Fall (Roam Series, Book Two) (18 page)

Finally, turning my mind off, I walked toward the shed. The door was secured with a crude lock, and I easily removed the hook from the eyehole.

Troy sat on the dirt-sand floor, his eyes closed. I watched two ants crawl on his arm, my stomach turning. The fetid urine smell was amplified by the damp sand from the rain. Droplets of water came into the shed from the unfinished roof.

What am I doing?
I backed against the wall, holding the glass of water.
Do not cry.
I recalled the first-hand account of a particular prisoner of World War II that I’d watched on
The History Channel
, captured and tortured by the Germans.
Troy is mad with revenge… he would kill you the moment he was given the chance.

He has killed you- over and over again.

“Hey,” I called gruffly, clearing my throat. His head rolled on his shoulders, weak. I balanced my shaking hands, glancing nervously at the door. “Open your mouth,” I could barely form the words.

He did; I poured the water slowly into his mouth. He began to choke and I stopped, waiting for the liquid to move down his throat before pouring more. He eagerly drank, coughing and gagging, no matter how slowly I poured the water.

When it was gone, I stepped back, ready to run from the shed. His voice stopped me.

“
Roam.”

I stopped without turning to face him.

“What.”

His
words became whispers. “Don’t take her to 2012.”

I turned, facing him. “
What?”

“
Magic will take it all away.
”

He closed his eyes.

I threw the door open, smacking into West in my near-run. The glass dropped to the sand. He looked at the glass, and then at me.

“Go in the cottage.”

“West-…,”

“Roam,
go!
” He snapped, locking the door. I clenched my fists, narrowing my eyes.

“We can’t keep him like this!” I yelled, my emotions overflowing into my mouth. “It’s wrong! Kill him, or don’t, but this is torture!”

“You can’t begin to know what he’s done to us, not through a handful of
dreams
-…,”

“What makes you better than him, when you
yourself
are driven by revenge?
Disgusting
,” I accused, running for the cottage. He caught me by the arm, turning me to face him.

“
Disgusting?” His eyes blazed, his hands gripping my upper arms so that I couldn’t turn away. “Disgusting is finding you half-eaten by animals in France, lying next to our child- still attached-…,”

“
Stop!
” I screamed, my stomach turning in revulsion.

“
Or smelling your flesh burn while he branded you in that dungeon-…,”

“
Stop now!
” I tried to fall to my knees, but he held me by the arms.

“Let her go.” Logan was suddenly between us, as tall as West, his jaw clenched in fury. “She hasn’t been through
any of that.
She’s known love and compassion all of
her
life. Don’t ever grab her like that again.”

West let go
and walked away. I dropped to my knees in the sand, sobbing. Logan knelt next to me. “I’m sorry…,”

“Don’t be sorry for being
you
,” he said, his arms tight around me. “Don’t lose yourself, Roam.”

I sat in the sand with Logan until I heard Eva crying from inside the cottage. He helped me to my feet, and I went back inside.

West was gone. I changed and fed Eva, and then stood under the shower while Logan and Violet ate dinner. My thoughts were in disarray; every time I resolved to apologize to West, I stubbornly justified my actions, deciding to wait for
his
apology. I ate a piece of buttered bread, unable to force more into my body. By midnight, Eva slept soundly from her last feeding. Logan and Violet slept on the couch together, and I pulled a blanket over them. The moon was full against the sky, lighting most of the cottage through the windows.

I crawled into bed alone, homesickness settling into my bones. I wished for Morgan at my side more than anyone else, longing for her easy, comforting way.
My mind drifted to the encyclopedias in the corner.
Maybe I should read for a while.

Selecting one from the top at random, I settled into the lamplight by the bed. The printed word
had been my closest confidant through long, lonely nights, and I dove into a passage on amnesty.
From the same root as amnesia. A pardon forgiving persons who are subject to trial but have not yet been convicted.

“You’re awake.”

West’s voice startled me; I lifted my eyes to the doorway. He leaned against the frame, his hands deep in his pockets. His face was cleanly shaven, and my heart racketed inside my chest.

“You look like… you,” I breathed, dropping the encyclopedia to the bed. He crossed the room
and slid over me. I lay back on the pillow, touching his cheeks and chin, my fingertips delighting in the smooth, shaven skin around his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” his mouth hovered over mine, circling, as if deciding how to best kiss me. The stirring deep within began without notice, and I exhaled, moistening my lips with my tongue.

“I understand,” I breathed, inhaling the thick scent of aftershave.

“So do I,” he lowered his lips to mine, barely brushing them with his, and then backed away again. I moaned quietly,
following for his kiss. He teased, bending his neck to breathe against my jaw, his mouth still not touching my skin.

My
body came alive, lighting beneath the mere suggestion of his touch. “Kiss me,” I pleaded, gripping the back of his neck and running my fingers over his broad shoulders.

“I can’t,” he said, his mouth over my ear. “It’s not enough, and it has to be right now.”
I groaned. He lowered his lips to my upper arms, kissing first my left, and then my right, hovering for endless minutes over my chest. “I will never grab you like that again.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“
Be angry,
” he ordered, turning my arm for better access to the underside of my wrist. I writhed beneath his mouth, undone beneath his simplest touch.

“I can’t,” I repeated his words, closing my eyes. I remembered the way his body felt on mine as he made love to me,
and my mind became my torturer. “I miss you,” I cried, turning my head on the pillow to find his lips.

When his mouth covered mine, I opened to him, melting as his tongue nipped my lips and dove.

Eva’s soft whimpers broke the spell, and he laughed breathily, pressing his lips to my forehead.

“
We’d better get used to this,” he said, retrieving her from the cradle.

I watched his loving way with her, turning to my side. “I want to go home.”

He nodded, still gazing at Eva. “I will take us home. We can’t stay like this. I will keep Troy at my house… I’ll build a cell of some sort in the basement for him, and give him his basic needs.” I knew it was difficult for him to concede to my wishes, but he’d obviously thought hard about this while he was gone. “Until Eva is older, and we figure out how to fulfill the prophecy.”

“Thank you,” I closed my eyes, listening to her breathe.

“I love you,” he said softly.

I opened my eyes to find him gazing at me.

“You have no idea… how much I love you,” I managed, letting sleep in once more.

With a plan in place, everyone moved with purpose. The uncertainty and confusion of the past few days were gone; we began working on a way to get back to the fountain in Cleveland.

When Logan and West attempted to spray Troy clean with a hose, he thrashed and growled like an animal. “I don’t know how we’ll get him back without doing exactly what we did before.”
West said.

“You’re not certain these inclined planes lead to my mother, and you don’t know if the prophecy is done. We can’t kill him.” Violet stared at the ocean from the window.

He sighed deeply. “There’s no other way, Violet.”

I gathered a bucket of warm, soapy water and a washcloth while Eva slept. West watched me, and I could feel his restraint from across the room. “I’m going with you.”

“Fine.” I gestured to the kitchen. “Bring fresh water, and some bread.”

West checked Troy’s restraints before
removing the gag and waiting in the corner of the shed. I walked hesitantly toward him, my eyes following the ropes again and again. He turned to face me, looking at the bucket of water and washcloth in my hand.

“
Don’t touch me.”

“Just be quiet.” I dipped the washcloth into the water and removed it, wringing it thoroughly. “I won’t hurt you.”

He cringed as I reached for his face, my hand shaking in fear.
He could still bite,
I thought, shuddering. When he didn’t, I pulled the rag down his face, watching the dirt streak beneath my touch.

“
I’m guessing this was her idea,” Troy called to West, over my shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“It’s been a while since she touched me,” he turned his face to my hand suddenly, his mouth almost making it to my wrist before I wrenched my hand away.

“That’s enough.” West crossed to me and grabbed the bucket, tipping it over his head. “Roam, I’ll make sure he has the food and water. Go back in the house with the baby,” he ordered gently.

I could only nod, panic seizing my reflexes.

West took us across to the hospital that afternoon. After a comprehensive examination, we were both
deemed in good health. When I asked West about vaccinations, he promised we’d take care of her in 2012. “Medicine is safer in the future,” he explained.

The next two days were a crash course in the daily life of the fifties housewife. With Logan guarding Troy and Violet doing her best with the cooking, I alternated between caring for Eva and fighting with the wringer. I pressed the water from the clothes until my arm ached, and then spent forever looking for creative places to hang the clothes to dry
while it was cold outside. Eva’s diapers and blankets required constant attention, and I thanked God that we were only in 1955, and not an earlier time.

There w
as no one mainland supermarket; West bought only what we absolutely needed from the butcher, and spent very little on produce or dairy. He was able to secure a loan from the bank (after several property owners vouched for him) and purchase a van, explaining that he’d like to begin a carpentry business and needed the space.

No one asked why he insisted on curtains for the windows.

We were still left with Troy, and how to travel with him fully conscious. We brainstormed at the kitchen table late into the night, West shooting down most suggestions with practical ways things could go wrong.

“He’s stronger, now that we’re feeding him.” He didn’t look my way, but I felt Logan’s eyes on me.

“I’m going for a walk.” Violet disappeared into the bedroom for a moment before leaving through the backdoor.

Eva sighed softly, and I tucked the yellow blanket more securely around her sleeping face. “There are no car seats… I just hold her,” I re
alized, smiling as she blinked and focused on me for a few seconds.

“Most of us survived without car seats,” West promised, moving closer to press a kiss to my cheek.

“And when we get home… I’ll need a hospital, and you’ll need to take her,” I felt the anxiety grow in the pit of my stomach, and he tucked his arm around me.

“And we’ll work it out. Logan will explain that you were
attacked downtown. You’ll be in your original clothes. I’ll go straight to my house, and Violet will help with Eva while I secure Troy. We’ll prepare bottles for feeding her.”

“I just don’t want to be away from her,” I swayed in my chair gently. “I will worry constantly.”

“It’s the best we can do, Cam.” Logan slid his chair out and stood up, glancing out the back door. “I’ll go check on Violet.”

West and I moved to the couch. “And after I get out of the hospital?”

He stilled my wringing hands before they could wake the baby. “Then we make things work for the rest of the school year. You graduate high school, Roam.”

The back door burst open.
Logan carried Violet, her lifeless arms hanging at her sides as blood poured from two open wounds at her wrists. “She cut herself,” he cried, breaking. West ran to her, dropping to his knees as Logan lowered her to the hardwood floor.

“Oh God!” I stood, rushing to the bedroom with Eva. It took everything I had to gently lay her down
in the cradle before running from the bedroom. West’s fingers were at Violet’s neck, and Logan was wrapping towels around her wrists.

“She doesn’
t have a pulse,” West tilted her bloodless head back, looking at Logan. “Pressure! Stop the bleeding!”