Blood pounded in Becky’s ears, making it hard to focus on what was being said around them, but it was easy to tell something was wrong.
Sarah stood like a statue, icy cold and rigid in her arms. No welcoming hug, no joyful exclamation, or questions about where she’d been.
Becky released her, looking into her sister’s face and trying to read what she saw there. Nothing. No warmth, but no dismissal either. Just a completely blank slate, as if Sarah wasn’t really there.
Confusion made her hesitate, and then Trevor was at her side, the familiar feel of his hand taking hers centering her. Giving her an anchor to hold on to as she took the next step.
“I’ve come to get my things.” Becky glanced around at the familiar faces of the family. People she’d spent years with. Children she’d helped raise, women she’d worked alongside in the kitchen.
Men who’d—
She glanced at Trevor in sudden concern. Maybe she should have made sure he waited for her outside.
He was also examining the congregation. There was fire flashing in his eyes, and tension along his jaw, but he wasn’t staring at anyone in particular offering death threats, which was about the best she figured he could do at that particular moment.
“There’s nothing here of yours.”
They turned toward the front of the church. Nausea turned her stomach as Abel stepped forward from where he’d sat to one side of the podium, probably waiting for his turn to stand and preach whatever message he wanted to control his flock with this week.
Tall and confident, his dark hair shot with silver all in perfect place. His blue gaze examined her closely, but there was more kindness and relief on his face than malice or anger.
Her first impression was the same as always. She’d always thought he was a good stand-in for the devil. Satan wasn’t red with a pitchfork and a tail. He was handsome—charismatic even. There was no way someone ugly or straight-up obviously evil could convince good, decent human beings to do terrible things. That took a man who was impressive, if only on the outside.
Trevor took a partial step forward before she jerked on their hands, bringing him back to her side.
Abel looked Trevor over before his gaze traveled toward Anna and Mitch who had waited at the back of the church. His brows went up as he examined the tattoos plainly visible on Mitch’s bare arms, but he focused on Anna as he spoke. “This is a private gathering. Unless you have official business here, Constable, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“As soon as my friend collects the possessions she left behind.” Anna’s voice rang out strong and confident, but polite.
“Then she can leave. Sadly, when we heard nothing from her for the longest time, we concluded the worst. All your things were given to charity.” Abel turned with open palms toward her and spoke kindly, like a benevolent benefactor offering a wonderful alternative. A gift he couldn’t imagine anyone turning down. “But you could stay. Return, Rebekah. Return to the family where you belong. You only need to ask for forgiveness, and you can come home.”
Trevor muttered softly, his grip on her fingers tightening to the point of pain. “No fuc—”
“No,” Becky interrupted before Trevor lost control. She shook her head. “I have nothing to ask forgiveness for, and I’m not returning. I came back for my things,” she repeated. “That’s all.”
“There’s nothing here for you.” It was Sarah who spoke, her tone making Becky snap to attention. The blank wall of emotionlessness was gone and in its place was barely controlled fury. “We do not suffer evil to live amongst us. Liars and thieves are cast out of paradise to where there is no joy, no happiness. Only eternal suffering, with weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
“Sarah?” Her sister reciting scripture wasn’t out of character, but what she was reciting was—hell and brimstone?
Sarah took in Trevor, staring at their joined hands with disgust. “Adulterer. I didn’t believe it when they told me you were so willing to sin, but I see that it’s true.”
Oh my God, what kind of lies had Abel told?
“I came for you, Sarah. You and the children.” Becky spoke in a rush, trying to get out as much as possible in the hopes that something would register. That somehow she could turn around this terrible, out-of-control situation. “You’re my sister, and I love you. I have a place for all of us now. I have a job. I have enough money that we can—”
“I have no sister. My sister is dead,” Sarah whispered.
Sheer determination was the only thing that kept Becky’s legs from buckling. “You don’t mean that.”
For one brief instant she imagined she saw a crack in the wall. A fleeting moment of emotion in Sarah’s eyes that looked like hunger and sadness, then it was gone, replaced once again by indignant righteousness.
“This is a private gathering,” Sarah repeated Abel’s words from moments earlier, cold and formal. “Leave us in peace.”
Breathing was impossible. Her throat and lungs were cased in ice. Pain stabbed into Becky’s heart as she saw little Mary’s eyes peeking from behind Sarah’s skirts, and she realized she’d lost them. Not just now, but maybe forever.
She hadn’t been able to save them.
“Constable, I suggest you escort your friends out now, or I’ll be forced to call our local detachment and have you all charged with trespassing.” Abel. Reasonable, calm.
The devil incarnate flinging her out of paradise.
Trevor slipped an arm around her, carefully turning them and guiding her out of the building.
She let him lead her blindly; staring over her shoulder for one more desperate glimpse at the only part of her sister she could still see. A tiny slice of her profile as Sarah kept her gaze firmly on Abel at the front of the room.
Becky’s heart shattered into a million pieces.
She’d crawled into his truck without a word, staring straight ahead as he, Anna and Mitch stood helplessly in the parking lot.
“That’s it?” Trevor demanded. “We pack up and go home without anything?”
“We can’t make Sarah change her mind,” Anna said softly, resting a hand on his arm as Mitch stood in silent support behind her. “We knew it was a long shot in the first place. It’s not an easy thing to leave behind everything you’ve ever known, even when someone you trust is waiting for you on the other side.”
Frustration and anger strengthened the urge to go back in and wipe the smirk off the bastard’s face, but his family knew him too well.
Mitch stepped between him and the church doors. “I know that look. No, Trevor, we can’t go beat the crap out of them.”
“Fucking watch me.”
His brother-in-law shook his head. “As much as I’d love to join you and give out a few righteous beatings, there’s not a lot you can do to help Becky from inside a jail cell, which is where we’d both end up. Pull it together and think of her.”
Becky. Trevor turned and hurried to his truck as his sister called after him, “Stop at the café in Maple Creek. We’ll meet you there.”
Then he was inside the truck, pulling Becky into his arms and squeezing her tight. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry.”
She nodded, but still didn’t speak. Not even when he cupped her chin and looked into her eyes. As if she were frozen with worry and disappointment, and he didn’t blame her one bit. The last thing she needed right now was for him to push her any further.
“You okay if we head home?”
Another nod, then she pulled away from him, moving into the passenger seat before buckling up her seatbelt. She leaned against the window, staring straight ahead and ignoring everything as he drove slowly out of Paradise.
They stopped at the café briefly before Mitch suggested they grab food from the truck-stop gas station instead of sitting in a booth like they’d come from a funeral. “We may as well put a few more miles between us and that fucking place.”
Trevor agreed with the sentiment, although Becky refused to eat anything he offered her. Refused to talk too—just stared out the window without making a sound.
Six hours of near silence was enough to make Trevor want to turn around the instant he dropped Becky off, return to Paradise, and burn the place to the ground. If he’d hated them before for what they’d allowed to happen to Becky, he was now ready to go to war.
Instead, he brought her all the way into the kitchen of her house, pulling her back into his arms and holding her because he wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Tell me,” he begged. “Tell me what you need.”
She lifted her eyes to his, the deep brown depths filled with hopelessness like he’d never seen before. Never, not once since the day he’d barged in on her, crawling onto the roof. He’d seen her scared; he’d seen her determined. Mostly, though, he’d seen her laughing. Full of life and hope even as she found her way in a world where she hadn’t known any of the rules.
“You’re so strong,” he whispered. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I can’t imagine how you feel right now, but I’m here for you.”
“I know.” Her voice was brittle, as if she hadn’t spoken for days. “Thank you for trying. I need a little time.”
He pressed her head against his chest then stroked his fingers through her hair. “Take all the time you need.”
Silence again, but this time not as painful. More like the soundless motion of raindrops trickling their way down a pane of glass. Slow, silent. Unstoppable as gravity deliberately dragged them downward.
Becky took a deep breath. “I’m tired. And you must be exhausted from all the driving.”
Adrenaline and anger had fueled him with energy, along with far too many cups of coffee. But he had to agree. “It’s been a long day.”
She stood, awkwardly moving away from him. “I’m going to take a shower then go to sleep early. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Which was a deliberate brush-off if he’d ever seen one. Still, he had to try. “Did you want me to stay? I want to stay,” he admitted, not caring two shits what that made him sound like.
“I need time to think,” she confessed, turning back to him and pressing her lips to his cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she promised.
He wanted to argue. He wanted to crawl into bed with her and hold her all night long, but ignoring her request was exactly what he’d sworn he would never do—override her decisions. Go around her.
So as much as he hated it, he nodded. “Tomorrow.”
She walked away toward the front of the house. The stairs creaked under her slow footsteps. He waited until he heard the water come on in the shower.
Trevor locked the door behind himself, heading back to his truck and getting behind the wheel before staring ahead blindly, uncertain where the hell he wanted to go.
What he wanted was to be inside that damn house with her. Beyond that, his mind was a blank.
Frustration slammed into him again, and he threw the truck into reverse, spinning out his anger in the gravel under his tires. Shoving the beast back into gear and roaring down the secondary highway, headed for nowhere.
Trevor would never understand people, or how they could be so fucking cruel. Hell, he got the pleasure in a good practical joke, although sometimes even a joke could go wrong and feelings got ruffled. But causing long-term hurt or hanging on to bitterness made no fucking sense.
He passed his parents’ house. His father stood on the porch, and Randy waved before turning slowly and hobbling toward the chairs that faced the sunset.
Another frustration—Trevor knew his dad’s illness wasn’t his fault, except not being able to do more than offer platitudes and hopeful comments seemed a shitty way to help.
He couldn’t turn in and stop and visit. Couldn’t add another disappointment to the day, so he kept going straight on past like he hadn’t seen.
He stopped at the mailbox and pulled out his mail. A mindless activity, done mostly by rote.
One envelope in the pile was so out of place from the flyers and bills it caught his eye, and he ripped the slim paper open, curiosity edging through his gloomy mood.
Trevor—
Got your letters. Glad to know Becky is doing okay. It’s not much, what I did. Anyone would have. I’m glad she’s fitting into Rocky, and making friends. Seems the type to land on her feet.
As for the rest—this might sound cruel, but Rocky isn’t home for me anymore. It’s not been for a long time. I guess I’m saying, while I’m glad for the update on Becky, I don’t need you to write to me anymore.
Sometimes it’s better to let old hurts alone.
Mark
Fuck.
Fuck it all.
Trevor tossed the papers onto the passenger seat and took off, driving in circles to escape the sheer hopelessness washing over him. His inability to change things in people’s lives made him all the more miserable.
What the hell good was he anyway?
All the fury and frustration drained out of him as hours later he stood in the middle of his yard. The sun had long ago vanished behind the mountains, dusk following. The temperature dipped and left him standing in the dark, chilled to the bone and utterly spent.
Reality sucked, and then reality slapped him upside the head. He was no fucking good, but that wasn’t the answer his family needed, and it wasn’t the answer Becky needed.
So in spite of the truth, tomorrow he’d get up and do the shitty best he could all over again. He’d keep trying.
But it was a bitter pill to swallow, to think that his best wasn’t good enough to help the people he loved.