Evangeline, Alone. (Book 1): Evangeline, Alone

by Styles, M. A.

  “Shit,” Cara whispered to herself. They may have gotten some supplies, but the trade off wasn’t worth it.

  As quickly as they could, they filed out of the cars, having pulled up as close to the side entrance as possible. Laila reached in and pulled Anna up and off Evie’s lap, trying to rouse her from her sleep. The girl was exhausted from the trauma. Her body and her brain needed rest. Evie, though, was still staring straight forward, almost unblinkingly. Cara reached in for her next. Gently she moved her hand down her shoulder, and delicately slid it under her arm.

  “Evie.” Her voice was soft and calm. “We’re here. Let’s let Chris have a look at you. Time to get out.”

  Almost robotically, Evie turned her body towards the door. Stiff with pain, Cara helped her navigate her way out and down from the backseat. As she put her full weight on the ground, one of her knees buckled under her, but she kept herself up. By now a small crowd had gathered around the cars asking of their spoils, but they were cut short by the sight of Evie. All of their voices fell quiet and so did the smiles from their faces.

  From the other direction, Rae emerged from where the horses were being kept. Slowly her face changed from grinning relief to confusion. She rose up a bit on her tip toes to see over the few heads in front of her and took in the odd scene. Joe was holding the door open to the building, looking up at the sky as if he couldn’t face something. Nate stood next to him, but his eyes couldn’t seem to land on anything as they looked around at everything except what was in front of him. On the other side of the door she noted Laila holding the weeping teenage girl. Jack was there, but he was looking back at the Jeep. It was his gaze she followed to Cara, supporting Evie. Was that Evie?

  She started to push through the frozen crowd, following after them as they made it inside the hallway. As she passed Jack she didn’t stop for answers, but their eyes lingered on each other long enough for him to see her fear, concern, and panic. Laila went in next, taking Anna in with her. Before anyone else followed, Joe let the door close.

  “I think Nate and I will take the cars down and start unloading.” He cleared his throat and sniffed as he tried to keep up his facade.

  “Yeah, sounds good,” Jack answered, looking around at the crowd that was slowly backing away in silence.

  “You coming?” Nate asked, already climbing in the driver’s side of the Jeep.

  “No.” He took a long breath to ground himself. “I think I’m going to have to go fill in Magda and Charlie.”

  Joe nodded at him and went to the front of the sedan. Jack watched as they drove slowly down into the parking garage, the large metal door sliding down behind them. He then pulled at the handle of the side door and walked in. As he passed the nurses office he couldn’t help but listen, but the staunch silence behind the door was more unsettling than not knowing. As he made it into the front hall, he spotted Wyatt and Nico talking to Ted and Charlie out in the courtyard. A tightness caught in his throat as he saw Wyatt slap his leg and laugh. They didn’t know yet. He rounded the staircase and looked up to see Magda, already starting to make her way down from her office.

  “Jack! I saw you all driving in. How did-“ She looked up and took in his face. For a moment they both just stood facing each other, still and telling. “Well then.” She collected herself and continued. “Have you all returned?” He nodded his head and she took in a relieved breath at that, but her thoughts moved forward knowing it was something else. She began making her way back down the steps until she met him, then directed him to follow her to the cushioned benches that lined one wall by the school store. As they sat she asked, “Was there nothing at the place, then?”

  He shook his head almost in disbelief, forgetting the reason they went in the first place. “No, we got a good amount. Enough to help a bit more.”

  She put her hand on his. He held it flat on the top of his knee and found the gesture strange until he realized his leg was jumping up and down in a nervous shake. “Then what do I need to know, Jack?” She said it kindly, but with enough gravity to tell him he had to speak of it.

  He thought about where to begin and settled on what the mansion actually was, and how Evie knew it. Magda’s face fell at the knowledge of what they had found in the pantry where they gleaned their cache. He spoke of how they realized the girls hadn’t come back, and when they looked out to find them they saw a black SUV speeding off down the driveway. The luck of muddy tire tracks led them to the cabin and the girls. It had been right around where they stopped to manage Anna. At the end Jack told Magda what they found when they went in, and how Evie was when she had come out.

  Magda sat there silent for a bit, one hand in a fist, and the other to her mouth. Jack couldn’t take his eyes off his own feet in their worn boots. Suddenly Magda rose stiffly on old legs and stood in front of him.

  “I will let Chris continue to do her job for now. I’m going to go make sure Anna has been returned to her mother. She obviously had no idea of the girl’s departure. None of us did. Laila, I’m sure has taken care of it by now, but I’d like to check in on her.” She turned back toward the staircase, but the men in the courtyard caught her eye and she stopped. “If you could, please tell Charlie and the brothers you’ve returned.” She made her way back up the stairs.

  When she reached the second floor, he willed himself to stand. He was coming down off adrenaline and found himself beginning to falter. He dropped back down in the seat and put his head between his knees. Flashes of the back room in the cabin, Evie, even scenes from the storage units played in his head. He saw the look in the guy’s eyes as he sat in all of his own blood waiting to die. Anna told them on the ride what his name was and that Evie knew him, but they already knew that. He wasn’t great from the start, but how did he turn into that? His thoughts were interrupted when he heard foot steps coming down the stairs.

  He looked up and saw Laila making her way down, looking exhausted and empty. She didn’t even notice him when she turned towards the nurse’s office, but stopped when she spotted Charlie in the courtyard. As she made her way to the door she paused, and looked out at him. He thought she might have only just noticed Wyatt and Nico and didn’t want to have to be the one to tell them. Charlie saw her and the stricken looked on her face and quickly left the small group to come inside. Her head dropped down, and when she looked back up at him she was wary, worn out. Jack stood up. He would help relay what happened to Charlie. He was half way there when the brothers followed Charlie out to the entry way. Their expressions changed when they saw her too.

  Off to the side of them they heard a door close shut, and then Rae made her way out of the nurse’s office. Wyatt went to her first, seeing her eyes glossy. He quickly took her into a hug with Nico standing patiently next to them. Jack watched as Rae told them, at least of the state of Evie. He couldn’t hear her, but the change in their bodies made it clear. Wyatt’s face dropped, and when Rae put her face to her hands, he took her to his chest. His jaw was tight, but there was wetness in his eyes too. Jack started for them again, but it was Nico’s face that made him stop. Charlie noticed his pause and followed his gaze.

  Nico looked lost, forlorn, and mournful. He had his hands in his hair and was looking up through the high entryway, but it was when his eyes settled on Jack that the rage set in. His eyes went dark at the sight of him and when he charged him, Jack was so thrown off by it that he didn’t even see the punch coming. It caught him right on the cheek and sent him on his ass, dazed.

  “You son of a bitch!” Nico shouted. Charlie was already on him pulling him away. “How could you let her out there?”

  “What?” Jack asked holding his face. Charlie reached down and helped him up, as Wyatt held Nico back with his hands to his chest. But it didn’t stop him from being right in Jack’s face.

  “I told you! You were suppose to watch her. To stop her!” He was screaming now.

  “Are you kidding me?” Jack said in disbelief. “Like I knew this was going to happen?’

&
nbsp; “Stop it,” Rae said, looking at Nico.

  “You took her out there!” Nico’s face was now morphing from anger to distress.

  “She’s from ‘out there’! She took us,” Jack yelled back, furious that the terrible things done to Evie were being put on him, like if he had a chance to stop it from happening he wouldn’t have. “Haven’t you known her longer? What do you think? I could’ve just told her no, and she would’ve said ok, and twiddled her thumbs here? You of all people should know that’s not how she works.”

  This personal blow stilled Nico. Wyatt took his hands from him, and looked at Jack from the side of his eye, not ready to fully take them off of Nico. Rae bit her bottom lip, one remaining tear finding its way out. Charlie stood with one hand on Jack’s back, Laila at his side. Eventually Nico recovered from Jack’s words, and fired the last shot.

  “Yeah, and she was out there working for you… and your people. That’s what she does. That’s why she went back there. For you.” He turned slowly away from them and made his way up the stairs. Rae and Wyatt followed, apologizing for the punch as they passed.

  Charlie looked at Jack for a moment, then asked, “You okay?”

  Jack moved his jaw around a bit, feeling the swelling and tenderness around his cheek bone. He was sure the skin was already turning red to purple now.

  “Yeah.”

  CHAPTER 27

  All Over Again

  Cara stood staring at the clothes as they spun and dropped, spun and dropped. Her eyes were unfocused and far away. When the buzzer rang out, she jumped. Mrs. Tate put her hand gently on her shoulder.

  “Why don’t you go up and get some rest?”

  Cara swallowed and blinked a few times. “I’m ok. Just want to get this finished.”

  Mrs. Tate opened the door to the dryer and pulled out the washed and warm clothes.

  “It is finished, dear.” She pushed the door closed and put the arm full of clothing on the top of it. She carefully looked over each piece.

  First she held up the pants. Besides the tears at the inseam, crotch, and across the thigh, a few stains of splashed blood now in the color of faded rust speckled the front here and there. Next came the flannel shirt. Half the buttons at the top were gone, presumably ripped away, but the striped pattern helped hide the splattering of blood on the front. The left arm on the other hand was almost an entire other color from the red that soaked in. She walked them over to the small table at the center of the laundry room and laid them next to a well-worn sewing basket.

  “I’ll patch these up. Let her decide if she can afford to get rid of them or not.”

  Cara closed her eyes and sucked in her bottom lip at the thought, giving her head one little shake, then turned back to what was left on top of the dryer. She held it up and looked at Joe’s jacket. It seemed pretty unscathed until she looked closer at the sleeve. Some of the blood from Evie’s arm made it through to the outside of the fabric, but the stain looked almost like a logo: one straight line, then another a bit longer in the middle, the bottom one dropped down a bit towards the elbow. She opened it up to look at the inside. The stains were more apparent there. Three smudged lines stretched across where the fabric absorbed the liquid, and it spread out a bit towards the others. She folded it roughly and threw it back on the dryer.

  “I’ve got it from here,” Mrs. Tate said as she moved on to sewing the third mismatched button to the flannel shirt. “I’ll just be a little longer on the pants, and I’ll bring them right up.”

  “No,” Cara said a bit too fast. “Thank you,” she slowed. “I’ll bring them up, and make sure she knows you repaired them for her.”

  Mrs. Tate had turned around to look at her now, eyes studying. “You know. I’m actually divorced,” she said as she turned back to her work. “Have been, happily, for fifteen years now. Raised three amazing women by myself. Even without receiving the child support owed to us.” Cara wasn’t sure why she was telling her this, but kept listening. “Which was fine by me, didn’t want to be attached to him in any other way. The only thing that bastard did give me was four broken ribs, a fractured arm, and this scar right here.” She turned to Cara lifting up her hair line to the right of her forehead. She turned back, grabbed another button from her basket and started attaching it. “I know what she probably looks like. What she’s probably gone through. I can look it in the face again.”

  “I believe it,” Cara said honestly, “but it’s not you, Mrs. Tate. She’s not doing well. I mean-“ Cara looked at her back, and noticed she stopped sewing for a moment. “Something’s going on, inside her. I think it best to leave it be. At least for tonight. Rae’s with her now. We’ll both stay with her, until she tells us not to. If she tells us anything.”

  The older woman gave a nod of her head, and continued her work. “I understand. I’m not looking to crowd her. I just remember when I was hurting, after, and trying to keep myself together, I just wanted someone to look me in the eye, and tell me it was all wrong. To tell me the betrayal I felt was valid. And that they would stop it. ”

  “Well, she stopped it,” Cara said in a way that told more than just that.

  “I’m sure she did.” She folded up the flannel shirt, fresh buttons lined up perfectly and moved on to the pants. “I saw her that first day, with the changed outside our gates. I’m sure she stopped it for good.”

  From what Joe told her in the car, what he saw through that door at the cabin, and what she heard with her own ears, Cara fully agreed with her.

  “She’s a strong woman. Seen her share. Taken more than she should ever have I’m sure. Doesn’t mean she should be left to it alone, and it doesn’t mean she needs to let it all out either. What is going on inside her, as you mentioned, is that she is still there. Still in it. Thinking it through. Feeling it. Trying to figure out where she messed up along the way, if she could’ve stopped it before. When really she had no part in it, except when she decided to end it. That’s the hardest part. But right now she’s playing it, all of it, over and over. Zooming in, picking it apart, pausing, trying to see where she could’ve stopped it all from happening from the beginning. When what she really needs to tell herself and believe, is that she didn’t do a damn thing.” She turned to look Cara in the eyes now. “You didn’t do anything. Laila didn’t do anything. That poor little girl did not do anything. Those men did it all. No one is responsible for those men but themselves.” She lifted up her hand and swooped her hair back in place, but Cara now noticed she was tracing that scar with her finger tips too. She turned back again to the table top. “And what they got, they had coming.”

  Her hands continued to work deftly at her task. One holding the fabric down, the other yanking the needle up, then back down, up, then back down, over and over again until she held the pants up for a look. She folded them up and placed them on the table top. Then she grabbed up the shirt, stacked it on top in a little pile, and scooped it up in her arms.

  She turned to Cara. “Are we ready to go up now?”

  And that was it. She wasn’t going to be able to tell Mrs. Tate not to come. She wasn’t going to convince her of any reason for her own good or Evie’s why she shouldn’t. So she turned, grabbed Joe’s jacket, and they headed for the stairs. When they reached her door on the third floor, Cara knocked softly and waited. A moment later Rae opened the door, and let them in. Mrs. Tate placed the clothing on the small table. Cara tossed Joe’s jacket over the little island in the kitchen, and they both turned to Rae.

  She gave Mrs. Tate a quick look, unsure of why she was there, but then spoke to both of the women. “I was able to get her out of the rest of her stuff and into the tub. Chris said she needs to get cleaned up, then she’ll bandage her arm. Thinks once we can get a better look at it, it may not even need stitches. She gave us this to cover it up when we’re done.” She gestured at some gauze, a few butterfly bandages, and a tube of antibacterial ointment sitting on the table where Mrs. Tate placed the repaired clothes.

  Cara bobbe
d her head a bit then wobbled on her feet unsure of what to do from there.

  “So is she washed up?” Mrs. Tate asked, walking over to a few articles of clean clothes laying on the end of the bed.

  “Laila brought those in for her,” Rae said, looking at the clothes too. “I don’t know. I left the door open a crack, been sitting on the floor outside of it. Just kind of talking to her. You know, some old stories about us both. She hasn’t said anything back though.” She looked down at the floor a bit defeated.

  Mrs. Tate placed her hand on her shoulder. “That sounds nice, dear. Why don’t you keep at it?” She slowly led her to the spot at the doorframe. Rae sat on the floor again, sliding her back down the wall as she went. Mrs. Tate continued past her and slowly pushed the door open to the bathroom, letting herself in. Cara saw Evie sitting with her knees to her chest, still as a statue in the water, staring at the white tiled wall in front of her. Her long two toned braid drew a thick line down her back. Old, dried blood still covered many parts of her body. Mrs. Tate walked up to the tub and knelt down next to it slowly, her legs a bit stiff going.

  Rae began to talk about a calf breaking free from the fencing and how she and Evie had to go chase it down. Cara walked over and sat next to her on the floor. Mrs. Tate reached over to the top of the sink and grabbed a wash cloth. First, she began with Evie’s sliced arm which faced out at her. Gently she squeezed water from the cloth onto the crusted surface. The drips rolled down her arm and back into the water, tinting the tub a subtle pink-orange. Her skin was clean, and the cuts now clearly visible. Some fresh blood still seeped through the surface at the deepest parts. She reached behind Evie and untied the string from the end of her braid. She began to untwist it, the bottom stiff and crackling with dried blood it soaked up as it swayed against the cuts when they were fresh. When it was completely undone, it covered her back, so long, inches of it floated on the waters surface making ripples of deeper red as the pigment soaked out. Mrs. Tate cupped her hands in the water and scooped it onto the back of her head, letting it soak from root to tip. She ran her fingers through it for quite a while, working diligently and delicately through her knotted hair. At one point she felt the massive lump on the back of her skull, and made sure to be extra careful with it as she worked. Mrs. Tate eventually got her damp hair smoothed and tangle free, clean and woven back into a plait just like Evie always wore. Then she took the wash cloth, now stained a brick color, and lightly started to mop at her face, being most careful around the swollen shut eye that had bloomed into the color of the sky at twilight.