Grace would never be able to remember a single detail of her trip back to Rock Ledge Ranch. She slept somewhere, a deserted house or a shed maybe, slammed into the ground by exhaustion and grief. Persephone woke her at dawn, and they continued on their way with Persephone leading her one stumbling step at a time. Not until she found her father standing by the dining room table at the ranch did things come back into focus.
Martin had found the notes and diagrams she and Brody had left, and was hunched over them. He looked up sharply when she entered, his features ancient with worry. He took one look at her face, and covered his own face with his hands. Terrible, harsh sobs ripped out of him. He dropped his hands and came towards her, not trying to hide his tears.
“Gracie,” he breathed. He gathered both her and Persephone in his arms, then sat down in one of the dining room chairs and just rocked them both until Grace fell into a doze. She was vaguely aware of him lifting her, of being settled on the bed in the front bedroom. Then nothing once more.
Raised voices woke her hours later. She sat up and had to swallow a surge of nausea. Hungry, she thought, and dehydrated. She stood up and moved towards the kitchen, using the walls as support, and heard her father’s Marine voice.
“I don’t care who you say you are, or how you claim to know Grace. You look an awful lot like members of that gang to me. So move along, or I’ll risk the sound of a couple of shots.”
Grace ducked down and looked out the dining room window, to the grassy rise outside the kitchen door. Tears rose in her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hand. They’d made it. Adam and Tyler had survived.
“Dad.” Her voice was a froggy croak. “Dad, it’s okay. They’re friends.”
Martin’s head snapped in her direction, but he didn’t lower the rifle he had pointed at the boys from behind the shelter of the kitchen door. “Honey, I can’t tell if you suffered a head injury, so take a really good look. Be sure.”
Grace looked to appease him, then nodded, which made her head throb. “Their names are Adam and Tyler.”
They filled the kitchen moments later, vibrating with victorious energy and looking around. “The others aren’t back yet?” Tyler asked. His eyes swept over Grace, and he frowned. “It looks like things didn’t go exactly as planned. You need to sit, Grace, before you face-plant.”
Her dad was there in a heartbeat, supporting her elbow. “Bed or couch?”
“Couch.” She let him settle her in the sunny front room, what she and Quinn had always called the sewing room. The boys followed. Adam leaned back against the wall and slid down it with a sigh, scrubbing filthy hands over his face, combat-booted feet sprawled in front of him. Tyler dragged a delicate antique chair closer to the couch, then perched on the edge of it.
“I’m not a medic, but I’ve patched a few folks up.” He started to reach for her cheek, then looked up at Martin. “Sir?”
Her dad nodded, and Grace had plenty of energy to roll her eyes. “Long live the patriarchy,” she muttered. The corner of Tyler’s mouth twitched up, then he frowned in concentration as he pressed along her cheekbone. Grace’s eyes stung and watered, but she didn’t complain.
“Your cheekbone isn’t broken, but this cut should have a stitch or two. Maybe we can scare up some butterfly bandages.” His eyes cataloged the bruises starting to darken her arms, took in the filthy state of her clothing, and he started firing rapid questions. “What did they beat you with?”
“Fists and boots.”
“Any signs of concussion? Double vision or puking?”
“No. I have a headache and I’m dizzy, but I haven’t had anything to eat or drink since we left here.”
Her dad disappeared at that and Tyler went on with his inquiry. “Any trouble breathing, or coughing up blood? Cold sweats or abdominal tenderness?”
“For someone who claims to not have medical training, you ask a lot of questions.” She shook her head. “No, none of those. I thought he broke some of my fingers, but…” She trailed off. She couldn’t explain. Not yet.
Her dad returned with a glass of water and of all things, a Hershey Bar. He handed both to her. “Been saving that candy bar, just for you. Naomi sends her love. I’ve got some jerky and fresh vegetables when you’re ready.”
Grace nodded at him, and Tyler slid the next question in before she even had a chance to dread it. “Did they rape you?”
“No.” Her dad slumped against the wall and covered his face again. Meanwhile, Grace took a moment to appreciate the strength of her own voice. “No, they did not.” Her face twisted of its own accord, and she had to lift her fingers to discover something between a snarl and a smile there. “They were too busy kicking my ass for verbally castrating them in front of their groupies.”
Complete silence met her pronouncement; then Adam barked out a laugh. He leaned forward, his big fist extended for her to bump. “Hooah, little sister.”
Tyler scooted his chair back, tipping it against the wall next to Adam. Again, silence fell. They were both watching her with sad eyes, eyes that knew the message she had yet to deliver. Grace looked away, while something huge and monstrous tried to claw its way free of her chest. “I saw the explosions. Tell me.”
Adam started. “Well, we didn’t accomplish anything as kick-ass as verbal castration, but we did complete our mission.”
Without looking, Tyler held his hand out to Adam. Their palms cracked, slid and twisted together in a complicated congratulatory handshake. “No birds left to fly, Gracie. Not a one.”
“I had a little trouble with pilot-boy, though.” Adam nudged Tyler’s leg with his elbow, then left his elbow resting on Tyler’s knee. “He wanted to bring that last Apache home in the worst way. All this blah blah about how we’d use it for good and shit.” Adam’s voice fell to a deeper baritone, and he spoke with a passable British accent. “’But through him, the ring would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.’” Adam dropped the Gandalf imitation and grinned. “So I blew it to smithereens when he went to take a piss.”
Grace found herself grinning, too. “Any other damage? Their fuel? Any tanks?”
“Their avgas is up in smoke, unless they were smart enough to store some elsewhere and let’s be honest, ‘smart’ is not the operative word going on there these days. With a little more time to plan, we could have either destroyed or taken control of all their munitions. But that wasn’t the mission, and Brody doesn’t take kindly to improvisation.”
His name dropped like a bomb in the room. Her dad straightened slowly, his eyes examining all their faces, coming to rest on Grace’s. “Did he say ‘Brody?’ The same man that brutalized Piper and kept her against her will?” His eyes returned to Adam and Tyler, once again narrowed with hostility. “Which would make you the men that colluded in her abuse.”
Grace felt a sigh rise up from her very bones. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be easy. She took a deep breath, and held her hand up to her father. “Dad, please sit here beside me. You need to hear all of it. Then, if you want to be angry with me, that’s your choice.”
And so she told him, all of it, all the way back to the beginning. She told him about a message from a dying president, and finding in that call to action a reason to go on. She told him how she had considered leaving the neighbor boy behind, the same boy that would one day save her life and the life of her daughter, because she was afraid he’d be a burden she couldn’t carry. She told him she’d found her breaking point, and it hadn’t been at the hands of rapists. A tiny newborn with her brother’s eyes had shattered her, sent her plunging into the most dangerous situation she could find, in an effort to atone for her failure as a mother. She was still trying to atone, she recognized that, and accepted that she probably would be for the rest of her life.
Then, she told him about meeting someone who understood her, in a way no one else ever had. She told him about a man whose cool logic and analytical mind matched her own, and a relationship that became a place of safety. In Brody’s company, she was not unemotional. Not cold. She simply was. She’d known who he really was from the very beginning, though she’d tried to delude herself out of loyalty to Piper. She was still working on that and would give just about anything to talk it out with Piper herself. She told her father of strategies and hope, realizations and justifications. She told him about the door she sensed but could not open.
And then, she told all of them about the end. The angels. The peace on Brody’s face. Verity’s healing touch. To the boys, she delivered Verity’s words verbatim. When she was finished, Adam’s head was hanging between his bent knees, and Tyler was staring at the ceiling, his eyes brilliant with unshed tears. Grace rose and went to them each in turn, giving them the kisses Verity had left in her keeping. Then, her legs simply went out from under her. She crumpled there on the floor beside Adam, leaning into him, and felt Tyler’s strong arms close around them both. Her heart cracked open, and her loss rose out of her on a long wail.
She cried for Verity, because the world was so much colder and so much less ridiculous without her, and that was a tragic thing. She cried for Brody, because she knew with absolute certainty no one else on this Earth would. Persephone burrowed into her lap and snuggled close, licking Grace’s chin in comfort and love. They stayed there, bound together in their grief, while the world around them altered and changed and spun on. Finally, Grace sat up and wiped her face. Her father had disappeared. She gave both the boys another kiss on the cheek, from her this time, and went to find her dad.
He was in the kitchen, working at the stove. He turned when he sensed her and gestured at the small table. “Sit. I’ve got a soup started. Can you eat a granola bar with that jaw, or do you need something softer?”
Grace sat, relieved that they could both take refuge in the practical. They would talk, eventually, but for now, this was so good. “Where did you find a granola bar? Wait –” She held up a hand. “Same place you found a Hershey bar, and there is no amount of money I wouldn’t bet that Naomi had something to do with both.”
Her dad smiled, and there was something different in the expression, something private. Interesting. He brought her another glass of water and a peanut butter granola bar that tasted so good it brought more tears to her eyes. Taste of the past, soccer games and track meets. While she ate, he filled her in on what they’d learned. They discussed the Bear Creek people and their plan to settle near Monte Vista, which Grace considered adequate but vastly inferior to Pagosa Springs. He told her about Naomi’s plan to organize the relocation of Woodland Park as quickly as possible, and once again, Grace found herself in tears. She lay her head down on the table and just gave in to them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to her dad, when he crouched beside her and started rubbing her back. “I guess I’ve just held it all in too long.”
“I know someone else who struggles with that tendency.”
She shut her eyes, and pillowed her head on her arms, enjoying his nearness and his soothing touch on her back. During the long winter days of her pregnancy, Quinn had often comforted her like this. She missed him suddenly, the ache so deep and lonely, it brought on still more tears. Her dad scooped her right out of the chair, just like he used to do when she was a child, and took her back to the front bedroom. He settled her on the bed and pulled a light cover over her, then moved a chair to sit beside her.
“Sleep,” he said simply. “Rest your heart and your mind, Gracie. I’ll be right here.”
She slept through most of that day, waking only to eat and use the bathroom, and right through the night. She slept most of the next day as well, and the next, until she started to think there was something wrong with her. She said as much to Tyler, when she woke to find him keeping vigil. One of them was always with her, most often her dad.
“You’re healing, inside and out,” he said. “Sleep is the best thing for you. For now, there’s no rush. Just let your body tell you what it needs.”
She was out of it, but not that out of it. “What do you mean ‘for now?’”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Missing Brody right about now,” he muttered. “He was the only one who could stay ahead of your brain. Let it go, Grace. Just let it go.”
She made herself get out of bed the next day. While she’d rested, her dad and the boys had developed routines, dividing chores so efficiently, it left Grace at loose ends. They’d also begun to form friendships. More and more, Grace would hear them talking about things that had nothing to do with the tasks of everyday living, like hobbies and interests, or speculation on conditions elsewhere in the world. That conversation had stopped Grace right in her tracks. Here they were, fighting their battles in their little tiny corner of the world. How was it different elsewhere? In rural China, say, or Australia? Curiosity for the sake of curiosity woke in her, long dormant, and she welcomed it as an old friend.
When she felt up to it, she went down to the old Gallagher cabin. Animals had been inside, and therefore the weather, and much of what Quinn had left behind was ruined. From the stack of books he’d left, she salvaged all but the fifth book of the Harry Potter series, lugging them back to the Chambers house. She read the entire series over the next week, and was overjoyed when Adam surprised her with a copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The boys had once again been out scouting, and the conversations between them and her father began to lower in volume, taking on an urgency she didn’t want to hear. They stopped talking whenever she walked in the room, which was just fine with her.
Until it wasn’t. Grace woke up on the tenth morning since they’d returned, and knew it was time. She sat at the dining room table in the exact same spot she’d spent so many hours the winter before and began to write. She captured all of it, what she had observed and what she had heard. When she completed the document, she made a copy. She finally finished late in the afternoon two days later, and went to find her dad and the boys.
Martin and Adam were in the kitchen, preparing a rabbit Persephone had caught for dinner. Grace looked around. “Where’s Tyler?”
Adam looked up. “He went to find you some new clothes. I brought some back the other day, but nooo. Not good enough. He said they were old woman clothes and went to find you something more ‘stylish.’”
“And I found some, too, you hopeless slob.” Tyler stepped in the kitchen door, which had been left open for the cross-breeze. He pulled off his backpack and took it to the kitchen table to begin unloading its contents. “I found some new boots and a pair of tennis shoes in your size, a couple pairs of jeans, and some shorts and t-shirts. I also found some sundresses - comfortable and cute - and they’ll look great on you.”
“’Comfortable and cute,’” Adam mimicked, then laughed when Tyler straightened and glared. “Oh, chill, you fashionista. I’m just glad Grace has another girl around to bond with.”
“Spoken by the man who joined the army so he could wear cammies 24-7.” Tyler nudged Grace, pointing at Adam conspiratorially. “He wouldn’t know ‘style’ if it climbed up his leg and chewed on his ass.”
“I hunt. I fish.” Adam saluted. “I ranger, or at least I used to. Camouflage isn’t a fashion statement, it’s a way of life. Besides,” He waved the bloody knife he was wielding in a side-to-side, up-and-down fashion, indicating Tyler’s camouflage pants and shirt. “Pot criticizing the kettle.”
They bantered like this all the time, and Grace loved it. She and her dad exchanged grins. Then she turned to the pile of clothes Tyler had set on the little kitchen table. She held up one of the sundresses, a gorgeous tie-dye in blues and greens, and looked up to find her father gazing at her.
“Your mom used to wear sundresses all the time,” he said. “Even before it was ‘stylish.’”
“I remember.”
Grace held the dress up to herself and smoothed it, then looked around at all of them. She sighed. She’d stalled long enough. “I need to know what’s going on out there.”
It was almost comical the way they all exchanged glances. Adam’s eyes got big, and he looked for all the world like a five-year-old trying to hide a contraband cookie behind his back. Tyler was suddenly very busy re-folding the clothes he’d brought her. But her dad gazed at her steadily. “Let’s go in and sit down.”
They gathered around the dining room table, and her dad started. “The men you called Bean Counter and Little Man survived. Bean Counter lost an arm, but it looks like he’s going to make it.”
Grace nodded. “I thought I saw them both. Are they taking command of the gang?”
“Little Man is,” Adam answered. “And he’s a man on a mission.” He shifted to reach into the back pocket of his pants, and Tyler put a hand out to stop him.
“Don’t show her,” he said in a low voice. “There’s no need.”
For the first time ever, Grace saw true disagreement between them. Adam shook his head at Tyler, disapproval on his face. “That’s not right, and you know it. She took a hell of a beating for the mission and would have died for it. It was her plan, and it was genius. Not even Brody could do better. She’s got a right to know and make her own decisions.”
Their gazes stayed locked for long moments. Then Tyler sighed and dropped his hand. Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a square of paper, which he unfolded and handed to Grace.
“Well,” she said, when she worked up enough saliva in her suddenly dry mouth to speak. “Looks like they’ve got a police sketch artist lurking around there somewhere. And a copy machine hooked up to a generator, I bet.” She tossed the paper, a flyer with all three of their likenesses on it, onto the table. “These are posted around?”
“Everywhere,” Adam answered. “They didn’t get Tyler right at all – this looks like a constipated pug, you ask me – but you and I are dead ringers. I’ve only been going out at night since they scattered these around. People won’t hesitate to turn us in, believe me. We screwed up their gravy train, and they’re not too happy about it.”
Grace shook her head sadly. She’d done what she could. People would change if they could. “Any word on whether they’re still planning to raid outlying settlements?”
“Full speed ahead. Taking out the helicopters changed their attack plan, but they’ve still got tanks and Humvees on Carson.” Adam glanced at Martin. “They tried to recruit your dad for the crew clearing Highway 24. They don’t seem too worried about keeping secrets anymore.”
Grace looked at her dad. He nodded confirmation. “Whenever you’re ready, we need to get you out of here. Tyler and Adam are welcome in our community, if they’re interested.” He glanced to the side, speaking almost to himself. “I’ll have to talk to Naomi, level with her about the Brody connection. It could take some time to bring her around, but considering what they’ve done for you, for all of us...” Then he returned his eyes to Grace. “When will you be ready to travel?”
“Tomorrow.” She reached across the table and took both his hands in hers. “But I’m not going to Pagosa Springs.”
Martin dropped his head forward and started swearing, long and low. Grace let him wind down, then squeezed his hands hard when he looked up at her with anguished eyes.
“They know my face, Dad, and they will not forget this. Not for a long, long time. Little Man hated me before, and he’ll never stop hunting me. I’d lead them right to Lark, to Quinn, to Naomi.” She shook her head. “After everything I’ve been through, that is the last thing I want. Pagosa Springs is safe enough as long as I’m not there.”
“You and I will go farther, then,” her dad began. “There is a limit to how far they’ll go, Grace. At the end of the day, they’re trying to survive, just like we are. Their resources aren’t unlimited.”
“I don’t want you to go with me.”
As one, Tyler and Adam scraped their chairs back, preparing to stand. “We should just let you two talk this out,” Tyler began, but Grace held her hand out to both of them.
“Stay. Please.” She looked at her dad. “Do you remember what you used to tell Benji and me, whenever you deployed?”
Martin shook his head at her, looking hunted. “Don’t, Gracie. Please.”
“You told us that your service showed your love. You told us that you had to leave us because it was your job to keep us safe.” She leaned closer. She had to make him understand, because she simply did not have the strength to do this if he fought her. “Daddy, I can’t be her mama. But I can keep her safe by leaving. Let me show her my love the only way I can.”
Her dad’s face was quivering with his effort to maintain control. “I’ll go with you,” he said. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“I want to go to Piper. I kept my own set of notes on their trip, and I can find Jack’s home in Pewaukee.” She took a deep breath. “And I want you to go to Lark. I want you to help Quinn raise her, and I want you to be with Naomi. Please, dad.”
“If you think for one god-damned minute I’m going to let you take off cross-country alone –”
“Excuse me, sir,” Adam interrupted, a hard edge in his voice. “But if you think for one god-damned minute we would let her take off cross-country alone, you are seriously mistaken. We’ll take her to Piper.” He looked at Grace, and lifted his chin. “It would be an honor.”
Tyler nodded his agreement, and silence fell around the table. In her father’s face, Grace saw acceptance, even if he was struggling with the words. She rose. “Dad, will you come walk with me?”
Arm in arm, she led him along still-usable trails, into the heart of the Garden of the Gods. How she would miss the majesty and peace of this place, the beauty and scope of time that never failed to take her outside of herself and her tiny, short-lived, human problems. They spoke of little things, pointed out wildlife and blooming plants, named the monoliths, then found a bench and settled on it, watching the sun sink slowly towards the top of Pikes Peak. Deep shadows fell, cooling the day. Finally, her dad spoke of consequential things.
“Do you know which one was Lark’s father?”
Grace stilled. The eyes had given him away. Sad and fathomless, just like his daughter’s. Grace had recognized those eyes only minutes before he died. She kept her face turned away so he wouldn’t see her knowledge. She just couldn’t see any reason to burden him with it. “Quinn’s her father. And you’re her grandfather.” She looked at him then, and smiled. “Are you going to be ‘grandpa,’ or ‘grandad,’ or ‘papa?’”
To her delight, he blushed a little. “‘Papa’ I think. It’s less old.”
They laughed softly together. Grace leaned her head on her dad’s shoulder, snuggling close. They were losing the light and would need to head back soon. Plans needed to be made and provisions needed to be packed. The thought left her both bereft and excited. What would they find on their travels? Who would they meet? Part of her yearned for her father and his shelter, but even stronger rose the desire to leave all this behind. To start anew. She grinned at herself in the gathering dusk. In a minute, she’d be singing, “Just around the riverbend…”
“I made a record of what happened here for you to take back to Anne,” she said. “I’ll take a copy to Piper. Crazy to think we’re writing our own history, isn’t it?” Grace thought about that for a moment, and felt a resonance in her chest. A noble calling indeed, recording the history of a devastated people. Something a long-dead president would approve of. “Make sure people know what Adam and Tyler accomplished here, dad. There’s just about no way to overstate the importance of it. Their names should be remembered. Verity, too, and Brody. I know it doesn’t make up for what he did to Piper, but he’s a hero, dad. They all are.”
She looked up to find her dad gazing at her, his face alight with love and pride. “I know who to name ‘hero,’ Gracie. Don’t you worry about that.”