From the Shadows Page 4

  “Inside,” Faith answered, trying but failing to mask the sorrow in her voice. “You shouldn’t come in. You shouldn’t even be holding my hand.” Faith dropped her daughter’s hand remembering where they were.

  “I’m going in, Mom,” Sara said, taking her mother’s hand back.

  Faith stared proudly at her daughter. “I know she’ll be happy to see you,” she said, holding tightly to Sara’s arm.

  Though they disappeared into the shack, their voices carried through the cracks in the walls.

  “She’s so pale,” Sara said.

  There was the muffled sound of sorrow and exhaustion. Of finally having someone to hold you while you cried. Followed by moments of silence. Then Sara told her mother it was going to be all right.

  This was not how their relationship had been before, when her mom was very much the mom. Faith had taken care of everything, and though I was sure there were many days she had wanted to give up and fall apart, she never had. Sara had never been the one to reassure her mom.

  Once the crying stopped, Sara asked, “What can I do, Mom?”

  “Do you mind watching her while I sleep? I need to rest for a moment.” The sound of exhaustion was clearer than the words.

  “Yes, of course.”

  We heard whispers, and I imagined Sara sitting beside Sage, telling her how much she loved her and how sorry she was she didn’t find her sooner, or that she was ever away from her in the first place. I wondered what it was like to have a sister. Blaise and Sara were the closest things I had to siblings, and though we were far more than friends, the love Sara and Sage shared was greater. Sharing your childhood with someone, the good and bad, was something I wished I’d had.

  After we were settled in the hut next door, Josh whispered, “Do you think Sage is going to make it?”

  The door, which was nothing more than an old green comforter, now lay between us and the dirt floor. Life here was primitive but safe, at least for now.

  “I don’t know,” Blaise whispered back.

  Jonah sat by the door, his back leaning against the wood, his head turned to the open doorway.

  East lay in a corner, her head resting on her pack. She was watching Haz, who lay near her, his eyes wide with thought. I wondered if he was thinking of Mrs. Pryce, of their shared history. What was that history? The softness of the blanket and the dirt beneath it made me forget my curiosities. The girl’s breathing shifted as sleep overcame her, and my own breathing did the same, the night drifting into a memory.

  Six

  I blinked. The darkness was gone, in its place the brightness of a spring morning. “Where is everyone?” I asked, sitting up.

  “They went across the lake,” Jonah answered. His broken arm rested against his chest, still tied in the splint. His good arm lay in his lap. “They wanted to find food.”

  “And you stayed to guard me?” I asked, pushing the wisps of bangs away from my face.

  He turned toward the outside. “We don’t know these people. I’m glad Haz knows the one lady. But the rest?” He shrugged.

  “Sara’s family knows them and trusts them,” I offered.

  “And I don’t know Sara’s family,” he said, with the hint of a smile.

  I tilted my head. “You’re not very trusting, are you?”

  “Should I be?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  He sat up straighter as I half scooted and half crawled toward him to sit between him and the open door.

  “You weren’t trusting before the light, were you?” I asked.

  “No, not really,” he answered, his voice cracking.

  “That doesn’t seem like a good character trait for a priest to have. Aren’t they supposed to be loving or accepting or something like that?”

  He laughed. “Maybe that’s why Eli thinks I would make a horrible priest.”

  “He doesn’t think that,” I said. “He just doesn’t think it’s what you are called to.”

  “Have you two discussed it?” He raised an eyebrow in a way that made my heart stop and then restart so loudly I was sure he’d heard it.

  “No … Well, maybe a little,” I confessed.

  “What did you say?” he asked, his eyes cast down and voice curious.

  “Nothing, really. I told him that if God wanted you to be a priest, you should be a priest. Then he asked if I knew what made you think you were called to the priesthood. When I said no, he said I should ask you.” I hoped he might answer the question without my having to officially ask it.

  “I see.” He lifted his eyes to mine, a shy smile forming. “And why were you talking about me in the first place?”

  “I, ah, I don’t know. Casual conversation,” I answered, nervously running my fingers through what was left of my hair.

  “Casual conversation is, ‘How’s the weather?’ ‘Do you think we’ll survive the winter?’ Not ‘Do you think your brother was called by God to be a priest?’ ”

  Jonah’s body shifted toward mine. I suddenly realized how close we were. And how alone we were. My pulse raced.

  “You know, I remember,” Jonah said, clearing his throat. “I remember kissing you in the hospital.”

  “You do?” I said, unable to make my voice any louder than a whisper.

  “At first—at first, I thought it was a dream, the best dream I’ve ever had,” he said, his body leaning close. “Then, after a couple of days I realized it was real. And I also realized that you kissed me back.”

  “Did I?” I breathed.

  He nodded with an air of innocence and desire.

  He bent his head closer to mine. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” he whispered as he gracefully pulled a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

  I was holding my breath, knowing I must have imagined the words I just heard. Was I awake? Was this a dream?

  I nodded.

  His lips touched mine, slowly brushing against them. My hands felt the stubble on his face. I leaned in, closing the gap between our bodies. His arm wrapped around my back, pulling me tight against him. His chest radiated warmth. All my thoughts vanished as my desire for him deepened. His lips left mine, moving down to my neck. My body trembled. He leaned back, removing his lips from my neck. His fingers gently caressed where his lips had been.

  I opened my eyes. His eyes held a tenderness I’d never seen before—from anyone.

  Jonah’s eyes searched mine. “From the moment I saw you, I’ve had feelings for you, but I was afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?” I said.

  “To feel what I felt, to know what that meant.” His voice was soft. “Once before, I felt it. Though comparing that to this is like comparing a pool to the ocean, but it’s all I can compare it to. And that didn’t end well,” he said, almost shuddering at the memory. “That’s what Eli meant when he said I was afraid.” He sounded embarrassed at the memory.

  My heart raced, but my mind was calm. Every part of this felt right. In some distant way, it felt like this was where we were supposed to be, having our first real kiss on the dirt floor of a shack in the forests of Maryland.

  “Is that why you decided to be a priest?” I asked, pulling my fingers away, feeling guilty, as if I was helping him cheat on God.

  He paused, his expression torn. “That’s what led to events that caused me to start thinking about it,” he answered cryptically. “But Eli was right. God was inviting me to love him more fully. That part of the calling was true and real, but I was never called to the priesthood.”

  “How do you know?” I asked, hoping it didn’t have to do with me—hoping I had kept my promise and not come between him and God.

  “It’s complicated, and someday I will tell you. I will tell you today if you ask me to, but I hope you won’t.” He stroked my hands, avoiding eye contact. “I hope you will be content in knowing that you weren’t the reason. If anything, I clung more tightly to the hope of the calling because I was scared of you.”

  “Scared? Of me?”


  “When you come face-to-face with your destiny, it can be scary,” he said, cautiously raising his eyes to mine.

  I wanted to fall into his arms and accept his words as lovingly as he intended them, but I couldn’t.

  “You don’t believe me,” Jonah said, reading my torn expression.

  “Part of me does,” I said.

  “But?”

  “I guess … I wonder if you know what you’re saying, or if …”

  “If I’m just being a guy overcome with desire,” he said with a smirk, my hands still in his.

  “I wasn’t going to say that, and I don’t know if I even think that, but yeah.”

  “I know this must be coming out of nowhere for you, but for me it was settled when I climbed into the back of the pickup. Before that, I think I was content to know you were living in the same house. I told myself we were friends, nothing more—though I knew that was a lie, and so did Eli. But when you left, I was forced to act. God used your leaving to wake me up, to make me stop using him as an excuse. Once I was in the truck, I thought that was enough,” he said, laughing at himself.

  “That sounds ridiculous, I know. I told myself there was no need to rush things, no need to tell you my world centered on your very breath.” His face flushed red, and my pulse quickened.

  “I was scared and I thought I would have plenty of time to allow things to grow slowly over the months, or years. And then Trent came,”—Jonah’s voice filled with hatred—“and the way he looked at you—.”

  He released my hands, and I was sure it was so he would not accidently hurt me.

  “I have never felt rage like that before,” Jonah said. “And then he kissed you, and I literally had to force myself not to kill him. I hated every second I saw him, because it was clear what he was and how he used you, and you couldn’t see it. I knew from the way Sara, Blaise, and Josh watched you, that this was how it had always been, and that realization caused me so much pain.”

  I turned away, ashamed.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, the rage replaced by tenderness.

  “I wanted to leave him,” I said, hoping he could understand that I knew Trent was like a cancer taking over my soul. “And I tried. But I kept going back. I threatened to leave when he hit me, or he cheated on me, or he was a jerk, and then he’d tell me he was sorry and he loved me. I believed him, but it was because I wanted to.”

  “Why?” Jonah asked, his left hand on mine. “Why did you want to stay?”

  I blinked. For a moment, I had forgotten it was Jonah I was talking to. “It’s not that I wanted to stay with the man he was, but I believed … he could be better. There was some good in him. I know you don’t believe that.”

  “I do believe that,” Jonah said, leaning back against the hut. “There is good in everyone and I’m sure there was good in Trent. But our choices shape us. They make us more good or less good, and his,”—Jonah paused—“toward the end, Bria ….” He carefully touched the back of my head.

  “I saw the bruise on your stomach,” he said, his eyes filling with pain, his voice low. “What did he hit you with?”

  “His fist.”

  Jonah flinched. “Did he …?” He cleared his throat. “Did he hurt you in … in any other way?”

  I thought back to that night and the terror that filled every cell in my body. The memories of Trent’s wrath and his desire to cause me pain would never leave me; they would not wash away as my blood had done in the freezing shower of his apartment. They would not fade like the purple bruise on my stomach had done. They would be with me for the rest of my life and, in that way, Trent had hurt me far more than Jonah realized. But that was not what he was asking.

  I shook my head. “At the end, there was no good left. I realized that when he started talking about the new country he was creating. Sara’s mom used to tell me to leave. Sara and Blaise did too, but I never thought I would be that girl. The one who ended up in an abusive relationship. And when I realized I was in one, I was too embarrassed to admit it. So I told myself I was overreacting and that I could fix it.”

  “You can’t fix other people,” he whispered.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Do you remember the night Fulton and Talin were poisoned?”

  “Um, that was kind of a memorable night.”

  “Yeah, I guess it was.” He smiled sadly. “Do you remember during that night, when I asked you if Trent ever hit you and you said no, and I said you needed to figure out why you were lying?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed hard.

  “Was it because you thought you deserved to be treated that way?” he asked, his voice tentative.

  I could tell he was hoping he was wrong. I slowly moved my head up and down.

  He closed his eyes. “Why can’t you see yourself clearly?” he said, opening his eyes and staring into mine.

  I exhaled away some tension. “Jonah, when Trent met me, I already felt worthless. I didn’t want to date anyone. I didn’t think I deserved anyone. But then this smart, attractive guy who could have any girl he wanted, wanted me. And for a few months it was like I was his only focus. Like I was the prize to be won. Now I realize how unhealthy that was. He was stalking me, but I thought he was being attentive and interested. For the first month that we were dating, he was kind and charming. Everyone said how amazing he was. Everyone except Sara and Blaise.”

  “After that first month, things changed, and Trent began to tell me all the horrible things that I already believed about myself. It was as if he could read my thoughts. His words, because they were my words, were easy to believe.”

  “Are those still your same words?”

  I thought for a moment, searching for the truth. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t sound too sure of yourself,” Jonah said.

  “I’ve been through a lot,” I said as Trent’s dead eyes appeared before me.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Jonah said, as though he saw what I was seeing, though I knew he didn’t. It was me, not Jonah, that Trent haunted in life …. and death.

  I shook my head to clear the image and as Trent’s eyes faded, clarity came. “I think I know I deserve to be happy, but I guess I wonder if I deserve that right now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I killed him, Jonah. Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. The result is the same. He’s dead and it’s my fault. I should be punished.”

  “Bria, Trent was killing you. You had the right to defend yourself. Not to mention he was a murderer many times over. How many people have been saved because he is dead?”

  “I accept that he needed to die or somehow not be able to hurt anyone else, but I did it. I killed him,” I said through soft tears.

  “Life is sacred. All life at every stage is sacred.”

  I flinched at his words.

  “But we are not required to allow others to kill us or those we love. We can and must defend ourselves. Otherwise we are allowing the death of our own life, and that life too, is sacred.”

  “I never thought of that,” I answered.

  “You never thought your life was sacred?” he asked, the back of his finger against my cheek.

  “No,” I said, with a sadness that surprised me.

  “You deserve to be happy,” he breathed.

  “Someday,” I nodded. Someday I would forgive myself. Someday I would be free of my past. Free to move forward.

  “Can I be part of that day when it comes?” He asked.

  I chewed on my lip. “I don’t know when it will be.” How long would he wait?

  “This is not a short-term thing for me.” His expression was tender yet forceful, willing me to see him. Willing me to believe him. “This is it. You are it.”

  “Anybody here?” Josh called from somewhere in the distance.

  I pulled away from Jonah.

  Jonah stood, extending h
is hand. I took it, standing and brushing the dirt from my pants.

  “May I hold your hand?” He asked, his hand outstretched.

  I grinned. “You’re asking me if you can hold my hand?”

  He stepped toward me, the space between us disappearing. “Bria, I am here ready to go as fast—,” he stepped back, “or as slow as you desire. I will never pressure you and I will always ask.”

  My body burned with the heat of his words and the closeness of his touch.

  He opened his palm. “May I hold your hand?”

  “Okay,” I stammered, lifting my hand to his.

  He wrapped his fingers around mine.

  “Right here,” he called to Josh, leading me from the shack.

  Seven

  Josh and Blaise were sitting on a fallen log in the open space in front of the two shacks.

  Blaise glanced up at us and then down at our entwined hands. She began bouncing her feet in place as if running while sitting, and squealed a silent squeal.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Josh asked as he took a plate of what appeared to be stuffed grape leaves from his wife.

  She covered her mouth. “It’s a beautiful morning, don’t you think? Full of new beginnings,” she said, burying her face in her arms, unable to contain her delight.

  My face flushed and Jonah forced a laugh into a cough.

  “I don’t get it,” Josh said, staring at his wife and then at us.

  Jonah lifted our hands. “Bria and I … umm … took our relationship to the next level.” He sounded so mature, which I definitely did not feel at the moment.

  “You had sex?” Josh asked, his mouth falling open.

  Blaise whacked him on the shoulder.

  Jonah continued to laugh and cough, and I wanted to crawl back into the shack.

  “Oww,” Josh whined. “Why did you hit me?”

  “No! They did not have sex. They kissed … right?” Blaise said, turning to us.

  Jonah squeezed my hand as I hid behind him. Too embarrassed to answer my friend.

  “They already kissed before,” Josh said.

  “Jonah was drugged. It didn’t count,” Blaise said.