Alli Carson, being fed a hamburger, rare, with mustard and slices of crisp Mrs. Fanning’s bread-and-butter pickles, looked into Ronnie Kray’s face, so close to hers. His expression was altogether unthreatening. He might have been a mother bird feeding her chick.
She savored the tastes in her mouth, then, almost reluctantly, she swallowed. In his other hand he held a coffee milk shake with one of those bendy straws stuck into its thick foam. He brought the straw to her lips and she sucked down the sweet drink.
“How do you know my favorite foods?” she asked quietly. She didn’t fear him now. She had learned that she was allowed to speak without permission during mealtimes.
Kray smiled in a way that somehow drew her to him. “I’m like a parent,” he said in a voice as quiet as hers. “I’m the father you always dreamed of having, but never thought you would.”
She made a motion with her head, and he gave her more burger. While she chewed, her eyes never left his face.
“I know what you like,” he continued. “And what you don’t. Why would I want to know that, Alli? Because I value you, because I want to please you.”
Alli sucked down more of the coffee milk shake, swallowed. “Then why am I bound to this chair?”
“I bought that chair in Mexico seven years ago, at the same time I purchased a painted sugar skull, on the Day of the Dead. The chair is my most prized possession; you’re privileged to sit in it. Up until I put you into it, only I have sat in it.”
Intuiting her hunger, he fed her the last of the hamburger. “Do you know about the Day of the Dead, Alli? No? It’s the one day of the year when the door between life and death is open. When those alive may talk to those who are dead. If they believe.” He cocked his head. “Tell me, Alli, what is it you believe in?”
She blinked. “I … I don’t know what you mean.”
He hunched forward, forearms on his knees. “Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” she said immediately.
“Do you truly believe in God—or are you parroting something your parents believe?”
She looked at him for a moment, her mouth dry. Once again, it was as if he had peered down into the depths of her soul; it was as if he knew her from the inside out.
“I’m … I’m not supposed to say.”
“There you have it, Alli. All your life you’ve been walled away from the rest of the world. You’ve been told what to say and what to think. But I know you better. I know you have your own thoughts, your own beliefs. I won’t judge you the way your parents do. And there’s no one here, except you and me.”
“What about the others?”
“Ah, the others.” Leaning in, Kray wiped the corners of her mouth. “I’ll tell you a secret, Alli, because you’ve earned it. There are no others. There’s only me. Me and my shadow.” He chuckled.
“Lessons need to be learned, Alli. You’re beginning to understand that now. Lessons learned obviate the need for lying. And, here’s another secret I want to share with you: I don’t enjoy lying to you.” He sat back. “You’re special, you see, but not in the way your parents have hammered into your head.”
Loosening the bonds on her wrists, he took her hands in his and said, “You and I, Alli, together need to undo all the senseless hammering, all the disservice that’s been done to you. Welcome to the beginning. In this place, you’re free to speak your heart. You’re freer than you’ve ever been in your life.” He let go of her hands. “Now, will you tell me the truth? Do you believe in God?”
Alli studied him. After the whirl of confusion, doubt, and fear, her mind seemed clearer than it had ever been. How could that be? she asked herself. Looking into Kray’s face, she saw that in time she’d have the answer.
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “The idea that there’s an old bearded man somewhere in heaven who created the world, who listens to our prayers, who forgives us our sins makes no sense to me. That Eve was made from Adam’s rib, how stupid is that?”
Ronnie Kray regarded her with a contemplative air. “And do you believe in your country—in the United States?”
“Of course I do.” She hesitated. “But …”
Kray said nothing, and his absolute calmness soothed her.
Now the dam broke, and out gushed feelings she’d been holding inside ever since Emma, her only confidante, had died. “I hate how the country’s become a fortress. The president and his people have nothing but utter contempt for us. They can do anything, say anything, wriggle out of any wrongdoing, sling every kind of mud, hire people who slander their political enemies, and no one has the guts to stand up and say they’re wrong, they’re killing hundreds of people every day, they’ve trampled all over due process, they’ve blurred the separation of church and state, because anyone who dares oppose them is immediately branded a traitor, a dangerous left-wing lunatic, or both.”
“They’ve done that to your father.”
“Yes.”
“But he’s survived their slings and arrows to become the next president.”
“Yes.”
“Yet he hasn’t spoken out, he hasn’t denounced the alliance between the Christian fundamentalists and the Administration. Does that mean he agrees with the present Administration? Did the Administration’s media attack dogs pull their punches in return for his lack of criticism?”
She could sense him preparing to leave, and she felt a sharp pang of imminent loss.
“What do you think he prays for when he and your mother attend church every Sunday?”
“I …” All at once confusion overwhelmed her again. “I don’t know.”
“Now you have surprised me,” Kray said.
She heard the sharp disapproval in his voice, and her blood ran cold.
“I—”
Kray put a forefinger across his lips. “Mealtime’s over.”
Retying her wrists, he rose, vanishing into the gloom.