, crossing her arms and gripping tightly until her fingertips went white. It’s good he doesn’t immediately decide, she thought. But as the moment stretched longer, she struggled to keep from begging him.
It felt like hours when he finally spoke. “I’m sure you want to leave soon,” he said, meeting her eyes, “But a trip like that requires a lot of preparation. And it could take weeks, maybe even months, to find your mother.”
Evalene blinked once, twice, clearing her face of all emotion. She’d hoped he would say, “I’d love to help you.” Or maybe even, “I’ve missed you.” But of course, he hadn’t.
Her hopes hit rock bottom.
He was going to say no.
How was she ever going to find her mother?
4
Jeremiah
JEREMIAH STARED AT EVALENE as they spoke. She’d changed. In a good way. She was still beautiful, even more than the last time he’d seen her—long brown hair falling in soft waves, framing her heart-shaped face and clear, blue eyes—but now she had such confidence. She looked as strong and brave as she did on the television. But there was a chill between them. A distance. She kept putting her hands in her pockets. And then there was the way she’d shaken his hand in the sitting room like a new acquaintance, same as Sol. He didn’t understand.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her she was a great leader, that he’d missed her, a million other things even more revealing. But her cool behavior kept him silent. He let her lead, hoping she’d open up to him, not wanting to push her.
Listening to her story of her mother, Pearl, his first instinct was to immediately say yes. He bit the inside of his cheek to fight it.
He’d have to be an idiot to sign up for a mission like this. It’d be nearly impossible to find a single refugee who’d disappeared into the enormous continent of the Divided States nearly ten years ago. If he was being honest, he didn’t think it was feasible. But how could he say no to Evie?
He knew just enough about the Divided States to know how difficult it would be to traverse the territories. Not all of them got along. Some were downright dangerous. Others were cunning. Not only was Jeremiah unconvinced they’d be able to find Pearl, but he was equally doubtful Pearl would’ve traveled those dangerous paths alone unscathed.
And at the end of their search, when they turned up nothing, however many weeks and months later, Evie would blame him.
He desperately wanted to help, but it was an impossible decision. No matter what he chose, he would eventually let her down.
She stood waiting for his answer. Big blue eyes staring into his. She kept up a brave front, but her clenched fingers and furrowed brow gave her away.
“I’ll need to think about it,” was all he said out loud. But if he was honest, he knew he’d already decided. He would help her.
They turned to go back in with a gulf of cold air still between them, and all he could think to say was, “You should stay the night.” She nodded, and they re-entered the house in silence.
As Jeremiah followed Evie inside—she would always be Evie to him—they found Olive and Sol both chuckling at something Beryl had said.
The moment his adoptive mother saw them, Beryl smiled and told Evie, “I’ve had Sergei make up rooms for you all, in case you’d
like to stay.” From behind Evie, Jeremiah smiled his thanks at Beryl. The elderly woman waited until Evie accepted and turned away before winking back at him.
Six months ago, injured badly, shot in four places and bleeding out in the car, Jeremiah had driven here—and barely made it. The moment he’d pulled up the long drive and parked in front of the steps, he’d passed out. Beryl later told him her heart nearly stopped when they’d carried him in. Jeremiah had little memory of the following days, only minor glimpses of the room he’d stayed in and the agonizing pain.
Apparently, Jeremiah had talked of Evie for days. Between his declarations that he’d needed to leave, that Eden needed to move forward and he would only hold back its progress, he’d told Beryl he’d fallen in love. In a conscious state, he wouldn’t have admitted this to Beryl unless heavily prodded, but the fever had thrown his caution to the wind.
Now, watching Beryl’s eyes spark in excitement, he sighed. He moved to stand next to her, on the opposite side of the room from Evie, but despite his best intentions, he found his gaze drifting back to her more than once.
“Are you hungry?” Beryl was asking the group. Not waiting for an answer, she called for Sergei, who hovered near the open doorway, “Set three extra plates for supper. We have company.” She grinned, delighted now that she knew their guests were friendly. Sergei had also warmed up to them considerably. Nodding, he disappeared to set the table.
***
The food was delicious. Jeremiah tried to distract himself from Evie’s face, which lit up with innocent surprise at the special treatment from Beryl. But he barely made it through the salad course. He was dying to know how she’d been since he’d last seen her. He tried to think of something neutral to say. “I heard about the uprisings among former high Numbers,” he began.
His words didn’t mesh with the warmth of the conversation a moment prior, and he regretted speaking. But now that he’d started, he might as well finish. “It can’t be easy to introduce so many changes to the system while trying to juggle their complaints.” Inwardly, he winced. Quite a romantic start.
Pearl's Number: The Number Series Page 3
