Soft moss beneath her.
Water droplets misting her face.
The calming hush of the waterfall. Birdsong lilting beneath the constant rush.
Cascading waterfall not far away, smooth gray rocks along its edge. The sunlight glistening through the branches above.
In our own little alcove. Where no one can find us.
Jason, caressing her hair. Drawing it out like a curtain, so the sun shimmered through it, illuminating his silhouette.
He let her hair unfurl and it softly fell about her shoulders.
His gorgeous face, lovely shoulders, the magnificent torso the scars only enhanced, etched along its edges. She kissed just above his heart.
He kissed her forehead, and she buried her hands in his hair. He kissed her lips and she responded, reveling in the taste of his mouth.
He drew away, eyes sparkling. She could stay here forever. No rush, nothing to do but celebrate their second honeymoon. The darkness all uprooted. Bled out.
Just this paradise.
He cuddled up close to her and traced her chest and stomach. She leaned her head against his and they watched the sky, the sun's rays slanting golden against the trees. Trees rustling, nothing dangerous embedded in them.
The flowers quivering near her. She picked a glorious daisy with pink and purple petals. She kissed its center, then rubbed it on Jason's nose. He laughed; showed her how his nose was yellow now. She rubbed her nose against his.
They explored the cove, picking flowers, completely forgetting that clothes even existed. Perfectly comfortable with each other.
They dove into the pool, and the water was warm this time, and she gulped mouthfuls of it and collapsed against him, laughing.
They lay beside the pool, his arm around her as she caressed his side, his hip. Nuzzled his face, her hair tangling in his.
So warm… but not too hot… a gentle breeze… you couldn't ask for a more perfect day.
He slid into the shadow beneath the trees, still damp. She admired each beloved detail.
The cloud drifted over the sun, draping shade over him completely. He seemed to float away from her, as if her vision was narrowing, distorting…
She grasped his hand. "Come back to me. Don't fall into shadow."
"Alright."
"Stay in paradise. With me." She snuggled against his side, wrapping her arm around him.
"I think I can do that." He smiled, the sunlight glancing across his teeth. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I don't know…. I can't read your mind."
"Too bad. I wish we could read each other's minds. Then—"
She pressed a finger to his lips. Then traced them and gently drew him to her, pressing the back of his neck.
A soft, heavenly kiss which merged into a fierce, passionate one. She couldn't keep track of all the kisses that flooded her skin.
And his love consumed her—the most intense thing she could imagine—their souls blending, never apart—
Tap, tap, tap. A woodpecker, of all things, interrupting them.
She turned away from it.
But the crystalline beauty of the glade faded, leaving only dull walls, thickly curtained windows. Everthing dim and faded, the curtains around most of the bed making everything vague and misty.
"Go away," she muttered, longing to plunge back into reverie.
"I've brought you something,"
"I don't want it."
Sierra stepped in, holding a covered platter. "Whit asked me if I'd check on you. You haven't eaten for days."
"How many?"
"Two. You really can't keep up like this. You'll fade away."
"Maybe I want to fade away."
"Would Jason want that?"
Sierra sauntered over and set the tray down on the bedstand. Then she sat down beside Connie, glancing at the rumpled covers.
"I don't blame you for retreating. I've gone through my fair share of despair." She tilted her head, smiling. "But you have to emerge sometime."
"How long has it been since…." The ache built to a crushing weight that threatened to collapse her heart.
"Four days."
"Four days…." It seemed much longer than that; at the same time, it was much too long already. "The longer he's gone, the more likely he—" An invisible fist gripped her throat. Her eyes ached, threatening tears. Too many tears—she couldn't let them out. Or she would drown.
"We can't think like that. It is likely something bad has happened to him. But people have been lost for months, years, and then returned."
"Years…" She couldn't last that long. Especially knowing what they must be doing to him.
"I'm doing all I can," said Sierra. "I'm barely sleeping myself. I have to remind myself to eat. Jason means a lot to me." Her voice faltered at his name. "He's the first person I allowed to get through my armor. In a way, he saved me. Drew me out of darkness. Showed me what really mattered. Gave me a purpose. Yes, he did all that." She laid a tentative hand on Connie's arm.
She had to admit, sympathy felt good. Something real. Not just—drowning in shadows.
"You're like a superspy, though. I'm just… well…just deadweight. I'd get in the way."
"We're worried about you. That doesn't exactly help morale."
"I'm… sorry."
"And the girls need you."
"They have their parents and each other now."
"You were their rescuer, the first one they trusted, and now you're ignoring them." Her eyes weren't unsympathetic, but there was a thread of accusation in them. "I know how it is emerging from trafficking. You need all the support you can get."
She felt like defending herself, but knew it was indefensible. "I'm sorry."
"I don't mean you have to be with us all the time. That wouldn't be reasonable—you need space, especially now. But to hide yourself in here all day, all night—"
"I…want to be with him. That's where I was. The only way I can be with him anymore."
"I get that. But, you know—it's not the real him. It's a phantom, some sort of—conglomeration of wishes and desires…physical longing—it might fool you at first, but in the end, it won't satisfy."
"I can't get out of this. I can't face it. It's either be here with the imaginary him, or— everything just… crashes down on me like when I lost…my baby… and I keep imagining the things they're doing to him—I can't do that anymore."
"You'll waste away in here, then."
"Maybe…that's the best thing. To just… think of him… then be with him eventually…"
"So you'd torture yourself to death? Hurt him by hurting yourself? When there's still hope? What would he do if he found you lying in here, dead?"
The words sliced her heart. "I don't have the strength. Not without him."
"I think you'll find you have more strength than you think. Besides, we're here to help you. You help us by being with us. Whit's suffering, you know. He's pushing forward—he has to. But he'd feel much better if you were there for him."
That struck her even deeper.
To not be there for Whit…who had been there for her countless times.
"Okay."
"Okay what?"
"I'll… eat something."
"Good."
"I'll…come out. If I can."
"Just call me if you need anything. Tasha's floating around here too. Raging because we've forbidden her to exert herself too much." She stood. "Sorry for being a little harsh. But the inertia will be almost impossible to break free from if you don't do it now. Just because you're justified in your pain doesn't mean you have to be mastered by it."
"It's…not near what Jason is facing. I shouldn't be so…weak."
"If you didn't have inner strength, you two wouldn't have been such a good match." She tugged open the curtains, letting morning light blaze in. Connie braced her hand over her eyes, momentarily blinded. Then Sierra jaunted out the door, her ponytail jouncing.
Connie sank back on the bed, exhausted. It had been hard to take in, especially after immersing in the imaginary world for days. She knew Sierra was right. But she didn't even know if she had the strength to eat.
Jason would want me to, she told herself.
He wouldn't want me to die for him. Especially if he comes back.
I have to be strong for him.
Not abandon Whit, the kids…
Even if there is nothing concrete I can actually do…
I don't want to be a hindrance. Making them worry. What's wrong with me?
Falling into dreams with the fake Jason, while the real one is out there—
I'm betraying him!
Horror stabbed her heart, pinning her onto the bed. Paralyzed for a few moments, she pushed against the guilt enough to move a little toward the bedstand.
Gradually, she gained enough strength to lift the spoon to her mouth, a soft porridge swirled with strawberries and cream. She drank the blueberry juice and then sat up against the pillows, looking out onto the grounds.
Jason is out there somewhere.
They're tearing him apart.
She longed to reach for him through their bond, but she didn't know if she was ready to feel what he felt.
Instead, images flashed through her mind—
Jason bound to a slab of wood, arms and legs stretched, blood streaming down his body….
Jason, sitting in a chair, electrodes placed on his skin… his head lolling….
Jason, curled up on the floor, cringing for the next blow—
Jason hanging in the shed, a cruel whip thwacking down onto his skin – that was an actual image from the past.
And, crawling into her soul, what she dared not think about— but when she faced it, knowing what had taken Jason, she had to consider the possibility –
What she'd seen on the video of Elliot.
Only her Jason, there—
No.
But the other images lashed across her mind, not leaving her alone—
Dear God! Please stop it!
Mercifully, the images dissolved into darkness.
The intricate darkness of her closed eyelids. Abstract moving pictures, hints of blood vessels, the dynamic static of dormant rods and cones.
She took a breath, her lungs filling up. The banal movement of her chest and stomach.
Dear God, I'm sorry. I should've sought you in all of this. But instead, I went for other things, things that couldn't satisfy or help…
You're the source of strength. Why do I always go anywhere else looking for it before I go to you? You're always where I end up.
A smile like warm sunlight shed over her soul.
I don't know if Sierra is right that I have any strength of my own, without Jason anyway. But that doesn't matter. You have more than enough strength.
I just have to keep reminding myself that.
Keep reaching for You, not—going random places.
I have to…move toward Jason. Even if it hurts.
I have to do something. Even if it's not much.
After all, You work through us.
And something is better than nothing. Maybe just a little will be the amount needed…add one thread to the fabric of the whole… Better than being a burden rather than a support.
I can at least support others!
Whit.
How could I leave him alone?
What would Jason think of me leaving his father?
Guilt hit her and she felt like curling up in despair again, but instead she unfurled herself and stood. Her limbs tingled. Her joints were stiff; she stretched, and vibrance sparkled back into her. The sunray lanced across her body, and she embraced it.
I'm going to find you, Jason. Even if it takes a lifetime.
She took a shower. She hadn't taken one in three days, and it felt good to wash off the sweat and grime from lying in paralyzed anguish and drenched in imagined paradise.
After getting dressed in a light, yellow shirt and sweatpants, she sauntered to the breakfast room. Tasha was sitting at the table, tracing her empty plate with a fork, absently scraping crumbs into an abstract design. When Connie entered, she brightened. She swept back a stray strand of dark hair. "Hi, Connie."
"What's on the menu today?"
"Shortcakes. Strawberry season never seems to end here. Though it's getting to be blueberry season… the wine harvest…." Her dark eyes met Connie's, the pain in them echoing hers. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay. How about you?" she asked tentatively. The bruise on Tasha's cheek made her paleness all the starker. A bandage crossed the left side of her head.
"I hate just—lazing around here when I have two missing people to find."
"Two? Who else—Oh." She'd forgotten about Gray completely.
Tasha nodded, a faint wry smile on her lips. "I seem to be the only one who still keeps Gray in mind. The only one advocating for him. That's why I need to be involved. But they insist on restricting me."
"You were in a coma five days ago."
"So everyone keeps reminding me. But I'm as fit as anyone—" She stood, using the table for support. She paled, wavering, then slumped back into the chair, breathing hard. "Well—maybe not." She winced, gasping for breath. Leaned her head in her hand.
Connie raced to her side and sat down beside her. "I can get you something—"
"No. I just need to—catch—my breath." After a moment, she looked up ruefully. "Sometimes…I forget… I had a bullet in my stomach. I almost…didn't make it. But what use is pulling through when I can't do anything."
"At least you learned about Yavesh."
"And nearly got me and Gray killed. Now he's—" She shook her head. "At least before, there were paths to get him out…now he's trapped in something I never wanted him to experience again."
A thought struck her. "Maybe…he and Jason will help each other." She desperately hoped he wasn't alone. At least if Gray was there with him… as long as Gray was on his side…
Tasha looked at her. "Maybe so. I'm not sure what two people can do against Yavesh…"
"They're very good agents."
"They're not just any people caught up in its net. Still…. It's more likely we can do something from the outside. Unless they end up sending us a video or something…."
"The videos haven't given us much yet."
"You never know… sometimes details pop up…"
"That's true." Connie remembered the detail from when Jason had been captured by Gray the first time.
"That's about all I can do now… virtual things… can't even think straight a lot of the time with all these meds."
"When you get better, you can do more."
"Hopefully it won't take that long to find them." Sympathy shot through her eyes. "I know there's not much I can do, but even if you just want to—talk about him…. I know you might not want to talk about him with his ex, but I do know more about him than most people here. And—" She stopped short, looked down as if not sure she should say everything on her mind.
Connie clasped her hand. "I'd like that." It would be good to have someone to talk to, and she didn't harbor any hard feelings toward Tasha. "The same for you and Gray, if you want."
Tasha smiled softly. "Thank you. I… it is a strange thing. I'm still not sure how I feel about him. I don't think I could feel anything beyond a certain fondness. Even that is… I feel strange, as if I'm betraying Jason. But I've seen the change in Gray. Not just doing what he has to to survive, but sometimes—striking examples of kindness, even glimmers of empathy. And then of course there's—Maybe I shouldn't tell you of this. Because I'm not sure if he'd want it. But…. It's not as if it's anything unusual. Unusual for Gray, though…. I… we got close there. Just the two of us, against the world. Working so…intimately together. It wasn't surprising, really, we'd develop some sort of complicated feelings…. Maybe it's that I can't allow myself to look directly at what I felt. Because it's impossible. Because I've never been one for expressing feelings, especially when there's a mission involved.
"But it does say this about Gray. He's human. He develops something completely understandable…" She laughed. "Maybe that's more flattering to me than anything. But—it was just part of our close relationship …. How complex it is. We're not sure where we stand, where it's going, what it's supposed to be. I'm his keeper, his mentor, his…therapist, in a way. His partner. His protector. Sometimes on a mission, you get a little too…close. Professional lines blur.
"I—blurred the lines very early on, I'm afraid—for the sake of professionalism. Because… we couldn't get to him. I had to lay aside my professional façade, get to something real—show my own pain, in order to reach him. Draw him out to get intel. By that time, it was too late. I had let him in. Let him know something intimate and horrific…. And now we're linked. I reached in and drew him out—showing him I can be trusted. And I've allowed him to lean on me ever since, in order for him to be of use to us. But I can't just look at a person as an object, especially someone I know well. That's always the danger of an agent and an asset. I felt pain every time he did. I felt joy at his successes—because they were my successes."
She twirled her fork in the crumbs on her plate. "Not that I didn't have…reservations. Sometimes I was repulsed by him. Sometimes he would say something particularly callous or cold and I'd have to fight to keep from turning my back on him—because that would have been more dangerous than empathy. Sometimes I'd get flashes of what he'd done to Jason, and I'd have to just. Use my professional wall to get by until I could get past it. What he did is always in the back of my mind, that's why I don't think there can be anything more. I can admire him…but can I forgive him? Even if I can forgive him, can I forget…enough to…fall for Jason's torturer? Still… if I'm honest with myself… I can't deny there's… I have to deny my feelings but when I do, they won't let me smother them totally.
"I could never act on it. Never string him along. And in any case, it's a moot point. He's gone. That's why this is so crazy. And now that he's gone… I feel this pull toward him… perhaps part of it is—I know part of it is—how close we were as partners. Even as friends. Yes—I can be friends with him. I can acknowledge in passing there are some sorts of feelings…residual from working together, from getting perhaps a little too close, ironically required by the mission. I could never go further. But I've also never been in this strange sort of limbo, with feelings I can't deal with, but that won't leave me alone."
"That does sound complicated."
"Now if I were recovered, I could channel my energy into finding him. But all I can do now is sit here and stew in these rather unhealthy feelings, and feelings about feelings—Sorry. Maybe this is a bit too much…unburdening."
Connie shook her head. "I'm glad you can talk to me."
She laughed, then winced. "It feels good—get it out into the air. Make it real, not some tangled up strings inside of me…. Eating me up…" She looked at Connie. "I do feel like I should say I'm sorry to you. For…entertaining any kind of feelings for the one who hurt Jason."
Connie took a breath. There were residual echoes of revulsion, but nothing more. She suspected it was because she had forgiven Gray. "He's not who he used to be. I don't think you'd want to be around someone who…hadn't apologized for hurting Jason."
"He didn't in so many words. But he did demonstrate remorse, gradually. That's why it snuck up on me so much—I didn't have any defenses up, didn't think I needed any. Next thing I knew, we were tangled up on the hotel bed—" She drew in a sharp breath, looked at Connie askance. "No—I don't mean that. It didn't go very far. We were just lying there one day after a grueling mission… I hugged him, on impulse—thought it was warranted…. There was something. Some sort of spark. And then suddenly we were kissing—yes, kissing." An incredulous look crossed her face. "Now that I say it, it does seem strange. But then it felt natural. It was only my professional barriers—knowing I couldn't cross that line—that made me stop. I saw the hurt in his eyes… then he realized, too…." She pursed her lips. "I'd chalk it up to two agents getting close on a mission, except… I wouldn't have thought it would have gotten there at all, with him. I suppose he is… attractive. And a certain undeniable charisma….
"In some ways, I despise myself, that I did such a thing, with such a man. But if I really look at it directly… it's this sort of kinship. Mixed up with a lot of things. With sympathy. With…attraction. With love." She looked at Connie, wonder in her eyes. "It's not romantic, it's beyond that. I love him for his tenacity, for his skill despite his scars, for how he's turned himself around, his passion for being an agent… I love his vulnerability. I don't think I could have entertained any sympathetic feelings for him if he weren't vulnerable… I think beyond that it's—more like love for a brother, an agent. A brother-in-arms, I suppose. A little deeper than that, mixed up with guilt—and a bit of romance." She laughed. "Maybe it's just something unique, that no one's ever experienced."
"Maybe… everyone's love is different, in its own way."
"That's very wise, for someone so young." She smiled, eyes sparkling, looking like she might laugh if she wasn't in pain. "On Gray's side… perhaps he does feel more deeply, intensely for me, without as complicated feelings about it. I'm the first person he let himself get close to… I'm the one who pulled him out of all that, the one who protected him. He's probably a bit confused, too, because who he was before, when he was 'stronger', wouldn't have allowed this 'weakness'.
"But now—I don't see how he can escape from this. Even if his body is rescued…. After how broken he was before—I don't know how his psyche will survive. His soul will be shattered beyond repair."
"Well…he did have the strength before…"
"He does have more strength than he knows…. Perhaps he will survive… I have to hold onto that. With every passing day … the more I see the reality of it, though. If they're…trafficking him, they will tear him apart." Her voice faltered.
"There's another hope," she said.
"What is it?"
"God can rescue him. And Jason."
"We'll have to see." She looked at Connie. "There's another dimension to this. I have to let you know—it wouldn't be fair to keep it from you—I still love Jason."
A lightning bolt struck her heart. "Tasha—"
"Don't worry. I resigned myself to losing him a long time ago. I just wanted you to know that, because you deserve to… and because I don't want you to think I'm just motivated to find Gray." She tipped her head. "Perhaps this interlude is good for me. Sort of… a barrier between me and Jason. I kissed the man who tortured him. Even though he's changed….it removes me from the past a bit…. a rebound of sorts." Her mouth tilted wryly. "It had to be Gray of all people. I don't want to denigrate him or his feelings. But it's best that both of us not linger on this. Just this one moment we allowed ourselves…to test something that can never be fulfilled…. then… on to a greater future. We can't be bound up together. We can find someone we both deserve."
"I hope you can find someone!"
"Maybe the right person isn't out there for me, but I shouldn't block myself off from it, just in case. Same with Gray. Now he's let himself love…. Oh, I hope I don't break his heart…." She frowned. "He probably realizes it's not the real thing. But he's been so traumatized, and before that, love wasn't on his radar…. perhaps he doesn't know—" She looked down. Set down her fork. "There's no use speculating. I have to throw all my energy into doing what I can to find them. No room for any kind of distraction."
Her dark eyes struck Connie's. "If there's any way for Jason to escape, find his way back to you, he'll find it."
Tears sprang to Connie's eyes, blurring her vision. "Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse and trembling.
Whit texted her and asked if she wanted to go to church. He had been out following a lead, which had dissipated.
She hesitated then typed, Sure. It seemed forever since she'd been to church; she realized last time had been two weeks ago, not long after they'd arrived.
She switched the sweatpants for a skirt and then joined Roderick and Darya, along with Marija, Zara, Tanya and Mina in the limousine. James and Stefan stayed with Luna, and Marija's parents, Sofia and Nikola, stayed to watch over them and the triplets and Lexi. Lexi had formed a bond with Arina; Connie suspected her understanding of their shared trauma helped. And like Tanya had helped Lexi, Lexi was helping Arina emerge from her terror of the world, her understandable lack of trust.
They met Whit in the parking lot. Connie threw her arms around him, and he hugged her closely.
"Connie!" he said, his voice breaking.
"I'm so sorry. I barely even saw you since you got here." She looked into his tearful eyes, her throat tight.
"Well, that's kind of my fault. I've been looking for Jason as much as I can."
"I definitely don't want to take you away from that."
"I should've checked in on you a little more. It's just that… well… I felt you needed your space."
"I suppose I did…. But I was immersing in darkness a little too long… or fake light…."
He looked at her with immense sympathy. "I would have hidden from reality if I didn't have to look for him."
"There's not much I can really do…."
"Probably more than you know."
"It's true I won't find out anything staying in my room. I don't want to be in the way…."
"You could never be in the way. I missed you."
A smile spread over her face, tears leaping to her eyes. "I missed you too, Whit." She hugged him again. A sob trapped in her chest. She tried to ignore it, but the ache only built…
"I'm not used to being so long without you."
"Here I am, doing the same thing again. Shutting everyone out… just like with…my baby…" Tears spilled onto her cheeks, and a sob shook her.
"Sometimes it seems hopeless. But we can't lose hope…"
"That's why I'm here." A bittersweet glow suppressed the sorrow a little, though tears still streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm so glad you could make it." One arm around her, they headed into the magnificent church, the cross on the steeple emblazoned against the blue sky streaked with fair-weather clouds.
"I realized there's only One who can help me through this…give me strength…"
"Sometimes it takes a reminder… I've been rushing around, sometimes forgetting, myself. It'll be nice to have this time to restore our souls."
He was right; it did restore her soul, beginning as soon as she stepped inside the cathedral, the sunlight streaming through the elaborate stained glass windows. They sat down near the king and queen and their family, Connie beside Mina, who held her sister Tanya's hand the whole time. And the songs, some Connie didn't know, soared brightly through her, and she tried to sing along and absorb each word, even the ones that were in Muldavian.
And the message – it was as if it were tailored specifically for her. About trusting God, even through dark times. Perhaps the pastor had crafted it because he knew what had happened with Luna, with Yavesh, perhaps even to Jason. Everyone seemed to know of the hero of Muldavia…
Sure enough, after the service, several people came up and expressed their condolences. Though Connie appreciated it, it was a bit too much, and she had to rush out of there, trying in vain to hold back tears. Whit joined her after a few minutes, and he asked if she'd like a picnic in the park with him. She enthusiastically agreed. And so he drove her to the central Rakima park, a lovely vast space scattered with trees along the Zoz river.
They carried two grocery bags of food to a secluded place under the tall pines, wind whispering in their branches, the river glistening not far away. As she ate the bologna sandwich, for a few moments she even forgot the darkness and reveled in the beauty of the place.
Then it struck her Jason wasn't here to enjoy it, and everything blurred. She set the sandwich down, trapped in a daze, a fist of pain in the center of her chest.
Whit laid a hand gently on her shoulder. Freeing her to the point she could move and respond, at least.
"I miss him," she said, her voice snatched from her before she even finished the sentence. She shook, too crushed for tears.
"Knowing where he could be…" he said, "it's all I can do to just…keep from collapsing. Part of me is collapsing. Part of me is missing; I won't be whole until he's back again."
"I feel the same," she whispered. "If we don't…find him soon… I might not—"
It struck her again. She could be pregnant. Like in her dream, it could be months… maybe longer without getting him back. She doubted the dream, not because of its horror, but that she could keep going that long without him. That she could even hold onto faith that long.
"God won't let him suffer—that long—will he?"
"I can't really say what God will do. Many people have suffered… even many people who serve him. When we cry out, 'why?' he doesn't always answer. God didn't cause this. But there's a purpose at work here—we have to hold onto that."
"What if the purpose is—for him to be killed? I mean—I could even accept that. Sort of. But—for him to be tortured—It happened before. Or worse. For him to be—" The horrific word stuck in her throat. She could not acknowledge it. But she'd seen the effects of trafficking… how could she hope that for some reason Jason would emerge unscathed when others hadn't….
Please, God, protect him!
"I…try not to think of it." Sorrow wracked his voice. "At the same time, it makes me all the more desperate to find him. Maybe too desperate… I don't want to make a mistake. I've got to do this reasonably… when all I want is to tear my way to him. I…feel dark impulses I haven't felt since my agent days. I have to cling to God to keep from even entertaining them. Sometimes I can't help it… I want…revenge." He sighed. "I hope he'll save Jason before anything horrific happens. He's gone through too much. Perhaps we'll find something soon… a scrap of a clue that'll lead to something big… I can't think of the alternative too much. But God could use it as part of his plan—"
"Why would God plan for that? I can see him allowing torture—he let his own son be tortured. But this is an evil beyond anything…. It'd almost be better if he was…killed. Taken to heaven, rather than suffer like that."
"I'd like to think He wouldn't let that happen. But it happens to so many innocent people… It is sometimes hard to reconcile a loving God with allowing…the worst kind of evil. God obviously doesn't cause evil—He abhors it, more than we ever could. But… good things can come of it."
Anger blazed through her. "What good can possibly come of him being—"
"I don't know. I don't want to know what it'd do to him. But I do know this: God loves Jason. He's with him. There's light in the darkness, and God will comfort him. Even if he doesn't… rescue him from it." Whit's voice faltered.
She flung herself onto his shoulder, and this time the tears fell unreservedly. She couldn't have held them back if she'd tried.
The sunlight flickered, blurred through the droplets on her eyelashes. Her arms still around Whit, holding him like a rock amid ruthless current. The light glistening on the river danced, flashing glorious sparkles. Somewhere in their piercing depths, hope resided.
She grasped for that hope, stuffing it into her heart, keeping it there to hold onto through the harrowing journey between losing him and finding him.
He may not emerge as himself… Gray wasn't himself, which was partly a good thing… but I can't imagine anything good about something so horrific happening to my Jason….
"What if…" She pulled back a little, glancing at Whit, wiping tears from her cheeks. Her hair was damp with tears. "What if…the worst happens. He comes back… but he's not himself?" Jason had mentioned such a thing and she'd begged him not to entertain it…. But told him she would love him, help him—she'd be happy he was with her, not gone forever…
"Then we'll be there for him. Help him heal." Anguish haunted Whit's eyes. "Love him unconditionally, until he recovers."
"What if he's never the same?"
He shook his head. "It could happen… but even if he could never totally recover, he'd still be Jason. With support, I know he'd…" his voice caught, "not lose himself."
"He has so many scars. Not just on his skin. I can't bear the pain I see sometimes in his eyes…. He is the same person he was before, but… they…" Her voice caught. "They took something from him. What if it's so much worse… there isn't much of him left… besides scars…."
"He might be…broken. But Jason's strong. He has a strong personality, as you know—he can be relentless… ruthless, even. His impulsivity is part of his flexibility. He's clever. He might be able to talk his way out, make deals… who knows. And in his heart… he won't change. Not totally. We…will probably have to help him through this, no matter what happens."
"After what he's gone through—he'll need all the help he can get. I'll never abandon him. I'll love him—pour that love into his wounds. Take them on myself, somehow, if I have to. I just…hate the idea of him hurting at all. If I could go in his place—I would." She said this with conviction, even though she shook with the idea of being in their hands, vulnerable, humiliated…. If only I could do this somehow…. If they actually wanted me instead… if I could find the strength to go to them…
"I would, too. I'm pretty sure I'm not valuable to them unless it's national security secrets—most of which are too outdated to be of any use. I could invent things… but I'd never give in to their demands …." He took the watch from his pocket, which chimed a soft, enchanting tune. "I suppose we should get back."
"I don't want to keep you from looking for him!"
"It's all a collaborative effort. Each of us adds their piece to the puzzle, until hopefully there's enough of a picture we can make sense of it…"
"I wish I could add some of it."
"Maybe you can."
"Like what?"
"There are a lot of angles. Not just the virtual one. There are people we could interview…"
"I suppose I could do that."
"Watching the kids is essential support, too. And emotional support isn't to be taken lightly."
She nodded, knowing how good this time with Whit had been for her.
"You can be part of our meetings. Bring a fresh perspective."
"If you don't mind…"
"Of course not. Don't worry about being in the way. I think you know enough how this works you won't do anything disruptive."
She shook her head.
"It'll do you good to be involved. Doing something will help you—keep you moving forward."
"Keep me from…retreating again. Move toward him—it might be unbearable to think of it, but it's worse to leave him. To leave you." She gave him a swift hug.
They packed up the leftovers and she threw the bag with garbage into a garbage can near a shelter house. Then they meandered through the trees, past playgrounds and food stands, back to the parking lot.
On the way back, they passed a drug store, and it hit her she could get a pregnancy test. She could actually know one way or the other. It was true she had never been this late before… except… with Jeremiah…
Maybe I should just wait. I have enough to deal with. If I found out I wasn't pregnant, I'd be sad, and if I found out I was—I'd be sad too, because Jason isn't with me. And I'd be worried I might…lose the baby again. Better not to know. I'll find out soon enough anyway…. Especially if I start getting…morning sickness…
Tears sprang to her eyes at this, and she looked out the window so Whit wouldn't see. She didn't want to always be crying on his shoulder… she had to actually function. But she hadn't expected to cry when thinking of morning sickness….
I wouldn't be alone. With the baby, I'd always have part of him with me. Someone to care for.
But I don't know if I'd be up to taking care of someone else…. A little baby… someone who would remind me of the one I lost….
Do I want this? Now?
I'd rather wait until Jason comes back. Right now, it's too much. Can't even really think of it…
Eventually I'll have to find out, and if I'm pregnant, I'll have to be there for my baby no matter what….
Back at the palace, she was surprised to find several more guests—Saul and Leila, sitting out on the balcony with Roderick and Darya. They explained that their twins were taking care of the other kids at home, though Gina was eager to be allowed into the action.
Connie sat down beside Whit at the white table, Leila on her other side, Saul across from her, the king and queen in the white deck chairs. The beautiful grounds spread out below, the wind chasing cloud shadows over the rolling hills.
Connie asked Saul how he was doing, although it was evident how wounded he was—his temple and jaw bandaged, his right arm in a sling. And she'd heard in the interrogation room how far it had gone… she wished she hadn't, although she didn't know the specifics. At the same time, she was struck that Jason could be going through even worse….
"I'm…surviving," he said, pain in his brown eyes. He attempted a smile. "It's good to get out of the hospital."
"You just got out?"
He nodded. "I had to get surgery on my leg."
"What happened?"
"I was shot. That's not what bothers me as much as the minor injuries…." He glanced at Leila, a flicker of shame in his eyes.
"Those are pretty serious themselves," said Leila. "If they'd wanted you to stay one more day, I wouldn't have been averse to that."
"I had to get out of there. Breathe the free air…" He took a deep breath, eyes closed, sunlight highlighting his features.
"Just so you take it easy," she said.
"I can't just lie around though." His eyes flashed. "Not now that Jason's captured."
"You have to recover first—that's your only job now."
"If I can do anything, though… the smallest thing…. I know I probably can't do much. But I can't stand the thought of—what they might be doing to him." He gave Connie an apologetic look.
"First, we just have to get you home."
He nodded. "Though… with how hard it was coming here from the hospital, even with all these meds… I don't know if I can make it back home …. maybe I should've stayed in one more day."
"If you'd like," said Roderick, "you can stay here. Until you're recovered enough."
"Really?" said Leila with guarded eagerness.
"Of course."
"If you'd like to," said Leila, turning to Saul.
"You don't mind one more guest?" said Saul. "Who might be a pain in the neck?"
Roderick shook his head. "You'd never be a pain in the neck. You're welcome any time—especially when you need help. Besides, we can fit three times as many people as are staying here now."
"Maybe not that many," said Darya.
"Twice as many, anyway. Here, there seems always too much empty space. I like it when it's filled—reminds me of growing up with my family out on the open road."
"You do need rest after your ordeal," said Darya. "We'll try to make you as comfortable as possible. As with our other injured guests."
"How are they?" asked Saul.
"Luna is… recovering. They didn't hurt her much, but she's been traumatized. James has been helping as much as possible, but half the time she just stays in her room. It helps to have her family here as well. Still, it'll be best if she can see a therapist. I thank God daily it wasn't worse. It was bad enough." Her eyes shadowed. "Tasha's been resting a lot. She can't do much, which frustrates her."
"I understand that," said Saul.
"She's perhaps been pushing herself too much. At least she's resting now—I haven't seen her since we got back from church."
"Thank you for letting me stay," said Saul. "Though I am desperate to see my kids."
"Maybe one of the twins can bring one or two over later," said Leila. "If that's okay."
"The more the merrier," said Roderick, smiling.
"Seeing them in the hospital wasn't the same…. I think I'll get better faster now that I'm out of there. All I had to think about unless I had visitors was…what happened. Now I have a lot of distractions. And the beauty here…. There's peace, already." He pressed his left hand to his heart. Then winced. Looked away, a blush on his tan skin.
"Perhaps in a few days, you can take a walk in the gardens," said Darya.
"Or we can take your wheelchair sooner," said Roderick.
"I'll miss you," said Leila. "It'll be hard to leave you. I want to take care of you as much as I can."
"You can stay here too, if you like," said Roderick.
"Well…perhaps for a day. I'll have to dart out, though… find the ones who did this to him—who have Jason trapped in the same evil—"
A sharp shard sliced through Connie's heart. She leaned over the table, her hand braced on its cold, slightly rumpled glass surface. Whit reached for her hand, and she clasped his gratefully. It buoyed her, so she didn't collapse completely.
"I'll come back here as much as I can," said Leila. "I don't want to be without you. You'll also need help changing your bandages and—"
Saul shook his head. "I can do that myself."
"You're one-handed."
"That's not an obstacle. I used to practice doing things one-handed when I was a kid. Little did I know that…" He looked off into the distance, the green hills reflected in his eyes.
"Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you should. I want to help you."
"I don't want to be an undue burden."
"It's a privilege to take care of you. You're my love—my beautiful one." She smoothed some stray curls back from his temple.
He flinched.
She gasped, hurt flashing through her eyes.
He looked at her with shame. "I'm sorry. I—"
"That's okay. I know I've got to be careful. It'll be a long road."
"It's not okay. You're the one I love, I have nothing to fear from you—"
"Trauma doesn't always make sense."
"I've got to get over this. No matter what. I can't let myself be—afraid of you." He tentatively reached for her.
She took his hand, squeezing gently, and smiled.
Tasha limped in, leaning on a cane. Then she sat down beside Saul, pale, one strand of hair dangling in front of her face. After a moment, she swept it back, breathing hard. "It's a long way from my room…." She looked at them sheepishly, as if that was a ridiculous statement. She had every right to be exhausted.
"Well, it's an astounding feat compared to what I can do," said Saul. "You look good."
She gave a short laugh. "Yeah right."
"Considering what you've been through…." He looked at her admiringly.
"Well, I want to get better as soon as possible."
His eyes narrowed. "Just don't push yourself."
She leaned one arm on the table. "I don't really have a choice. I've got two men in trouble out there. Both my responsibility in a way."
Saul tilted his head. "I…never got to properly thank you for what you did for me."
"You were barely conscious. Not exactly in a good position to say anything…."
"You were more seriously injured than I was—still, you found the strength to…keep me warm…"
"Well…somewhere in my mind, I knew you were in shock. So was I… but I managed to see that you might not make it if you were too cold. They left us with nothing. I was the only warm thing around… and I wasn't about to take my clothes off. They weren't worth much anymore at that point, anyway."
"I'll always be grateful for what you did."
"You risked your life to save me. And then… fell into that pit because of me."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I know. But I can't help but feel responsible in a way… I just wish I could've done more to help. Stopped those demons." She looked at him with deep compassion.
"At least it's all in the past now. I'm trying to…forget about it as much as possible. But… I can't forget all of it, or I won't remember what you did…."
"Try not to think about it. I know we need to face it… but we also need to heal. Think of other things. To dwell on it…." Empathy mingled with deep pain shadowed her eyes, and Connie suspected she wasn't speaking of the more recent trauma anymore. "…will just take you down a dark path. Revel in the beauty of the world… of what you have now. Don't give them an inch of space you don't have to. They're not worth it. Don't let them twist your heart. Don't let them drag you into darkness. You've escaped—they didn't keep you, so don't stay in their prison. Be here, now. Glory in the real world, much more real than the trauma they branded you with. You can't entirely get away from it… but as much as you can, love the real world more than you hate what they did to you." She took a trembling breath.
He looked at her with deep gratitude, a piercing sympathy. He nodded, as if he couldn't trust himself to speak.
She pressed a hand to his shoulder, and he didn't flinch.
Jealousy flashed through Leila's eyes. Then it was replaced by sorrow.
"It's just so hard sitting around here… not doing anything…" said Saul.
"Join the club," said Tasha.
He smiled. "A sort of wounded agents club. We're both trapped—both desperate to rescue the lost ones. There has to be something we can do."
"Even on the computer, my stamina is abysmal. I hate not having a sharp mind—tempted not to take the meds, though the pain would overtake my mind then, anyway. It's a nasty catch-22."
"Maybe the first thing we should do is brainstorm what we can do."
"That sounds like a good strategy," said Whit.
"Can I join?" said Connie tentatively. "I know my situation isn't like yours, but—"
"You're totally welcome," said Saul. "The more perspectives, the better."
They divided into a little subcommittee while Whit, Roderick, and Darya stepped inside. Leila looked at Saul, then, reluctantly, joined them in the palace.
Brainstorming, Saul, Tasha, and Connie came up with several things. Connie actually didn't feel left out, not because the agents were injured and thus down to her level (they still weren't), but because they actively included her and didn't make her feel inferior. They came up with several ideas for her, and she even thought of a couple things for them. After about an hour, the agents were both exhausted, and Connie felt worn out, too.
As she headed inside, her heart leaped with excitement, the first she'd felt since Jason had been taken. The idea she was most eager to check out was going back to the farm to see David. It had always eaten at her, in the back of her mind, how she'd left him. He'd ridden away from her, and she had been too busy to contact him again. But she wanted to speak to him, let him know she cared about him, and show that God cared too. And also hopefully finding out what he knew about the traffickers.
Intending to lie down for a little while (but not stay in bed forever) and then join the rest of the family before supper, she picked up her phone and dialed the farm, her heart thumping with anticipation.