"Don't be sorry. That’s the only part of all this that makes sense to me right now. You’re right. You don't spend two decades with a man like him and come out whole." I took in a long shaky breath. "I'm all too familiar. But please tell me, what's wrong with her? How is she here?“
"It turns out she's suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. It's the same thing soldiers sometimes go through after they've come home from combat. And there's no doubt in my mind that what your mother went through was a goddamned war zone. She was quiet, but all right at first. Mostly she just asked about you. Called your name over and over again in the middle of the night. Once we told her you were here and safe it was like all the walls she'd put up came crumbling down, and the magnitude of everything hit her like a damned tidal wave."
"Will she get better?" I asked.
Critter's eyes watered. He blew out a long breath. "Only time will tell. She's getting help. But she has her moments. Sometimes, when she's with it, she goes back and forth between the present and thinking it's twenty years ago."
"You lied to me," I blurted. Once the words left my lips I regretted it. It was the smallest of my concerns yet for some reason my brain placed it first.
"Yes, I did," Critter admitted. There was no apology. No regret in his voice. "But if it helps any, I know how you feel. I thought she was dead. I thought she'd left me and then he'd killed her." He clenched and unclenched his fists. "I know now that's just what he wanted me to believe. Your mother thought the same. That I was dead. Wasn't until I had a dream about her that I felt like she was somehow alive. I sent a team to look for her again. Some vet friends of mine that specialized in that sort of thing. At first, they didn't come up with a damn thing. And then they located the camper and truck in a storage unit in North Carolina. That's how I traced it back to her. That's how I knew where she was."
"She faked her own death?" I asked. It didn’t sound right. She left me that box. That note. The truck and the camper. She practically admitted to taking her own life.
Critter looked to the ground and shuffled his feet. "No, she didn’t fake her death. We did. She didn’t know anything about it or even that I was alive.”
“But then why did she write me a letter apologizing for killing herself? that doesn’t make sense.”
Critter shivered like someone had placed an ice cube at the base of his neck. “The plan was to get both of you out, but on the day we planned to carry it all out I was watching her from a distance. Waiting for the both of you to cross the street. But she was alone. Something was off. She wasn't just sad. There was something else there. A finality in the way she watched the traffic move back and forth on the road. I picked up my radio and called the boys. We made it look like she’d gone through with her intentions. Got some not so up-and-up members of society to do our bidding for us. They bribed everyone in that town seven ways ‘til Sunday, until your mother was dead in every single sense but in the one that mattered. The breathing sense.”
“This is all…it’s crazy.”
“That it is.” Critter agreed, lighting a cigar. “We’d planned on coming back for you a few days later. I wouldn’t have left you there. You need to know that. But by then you'd already bolted. I damn near had a fucking heart attack when you showed up at the bar that day.”
"All this time I'd been here in Outskirts, she's...she's been here too?" I asked in a whisper.
Critter nodded without taking his eyes off me. His busy brows were furrowed, the lines on his face deepened to creases.
"And...and you've been caring for her?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
Another small nod.
Suddenly, the urge to catch my breath was overwhelming. My chest was tight. My throat dry. I couldn't swallow like something was stuck in my windpipe. I rubbed my arms like I could calm the flow of unease and confusion coursing through my entire body. I was cold and then hot. Nauseous.
Overwhelmed and dizzy, I gasped for breath.
I had to get out of there. Leave. Go...somewhere. Somewhere less confusing. Anywhere else.
Without another word, I turned and darted from the bar. I ran into the rain which had just begun to fall.
I should’ve been elated that my mother was alive and I was, but there was something else preventing that feeling from truly registering. A deep sense of hurt. A betrayal.
I ran faster and faster. The rain fell harder, stinging my skin with each step.
I used to fear storms. The thunder. The rain. Lightning. Wind. Then Finn taught me how to push through that fear and use it as a reminder to find the beautiful in something that can appear so ugly and cruel.
But as the rain continued to pour down all around me, soaking through my clothes and skin, it wasn’t a reminder. It didn’t provoke any fear or any emotion at all.
It was just rain. Just water.
Because my mother was alive.
Chapter 2
Sawyer
Finn is hovering above me in bed, his body is pressed against mine in the most delicious way. The heat from his chest warming my heart as well as my skin. His blond hair is disheveled. A light sheen of sweat covers his lightly tanned skin. His defined shoulder muscles are strained with tension.
I run my hand over his bristly jaw, and he closes his eyes like my touch is everything to him, and in that moment, I feel like it is. He peers down at me with his beautiful bright blue eyes and it's like he's looking so deeply into mine that he can see right through me when he thrusts inside me for the first time. My body ignites, and he groans, pulling out and pushing inside my body all over again. He kisses me, drinks in my lips like he's dying of thirst and I moan his name into his mouth as our tongues meet.
"I love you," he whispers.
I'm trembling. With joy. With anticipation. He's everything I never knew I needed. My heart expands and my sex clenches around him as he thrusts harder and deeper inside my swollen channel.
I'm so close. The buildup is almost painful. Every stroke leaves me needier than the last.
Finn drives into me faster and faster. Relentlessly pounding harder and harder. Just as I reach the edge of my release...he's gone. The bed's gone. I'm now standing behind a familiar crowd of people in an even more familiar setting. Somewhere I never wanted to be the first time around.
"Marriage is the most sacred promise you can make. Family is second only to God himself." The Reverend preaches from behind his podium of lies. My mother's casket is front and center.
I'm back at her funeral.
Only, something's different.
Off.
Everyone in the crowd is smiling. They keep looking over their shoulders like they are all waiting for something.
Finn comes into view and I'm instantly relieved to see him. I exhale. He's as handsome as ever, wearing a dark grey suit with matching tie. His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges as his smile grows bigger and brighter. My stomach flutters. He walks down the aisle and just as he approaches I realize he's not looking AT me. He's looking THROUGH me.
Finn passes me by and stops at the podium, standing next to the reverend who places a hand on his shoulder.
What is he doing here? What's going on? I wonder as I look down only to find I'm once again dressed in a long skirt and shapeless grey blouse.
I try to take a step, to reach for him but I can't. I'm frozen in place. I try and shout his name but no sound comes out. He can't hear me. He's focused on something else down the center of the aisle.
Someone else.
A beautiful blond woman appears with perfect blonde hair and a bright white smile. She's wearing a long white wedding dress. A tear drips down her cheek as she reaches Finn who takes her hands in his. They only look at each other.
"We are gathered here before God to join Finn Hollis and Jacqueline Watson..."
Jackie.
I don't listen to the rest. I can't. I can't even breathe. My chest is terrifyingly tight it feels like someone is jumping on my chest.
I try and shou
t again, but it's not working. They can't hear me. Or at least Finn can't. Jackie looks over to me, her head turning ever so slowly.
She winks.
I gasp and back out of the tent. Knocking chairs over on my way. Once again stumbling over a headstone but this time when I use it to break my fall I notice the name on it.
Mine.
I turn and run. Faster and faster leaping over headstones until they turn into trees, the earth growing soggy beneath my feet.
I'm winded, but I push through the sharp burning sensation building in my lungs. The air is hot in my throat as I breathe through my mouth, trying to pull in as much oxygen as I can so I can keep going.
I have to keep going.
I hear the echo of footsteps running behind me.
I'm not alone.
I run faster and faster. The brush grows thicker and thicker until my long skirt gets caught on a branch and drags me to a sudden halt. I fall forward onto the ground. My hands sting as I break my fall on a log. My teeth vibrate like a tuning fork when my chin smacks into the earth.
I turn and attempt to yank on my skirt in order to free it from the brush it's snagged on, but suddenly the thorns on the branch that has me captive turns into fingers. The fingers grow longer and longer, the flowers turn to hands, the branches to arms. Nightmarish flowers of flesh. Hundreds of them reach for me and I skid in the soft earth, trying to stand, to get away.
I unbutton my skirt and push it down my legs, but it's too late. The hands are holding me down against the ground. Struggling is useless. I'm trapped, my head encased in the flesh of the human finger flowers.
I try and scream as more and more sprout from nowhere, reach across my body, and strap me down like a crazy person to a gurney, but again, silence.
A small slit between fingers allows me to see the legs of the person who's been chasing me as they come to a stop.
My mouth is suddenly covered by a hand.
Then my nose.
I can't breathe as the person finally comes into full view.
Mother.
She glances down, shakes her head and smirks. Kneeling beside me she begins to laugh silently. Her mouth wide open, her shoulders shaking violently.
I wonder if I can't hear her because the hands are covering my ears.
Or because I'm already dead.
Chapter 3
Finn
After I saw the cavalry from the church begin to arrive I spent the entire afternoon watching them set up their tent and unload their trucks.
I grabbed my boat and when I got close enough, I killed the engine and paddled my way under an embankment where I sat quietly, listening to the workers setting up the tent service. I hadn't heard much more than shouted instructions. I was about to leave when I heard the voices of two men directly above me, walking along the edge of the embankment just a few feet above my head. I crouched as close to the muddy wall as I could.
"Who is delivering the Lord's word this season?" one man asked the other. My ears instantly perked. My heartbeat quickened.
"I think they are sending Pastor Young since Pastor Dixon won't be coming until later this season. If he comes at all he'll be at least a few weeks behind the rest of us."
"What a shame about his wife. God bless her."
"Yes, but the Lord has his reasons."
"Amen. Family is the light of the Lord. His will in human flesh."
The other man mumbled his agreement and then they were gone.
Thank fuck. Richard wouldn't be coming, but while I made my way back to land so I could get to Sawyer, I was filled with unease. He might not be coming now and I knew for a fact Critter still had eyes on him, but my relief was short term because he would always be a threat. We'd always be looking over our shoulders.
By the time I made my way back to my truck, I hadn't realized how long I'd been watching them when I checked my phone. Five missed calls. Two from the landline at Critter's bar and three from Critter himself.
I called Critter's cell.
Critter answered with a gruff, "What?"
"The church cavalry is in town, but I overheard some of the workers. Richard Dixon won't be joining them this year."
"Good. My guy will tell me if he so much as crosses over the state line, but right now we got bigger fish to fry. Sawyer knows about her mama."
"I thought you were going to wait."
"Yeah, but Caroline had a moment of clarity and all she wanted was to see her daughter. I thought it might help."
"Did it?"
There was a pause. "No. Not for either of them."
The library door was unlocked and a single table light was on in the center of the room.
There was Sawyer, hunched over the table with a book underneath her arms, her wild hair spread out like the rays of an auburn colored sun.
I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief.
"I thought I'd find you here," I said, coming up behind her and leaning over her shoulder, breathing in her familiar lavender scent. "What are you doing?" I whispered, placing my chin on her shoulder.
She lifted her head, spun around and I took a step back. Immediately I noticed the tear stains on her face. Her swollen eyes. The redness of her cheeks. "I must have fallen asleep," she said, looking dazed and breathing hard. "I had a nightmare."
"Are you okay?" I asked, crouching down in front of her and taking her hands in mine. "I talked to Critter. He told me what happened with your mom. Are you alright?" I bent over and wrapped my arms around her, pressing my rough cheek to her soft one.
She shrugged slowly as if her shoulders were heavy under the weight of her troubles. "And then there was the bad dream I just had where you were...never mind."
"Tell me," I insisted.
She shook her head. "It's not important. I thought I was naive and that I didn't know a lot about the outside world, but as it turns out, I just don't know much about anything, including my past, including anything about my own mother. She's...she's alive, but she's not the same. Critter said it's something called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I want to be happy I do. I just...I can't. Not yet. It's all too much."
There is more.
Guilt immediately washed over me for keeping the truth from her. She deserved to know it all. "Say, I have to tell you something," I started, but she interrupted me.
"I couldn't imagine having a daughter and just vanishing on her. Letting her think I was dead when I wasn't. Not even for a second." She grabbed her stomach, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug like the thought was making her physically ill. In fact, it might have been making her ill because she looked a lot paler than usual. Her eyes were lined with dark circles.
"I'm just really confused. I don't know where to place all these feelings. The anger. The hurt. The...everything." Sawyer turned back around and dropped her head to her chest. My strong girl who'd faced the devil with horns of her own was flailing and I felt helpless when her shoulders shook.
"Hey," I said, wrapping my arms around her. "You're right, you know what? When you become a mother to our children, I know that you would never abandon them at any cost. Because that's who you are. Neither of us would ever do that. But you don't know everything yet. You need to talk to Critter. To your mother and..."
"Our children?" Sawyer asked with a sniffle.
My chest tightened. Out of all I was saying that’s what she’d heard the loudest. "Yes. Our children. Together. Me and you." I cupped her face in my hand. "I'd like nothing more than to see you carrying our baby someday." And it was true. The very thought of Sawyer carrying my baby made my heart warm and a primal part of me want to pound on my chest and roar into the night. Since no precautions were taken, it was always a possibility.
Sawyer's smile was a tear-filled one. "Me too. Someday, I'd like that very much." The sadness in her voice made my heart lurch in my chest not being able to take away her pain.
I was holding her tight to my chest when she pushed away for a moment to pick up a familiar crumbled yellow
flyer that had been shoved in the mail slot. I knew exactly what it was because Critter had shown it to me before.
This was Sawyer’s first time seeing it. In Outskirts, at least. I held my breath as she scanned the flyer. Her eyes went wide. The logo for God's Light Church couldn’t be missed.
"He's…he’s here," she whispered. Unblinking she took a wobbly step back, knocking over a chair.
I reached for the flyer. Needing to take it away from her like it could also take away the fear written all over her face. "No. He’s not here. Not yet.”
Sawyer stumbled again. She righted herself before using one of the bookshelves. The flyer still in her hand she held it up in her balled-up fist. "How do you know that? You can't know that! He's here, and I won't let him take me. I won't! You don't know him. He'll find me. He'll try and break me the way he broke her!"
Sawyer turned away but I spun her back around to face me. I crouched down, ensuring my eyes were in line with hers so she could see the truth in my eyes if by chance she didn't hear it in my words. "I know he's not coming because I went there. To the fairgrounds. That's where I was tonight. I saw the trucks come in off the highway and I followed them."
Sawyer took a step back, and this time I let her have the space. It was only a few steps although now it felt like a canyon between us.
"And no one could break you. No one. You're far too strong to be broken by weak minded people. Look at all you've been through and how far you've come."
"I won't have it all taken away from me. Not when I just found this place. Not when I just found you."
I felt damned awful for leaving out the parts of the story that were--as Critter would say--not my story to tell. "I went there tonight, and I overheard some of the workers talking. Your father--Richard-- isn't coming. Not for a while anyway. We have time. We won’t be here when he gets here. It will all be okay.” I said, trying as much to convince myself as I was Sawyer.
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