TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER. It's not S4E3 levels of bad, but be warned nonetheless.
I.
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity. Anna and John spent a good deal of their free time renovating the house. They ended up hiring a contractor for most of the work, after going through and choosing what belongings to keep and what to donate to charity. Anna was too fond of her father's old wooden rocking chair to let it go, no matter how natty it looked. John said he looked forward to restoring it, especially since most of the tools and equipment her father had left in the garage were still quite useable. She kept her mother's fine china and hutch, most of her jewelry, and a few articles of clothing that just happened to be coming back into style. Most of the rest was hauled away by two men in a large box truck, who were happy to take the donations to the local battered women's shelter. The house was suddenly very empty, but without the dated furnishings and hideous carpeting, it was also suddenly very large. Anna put the entire contents of Emily's room into storage in case she ever decided that she wanted to come home and sort through it.
Their Saturdays were spent together, either in the house or at the local DIY store, plotting and planning and picking out fixtures. The kitchen was gutted early on, and the new cabinets were just starting to go in. Any spare time they had when they weren't working was spent wrapped in each others arms on one of their sofas, eating takeout and watching movies, usually falling asleep from exhaustion. They were the picture of domestic bliss, even if they couldn't necessarily be as domestic as they'd have liked at the moment. John never complained once about his leg, in fact, it seemed that he was able to get around much better these days. He winked at her and insisted he was driven by the excitement of building their futures together.
They decided that Anna would move into the house in July, as her lease about to run out on her flat. Gwen's lease was also up soon, but her new place wouldn't be ready until September at the earliest, so she would move into the guest bedroom downstairs for the time being. She promised to give Anna and John their personal space and private time together when he was over, as long as Anna both spared her the juicy details and bombarded her with vague ones.
John surprised Anna one very warm afternoon by joining her at the house in mid-June, wearing a pair of tan cargo shorts and an old t-shirt. She saw him getting out of his car and her breath caught in her throat, both at the sight of him wearing shorts to begin with, but also at the fact that the leg he was currently strutting up the walkway with was not the one he had before. She met him at the door with a gaping mouth and tears in her eyes.
He only grinned and waved at his leg, thoroughly modern and complete with some sort of carbon fiber sleeve that gave it the same outward proportions as a real leg. Anna made a squeal of delight and bent down to examine it, then looked back up at him in shock. "Why didn't you tell me you got it?" she asked indignantly. "When?"
John shrugged and grinned wryly. "A few weeks ago," he replied. "I've had to have it tinkered with a few times, but it's amazing. It doesn't hurt anymore, and I'm already getting around better. I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm still getting used to it all."
Anna's eyes welled with tears and she embraced him fiercely. "You silly fool," she said, her throat tightening. "No wonder you've been bopping about the house like it's nothing."
He hugged her to his chest and leaned backward, her feet leaving the ground. "I'll be running around and playing football again in no time," he said. He set her down and she could see that he had tears in his eyes. "Do you know how hard it was to walk out the door today wearing these?" He waved at his khaki shorts. "I've been hiding my leg so long that I'd developed a complex about it. Now I just want to show off the new hardware. I had some kids riding bikes past the church yell some sort of slang at me that I suppose meant that they thought it was cool. I was rather chuffed."
Anna giggled and looked at it again. It was like something out of a science fiction movie, and very expensive looking. She knew from her mother's work as an administrator that this wasn't the sort of thing that the NHS routinely paid for. "How are you paying for it?" she asked suspiciously.
"I have some savings," John said, wrapping his arm around her as they walked into the front door. "Don't worry, there's plenty left over. We won't be eating noodles every night for dinner when we're married."
Anna was still a bit skeptical how he could have afforded it, plus the renovations on the house, but she let it slide for now. She was too happy for him to care.
They spent the rest of the afternoon painting the upstairs bedrooms, and Anna couldn't help but to watch him work whenever she had a chance. He was almost graceful now, and moved about with a freedom that she'd never seen in him before. The prosthetic was almost a work of art. He also had a rather nice real leg, strong and thick, without being fat. Based on what she knew of the rest of him through his clothes, she was very eager to see how the rest of him was built.
He seemed to sense her watching him and stopped, slowly turning his head to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "What?" he asked suspiciously.
"Oh, just enjoying the view," she said innocently. "And undressing you with my eyes," she added, not so innocently.
He opened his mouth wide and slapped his hand to his cheek. "Goodness, Miss Smith. You're having impure thoughts about your pastor. You naughty girl."
She reached out and ran her hand down his side, then hooked her finger in his belt. "No, I'm having perfectly normal thoughts about my fiance, who I can't wait to marry."
John actually blushed and looked downward at his paintbrush, casting his eyes away from her. "Soon," he said quietly, sighing. "Just over four months, in fact. Then you can have your way with me."
"I intend to," she giggled. Anna took the paintbrush from his hand and set it down in the tray, then kissed him soundly. "You know where we're standing?" she asked in a husky whisper as she stretched up and nuzzled his neck.
"The bedroom?" John replied densely.
"Our bedroom. Specifically, where our bed will be."
John groaned and leaned against the wall, which thankfully was dry, pulling her with him. "I may die before then. Rest In Peace, John Patrick Bates, dead from breathless anticipation." Both of them snorted in amusement and tightened their arms around each other.
They stayed together like that for quite a while, resting and simply enjoying the feel of one another. Honestly, she was so tired now that had there been a sofa or even a bed in the house, she would have curled up with him and gone to sleep without a thought for anything more adventurous. They planned on going furniture shopping next week for a few pieces, but for the most part, they would be using her own things, and replacing them as time went on. He had nothing to bring from the cottage other than his own personal affects and clothing. They were both eager to finish the renovations and truly make the home their own.
Word spread around the church that very first Sunday after Anna showed up wearing her engagement ring. She'd initially wanted to take it off while in church, but John said it was high time they were public with their relationship. There was nothing quite so public or definitive than an engagement ring. They both politely answered questions and accepted congratulations from several people in the church. Anna got a few speculative glares and glances, and overheard a few whispers, but she no longer cared. John openly wrapped his arm around her waist after the service, the other hand clutching his bible to his chest. The two important things in his life, held in balance with each other.
It took a few more Sundays before she truly began to see her future place in the church. Elsie and Phyllis began to bounce ideas off of her, trying to get her to take an active role. They were quite lovely and very protective of her, willing to help Anna in any way, to assure that she felt comfortable becoming not just Mrs. John Bates, but the wife of a vicar as well. Even the church board had been welcoming, and after an hourlong grilling one afternoon, they seemed to give their blessing. She suspected that Violet's influence was key, as the older woman had been among the first in the church to offer her congratulations and wishes for a long and happy marriage.
After the church gave them their collective blessing, John and Anna decided to publish a small announcement in the local paper, at the suggestion of Charles Carson, who as a staunch traditionalist. He said it was important that people knew about it, as John was in a position of respect and authority in town. He relented after a little arguing and prodding from Anna. They had Elsie take a nice photo of the two of them in front of the church's old wooden doors, and submitted it to the paper. Then the church really started buzzing with the news.
Robert had been so thrilled at their engagement that he nearly wept, not knowing that her birthday dinner had also been their engagement dinner. They were all so caught up in the planning of Mary and Matthew's wedding, plus the all too soon arrival of Sybil and Tom's baby, that the entire family was blindsided. Matthew and Mary had decided against an engagement party for themselves, much to Cora's chagrin, so she and Robert conspired to have John and Anna over for a celebratory family dinner. They invited everyone at the firm, as well as John's friend Anthony Strallan, who Anna had never met before.
Gwen was absolutely gobsmacked at the Crawley house, and spent half of her time standing in the grand entry hall simply looking up and around the room. Ethel made a few comments about class warfare, which earned her a sharp elbow to the ribs from Gwen. Dinner was a lovely affair, not black tie, but classy nonetheless. Cora had hired a catering company for dinner, and by the end, every person had leaned back in their chairs stuffed to the gills.
John was openly affectionate the entire evening, and he seldom went more than a minute without touching her in some way. If he wasn't holding her hand, he had his arm around her, or his hand on her knee, or was leaning his body against hers when they stood around the kitchen island sharing stories. They all retired to the conservatory after dessert, the same room where they'd had their very momentous conversation on Christmas Eve. They curled up together on a plush leather sofa, listening to Edith pluck away at the piano keys, seemingly trying to impress Anthony, who had been glued to her all evening.
Anna had asked John about him quietly, and he told her about Anthony's excommunication as a result of being in an adulterous relationship with someone under his supervision. It gave her a bit of insight into John's own fears early on when they danced around each other. Anthony's wife Maude, who he had been married to for over thirty years, had passed away somewhat unexpectedly in March, due to complications from pneumonia. It had left him devastated but relieved, as Maude's dementia had claimed her mind a decade ago. It hadn't made him love her any less, but it had made things understandably difficult. She sympathized with the fellow, and though he and Edith made for a very strange pairing, they seemed to at least be getting along very nicely and would at least be good friends if nothing else.
She and John languished together on the sofa talking with Cora, who went on and on about the latest pieces of artwork she'd brought back from a trip to Africa. John had twisted his good knee earlier in the day and kept shifting uncomfortably. Anna tapped his leg and made a gesture at him, so he threw his leg into her lap. She casually massaged it through the fabric, earning a grateful groan out of him. She ditched her heels and curled her feet under her, and John went so far as to lightly brush her bare calves with his fingertips as they relaxed together, sending shivers up her spine. As the evening wound down, both of them began to feel the day catching up to them. They started to glance at each other knowingly, even suggestively a few times, communicating without words that perhaps it was time to end their little party. They still had plenty of time to spend alone together at her place before he had to go home himself.
Ethel was animatedly entertaining Sybil and Mary with some story about her son and how much his grandparents spoiled him. Anna was only half listening, having heard the story many times before. The Bryants had lost their only son while Ethel was pregnant. They hadn't been in a serious relationship at the time, and when Charlie was born, the Bryants demanded a DNA test to see if he was indeed their grandson. Once they got the results back, they embraced the boy wholeheartedly, the last link they had to their son.
"So I told him," Ethel was saying, "Charles David Bryant, you get your little arse out of that mud and into the shower!"
Her story earned a few laughs from everyone, but John suddenly sat up, swinging his legs to the floor and leaning forward. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "What did you say your son's name was?"
Ethel frowned and rolled her eyes at being interrupted. "Charles David Bryant. Named for his father."
John dipped his head down and exhaled sharply. "And how did his father die?"
"In Iraq," Ethel said slowly. "He was in the Army."
John began to tremble almost violently as Robert seemed to arrive at the same conclusion he had, lowering his drink to the table beside him and saying "Dear God," in a hoarse voice. "It can't be."
"What?" Ethel asked in confusion.
"August 24th, 2006," John said in a shaky voice. "Was it then?"
Ethel only nodded, her eyes wide and beginning to brim with tears.
Robert managed to speak then. "John and I owe our lives to your little Charlie's father," he said slowly. He took a long gulp of scotch from his glass, then slammed it back down on the table again.
Anna ran her hand over John's shoulders soothingly as he covered his eyes with one trembling hand. It seemed that neither John nor Robert were able to speak again, so she offered an explanation. "Charles threw himself over a suicide bomber right as he detonated," she said carefully. "If it wasn't for him, neither John nor Robert, or probably any of those other men who were there would be here now. I mean, a few were lost, but it would have been much worse if it wasn't for him."
Ethel began to cry, clutching at her mouth and shaking. "I never knew," she whimpered. "His parents never knew either. They would never tell his them exactly what happened because he was SAS. There was barely enough of him to bury, they said."
"Charlie's father was a hero," John finally said. "He saved our lives, and I've forever been in his debt since." He and Robert exchanged a long look, and Robert nodded.
"We never knew who his girlfriend was, or how to get in touch with her after his death," Robert said, pouring another drink for himself. "We've always wondered what happened. So if there's anything Charlie needs, you let me know." He paused and took a sip, raising his brow. "My, what a small world we live in."
Ethel only nodded quickly and sniffled, clearly shaken by this turn of events. Gwen wrapped her arms around her shoulders and let her cry herself out.
John stood up and left the room suddenly, with Anna too stunned to follow. She gave him a few minutes alone and watched Robert down his third and fourth glass. Cora sat straight up without a single emotion crossing her face before leaving room without a word. Anna finally followed John into the kitchen, finding him leaning heavily against the center island. She walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her forehead between his broad shoulders. He jumped violently, his arms flailing madly until he caught himself. She was startled by his reaction and stepped back from him, hugging herself. His breathing hitched a few times before he turned to her, his eyes wild and his chest heaving. He tentatively reached out to her and she stepped into his arms carefully, sliding her hands around his back. He took a few sobbing breaths and tucked his head into her shoulder.
"You startled me," he said quietly.
Anna closed her eyes tightly. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have known not to sneak up on you."
"It's alright," he whispered. They stood together silently as his breathing evened out slowly. "I was there again. In Basra. It's funny how it will come back the way it does. I see Robert is still coping by drinking Scotch." He smiled gently and touched her cheek. "Me, I have you to bring me back." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. They stood together quietly as his breathing slowed and his heart returned to a normal tempo. "This isn't how tonight was supposed to go," he whispered. "We were supposed to be celebrating, not dealing with my flashbacks."
"It's fine," Anna said into his shirt. She sniffed and ran her hand up and down his chest, flattening her palm against his warmth. "We'll get past it. I know it's something we'll have to deal with occasionally."
He sighed and loosened his grip on her. "I couldn't stand Bryant, you know," John said quietly after a few moments, so that no one outside the room could hear. "I've always felt conflicted about it. He was obnoxious and probably had a few more little Charlies running around that he never claimed. Yet after he died saving us, I couldn't help but to wonder about that little boy. He died so that we would live." He barked an ugly laugh and rubbed her arm. "He really lived up to that Messiah complex he had." He huffed loudly and looked upward.
Robert entered the kitchen then, holding an empty bottle and a tumbler filled with ice. "I ran out," he said, his eyes red and nose even redder. He began rummaging through a cabinet until he found another bottle.
"Don't you think you should let up a bit?" John said sharply, his eyes narrowing.
"What? Just because you stopped drinking doesn't mean I have to," Robert snapped, pouring another drink. "This is my therapy. I have my bottle, Cora has her pills and my money, and you have your God."
John's posture changed and Anna took a step back from him. "Robert…" he warned, his eyes flashing darkly.
Robert waved his glass to the side, some of the drink sloshing out. "I suppose I should call the company in London and tell them we found Bryant's boy so they can take care of him, assuming the offer still stands. You know, I still can't believe you gave away all that money the company gave you," he said in disbelief. "Although, it can't be any worse than Cora spending it all on what? Seventeenth century abstract cubist impressionist fertility sculptures from Madagascar? I swear, I have no idea what half of this shit in my house is."
John spread his hands and walked slowly toward Robert. "Okay, now I know you've had enough. Put the bottle down and shut your damned mouth, Rob."
"Are you worried I'll upset Jesus?" Robert asked bitterly. "You know I haven't had a flashback in years, and then you had to bring up Bryant taking the hit for us, and there I was. I suspect you were right there with me. The smell and the heat and the fucking flies everywhere. If I don't knock myself out tonight, I'll start having nightmares again. The funny thing is, I can't even remember how it all happened, so my brain comes up with a new one every night. Most peculiar." He gave up on pouring into his glass and took a swig directly from the bottle. "And of course, Cora will down a few pills and go to sleep, if she hasn't already, and then ignore me when she's awake. Do me a favour, Anna. Don't ever get yourself hooked on pills like they're candy, or you're liable to end up as hollow and emotionless as my wife."
"Alright, that's enough," John said in a firm voice, reaching out and swiping the bottle from Robert's hand. He walked over to the sink before he could be stopped and upended it, pouring the contents down the drain.
"That was a four hundred pound bottle, you know!" Robert snapped. "I do have others, I just have to remember where they are."
John stood over the sink, his eyes closed tightly and his hand so tight around the neck of the bottle that his knuckles were white. Anna noticed he was breathing through his mouth very shallowly, as not to smell the alcohol. He finally set the empty bottle down in the sink and turned around slowly to face his friend. "Robert, thank you for the lovely evening," he said in a flat voice. "Anna and I are very appreciative of your generosity and your hospitality. We'll be going now." He shot her a look that said that there was no arguing at this and Anna nodded ever so slightly.
Anna walked over to Robert and gave him a quick hug. She could smell the alcohol on his breath and see the sweat on his brow. "Thank you, Robert. Please get some sleep."
Robert nodded and relaxed his shoulders. He turned to walk into the family room, swaying slightly on his feet. John took Anna's hand and gently tugged her toward the hallway that led back to the conservatory. Mary and Matthew were still there, along with Ethel and Anthony, who all gave them speculative looks when they entered the room. There was no sign of Sybil or Tom, nor Gwen and Ethel.
"Gwen took Ethel home," Mary explained. "She said she just needed to go see her son and kiss him goodnight."
Anna nodded and patted John's hand. "You might want to go check on your father in a bit," she told Mary. "He's a bit down right now." At Mary's understanding nod, Anna let go of John's hand and hugged the other woman, smiling despite the later events of the evening. "Thank you so much for tonight. It really means a lot to us to have an honourary family like you all."
Mary smiled brightly and nodded. "It wouldn't be a Crawley party without some drama," she reasoned. "Drive safely. It's just started pissing down rain out there."
They made the rounds saying their goodbyes to the rest, though Tom had taken a very tired and very pregnant Sybil home, and Cora had indeed taken to bed early. John jogged out to get his car and bring it around front so Anna wouldn't have to run in the rain. It was very chivalrous of him, but she could have managed. As it was, she was quickly soaked in just the three or four meters she ran to the car.
John drove them silently, both hands gripping the wheel as if their lives depended on it. The rain was making it nearly impossible to see anything on the dark country roads, and both of them breathed a sigh of relief when they turned onto the motorway, with its clearly marked pavement and lights.
"What was Robert going on about money for?" she finally asked him.
John's jaw set tightly and his hands shifted on the steering wheel. "Nothing you need to worry about," he said quietly.
"We said no more secrets, John," Anna reminded him, knowing that he was keeping something from her again.
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. She could almost hear his teeth grinding together. "After Iraq, Robert's company gave me a large sum of money as compensation for losing my leg in the defense of their Senior Vice president of Acquisitions, as if that could make me feel better about it."
"Did it?"
"I only drank the finest liquor for several months," he said slowly. "When I met Anthony and started to find my way to God, I realized that I didn't need the money, so I gave most of it away."
"How much are you talking about?" Anna asked.
John rubbed his brow. "It's not important," he insisted.
"The money's gone, so it's irrelevant now," Anna argued. "But for the sake of honesty, how much?"
He turned the car onto the ramp that would lead toward her street. "Six million pounds," he said in a near whisper.
"What?" Anna shrieked, sitting up quickly. "You gave away six million pounds!"
"No, I gave away five point five million pounds," John snapped. "I used the rest to pay for the seminary, buy this car, and then sat on it all until a few weeks ago, when I spent twenty-two thousand on my leg because the NHS wouldn't pay for most of it, and another fifty thousand on our house."
"I didn't ask you to do that," Anna said in a huff. "I told you that you shouldn't have spent a single pence on it."
"And I told you that I was doing it anyway because it was my gift to you and our future together," he almost spat.
"Five point five million pounds," Anna said in wonder, not believing that he'd done that. "You know what we could have done with that much money?"
"Nothing nearly so much as what the charity I gave it do could do with it," he said through gritted teeth. "I gave it to a group that makes prosthetics for children whose arms and legs were blown off by landmines. Doesn't that seem to be the better thing to do with five point five million pounds?"
Anna felt cold in the pit of her stomach, the shame of her greed beginning to fester within. "John, I…"
He turned his head to her at a stoplight and sighed. "What would you expect of me, a man of God, to have done? Sat on it until my face turned blue? Invested it in oil companies and turn blood money into even more blood money? Bought a fancier car or a giant house or gone on a cruise?" He sighed and shook his head. "I was happier an hour ago before you knew that it existed, because now we both doubt each other."
"John, I don't doubt you," Anna said quickly.
"I wish I could say the same," he said in a deathly quiet voice as he pulled away from the stoplight. "Money cannot buy happiness, but it can show you where happiness lies, and where it doesn't."
"Look, I'm sorry!" she shouted at him. "You're right, I wish I didn't know about it, but it's irrelevant now anyway, like you said. Can we drop it?"
John sighed slowly and flexed his grip on the steering wheel. He had begun the endless loop around her neighborhood, looking for a parking space. With this rain, it would likely be impossible to find one anywhere near the building. He nodded and reached for her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. "Dropped and already forgotten and forgiven," he said with a little smile, though his eyes said he would think about it for some time. He scanned the road ahead of them and sighed. "I'm just not seeing any spaces," he said.
"Just drop me off out front," Anna said with a dismissive wave. "There's no use in parking and having you walk in the pouring rain when I can just get out at the front of the building."
He nodded slowly and turned back down her street, coming to a stop as close to her building as he could. He put on his emergency flashers and turned to her, taking her hand again. "Anna, I'm sorry I snapped at you," he apologized.
She shook her head and kissed him briefly, drawing her other hand down his cheek. "I'm sorry I pressed you about it," she admitted. "What you did was selfless, and what you're doing for our future now is wonderful. I have no right to judge you for it." She smiled and slicked back his hair, still wet from running for the car earlier. "I love you and I can't wait to be married to you. Tonight was just a bump in the road, but we're still on that same road, right? Together?"
John grinned leaned in to kiss her. "Together," he said. "Now we can start planning everything for the wedding. It's all easy from here, right?"
She snorted and rolled her eyes. "You've never been to a bridal fitting. They're anything but easy. Okay then, drive carefully and let me know when you're home, alright?"
He nodded and they kissed again, this time a languid, sensual kiss that was both a promise and an apology, leaving them both wanting more. They allowed each other a few playful touches through clothing. "Do you want to come up anyway?" Anna asked in a whisper.
"Hmm, tempting," he said slowly. "But I have church in the morning, and I'm exhausted. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Maybe we can grab lunch after services."
"I'd like that," Anna said with a smile. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"Of course." He kissed her again. "I love you, too."
Anna opened the door and quickly closed it behind her, darting toward the shelter of the building. She fumbled with her key and got inside finally, drenched to the bone. She turned and waved at John and could sort of see him wave back before driving away. She smiled and headed upstairs to her flat. Once inside, she dug her phone out of her purse and tossed it onto the bed to away John's call. Moe came out from under her bed, mewling pathetically at her, his eyes wide and tail twitching angrily.
"S'the matter with you?" she said, offering her hand for Moe to come rub against it. It was always a crapshoot as to whether he would accept her affection. This time, he actually rubbed against her hip as she stood beside the bed. She scratched at the base of his tail and smiled.
She was just about to kick her shoes off when she heard a noise at the front door. She was startled at first, but realized that John must have decided to take her up on her offer of coming upstairs for a while. "John?" she called out, removing her earrings and placing them on her vanity. She walked out into the living room and looked around. "John are you there?"
Not seeing him, she shrugged and went into the kitchen, fumbling for the light switch. She flipped it on and found an empty room. She shrugged, figuring it had just been her imagination, perhaps her next door neighbours being loud.
Anna screamed when a hand covered her mouth, muffled by the thick leather glove against her lips. Another hand, strong and harsh, pulled her body backward almost painfully. She could feel the outline of the man's body against hers, and the distinct feeling of something sinister pressing against her back.
Anna squirmed, but the man held her tighter. The hand holding her middle released its hold long enough to return with a knife that gleamed in the light of the kitchen. She could see a hazy reflection of the man standing behind her in the glass of her microwave. He was taller than her and wore a hooded sweatshirt, but that was all she could see.
The knife turned menacingly in front of her face. "Hello, angel," the man rasped into her ear.
A chill ran up and down her spine as she gasped for breath, tears beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes. She started to kick at him, but he pressed the knife into her throat and changed his grip around her mouth. He shushed her, the sound frighteningly loud in the room.
"I finally got up the nerve to come up and see you," the man said quietly. "I've come and gone so many times during the day, but always leave before you get home. I've been too ashamed."
She wanted to throw up. Suddenly it made sense, all of the strange things she'd noticed in her flat. Objects moved, drawers not quite shut, Moe hissing and jumping at the slightest noise. He'd been here many times before. Her eyes widened when she realized that it all began right around New Year's, when she lost her keys. Then it clicked who the man was. The voice, the height, the black sweatshirt. She began to shake uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He shushed her again. "Don't cry, love," he said in what he probably intended to be a soothing voice, but only served to unnerve her more. "I don't want to hurt you, but if you don't play real nice like, I'll be very angry. We're going to go somewhere else, alright? Your walls are a bit thin here. I'm going to take you away and save you from the Devil."
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to panic. Think, Anna, she scolded herself. There was nothing within reach that she could grab before he cut her. As it was, the knife against her skin hurt and she thought she could feel it digging in a little more with each second.
"Your car is out front," the man said, turning her toward the door. "Walk ahead of me, and if you say or do anything, I'll end you right then and there, do you hear me?"
Anna nodded silently and he moved his hand away from her mouth. She gasped for air and looked around frantically. Her eyes fell on her keys on the table. Maybe she could get them between her fingers and use them as a weapon.
"I'll take care of those," he said, noticing where she was looking. "No phone either. You look beautiful tonight, by the way. All dressed up for him are you?You shouldn't be trying to seduce the Devil like you do."
He pushed her to walked toward the door, and she heard the jangling of keys being picked up. "What do you see in him, by the way? A preacher with a limp. He's not a godly man like I am. He's flawed, Lucifer cast down into Hell. I'll be your salvation, love." Every word he said only served to sicken her further. She knew where this was going, and she began praying that it would be over quickly. She also prayed that it didn't go the one place she was most afraid of. She had to think of something. There was no good ending to this situation.
He walked behind her the whole way as she prayed for someone, anyone to open a door and see them. The knife dug into her back, and she could feel the point cutting her skin through the fabric of her black dress. Once out in the rain, he hit the unlock button on her car and opened the door, pushing her inside the passenger seat. He began to crawl in behind her, and she scrambled to get to the other side. Maybe she could get out the driver's side door…
His hand grabbed her upper arm hard enough to bruise. "Ah, ah, don't go running off, angel." He put the key into the ignition and started the car. By habit, she buckled herself in, which angered him at first, judging by the way his nails dug into her arm. "I suppose it will just beep nonstop if you don't do it," he said with a shrug. He kept the knife pressed against her side as he tried to buckle in, but gave up when he couldn't lean over comfortably against her. He left the buckle dangling beside the door instead, turning his body toward her and adjusting his grip on her arm. "Alright, head toward the highway and drive real careful like. Don't need to draw any attention."
Anna swallowed and began driving. She passed two police cars along the way and tried to think of any way to get their attention but couldn't. He would have had her throat cut before she could even flash her headlights. She had never prayed for a burned out taillight in her life until now. He instructed her where to go, staying on the highway in the pouring rain, headed toward the other side of town.
He seemed to relax a bit, the knife moving away from her as he began telling her how he'd first seen her and become infatuated. He'd been angry when he saw her with John, saying that he thought John was actually the Devil in disguise. He'd been watching her from a building across the way when he could, following her when she went for walks, all in the name of keeping her safe from the Devil.
Not only was he a kidnapper and likely deviant, he was also a religious zealot. There was no way of getting out of this alive that she could see. She began to think about John and how much it would devastate him to lose her. He probably wouldn't recover from it, which broke her heart more than the idea of her own death would.
The roads were slick and shined with every passing streetlight. He told her to pull off the highway and head onto the road that actually lead toward Downton. God, maybe John would see her driving past, anything.
The bridge that crossed the river loomed ahead of them, the same one that her father had died on years ago. Her eyes focused on the fifth pillar, the one with the aged scars, the one that didn't yield when her father's car crumpled like a tin can.
God, please watch over and protect me, she began to pray as she slowly accelerated in a way that she hoped her abductor wouldn't notice. Guide my hand and be my strength. I am your most humble servant.
A sense of calm washed over her and she felt as if she was no longer in control of her own body. She took a deep breath and floored it, the tires skidding a bit and tossing them around in the car. The man spat out a curse and raised the knife to her throat, pressing into her skin. She could feel the trickle of blood seeping down her neck.
The last thought she had just before hitting the pillar at nearly eighty kilometers per hour was of John.
I love you, John. Please forgive me.
II.
The roads were dangerously slick that night, and John was careful as he drove in the pouring rain. He brooded about his fight with Anna. Yes, he was wrong to have not told her about the money before, but it was not like it actually would have mattered anyway. He had an ulterior motive for donating it when he did, and that was keeping Vera from seeing a cent of it. The money had never officially been given to him, instead, he had been given company stock in a blind trust and made to sign a nondisclosure agreement, lest an entire army of young soldiers begin throwing themselves in front of oil company employees to try to collect a paycheck. He had actually been cashing in his remaining stocks a little bit at a time since the divorce, and had a very healthy bank account as a result. It wasn't so much that it went against his vows of poverty, but it was enough to live comfortably and not want for anything. He had enough to pay for the wedding and a nice honeymoon, and still have a bit leftover to start a fund for their children's schooling, should they be blessed with any.
Knowing now that Charlie was Bryant's son, Rob would contact the company to set up the college fund they'd talked about for the boy. They had tried to talk to the Bryants about it shortly after it happened, but they denied the boy as their grandson at the time, so the matter was dropped. John felt good that the lad would have a bright future, should he embrace it.
He was angry with Rob, but that would pass. It always did. He had to put the thumbscrews to his friend about getting into some sort of treatment. He was shocked to hear that Cora was still having problems with pills. She had been to treatment, twice, but now that he thought about it, she had that same spacy look that she used to have when she was on them. It had started when she miscarried a child while Rob was laid up in the hospital after the explosion, the grief somehow throwing her body out of sync. She'd been prescribed pills for pain afterward and ended up becoming addicted, always seeking out new doctors and new pills to take the edge off. It broke his heart to both of them like this, knowing that he'd found his salvation while they still struggled.
He got home fairly quickly and got inside as fast as he could, the rain soaking him through the rest of the way. Lacy was very happy to see him, but not as enthusiastic about doing her business in the pouring rain. She came back inside and shook all over the kitchen, spraying water everywhere. John shielded his face and rubbed her down with a towel, not wanting to share his bed with a wet dog. He knew that there would be a bit of an adjustment when he and Anna got married. It just wouldn't do to have the dog trying to lay between them, God forbid especially when they were having sex, though the thought of Lacy interrupting them made him laugh out loud.
He grabbed his phone and called Anna, listening to it ring over and over until he got her voicemail. She was probably in the shower, which was where he was about to head himself. He left her a quick message that he was home and loved her, then sent a text saying the same, adding See you tomorrow at church to the end of it. He plugged the phone in and headed for the shower, eager to get the slight chill of the rain off his body.
When he got out, he had no message or return call from her. Maybe she went to sleep and left the phone in her living room, as she tended to do sometimes. He sighed as he toweled his hair dry. He'd upset her, he knew. He had to make it up to her. Not that flowers was the default answer for everything, but it would help. He began to think of a nice place to take her tomorrow evening. They hadn't been out together in a few weeks, since the renovations had taken up all of their spare time. Yes, that would be lovely. They needed that.
He knelt down beside the bed and said his prayers for the night. He prayed as he always did for his loved ones, his continued spiritual guidance, the grace of God, and at the end, hearing a crescendo of sirens wailing in the distance, he threw up a prayer for the souls those sirens sang for.