“Can I ask you something?”
“I suppose,” I sigh.
“Do you . . . like Sweetbriar any better now than you did when you first came here?”
I shake my head. “You’re doing it again, Nate. It’s not going to work.”
“I know. I know,” he insists, looking slightly embarrassed. “Just humor me, please. I really want to know.”
I mull the question over for a minute in my head, trying to find the words to correctly depict my feelings toward Sweetbriar. Finally, I reply, “Yes, I think I do. But sometimes I just need to be alone. I’m not the type of person who can stand being around people for a long time, Nate. That’s why I’m leaving.”
“You know,” he says, smiling, “I think you have a greater love for these people than you let on. I think deep down you care about them and you know it, and that scares you.”
I stop walking and turn to him for the first time since we left. “I’m incapable of love, Nate. I don’t think I’ve ever loved another person in my entire life.”
He shakes his head. “See, I don’t think that’s true. I mean you loved your parents, didn’t you?”
I contemplate this for a second. I was too young when my mother died, too stuck in that selfish childhood stage to really feel anything for her other than attachment by instinct. And my father, did I love him? Reflecting on my life before his death, all I can remember is an unwavering devotion and desire to please, but does either really constitute as love? I shake my head.
“Well I’m sure they loved you, Nightshade,” he says. “Just like Connor loves you, just like these people love you.” His eyes drop to the ground, and after a moment’s hesitation, he whispers, “Just like I love you.”
“What?” Could I have heard him right? No, he can’t possibly mean it in the romantic sense—that would be ridiculous. He must mean the platonic type of love, the type you would feel for a friend.
But judging by the tender, sheepish look in his eyes, I know exactly which type he means.
“I was screwed the minute I saw you, dirt- and blood-covered as you were,” he says. “Looking at you, the first thing I thought was: ‘This girl could kill me—I have no doubt she could—and if she did I don’t even think I’d mind.’ From then on you were in my head, no matter how much I tried to push you out. I fell in love with the way you carried yourself, with your attitude, with your independence. And I know you well enough to know you don’t feel the same way, and I don’t expect you to reciprocate, but I just figured I might as well tell you before you leave. I meant to last night, but I couldn’t work up the courage . . . You’re a very intimidating woman, you know, but I like that about you. You’re smart and assertive and bold and daring—everything I wish I could be. So yeah, I’m pretty much in love with you, and I hope that doesn’t overwhelm you, but I needed to get it off my chest.”
I stare at him for a moment, my mouth ajar but no words coming out. Taken aback by his confession, all I can manage is a quiet “Thank you for telling me.”
He smiles. “I’m sorry if that was a lot to take in.”
“No, no, don’t apologize. I’m, uh, I’m glad you told me,” I assure him slowly, trying to figure out the right thing to say. I don’t want to hurt him if I can avoid it. “It’s just— I can’t imagine feeling any kind of romantic desire in this world.”
Nate nods in understanding. “I’m glad I told you too. At least now I know I can die without any regrets,” he laughs.
I laugh too. Although his feelings are unrequited, Nate doesn’t seem all too disappointed, which is a relief on my part. In a way, part of me wishes I did love Nate. He is such a kind, good-natured man, and there is no doubt in my mind that we would be compatible on many levels. But it’s impossible. To feel that kind of affection for someone, to feel love, it goes against all that I am, all that I have labored to become. He deserves to be loved fully and completely, and that is something I am incapable of doing even if I wanted to.
With that, Nate and I decide it is best we cut our walk short and head back to camp. Once again, that perfect silence is achieved, but it is no longer peaceful. A sensation like a cold stone forms in my stomach, and I begin to feel heavy— physically heavy. Aware that something is very wrong with me, I begin to worry that I am falling ill, which is the last thing I need right now. Then it hits me, and I realize I would be better off if I was sick, because at least with illness there is a chance of recovery. But this, no this is far worse, deadly even. Against my will, the stitching has begun to unravel—one loose thread was all it took to start the process that could undo years’ worth of work.
Finally, I am able to identify the sensation I am feeling: Guilt.
Chapter 41
Nate and I return to camp to find Sheppard, Sophia, and Claire waiting for us at the gate. Our hunt goes quickly that day—barely an hour passes before Sophia puts an arrow through the head of an old doe. As I assist Sheppard in dragging our kill, I catch the preacher glancing at me every so often in my peripheral vision, his knit eyebrows forming deep grooves in his forehead, but I stare ahead as if I do not notice. After a few minutes of this, he gives me one of his signature nudges and asks what is bothering me. Though my first instinct is to shut down, to shut him out, the weight in my stomach has not yet disappeared and it occurs to me that maybe the preacher will know how to get rid of it. In a whisper, I tell him I will explain when we get back to Sweetbriar.
After Sheppard and I deliver the doe to the kitchen, I pull him aside and explain what occurred between Nate and me in the woods. He listens patiently as I recount my reaction to Nate’s confession and describe the heavy feeling in my stomach that has not left since. When I am finished, he places a hand on my shoulder and smiles.
“Sounds like you’re feeling slightly guilty to me, kid,” he says.
“But that doesn’t make sense. Why would I feel guilty?”
“Well, do you regret telling him you don’t have feelings for him?”
I shake my head. I have no reason to regret it. It’s the truth.
“It’s normal to feel bad about letting someone down, Nightshade. But, if you ask me, I think you made the right decision. Nate is a good guy. I’m sure he understands.”
With Sheppard’s confirmation that I did the right thing, a part of the weight in my stomach is lifted. I will never stop being amazed by how this man always knows what to say. I doubt a better person has ever existed than Elijah Sheppard. Feeling slightly relieved, I thank him for his help and go on my way.
Before I can process what I am doing, my feet carry me to the schoolhouse. As I stand at the building’s entrance, I realize there is one more person I want to confide in more than anyone, and that is Connor. This could be our last chat, I suppose, if I’m going to leave tonight, although he has no way of knowing that.
Upon entering Savannah and Connor’s classroom, I am welcomed by the sound of seven high-pitched voices loudly chorusing, “Hi, Nightshade!”
“Hi, kids,” I say, smiling. “I just need to borrow Mr. Hawthorne for a second, if that’s okay.”
I look up to the front of the room and am shocked to see Connor standing beside Savannah—actually standing, with his hands in his pockets instead of wrapped tightly around metal grips.
“Connor, where are your crutches?”
With a grin, he walks, not hobbles, over to greet me. “Dr. Lam took me off of them this morning. I was going to tell you during lunch. She said I’m strong enough not to need them anymore, but I should keep away from any strenuous activity. I can’t even tell you how much I’ve missed walking on two legs, Nightshade.”
“That’s great!” I exclaim. After all these weeks of waiting, Connor is finally healed, and we can leave! But then it hits me—Connor isn’t going anywhere. Only I am. Suddenly the news of his recovery is no longer so exciting.
“So, what did you come down here for?” he asks.
I ask if he has a minute to talk, and after requesting that Savannah cover the cl
ass he guides me out into the hallway. When the door to the classroom is shut and I am sure no one will overhear us, I give him a quick overview of the recent events involving Nate. He stands there grinning like an idiot the entire time, hanging onto every syllable. When I am finished, he bursts into laughter.
“Holy shit,” he says, unable to contain his amusement. “You made him fall in love with you. In less than three months, too. That’s incredible.”
“Shut up. This is serious,” I snap, slightly annoyed that he’s taking the matter so lightly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m a terrible friend for laughing. Look, I think you made the right call letting him down easy. You have no reason to feel guilty, you know.”
With these words, the last of the awful weight in my stomach is lifted and I am able to breathe a sigh of relief. Connor is right—I shouldn’t feel guilty about not reciprocating Nate’s feelings. But the real problem isn’t whether or not I have a reason to feel it, but that the feeling was ever there in the first place.
After I thank Connor for his help, the two of us part ways, him returning to his kids and me heading for the door. I have only just stepped outside when the sound of hurried footsteps and a woman’s voice calling out to me bring me to a halt. Both belong to Savannah.
“I’m glad I caught you,” she says, breathing heavily as if the light jog from the classroom to here was almost too much for her body to handle. She looks different today—older, frailer, wearier. Her ever-present smile has been wiped from her face, her cheeks are a spectral white save for the clusters of freckles that speckle them, and the skin beneath her eyes is puffy and sallow.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, slightly troubled by her appearance.
“I wanted to know if you’re still planning on leaving, you know, now that Connor’s leg is better. People have been talking . . .” She trails off, unable to finish the sentence, her eyes flitting to the ground.
“Most likely, yes.”
“I’m worried about Connor,” she admits, her large eyes brimmed with tears and her voice catching. “He isn’t fully healed yet—I mean, Dr. Lam said it herself that he shouldn’t be using that leg too much. He’s— He’s not like you, you know? I just . . . I know it isn’t my place, but I don’t think he should go.”
“I know,” I murmur. “And I agree with you. Connor belongs here, in Sweetbriar. That much is obvious to me. It’s his choice whether he stays or goes—I won’t push him one way or the other, I promise.”
Her smile returns to her face, and with it her youthfulness is restored. She blinks rapidly, trying in vain to disguise her tears. The look of worry in her eyes turns to one of gratefulness.
I am about to walk away when she adds, “I wish you would stay too, Nightshade. I think you belong here just as much as he does. And maybe you don’t think so. But the people here love you, and they feel safer with you around. If you leave . . . we’re all really going to miss you.”
I can’t help but smile. “Thank you, Savannah, but it’s just what I have to do.”
Without warning, she throws her arms around me in a hug, pulling me tight against her frail figure. “I wish you would reconsider,” she whispers into my hair. “But if you don’t, then I wish you the best of luck out there.”
She releases me from the embrace, smiles again, and hurries back inside. I may have disappointed Nate this morning, but at least I managed to make Savannah happy, and I guess that balances things out. She knows which side Connor will choose just as well as I do, but now more than ever I am convinced that this is where he belongs. Sweetbriar is a much better fit for him than out there, and I suppose I have known that all along. I won’t blame him for choosing this place over me—hell, if circumstances were different, I might stay a little longer too . . .
But there is no point in thinking about what could be, about what might have happened if things were different. Even if I did like it here, even if I did want to stay, I couldn’t. Roman is coming for me, and I have no choice but to leave. And if I did love these people, then how could I remain in Sweetbriar and put their lives in danger?
Chapter 42
Not even thirty seconds have passed since Savannah left when Claire approaches me. By now the patch of hair I ripped out of her head has filled in nicely and sprouted a little blond tuft. To think almost three months ago I wouldn’t have hesitated to beat her face bloody given the chance, and now we greet each other with a friendly smile.
“Hey, Reina wants to see you. Says it’s urgent.”
I figured this would happen. Whatever rumors Savannah heard about my upcoming departure must have passed through Reina’s ears as well. I wonder what new cunning tactic she will employ this time to keep me from leaving. Whether she’s aware of it or not, this can only end one way, and that’s with me exiting through that iron gate. She can’t force me to stay. I mean, what could she possibly do? Lock me up? Keep me under surveillance? What good would I be to her then? No, I’m sure she wouldn’t take such drastic measures. And if she does, well, all I’d have to do is tell her about Roman and she would throw me out of Sweetbriar with her own two hands.
As I walk to Reina’s house, I wonder why she sent Claire to fetch me instead of Nate and why she didn’t order Claire to escort me there if she doesn’t trust me. But I suppose neither of the answers to those questions is important. What is important is that I brace myself for whatever trick Sweetbriar’s leader is about to pull. When I reach the top of the marble staircase, I see her door is open, so I walk right in.
Reina sits at her desk, her hands folded in front of her and her eyes following my every move. Nate stands beside her, stoic as a soldier, and I wonder if there is anything on earth that could make his devotion to this woman waver. I enter slowly, cautiously, preparing to avoid whatever trap has been set for me. As Reina and I lock eyes, she gestures for me to sit down in the chair across from her. Tentatively, I lower myself into the seat.
“You look uncomfortable,” she says. “Is everything alright?”
“I’m fine,” I say flatly, trying not to glance at the lieutenant. “What’s this about?”
“Ah, someone seems to be in a hurry. I am sorry, am I keeping you from something? Do you have somewhere to be?”
I grit my teeth, trying my best to hold back a sarcastic remark. God, how badly I wish I could wipe that red lipstick-covered smirk right off her face.
“I was hoping to meet Connor for lunch, but I suppose whatever this is is more important.”
“Ah, yes, Connor. Dr. Lam informed me this morning that he no longer needs crutches to support him and that he can walk on his own just fine.”
“That’s right. His leg is practically good as new.”
“When you first came here, we made an agreement that you and Connor could stay in Sweetbriar under our protection until he was healed. Now that he is better, I assume your plans are the same?” she asks.
I nod.
“Nightshade, I want to be clear here and let you know you do not have to leave. Sweetbriar is your home as long as you want it to be. No one is kicking you out.”
“I know.”
“But it is still your intention to leave?”
“It is.”
Reina sighs and folds her arms across her chest. “May I ask why? Has your stay here not been satisfactory? Surely there must be a reason.”
“Look, Reina, I like Sweetbriar, I really do, and I’m thankful for the hospitality Connor and I have received these past months. This is a lovely town you’ve created, and I understand why you may find it strange that I would want to leave a place like this, but I honestly believe it’s what’s best. I don’t belong here, not like the rest of you do. I was raised to be a wanderer, to hunt and provide for myself and myself only, to be on my own, not to live in a camp among dozens of other people. I’m not suited for this kind of lifestyle.”
Reina muses over this for a minute, clicking her long red fingernails against her desk rhythmically. “I am not so sure I a
gree with you,” she says, those three little wrinkles returning to her forehead. “You have good decision-making skills, Nightshade, and you do not let emotions get in your way—although you will learn that is not always a good thing. A little passion can be good sometimes, as long as it does not corrupt your mind.”
I shake my head, unsure of what this has to do with anything. “What do you mean?”
Reina stands and walks to the window, her back turned to me. “Is there anything I can do to keep you in Sweetbriar? Anything at all?”
“I’m sorry, but as soon as the sun is up tomorrow I’m leaving. That’s the end of it.”
“I really wish you would reconsider,” she says, turning back to face me. “But you seem set in your decision, and it seems like there is nothing I can say or do to convince you to stay. If you do leave tomorrow, you will receive the weapons we confiscated from you at the gate. Sweetbriar thanks you for your services, and although we regret seeing you go, we wish you a safe journey and a long and healthy life.”
She signals with a flick of her wrist that I am allowed to leave, and I exit the room even more confused than when I entered. Reina seems far too accepting of my departure. This has begun to feel like more of a trap than ever. But maybe she has realized she can’t win, that I will find a way out of here no matter what she does, that I am not an animal caught in a snare and that I am in control of where I stay or go, not her. Either way, I must remain on my guard until tomorrow morning, until my shackles are finally removed and I walk through that iron gate and return to the life I knew before Sweetbriar, the life I have always known.
Chapter 43
Still unsure of what to make of my meeting with Reina, I head to the cafeteria to grab a quick lunch—my last lunch here, I suppose. Upon entering the building, I spot Connor immediately. He holds one of the smaller children by the hand and helps him carry his tray to a table where the other kids sit with Savannah. It’s so strange seeing him without his crutches, but in a way it reminds me of how things used to be before we came here. Noticing me, he says something to Savannah and comes over to meet me.
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