Going Gone, Book 2 of the Irish End Games (17 page)

Papin came back from her expedition with the report that there was nobody on the road to ask. By Sarah's calculations, they were, more or less, on track to hit the coast by late the next day.

As the late afternoon gave way to early evening, it began to rain. By the time they set up camp—one that clearly wasn't going to have the benefit of a campfire—the lightning began to light up the sky with regular intervals. It had been awhile since Sarah had had to endure a full-on storm of any strength. And always then, she had been sheltered in a cottage. She could see that Evvie looked worried.

Did the Welsh get tornadoes?
she wondered
. Or hurricanes?
Back in Florida, where she was from, it would be nearing the end of hurricane season.

“We gonna be okay, Sarah?” Papin asked as she and Evvie huddled under a stand of trees, the water pouring off the leaves and branches and affording little protection from the rain.

“We'll be wet,” Sarah said. “And hungry. But we'll be fine.” She hated to reward them all after such a long day of riding with a cold, wet night and no dinner, especially Evvie, who looked like she was having trouble breathing. But what else could she do?

“One more night and then we're at the coast and on the boat,” she said. “We're nearly there.”

Evvie nodded miserably and Sarah couldn't help but notice Papin's worried looks in her direction.

“Tell you what. How would you two like to sleep in a warm tent tonight with a fire right in the center of it?”

Papin's thin shoulders began to shake under her wet jumper. She looked at Sarah with trust and expectation. “Don't tease us.”

“In my country, Indians make teepees with a hole in the top so they could have their campfires inside and I think we can fashion something like that using our blankets and this old widow-maker.”

The dead tree she indicated was easily fifteen feet tall and caught in its fall by two smaller trees beneath it. By stretching their blankets and securing them to the adjacent saplings near the widow-maker, Sarah was sure she could fashion a rudimentary tented lean-to. She grabbed her knife and began stripping one of the saplings nearest her of its branches.

“Do you really think so, Sarah?” Papin asked, looking at the skinny trees that surrounded them.

“My brothers and I used to make them all the time up in north Georgia,” Sarah said. “I don't remember ever doing it in a thunderstorm, but the principle is the same. Evvie, you just sit tight. Papin, go stand over there with the ponies and make sure none of them gets an idea to bolt out of here.”

Papin nodded and moved out from the meager shelter of the trees to stand with the horses. Sarah could hear her soft voice under the sound of the rain as she talked to the animals.

She worked quickly to pull together the tree fort by stretching their blankets on the sapling notches and leaving a large gap in the top for the smoke to come out. As soon as she could she ushered Evvie inside and settled her down next to one of the saddles. She opened her shirt and dumped out the armful of twigs and kindling she'd collected when she built the tent, and handed Evvie the flint and the knife.

“Th—there's no tinder,” Evvie said, her hands shaking with the cold.

“I know. Sit tight.” Sarah went out to where Papin stood with the quivering horses. “Papin, you got any money?”

“Money?”

“Yes, as in bills?”

Papin lifted her sweater away from her waistband and pulled out a slim wallet, which she handed to Sarah. “Why do you need money?”

“I don't, specifically,” Sarah said, pulling out several bills and handing the wallet back to her. “I'll call you when the fire's going.”

She hurried back to the tent and knelt next to Evvie and began crumpling up the pound notes. “Not really good for much else,” she said as Evvie struck a spark off the flint and caught the paper money. Sarah quickly tucked it under the kindling and the fire grew.

“Oh, thank you, Sarah,” Evvie said, her voice quivering. She held her hands out to the little campfire and watched the smoke escape up and out the top of the tent. “I don't think I could have endured a whole night wet and cold.”

“I think we need to get you dry somehow, Evvie,” Sarah said, eyeing her critically.

Papin entered the tent. “Blimey, I'm freezing.”

Sarah disappeared outside and returned with a long stick in her hands. “Get as close to the fire as you can, Evvie, and slip off your cardie.”

“I don't think I can bear to.”

“Okay, never mind.” Sarah shrugged off her own thin jacket and stuck it on one of the sticks. She handed it to Papin. “Over the fire, not in it. I'll be back in a sec.”

A mighty crack of thunder coincided with her squeezing back out of the small-tented enclosure. Papin squeaked at the sound of the crash and dropped Sarah's jacket into the fire, nearly extinguishing it. Hurriedly, she pulled it out and began blowing on the embers again to bring the fire back to life.

Sarah trotted over to where the ponies were hobbled. She was tempted to unhobble them. If they got spooked enough they could really hurt themselves trying to flee. On the other hand, tying them up would be even more dangerous. She pulled the saddle off her horse—the only one who had yet to be untacked—and carried it back to the tent. Standing a few feet outside, she could see the smoke coming out of the top in an orderly slim line. She could make out the shapes of Evvie and Papin inside and felt a rush of gratitude that she had been able to provide some kind of shelter against the terrible night. She parked her saddle in the opening of the tent and pulled out her backpack from where she'd tied it to the saddle.

“Check the jacket, Papin. It won't be dry but it'll be better than what she's got on. Evvie, take off your cardie.”

“Oh, God, it's so cold,” Evvie said through chattering teeth as she peeled her wet sweater off and handed it to Papin. She pulled on the jacket and Sarah had the satisfaction of hearing her friend groan with ecstasy. “Ohhhhh! Sooooo warm!”

“Good. And here's dinner.” Sarah handed Evvie a chunk of bread.

Papin was arranging Evvie's sweater on the stick and her eyes were large. “Where did you get that?”

“I put it in my bag yesterday and then thought we'd already eaten it. I've never been so glad to be forgetful in my life. Here's yours.” She handed another large piece of bread to Papin, who held it in her free hand and looked at Evvie and then back at Sarah. “Well, it's not the Dorchester,” she said with a grin, “but it's not shite either.”

“Remind me to needlepoint that on a pillow when we get home,” Sarah said, taking a bite out of her own bread. “Might just be our new family motto.”

I
t was
another night that Sarah knew she didn't have to worry about someone sneaking up on them. No one in his or her right mind would be out on a night like tonight.

“
T
ell us about your David
,” Evvie said to Sarah, though Sarah'd been sure everyone had dozed off. Soft snores came from where Papin was curled up by the fire.

“I'm really not in the mood, Evvie.”

“I know you miss him terribly.”

“Same as you and your Mark. It's just easier not to think of him, and what happened, when I'm trying to be strong and do what's necessary.”

“I understand. Well, can you tell me about this Donovan chap, then? The one who'll be taking us all in?”

Sarah listened for a moment to the sounds of the rain as it continued to bear down on the little tent and the surrounding trees. Twice she'd gotten up to check on the horses and had to re-dry her wet t-shirt before putting it back on. “Mike is like this ultimate paternalistic leader. He likes to be in charge and he's good at it so people pretty much let him lead the way.”

“My. An Alpha male.”

Sarah grinned at Evvie. “What's that mean?”

“Oh, I've read my share of romance books, Miz Scarlett. I know the sounds of a stubborn but natural-born leader.”

“I guess so. I mean, before The Crisis he was probably this way, too. He thinks everyone should just fall in line and do it his way. He's not a bully. He just has his own way of seeing things and pretty much encourages you to see things that way, too.”

“You like him.”

“Everybody likes him.”

“Oh, sure because
that's
what I meant.”

Sarah wagged a finger at her. “There's nothing between me and Mike. I like him. And he's exactly what the community needs—a strong leader who's willing to work hard to make the group safe.”

“He's like a papa that takes care of everyone,” Papin said sleepily.

“Exactly. I guarantee you both will love him.”

“Do
you
love him?” Papin asked.

“Alright, enough of that. Why don't we all go to sleep? It's going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“Can't you tell us a little something about the new world you're bringing us to?”

“I thought I just did.”

“Well, how about your son? What's John like?”

Sarah hesitated and looked into the fire. It occurred to her that she had been working very hard
not
to think of John, not to picture his face, not to remember his voice. It was just too painful while they were still so far apart. And because as soon as she saw him she knew the reunion would be bittersweet.

David.

Sarah pushed the accompanying image out of her head. The picture of David slumped on the ground, his hands lifeless in his lap, his dear head turned away, never to look at her or smile or…

“Sarah?”

She shook herself out of the mood and threw a small stick onto the fire. “John is like most twelve-year-old American boys: he loves his iPad and video games, plays soccer at school and is addicted to Netflix.”

There was a pause and then Evvie said, “Except, of course, he doesn't do any of those things any more.”

Sarah felt a wave of exhaustion crash down over her. Evvie was right, of course. John was no longer that little boy who had climbed into his airplane seat a year ago full of questions and concerns about keeping all his electronics charged.

He was somebody different now.

“Well, he's safe,” Sarah said. “And right now, from where I'm sitting, that's the only thing that really matters.”

“How do you know?” Papin asked.

Evvie patted the girl's hand. “To a mother, the world would smell different, feel different without him in it. You'd know. When I think of my Mark, there's something about the thinking of him that makes me feel…that he's not in the world anymore.”

“Oh, Evvie…”

“It's true. I know Mark isn't coming for me. I know he's not trying to find me because I can feel that he's gone.”

Papin picked up Evvie's hand and smoothed her own small one on top of it. “When I was eight, some men came and set me mum and me dad on fire,” she said. “Killed me little brother, too. So I can't ever play games of wondering, you know? I can't ever
not
see them gone. Or how. When I close my eyes—
every time I close my eyes
—I see them leaving me.”

“Holy God, Papin. How?”

“Me mum shoved me in a closet in the caravan when she saw them coming. I heard ‘em screaming, so I snuck out to see. Afterward, the men wanted to steal the caravan but it didn't work. So they just left. And never found me.”

“Papin, I am so sorry for your terrible loss. But…this was before The Crisis? These men killed your family
before
the lights went out?”

Papin nodded. “One of the men accused my father of cheating him. I was too young and too scared to really understand what he was saying. He might have been right. My papa probably did cheat him.”

“Those men were monsters and should have been arrested and put in cages.”

“I know.”

“And you've been on your own ever since?”

“No, there are families in the Kale. I was taken in and raised with my cousins. We were all one family.”

“When did you leave to strike out on your own?”

“Well, actually, the night I met you, Sarah.”

Sarah opened her mouth as if to speak, but just looked at Papin in confusion.

“I could tell from the minute I saw you,” Papin said. “You know gypsies have the gift of second sight, aye? Well, I just knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you were a mother looking for her child.”

Tears sprang to Sarah's eyes. Of course Papin's radar would be very sensitive to
that
. Whether it could have been seen so clearly by anybody other than a motherless child was doubtful. “Well, I am definitely that,” Sarah said softly.

“What happened to your extended family?” Evvie asked.

“They left.”

“
Left?
Moved away and didn't tell you?”

“No, they told me. I guess most
gadjikane
think all gypsies are whores, but my family couldn't accept me doing this.”

“Selling your body for food,” Sarah said.

“That's right.” She looked at Sarah with eyes filled with such sadness and pain that Sarah quickly moved to take her into her arms. There would be time to hear the whole terrible story, to bear the unbearable agony of the child's broken heart. Later.

“Never again, Papin,” Sarah whispered. “I'm your family now.” She reached out an arm to include Evvie in the hug. “
We
are your family now, by God, and nobody will leave anybody ever again. I promise.”

Sarah felt Papin's thin body sag as she released the tension that had been holding her so securely together. Her arms tightened around Sarah's neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, sounding for the first time like the little girl she really was.

An hour later, Papin and Evvie were both asleep, the girl once more in the arms of the elder, who clung to her just as fiercely in her need. Sarah stepped out of the tent to relieve herself and to check again on the animals. They were calmer now that the storm seemed to have moved on and Sarah was grateful that it looked like they'd have transportation in the morning.