Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series) (11 page)

“I don’t think it was luck that you found her,” John said. “I think it was fate. The same fate that brought you to me. It was meant to be, all of it. Except that she hates me,” he said, and gave me a lopsided smile.

“She is who she is today because I failed her,” he said. I snuggled into his chest again. Even his grief, his guilt, and this sad topic couldn’t keep me from relishing the warmth and strength of him. I closed my eyes and inhaled.
John.
Oh my god.
What if I’d never held him again…

“You did everything you could,” I said.

“No. I didn’t. I wasn’t there for her when she was growing up. I didn’t protect her. I didn’t teach her enough to be able to protect herself.” He clutched me to him and I could feel his pain.

“Someday, when you’re a parent, you’ll understand exactly what I’m saying right now. And you’ll judge me. As you should. Because you’ll have a child, and you will know everything, absolutely everything that you possibly can, about your child’s life. What they eat for breakfast. Who they play with at school. What stories they like to read.”

I went still when he said this — picturing myself as a mother. It was my dream. I could still picture those three beautiful imaginary children playing on our bed, the beautiful children I wanted so badly. I could only picture having a family with
him
. But — would he want that? Could he, after everything that had happened?

It’s not the right time to worry about it,
my inner voice reminded me, bringing me out of my reverie. I took one last look at those imaginary children and my heart clenched; then they disappeared and I wanted to cry. I held my breath, willing myself to focus on the present moment.

“Well, I did none of that,” John was saying. “I did the opposite — I knew nothing about her life, none of the details that are so important to children. I made the excuse that she and her mother didn’t really want me around: it was always awkward when I visited.

“But that was the easy way out. I made excuses for myself — I excused myself from being her father because it was too hard. I hated how awkward it was. I hated being the person she dreaded seeing. So I let myself off the hook and left her alone. And I let her down.”

He hugged me to him harder. He must have wished that he could go back in time and hug his poor daughter, back when she was twelve and hated him and hadn’t wanted him to touch her. The way John held me now, with that tenderness, made me understand why he was always so careful with me, physically and emotionally. He wanted me to know every second that he loved me. He wanted me to feel that love so clearly, and to know that he was always there, protecting me. He’d learned from his mistakes.

He’d learned from his mistakes, but with Catherine, it was probably too little, too late. And he knows it.

Poor John.

“Maybe that’s what made her reckless,” he said, and he sounded tired, defeated. “Maybe that’s what made her hate herself. She must hate herself, if she did those terrible things.” He trailed his fingers down my arms again, protectively.

“It’s not all your fault,” I said. “She wanted to stay alive. He probably brainwashed her. She thinks she’s in love with him, for Christ’s sake. You can’t blame yourself for
that
.”

“Yeah, but that’s what happens,” John said. “She probably
is
in love with him
.
When someone’s held prisoner for a long time, they lose hope. They think the people they love have given up on them — abandoned them, left them for dead. So they start to associate with their captors. They start to have feelings for them. It’s powerful. There’s a clinical term for it —
Stockholm syndrome
.”

I’d never heard of it. “This happens to people?” I asked. “A lot?”

“It’s rare, but it happens,” he said. “Patty Hearst, for example — but that was before your time. In this case, it makes sense. She was with him for so long, they could’ve developed a real bond.” He was lost in thought for a moment. “Prisoners with
Stockholm
typically distrust the police and the government, at least after they’ve been held hostage. In her case, she always hated the government. Because of how much I worked.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” I said.

“Don’t forget what I do for a living. And what I’ve done,” he said.

He seemed to go far away then, thinking things through, maybe remembering things. I got under the covers, rubbing his back, trying to get him to join me. It was so late and we were both exhausted. We needed to sleep. He finally got up, went and brushed his teeth. When he came back he was in his boxers. I inhaled sharply. He climbed in, reached over and turned out the light.

I kissed him chastely on the lips. I’d waited for so long to be with him, to feel his naked body, and now I could barely keep my eyes open. I ran my fingers across his chiseled, rock hard chest.
Damn.

He kissed me back, and I felt butterflies in my stomach. I opened my eyes and smiled at him.

“What?” he asked, smiling back at me in the semi-darkness.

“You’re giving me butterflies. It’s just so nice to feel them back — all I’ve felt for so long was just plain old
starving
,” I said.

He laughed and kissed me again. “Liberty, I missed you so much. Please don’t leave me again. I’m an old man. I can’t take it.”

I kissed him back. “I promise — and you’re not
that
old,” I said. “But if you want me, I’ll never leave you again.”

“I want you forever,” he said, and the butterflies thrashed in excitement.

“Never again,” he whispered, kissing me gently.

“Never again,” I promised.

When I woke up and saw John next to me, I could inexplicably only think of one thing:
pancakes.

Damn you,
I thought to my stomach.
Between you and my exhaustion,
you are really getting in the way of some pressing needs.

John opened one eye and looked at me. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, and threw his leg over me possessively. Here in our room, with the sun just beginning to come in, it was like we could forget everything else that was happening. It was just him and me, me and him.

I leaned against him and luxuriated in the feeling of being back in the arms of the man I loved, having had a real meal, a hot shower, and sleeping in a real bed.
I’ll never take it for granted again,
I thought. I could feel John pressing against me. I started feeling hot, like someone struck a match. “I’ll be right back,” I said, rushing off to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I’d just quickly used some mouthwash and crawled back under the covers when there was a knock at the door.

“Seriously?” I asked, looking at John.

He lifted up the covers and looked at himself. “You need to get that, babe,” he said and laughed. “I’m not fit for anybody’s company but yours right now.”

I laughed, blushed, and gritted my teeth in frustration all at the same time. I threw on the hotel robe and looked through the peephole. It was Matthew
. Damn him.

“Hi,” I said, opening the door with fake cheerfulness. “It’s six thirty. What do you want?”

He held out three large coffees and a bag filled with pastries and smiled at me sheepishly. “Boss’s orders,” he said, walking past me into the room without waiting to be invited.

“Really?” I asked John. He was still on the bed, but he was pulling his clothes on.

“I told him last night that we had to get on the road early,” he said. We just looked at each other. My body was confused: I
wanted
John, but I
needed
the pastries.

“D’you guys need, like, fifteen minutes?” Matthew asked looking between us. He turned to John. “Ten?”

“Ha ha,” John said, hopping out of bed with his sweats on. He looked like he’d calmed down.
Too bad,
my inner voice whined.

“No, we need to get on the road. We need to get as far away from the border as we can,” he said.

“They’ve got to be coming for her,” Matthew said, flopping down and grabbing a coffee. I grabbed one, too, and took the entire bag of pastries to my seat. I started inspecting them, lining up a plain croissant, a blueberry scone, and some sort of enormous brown muffin that smelled like coffee cake in front of me. I was sad about being interrupted, but it was working out okay.

“You gonna share?” Matthew asked, grabbing the bag back from me. He proceeded to take out a muffin identical to mine, a ham and cheese croissant, and some sort of chocolate-dipped cookie.

John sauntered over to the table. He picked up the almost-empty bag and sighed when he pulled out a dilapidated corn muffin.

“Here,” I said, through all the food in my mouth, “have some of this!” I offered him the scone.

“I’m fine, honey. You need to eat. You, on the other hand,” he said, turning to Matthew, “are a pig.”

“Don’t make me work out so much, then,” Matthew said as he stuffed his face with croissant. He didn’t offer John a thing.

The three of us ate in silence for a minute. Then John cleared his throat. “How did it go last night?” he asked Matthew.

“Okay,” Matthew said. “Sean stayed with her until about three. Then I had a shift. She slept the whole time.”

“And before that?” John asked.

“He said she drank a bit. And smoked half a pack of cigarettes.”

John winced.

“Sorry, boss. I know how you feel about that. But she didn’t talk. She asked Sean where we were going today, that was it. He said he didn’t know. She was still asleep just now when Corey came in.”

We sat in silence for a while. “How can we help her? Should we call Eva?” Matthew asked.

John finished chewing in silence and sat for a moment. “Yes,” he said, “I think so. But I don’t think it’s going to help. Not yet. We need to hide her. She needs treatment. Eva can come up and visit her. So call her and ask her to meet us in Rhode Island in three days.

“That is, if that’s okay with you,” John said, looking at me.

“Fine,” I said. Eva seemed nice when I met her, even though she was much too attractive for my liking. But she needed to see her daughter. That was the important thing.

“We have to meet someone today,” John said, looking over at the clock. “In Nashville. We gotta go.” He looked up at me. “There’s a beautiful hotel there, and great restaurants. Best fried chicken and biscuits you’ll ever have.”

In spite of all the food I was eating, my stomach howled at the thought of fried chicken. “But until then…?” I asked, trailing off.

“Until then, it’s twelve hours in the van. And Burger Junior,” John said, smiling at me.

I scowled at him. “I miss the bus,” I said.

“Me too,” said Matthew. “And I hate Burger Junior. Maybe we can find a Stop N Go Burger.” He sounded hopeful, already dreaming about lunch.
No wonder we got along so well.

“I bet there’s some on our route,” John said. “If everybody behaves, we can stop there.”

We all stood, cleaning up. Matthew left and I quickly got dressed. They’d gotten me a cute navy-blue and red striped shirt, denim shorts and black low-top Converse sneakers. I brushed my teeth, twice, just because I could. I looked at myself in the mirror: I almost looked human again. Except for all those protruding bones.

John came into the bathroom, looking sexy as hell in low-slung jeans and a blue tee shirt. He hadn’t bothered to shower. I went to him and kissed him, relishing the feeling of his body. “Mmmm,” he said, pressing himself into me and pushing me back against the vanity. “I can’t wait to get to that fancy hotel in Nashville.” He kissed me, hard, and my heart started racing.

“Oh my god, it’s gonna be torture sitting next to you all day and not being able to sit on your lap,” I said.

“It’s gonna be torture in more ways than one,” he said, pulling back from me, the playful light going out of his eyes.
Catherine. Twelve hours in the van with Catherine was absolutely going to be torture.

“Maybe it will be better today,” I said, trying to sound more hopeful than I felt. “Who are we meeting in Nashville?” John started packing up the bathroom and didn’t answer me.