Chapter 22 #3
When we got within six feet of the target, Harper started humming—just a little, under her breath.
A tune I couldn’t name, but it was familiar.
I guessed it was a song she had danced to once upon a time.
The sound, barely a thread, carried to the woman in the sweater. She stilled, then slowly turned.
It was like watching Nanette age in reverse. In the space of a heartbeat, I saw the girl she must have been at fifteen, then the mother she’d become, then the woman who’d lost everything and kept going, anyway.
Nanette’s eyes swept the room, not stopping on us. She finished the rotation, then returned to her painting, but her hand had gone white-knuckled on the clutch she carried.
Harper moved closer, this time letting her voice carry just a little: “A demi-plié, then a stretch, then the first note from Mr. Tchakovsky. Always in that order.”
Nanette’s head jerked. For a second, I saw terror, then calculation, then something that almost looked like hope. She didn’t turn, but spoke, voice as delicate as spun glass.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, in perfect English.
Harper swallowed. “Neither should you.”
Nanette’s posture didn’t shift, but her fingers danced a nervous rhythm on the bag. “How did you find us?”
Harper offered a tiny shrug. “Mom, we knew you’d come to the paintings. You always did.”
That cracked her a little. Nanette’s eyes shone, just for a moment, then the mask slid back into place. “Is it just you?”
Harper lied without a flinch. “Just me right now.”
Nanette turned finally, her gaze pinning Harper. The resemblance was uncanny: same jaw, same arched brow, same soft eyes.
“You’re safe?” she asked, the words a dare.
“I am now. I got away.”
Nanette’s smile was awash with relief. “You always were better at running than me.”
Harper stepped closer. I drifted left, putting myself between them and the rest of the gallery, just in case. “Mom, we have to talk. It’s important.”
A flicker of doubt crossed Nanette’s face. “Is he here? The monster?”
Harper shook her head. “No. He’s not.”
Nanette looked like she wanted to believe it, but couldn’t. She exhaled through her nose. “We can’t talk here. There are eyes everywhere.”
I caught the shift in her stance: fight-or-flight, the old prey animal hard-wired to survive at any cost. “Where?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle.
She looked at me, really looked, then at Harper. “You trust him?”
“With my life,” Harper said, and I felt that land in my chest like a hammer.
Nanette nodded once. “There’s a park. Behind the bakery. It’s quiet this time of day.”
“Lead the way,” I said.
We waited until she left, gave it a five-minute lag, then followed.
Outside, the rain had turned to mist, dappling the brick and making the world feel smaller, more intimate.
We turned at the bakery, then down a narrow alley to a walled garden.
It was empty except for three iron benches and a broken statue of a nymph, worn smooth by a century of hands.
Nanette was waiting at the far end. She didn’t sit. She just stood, arms folded, her bag clutched so hard the strap might snap.
Harper hung back, then finally said: “I need your help, Mom. I need to know where Brie is. She’s in danger.”
Nanette looked away. “She’s not herself. She’s… she thinks she’s in love.”
Harper didn’t blink. “Is he Renault?”
A tight nod.
I stepped in, voice calm. “We’re not here to make trouble for her. We just want to get her safe, and you too.”
Nanette’s laugh was bitter. “Safe? There’s no such thing. Not in this world.”
“There are places that are safer than others,” I said.
She eyed me. “You found her again? Saved her? After all this time?”
“I did.”
She considered that, and then her face softened. “She always loved you, you know. Even after…”
Harper cut her off. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is getting out.”
Nanette’s breath caught. “There’s no way out for me.”
“Mom, there is.” Harper moved closer, close enough to touch.
“If we leave now, they won’t be able to stop us.
I have people. I have friends. If Brie doesn’t come with us, she’ll wind up in a crate on a ship to Goddess knows where.
Whoever she thinks loves her doesn’t. If she won’t believe me, make her believe you. ”
Nanette’s eyes were full of tears. “Won’t he come after you too?”
“Not this time,” I said.
Nanette laughed, a little less bitter this time. “That’s what I said, once.”
Harper reached for her, and Nanette let herself be held. They stood like that for a long time, mother and daughter, both shaking. I kept watch, eyes scanning the street, the windows, every shadow.
Finally, Nanette broke away. “I’ll bring Brie tomorrow, early, past the bridge. We’ll have our easels and canvases set up to paint. If you don’t meet us, I’ll know this was a lie.”
Harper nodded. “We’ll be there.”
Nanette hesitated. “I’m so glad you survived.”
Harper smiled. “Me too.”
They parted, and Nanette slipped away, a phantom in the morning mist.
We waited a full five before moving. Harper’s face was a ruin of emotion—relief, guilt, terror, something like hope. She didn’t let go of my arm the whole walk back to the car.
Inside, Gwen and Parker were waiting. Parker handed Harper a bottle of water, then watched as she drank half of it in one go.
“You did good,” Parker said.
Harper wiped her eyes. “I’m so afraid she won’t be able to convince Brie. Young girls in love can be really stupid.”
Gwen’s smile was warm. “They can. But you still must try.”
I wrapped Harper in my arms, held her until she stopped shaking. “Look around, bluebonnet. You’re not alone in this,” I whispered, and meant every word.
Out the window, the river flowed on, carrying every secret Bougival ever had. The town was beautiful, but it was also a trap, and we had one more day to get her mom and sister out alive.
Let Steiner come. Let the Renaults try.
We were Iron Valor, and tomorrow, we were bringing the family home.