Grace watched the community grieve, and wondered what was wrong with her. She got it intellectually of course; this Layla, whom she’d never met, had been beloved. She’d been a leader, a teacher, a friend to everyone here. But so what? Millions, maybe billions of people had died. Why was this woman worthy of such an outpouring, when so many had slipped from the planet virtually unnoticed? Why should their little corner of the world come to a dead stop, so one woman’s life could be remembered, when no one but Grace knew the day and hour of her own mother’s death?
She kept these observations to herself, of course, and stayed on the fringes of the crowd. So much less privacy now, than in the time before. She didn’t know how accurately her thoughts and feelings could be detected by these people, and she wasn’t going to take any chances. There was so much that must be kept secret, so many thoughts that needed to be hidden, and the effort of maintaining what Naomi called her “shields” – a term the departed Layla had used, apparently – was exhausting.
Only in the company of Naomi and Piper could she relax a little. Naomi knew the worst, and though she never spoke of it, Grace was sure Piper had suffered a similar ordeal. All the signs were there to see, in the occasional sudden shaking of the older girl’s hands, the ease with which she startled, and the way Naomi’s worried eyes followed her daughter whenever Piper wasn’t looking. It was an unspoken bond between them, an awful sisterhood. Grace had spent a lot of time with Naomi and Piper in the last weeks, and her growing affection for them both was one of the few assurances she had that she could still feel, like normal people did. Still, there were things she didn’t want known, things she didn’t want to talk about, not even with them.
There had been a service in the church, and the crowd had now moved outside to observe Layla’s burial in a corner of the meditation garden. At the front of the group, Jack was speaking, surrounded by Layla’s former students, most of whom were crying. The crowd shifted, and Grace caught a glimpse of Quinn. He was standing beside a man who looked like he’d been cut from the earth itself, weathered and brown. Probably the man he lived with now, a rancher, her father had said. It was the first time she’d seen Quinn since Rock Ledge Ranch, and her eyes raced to catalogue the changes.
He was dressed in clean clothes that were just a little too small, his shirt stretched across the bulk of his shoulders. He’d put on healthy weight from what she could see, and someone had trimmed his hair. His back was to her, and over the top of his shoulder, she could just see a small round head adorned with a fluff of dark hair. She forced her eyes away then, afraid to see more, only to have them drawn back again, like a lodestone to true north. Three times, she looked away, and three times, her eyes returned. Finally, she gave up, filling her eyes with both of them.
Her father had asked if she wanted to see Quinn - he knew they had traveled from Limon together, that they’d been neighbors – but she had declined. She had longed to see him, but when presented with the possibility, she couldn’t stand the thought of meeting his eyes. So she’d lied to her father. Too painful, she had said, clothing the lie in truth. He made her think of William, her dead boyfriend. Made her think of home. Her father had watched her in silence for a long time after she’d made up her excuses, too long a time. But he’d turned away without pressing her about it. The silences between them had grown longer and longer lately, and while Grace appreciated how hard he was working to respect her need for time and space, she also wondered how much longer they could go on like this.
“Outside looking in, huh?” Piper’s voice made her jump, and the older girl reached out to steady her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“It’s okay.” Grace looked down at her feet and forced her eyes to stay there. “It would be easier if we had met her, I guess.”
“I guess.” Piper was silent for a moment, scanning the crowd. Grace knew she was watching her bond-lines, something she never seemed to tire of. Then Piper turned her head, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “I’m going to apologize for prying, but I don’t really mean it. What’s with you and the kid with the baby?”
Grace’s head went light, and the stuttering started. “I, uh, that is, he was my neighbor, but…”
“Jesus, Grace, take a deep breath.” Piper reached out and cupped a hand under Grace’s elbow. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just keep taking deep breaths, okay? My mom will skin me if you pass out.”
Grace did as Piper instructed, breathing until she felt the feeling return to her face, and the lightheadedness ease. “I’m sorry. You surprised me, that’s all.”
Piper gazed at her in silence for a few minutes, then sighed. “Here’s the thing – and tell me if you get lightheaded again, okay? Other people are going to figure it out, Grace. It’s more than the changes in people, the intuitive stuff, though that would be enough, if others can see or feel bonds the way I do. But honestly, I knew the minute I saw her. It’s her eyes.” She looked back at Quinn and the baby, then returned her gaze to Grace. “Her eyes are your eyes, exactly. So sad and so smart, at the same time.” Another pause. “Is he the father?”
“No.” Grace stared into a middle distance without seeing. The information rose out of her without her volition. “I don’t know which one was her father.”
She sensed Piper’s stillness, then heard her sudden, indrawn breath. “The gang,” she whispered. “Holy fucking hell, Gracie. Does your dad know?”
Grace shook her head no, still staring, wondering what the ramifications of this would be. Piper was silent for a long time. She still had a hold on Grace’s elbow, and the contact felt good, stabilizing. Then, her hand tightened, and she tugged gently. “Grace, I need you to look at me. I need to understand something.”
Grace complied, and found herself pinned by Piper’s intelligent scrutiny. “What?”
“I need to know what your plan is, and don’t tell me you don’t have one. I’ve been through something similar to what you went through, and you can talk about the efficacy of non-violent methodology all you want, but I know better. You’re not advocating non-violence because you’ve forgiven them. It’s part of a larger plan. And there’s a reason you haven’t told your dad.” She let go of Grace’s elbow, but rather than dropping her hand, she stroked Grace’s arm. The tenderness on her face highlighted how very much she resembled her mother, but on Piper, the expression was blended with a warrior-like fierceness. “You can trust me. I want to help you.”
“I don’t want help.” This time, Grace paused, giving herself time to make a conscious decision before she started talking. “I have to do this alone. I won’t endanger anyone else. It’s why I left Quinn, and it’s why I didn’t tell my dad. I don’t want anyone telling me what to think or feel. I don’t want them telling me what to do or not do, or worse, doing it for me.” Rage boiled up out of her gut at the very thought, burning her throat and chest with the acid of hate. “I’m going to do it myself. And before it’s over, they’ll know it was me, they’ll know I outsmarted them before I destroyed them. As far as I know, I’m the only girl who ever got away from them. I’m the only one who survived. This is my duty, but it’s also my right. I earned the right to do this on my own.”
Piper stared at her, measuring, and Grace returned her gaze steadily. She might never recover from what had happened to her; she knew that on a cerebral level. She might be broken beyond repair. But she could do this for herself. In the same master stroke, she could exact her vengeance and protect this community, including her tiny daughter and her Quinn.
Finally, Piper nodded. “You did earn it,” she said quietly. “We’ve both earned the right to demand our pound of flesh. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to take mine, but I’m not going to stand in your way when you claim yours. Just promise me something.” Her eyes went unfocused, in the way Grace had learned meant she was watching the bond-lines between people. She placed a hand over her heart, then closed it into a fist, and Grace blinked in surprise when she felt an answering tug in her chest. “Just remember that many people care about you, and that enough of the good ones have died.”
“I’ll remember.”
Around them, the crowd shifted and started to break up, voices rising in soft murmurs. Apparently, the service had ended. People gathered in clumps of twos and threes, talking in quiet tones, many of them weeping. Grace craned her head around, but she’d lost track of Quinn. Probably for the best. She knew she’d have to speak with him eventually, but she had no idea what might come out of her mouth when that day came.
Piper stood on her tiptoes, waved, then looked at Grace. “My mom’s waiting. I need to go. One more piece of advice, though: If you want to keep your plans to yourself, you’re going to want to avoid that Verity. I don’t know what her deal is, exactly, but it’s some spooky shit. She’ll see, I’m certain of it.” She caught Grace’s hand and squeezed, and for just a flicker, Grace thought she saw the bond connecting them, a vibrant blue-green line of light. “Take care.”
Grace squeezed back, then watched her go. Piper and her mother were now the keepers of Grace’s greatest secrets. She thought about that, as her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for her father. Piper wouldn’t interfere or try to stop her, of that she felt certain. Naomi was another story, though. She needed a contingency plan, just in case Piper inadvertently let something slip. Her mind was already working out the details when she turned around and nearly ran into Quinn.
He stood there, taller than she remembered, cradling the baby in his arms. He didn’t say hello, didn’t nod, or try to pretend that this was an ordinary meeting. He just gazed at her, his eyes traveling over and over her face and form. Long moments passed before he sighed, a deep broken sound. “You’re okay. I had to see, with my own eyes.”
“I’m okay.” She would never know how she got the words out. “And you? You’re all right?”
“Yes.”
Grace squinted, trying to keep her eyes on Quinn. Then, she gave up.
The baby’s nape looked so soft, and her little cheek was flushed. She rested against Quinn’s chest, nearly asleep, her eyes drifting shut only to snap open, then drift again. Her little pink mouth pursed and bloomed like flower petals, perfectly curved. She was dressed in a dainty white eyelet dress trimmed in pink ribbon, her chubby little legs and feet bare. One of Quinn’s arms was curved under her little rump; the other hand patted her back rhythmically.
Grace’s voice was the thinnest wisp of sound. “What’s her name?”
“Lark.”
“Like the bird. Your favorite.” She returned her eyes to Quinn, and the tears in his eyes cut her in two. “I checked on you. Every couple of days, I watched. To make sure you were safe.”
“I know. I felt you.” Quinn shrugged to wipe his tears on his shoulder, as unashamed of and easy with his emotions as he’d always been. “When you didn’t come back for so long, I decided it was time to go. I thought you were…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, and didn’t need to.
“Quinn, I…I…” She couldn’t make herself say the words. They were so puny, compared to what she was feeling.
“Please don’t say it.” Quinn ducked his head, hiding his eyes from her. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should have moved us. The cabin was so small and dark. I read about it – about what happens sometimes after…” He tilted his head towards Lark. “You know. You should have had light. We should have stayed where you were comfortable. There were a lot of things I should have done better. I don’t blame you for leaving.”
He thought she’d run away because the cabin wasn’t good enough? He thought he should have done better? Grace thought about what she’d become after she’d left them, the filth, the snot, the rags. She touched her shorn hair, and bit her lip until she tasted blood to hold back the awful laughter that wanted to burst from her throat.
“Quinn, no. It wasn’t that.” She wanted to say more, so desperately, but her throat sealed tight over the words. She shook her head, blinking over and over, concentrating all her energy on just holding it together.
“Well.” He turned to leave. “I just needed to see you were okay and to let you know that I won’t tell. Not anyone. Take care, Gracie.”
“Wait!” The word was so hard to force out, like screaming in a dream. She looked from Quinn, to Lark, and back at Quinn. “What’s going to happen? With her, I mean?” Her throat tried to tighten again, and her voice sounded strangled. “I should be doing something. I should be…helping.”
Quinn turned back to face her fully. He swelled to his full height, his arms tightening around the baby, who started to squirm and fuss. In this moment, his face held nothing of the boy, as hard as a man’s. “She’s mine,” he said. She could never have imagined his voice so cold. “I don’t hold it against you that you ran away, Gracie, but Lark is mine now. You’re not going to take her away from me.”
He stared her down for a moment, then ducked his head to whisper his shushing magic into Lark’s ear and walked away without another word.
Grace stood there, eyes fixed on nothing, as people continued to mill around her, talking, comforting each other, crying and laughing. Sharing their lives. It all seemed so theoretical to her. From afar, she watched Layla’s students gather around Quinn, the younger ones making over the baby, two older girls making over Quinn. Grace watched them flirt and giggle, and felt a thousand years old.
“Gracie?” Her dad touched her arm. “Honey, are you okay?”
She barely glanced at his face. “Tired. Can we go home?”
“Of course.”
Their path took them right past the group of kids, and Grace kept her face averted. Her breathing had almost returned to normal when she felt it: Someone was watching her. She turned, but it wasn’t Quinn. Over his shoulder, Lark’s round, dark eyes regarded her steadily. Her footsteps faltered, then stopped.
Piper had been right: The baby’s eyes were so filled with sorrow and knowledge, they made Grace’s heart ache with every beat. Somehow, she was sure, little Lark knew: Grace wouldn’t ever give up, wouldn’t rest or know peace, until every single man that might be her father was dead and gone from the Earth.