Chapter 38
Willow, aka Lily
In Phoenix, we stopped in a small gun store, and Sam purchased a black handgun he placed in the glove compartment, along with a box of ammunition. The purchase served as a reminder that while we might be theoretically untraceable, Sam doesn’t gamble with safety.
We stood in awe at the Grand Canyon. Ate the most delicious beignets in New Orleans. Boarded a plane to New York City because when he asked where I’d like to visit, and I told him I’d always wanted to go there, we ditched the rental and presumably his handgun, and on Broadway we attended Six , a play about King Henry’s six wives. From there, we rented a car and drove to Annapolis, Maryland. He pointed out restaurants he liked “back in the day.”
Before we arrived in Washington, DC, he warned me he’d never move to the DC area unless I absolutely loved it. I enjoyed visiting the monuments I’d only seen photographs of, but I couldn’t see us living there due to the crowds and the traffic.
From DC, we drove to Charlottesville, Virginia, a smaller, quaint college town where I learned he’d once dated a girl who went to school here. I’d asked what happened to them, and he shrugged, saying they weren’t that serious. Because of my experience with Jules, I understood exactly what he was saying. I’d cared for Jules at that time in my life, but I was young, and I loved the freedom and rebellion he represented more than him. Knowing if we were ever discovered, my father would likely have him killed, made me end things earlier than I might have otherwise. But still, all things being the same, it’s clear Sam also had relationships that were important but not meant to last.
From Virginia, we drove to Asheville along rolling highways lined by trees. We checked in to our Asheville hotel hours ago. And now, we’re in the Land Rover he purchased outside of Charlottesville. We’d been in a rental, but when he saw the older SUV in a used car lot, he swerved to make a last-minute turn into the lot.
Sam assured me he’ll buy me whatever I want, but I’m a nervous driver. I drove ten miles lower than the speed limit when we went to return the rental after he purchased his giant new automobile. I’m sure I’ll eventually drive as it seems Americans love to drive, but I drove little in Italy. At home, my father’s security accompanied me and therefore drove. In Florence, as a student, I biked whenever I found myself free of security. Here, the cars speeding along on the freeway feel enormous, and I’m still not used to the measurement system, which is disorienting on the dashboard.
We’re parked on a neighborhood street with small bungalow homes, broad-leaf trees, and mailboxes stationed at the end of each driveway. Sam’s knee bounces up and down, and he’s on his phone, checking texts. In the glove compartment is a small box of SIM cards, should he need to destroy the one in his mobile and replace it. He also picked up a new handgun when we arrived in North Carolina, as there’s no waiting period to purchase one here.
Our windows are rolled down, and a soft breeze blows through the vehicle. The day was warm, but the temperatures are dropping quickly.
Over the last several weeks, Sam has spoken of his sisters with increasing frequency. Sloane is the one closest to him in age, and he said that when they were younger, they spent a lot of time together. His youngest sister, Sage, had been sick as a child, but he says she’s healthy now, and she’s the one who is expecting a child with his best friend from high school. He doesn’t know the story of how they got together, but he said he couldn’t imagine a better husband for his sister. And Sloane married a guy he doesn’t know well, but he’s been around him and believes he’s a good guy. Sage’s husband is named Knox and Sloane’s husband’s name is Max.
Knox and Max both have last names that start with the letter W, which meant they were assigned to the same homeroom. That’s how they met, and they became fast friends.
“Do you think they’ll be much longer?” I ask.
“Should be soon.” Finished with his messages, he taps the phone against the steering wheel in the same rapid beat as his bouncing knee. I reach for his hand, remove the phone, set it in the drink holder, and link our fingers.
“It’s going to be okay. They’re going to be thrilled to see you.” He’s nervous, and he shouldn’t be, but telling him not to be nervous won’t do anything. “Tell me about them. Your sisters.” He’s told me about them, and the look he gives me says he’s thinking the same thing. “Tell me a favorite story.”
He exhales and lifts my hand to his mouth where he playfully nips at my skin.
“Come on, there has to be something. Is this the house you grew up in?”
“Here? No. I told you, I grew up in Rocky Mount.”
“Is that near here?”
“Not at all. Sounds like it belongs in the mountains, doesn’t it? No, it’s farther east. About an hour east of Raleigh, where Sloane, the oldest of my two younger sisters, lives now.”
“Which sister were you closer to?”
“Well, Sloane’s close to me in age. She…she struggled in school. More in middle school. By high school, she didn’t give a fuck. I mean, sorry. She didn’t care about what others thought. But I was probably her closest friend.”
“Why’d she struggle in school?”
He half-smiles. “Mom always said she sees the world differently. And she does.”
“What does that mean? Is she–”
“If she was diagnosed with anything, Mom didn’t share it. She was big on avoiding labels. For a while, there, I was one of the few who could calm Sloaney down when she’d work herself up.” Pride rings through his words.
“It’s odd your mom didn’t share what was going on with you.”
“She did. In her own way. And you gotta understand…my parents. We had tough years. Sage was really sick. It’s hard on a family when a kid’s in and out of the hospital. Mom had a group of friends who were all parents of sick kids, and they were tight. Guarantee you they backed Mom’s approach. You asked for a memory… I can remember someone in a mall coming up and asking what was wrong with Sage. Said it like this, ‘What’s wrong with her?’ I don’t think Sloane heard, or if she did, it didn’t register. But Mom, man, I thought she was going to lose it on the woman. It was just… We were all so protective of Sage, and Sage was dressed up to go out to the mall. It was a big deal, you know, and she thought she looked normal. And she did. She was just…really thin. Pale. Probably had a bandage or something. I don’t even remember. But I remember Mom. It was like she doubled in size. Transformed into super momma bear. Had me and Sloane take Sage to get a cookie from the American Cookie Company. Told us we could get soda too.” His slight grin tells me this is a fond memory, but tears threaten in my eyes. “I love my sisters,” he says, sniffing back his emotion.
“I know you do.”
“I hope they can forgive me.”
“They will. They’re going to be thrilled to have you home.”
Between the houses, a view of the mountains peeps through, and a purple haze colors the dips and valleys beyond. A tiny, bright light twinkles and disappears.
“It’s a firefly,” I say, pointing to the gold pinprick. Back home, we used to have an abundance of fireflies in early summer. Beneath a tree, where the shadow is darkest, another light shines and quickly disappears.
Headlights beam down the street, approaching us. The car slows and turns into his sister’s driveway.
“You ready?” I ask, reaching for the passenger door handle.
Sam squeezes my hand. “Not yet.”
Another car turns onto the street and pulls up beside the other vehicle.
I watch Sam closely. His attention remains fixed on the driveway. The driver of the first car walks around the front and opens the passenger door.
A very pregnant woman with dark, wavy hair, presumably Sage, takes the hand of the man who came around to her door. She’s smiling widely.
“Is that Knox and Sage?” I ask.
Sam’s transfixed by the scene and gives an almost imperceptible nod.
The back of the vehicle pops open, and I assume Knox is holding a set of keys that allowed him to do that since he’s at the front of the vehicle. The back is filled with boxes and bows.
A tall, thin woman with dark, straight hair, presumably Sloane, exits the other car. The driver of her car gets out after she’s already walked away. He’s a tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy blond hair.
“I’ll empty the car. You guys—” The man stops speaking the second he notices us sitting in the vehicle. Sam parked in front of the neighbor’s house, but we’re not far away.
“I think he’s spotted us,” I whisper.
“Sage, why don’t the two of you go on inside?” Knox says.
“I don’t mind helping,” Sloane says, oblivious to Knox’s concerns, putting her arms around a brown cardboard box at the back of the vehicle.
The other man, presumably Sloane’s husband, Max, approaches and says something in her ear. She immediately releases the box and rushes to her sister’s side, taking her elbow and guiding her into the house.
“I’m fine,” Sage says loudly enough for her voice to carry across the lawn.
The screen door creaks and closes behind the two women, and the two men stand side by side, squinting at our vehicle.
“Can we help you?” one of them asks.
“Stay here,” Sam says to me.
He exits the car, and Knox stills. From inside the car, it’s as if Knox’s color blanches and his mouth opens slightly. Max’s expression is unreadable.
Sam approaches, hands out to his side like the two men have guns pointed at him, but they don’t. They’re just staring.
“A lot of shit’s gone down,” Sam says. “But I’m back.”
“Holy shit.” Knox says with a trace of derision blended with incredulity. “Sage always said—how the fuck? I saw it. I saw the explosion.”
“Magic,” Sam answers. His back is to me, but he sounds cautious.
“Who are you working for?” Knox asks. Max remains silent, watching. “Not the Navy. CIA?”
“Man—”
“The explosion?” Knox asks.
“Staged.”
Knox’s mouth opens, incredulous. I can imagine it’s a lot to absorb.
“You were never supposed to see it. You were supposed to stay in the bar,” Sam says. None of this is what he’s supposed to say.
Knox closes his mouth, and he cocks his head. “You hired?—”
“They did. They hired her. A distraction. You weren’t supposed to follow me.” There’s a plea to Sam’s tone.
“And you let us…”
The screen door creaks open.
His pregnant sister steps out onto the front porch. “Sam?” She squeals, arms wide, running forward as fast as a woman with a distended pregnant belly can. “Sam!” she squeals. “I knew it.”
Sam’s smile is as wide as I’ve seen as she crashes into him. I can’t hear what they’re saying to each other, but the other two men look on with the same incredulous, dazed expression.
On the porch, Sloane watches, hands at her side, elbows out. I expect to witness the same unbridled happiness Sage exhibits, but Sloane’s not smiling. Obviously, I don’t know her and might be misinterpreting her expression, but her slight hands ball into fists and she steps back. Is she going to leave?
Her movement draws Sam’s attention. He pulls away from Sage and holds out his arms to his other sister, but she isn’t having it.
She stares in his direction. Her mouth opens and closes. Is she having a panic attack? No one makes a move to help her.
The streetlights flick on, emitting a slight buzzing sound.
My hand squeezes the door handle. He asked me to wait, but someone has to do something.
Max approaches his wife, but he keeps his distance. He doesn’t touch her, but he’s talking to her in a low voice I can’t discern.
Headlights illuminate the street. The group on the lawn checks the approaching sedan and watches it pass, except for Sloane, who takes off, heading down a path around the side of the house.
“I’ll talk with her,” Max says, backtracking to the group. “She’s just going to need some time.” He places a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Good to have you back.” He pats him once, and then he’s off.
Sam and Knox shift, watching Max depart, and Sage looks past them to me. Our gazes lock, and my skin tingles with awareness.
“Sam…who is this?” Sage asks.
He turns, and the concern that had marred his expression lightens, and the corners of his lips lift.
“That’s my wife. Your sister-in-law.”
“You got married!” she exclaims, slapping his arm before charging toward me.
I step out of the SUV to greet her, sliding down to the curb, glancing past Sage to Sam.
Sage raises her arms and drops them. We both stand looking awkwardly at each other. Her smile is warm. I don’t know what to do. Hug her? Introduce myself? In a flash, Sam is beside me, his palm warming my lower back.
“Lily Watson, I’d like for you to meet my sister, Sage.”
He touches her shoulder, then brushes her hair behind her ear. “You look beautiful, sis. Pregnancy suits you.”
She beams through a steady stream of tears, then holds both arms out to me. “A sister,” she screeches. I bend to hug her, and, with her belly, it’s a little awkward, but we’re both smiling.
Her husband, Knox, steps up behind her. He’s not smiling, but he’s not glaring either. I think he might be shell-shocked. Sage wraps her arm behind his back, and he places his across her shoulder.
“Can you believe he got married?” Sage grins, taking me in with a warm, glowing gaze. “We’re married, too,” she says, gesturing to Knox.
“I am aware. I sent you an anonymous wedding gift.”
“The yellow Kitchen Aid blender?”
“I remembered you loved Mom’s.”
“I had a feeling.” She rubs her belly, looking up at him, eyes full of wonder. “You’ve been watching over us.”
“As much as I could,” he admits. Then, almost apologetically, he adds, “Officially, though, I was in a hospital in Syria with amnesia, but it’s probably best we share that story as little as possible.”
Sage nods slowly. “I don’t need to know details. I’m so happy you’re back.” She swipes at her tears with a soft laugh before her attention falls back on me. “You are so beautiful. Where did he find you? Where are you from?”
Sam and Knox exchange a glance, and Knox says, “Why don’t we go inside and they can share what they’ve been allowed to share? It sounds like there’s specific information we need to learn.”
Sage beams as if she didn’t even hear Knox. “I told you he was still alive. I told everyone. They never found your body. I just knew. And this guy…he refused to listen to me.”
Knox grimaces. “This is just what I needed. For her to be proven right. Again.”
“Has she ever been wrong?” Sam asks with a sly grin.
Knox exchanges a loving glance with his wife. “Never.”
“Spoken like a wise man,” Sam says.
It might have been my imagination, but I think a flicker of a smile cropped up on Knox’s face. But a shadow quickly falls.
This is what Sam had been afraid of. That his choices hurt them and forgiveness will be impossible.