Pieces (23 page)

Jesse kept his eyes on hers. At least he wasn’t looking away in shame, although she believed he wanted to. He straightened his shoulders. “I know what I said that day, and I meant every word. I turned myself in. I served my time.”

“Not all of it.”

He nodded, looking away. “Not all of it, no.”

She had to bite her lip to keep the tears in. She wouldn’t cry in front of him. Not again. “Why?” she asked. “Tell me.”

He flexed his fingers at his sides and kept his shoulders straight as he looked at her again. “Because when I went in for one of my parole hearings, I was told there was a strong chance I would never be allowed to see you again. Not legally. You were a minor when we kidnapped you. Do you have any idea how bad that is in the eyes of the law? A ridiculous amount of time would have to pass before I’d be allowed anywhere near you.” She watched his hands ball into fists. The muscles in his forearms tightened. “I should have known I could never undo what I did. I should have known turning myself in would never make it right for me to be with you. I thought you would move on and I’d get over you.”

Naomi needed to sit down, but her chair was tipped over. She grabbed the edge of the table. “Then I went to see you,” she whispered, remembering the pink and white licorice candies spilled across the floor of the car.

“Yes, and I saw how much you still wanted to be with me. It was too much, Naomi. That’s when I started digging to find a way—any way—to be with you again.” His lips curled as he leaned forward and said, “To start over and never look back.”

She took a long, deep breath. “Even if that meant leaving your father?”

His shoulders drooped. “Yes.”

She knew what a sacrifice that was for him. His father was all he had, except for her. As much as she tried to stop them, her tears broke free. Jesse stood still, not moving to comfort her.

“I planned things so they’d work out either way,” he said, his fists loosening. “If you decided to come with me, great. If not, I’d either return home to finish out my parole—if my plan worked and nobody noticed I was missing yet—or I’d fly here, knowing I’d probably never see you again. Either way, I figured if you decided not to come with me, you didn’t want me badly enough. I could let you go if that’s what you needed. I want what’s best for you.”

But she
had
decided to come. She wondered what that said about her. She focused on breathing as steadily as she could.

“After you picked me up at the airport,” Jesse continued, “I noticed how much the kidnapping still affects you—how much
I
still affect you because of it. Despite how much I wanted you to come with me, I was secretly hoping you’d tell me school was too important and you wanted to stay. I was hoping you’d show me you were strong now. But you’re still so ... so—”

“Weak,” she spat at him. “That’s all I’ll ever be. Dependent on other people. Never free. Before I left to come with you, I was still seeing a counselor. It’s been almost three years and I’m still pouring my heart out on a couch. I’m still stuck in that bedroom with Eric, and I can’t get out.” Sinking to her knees, she buried her face in her hands. “I’ll never get out.”

Finally, Jesse stepped forward and knelt down beside her. Pulling her into his arms, he rubbed her back in long, smooth strokes. “I’ve told you before,” he said, “you’re stronger than you think, but you still seem to need me. I’ll admit I feel responsible for you in a lot of ways.”

“You shouldn’t,” she said.

“Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. Then there’s your mother. She controls you by making you feel dependent, but you don’t have to be. You decided to come here. You can break free of her and everyone else judging you for something completely out of your control—something that was my fault. At least I’ve made it so we can be together, so you have someone there with you every step of the way. I can help you get out of that bedroom you’re talking about.” He moved her hands away from her face and made her look up at him. “At least let me try,” he pleaded. “Can you do that?”

She looked out the balcony doors across the living room. There was no laundry hanging on the line today. “I don’t know,” she answered. “Maybe.”

“Good.” He kissed her forehead. “That’s a start.” He sounded so relieved, and it was then that she realized he still hadn’t told her everything. She was so gullible, and Jesse knew it. He had played her from the second he saw her lying in the parking lot all those years ago. The most terrible thing of all was she had known all along how much of a naive fool he took her for—a fool he loved, but that didn’t matter—and she had refused to see it or care. Now, as he held her closely, reality hit her. Hard.

“You don’t have a job, do you?” she asked in a voice trembling from fear or anger. She couldn’t tell.

His arms tensed around her.

She added, “You never flew here for an interview.”

“I have a job,” he explained, “but I didn’t come here for an interview.”

“It’s not architecture, is it?”

She heard him swallow. “No.”

“Then what is it? Stealing?”

He let out a sigh. “It’s illegal, Naomi. Those men the night before last aren’t only helping me out with paperwork. I work for them.”

“Doing what?” she demanded.

“Planning jobs. I research. Gather information. That’s it.”

“Jobs for what?”

“I don’t ask. It’s always something different, but I never know the details. Sometimes it’s trafficking, sometimes routes and technical data for espionage. It’s bigger stuff than I used to do, but I’m on the quiet end. The safe end.”

“Safe?” she shrieked, backing out of his arms. She was surprised how hot her face felt. “It’s all illegal!”

His eyes seemed to burn straight through her. “How is that any different from the rest of my life?” he asked. “Face it, Naomi. I’m a lost cause. I tried to do the right thing and couldn’t hack it. I wanted to keep all of this from you for as long as possible.”

She folded her arms and readjusted her knees on the floor. “Guess I’m not as dumb as you thought.”

He leaned forward, pleading in his eyes. “That’s not how I think of you.”

“Then how do you think of me? How the hell did you think I wouldn’t figure any of this out? I might be weak. I might be so blind and brainwashed from the kidnapping that I can’t see past my own nose, but I’m not
that
stupid!”

His shoulders drooped. His tense arms relaxed. “I hoped you would accept it once you saw how happy we could be when we got here. I hoped getting you away from your parents would help you see everything they want for you doesn’t matter. All of that is still possible.” He chewed on his bottom lip and then looked away. “You’re a better person than me, Naomi. You’ve always been better than me. I guess that’s why I’ve never wanted to let you go.”

L
ATER THAT
day, Jesse took her to the Vatican. Her headache finally slipped away as she stared at the magnificent paintings, how they bled from ceiling to wall, the colors so silky and alive they seemed to float against nothing. They were ethereal.

“This ... this is ... I don’t know,” she whispered to Jesse as he took her hand and squeezed. Several tourists around them started speaking loudly. An usher rushed forward and hissed,
“Silencio!”

“I know,” Jesse whispered as the usher left and everyone quieted down. “No words, huh?”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, she forgot about what Jesse had kept from her. She forgot about everything she had left behind. She forgot about herself. But it all came back as soon as they were home. Jesse drew her a bath and then they ate a late-night dinner of bread and cheese and wine from the market.

“I shouldn’t drink anymore,” she said, her mind fuzzy from the wine as she lay on the couch and rested her head in Jesse’s lap. He played with the ends of her hair as she looked out the balcony doors. She could see stars twinkling in the sky.

“Nothing wrong with a little wine to help you relax,” he said, smiling down at her. “I hope you’re feeling better now. This morning wasn’t easy, I’m sorry.”

“This morning was necessary,” she answered. “I wish you would have told me all of that earlier.” She looked away from the stars and found Jesse’s eyes instead. “Unless there’s more you haven’t told me.”

He blinked.

“Jesse?”

“Let me get you something,” he said, helping her sit up. He stood and walked down the hall, where she heard him rummaging around for something in the bedroom. Putting a hand over her eyes, she groaned. There was more he was keeping from her and a part of her didn’t want to know what it was. She wondered if the rest of her life with him would be this way—a web of secrets slowly unraveling.

When she heard him come back into the room, she removed her hand from her eyes and looked up at him holding out a stack of papers.

“What’s that?” She reached for the papers, but he held them up high as he looked her in the eyes.

“This is your journal. I made a copy of it before I handed it in to the police. I thought you might want it one day.”

She lowered her hand. Her journal. The dragons. The year at the house and all those thoughts and feelings she had recorded day after day. “I’m not sure I want to read that,” she said, shrinking. “That’s ... that’s everything I’m trying to forget about.”

Jesse sat on the couch next to her and gently placed the stack of papers in her lap. It felt heavy, like a brick, although it only weighed a few ounces. “I think you need to read it,” he said in his tight,
don’t-argue-with-me
voice. “You need to face this, Naomi. I know your counselors have tried to get you to face all of it, but not like this. I want you to read every word in one sitting.”

Her tongue seemed to swell inside her dry mouth. She couldn’t swallow. “It’s ten-thirty,” she argued. “I’m tired. I just drank a glass of wine. You can’t expect—”

He narrowed his eyes. “Read it, please.”

“Okay, okay.” She threw him a glare before picking up the first sheet. On each paper, front and back, were two photocopied journal pages. There were probably twenty-five sheets. She cringed as she stared at her handwriting. It was like her mother’s handwriting, but more cramped and unsure of itself. She remembered a few of the journal entries had made it into the courtroom during trial. She had cringed then too as her words were read out loud as an example of her state of mind while captive. In the end, the jury decided her written words proved she suffered from Stockholm syndrome and her obvious compassion for her kidnappers did not merit them lighter sentences.

Intent to brainwash
was a phrase repeated over and over by the lawyers.

Brainwash.

“They never loved you,” her mother had told her when the trial was over. “I hope all of this has made that clear. It was proven in court. Your kidnappers used you. It wasn’t love.”

No matter what anyone told her or how they tried to prove it, she knew her kidnappers had learned to care for her beyond any desire to use her. She knew Jesse loved her. She knew, looking at the words in front of her, that nobody except her and her kidnappers would understand any of it.

Jesse was watching her, waiting for her to start reading. “You want me to read it out loud?” she asked, terrified.

“No, but I see you staring at the words and not reading them.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll read it.”

“I’ll go wash the dishes and then I’m taking a shower.”

She nodded as he left. Within ten minutes, she was buried in her past.

XXI

T
HERE WERE ALWAYS DRAGONS, BUT NEVER
as dark as the ones before her now. She stood in a burning valley so hot that ash fell from the sky like slow-drifting snow. The dragons had started the fire, their scales blackened, skin peeling, their eyes hard as diamonds. She watched four of them land in front of her. Thick smoke curled to the darkening sky.

“I want to leave!” she screamed, but their only response was to open their mouths and breathe flames at her. She didn’t feel the pain, but when the fire cleared and she held out her arms to see the damage, she saw her skin was like dragon skin—black and peeling in jagged pieces. Falling to her knees, she grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the dragons. Their mouths turned up in sneers, showing their pointed, blood-stained teeth.

You read too many fantasy novels,
she could hear Jesse’s voice in the back of her head.

They don’t love you,
her mother said.

Remember why you fell in love with him.

She stopped at the memory of that last set of words, trying to remember who had said them to her. The dragons moved closer, and then she remembered it was Finn who had said the words. She saw the saltshaker on the table as he pushed it around in circles.

With a start, she sat up in bed, realizing all the journal entries were still fresh in her mind. She had finished reading them hours ago and then stumbled into the bedroom to find Jesse already asleep. She had crawled in with him and drifted off, but the nightmares made her toss and turn. Jesse stirred beside her now, his toned arms reaching out for her. Morning sunlight fell across the bed.