THIEF: Part 5
Authors: Kimberly Malone
THIEF
Part Five
KIMBERLY MALONE
All Rights Reserved
. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
“Should we start the new year off right?I don’t think anyone would notice we’re gone.”
I barely hear Alex as he whispers this, nuzzling my neck.Over his shoulder, through the flashing lights and confetti of my aunt’s reception, someone’s watching me.Waiting.
My heart races, then slows and drops, then repeats.Again and again.I don’t know how I should feel, staring at Silas Marlowe across the ballroom.Scared.Furious.Happier than I’ve been in months, if only in a flickering, fleeting way.
When our eyes meet, he kicks off from the doorjamb where he’s been leaning.I watch him head to the exit.
Suddenly, I remember who I’m here with.“Alex…um.I’ve got to use the bathroom real quick—can you get me another drink?”
My smile’s forced, but thankfully, Alex doesn’t notice.Winking, he steps away.It takes every bit of control I have to walk, not sprint, to the foyer.
I catch him just outside the front door.His name is perched on my tongue, but I can’t speak it.I won’t.
He stares at me from one step down.The snow drifts to his shoulders, and I watch a piece land on his lashes.Neither of us moves to get it.
“Congratulations,” he says.“You know…your aunt getting married. And, uh…”The sound of his voice, low and smooth with a hint of sadness, shakes my resolve.But not completely.
“Alex,” I tell him.“My boyfriend.”
Silas snorts, his smirk masking something.“You love him?”
I hesitate.Just a second, but enough for him to nod sarcastically when I answer, “Yes.I do love him.”My anger bubbles again.I want to strangle him, right on the stoop.“What, did you think I’d wait for you?After what you did to me?”
“Erin,” he says, dragging a hand across his face.My name leaving his mouth weakens my knees; I steady myself against the door, pulling it shut behind me.“Of course I didn’t think you would wait.I…I wouldn’t have wanted you to.”He pauses, glancing at the door, as though he can see Alex through it.“I can’t apologize enough.For all of it.”
“Agreed.”
We stand in silence for a moment.I finally notice the cold and shiver.
“Well, uh…it’s chilly out.Get back to, uh…”
“Alex,” I finish.
“Right.”He sighs, his gaze sweeping the road at the edge of the property, as though a getaway car’s revved up and waiting.“I just wanted to stop by.”
“Right.”
He looks back at me.For some reason, despite never wanting to see his face again, I don’t want him to leave.
“Silas, wait.”I reach for his arm, blush, and let go like touching a hot stove.“Why are you really here?”
He slips his hands into his coat pockets, shrugging.“Saw your aunt’s wedding announcement in the paper, that’s all.Wanted to congratulate you.”
I just stare at him.“Congratulate me.When you’re on the run for theft and kidnapping.”
Silas lets his eyes drift to our feet.“Fine.I...wanted to see you.”He glances up at me from under his brow.“Found out about the wedding through a friend.Won't say who.”
“You wanted to see me.”
He nods.
“Why?”
“Jesus, Erin, I don’t know.”He rubs his face again, exhaling sharply, and starts pacing in a small circle on the porch.“Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you for a single second since I left.Because…because I feel like complete shit for hurting you the way I did.”His voice hitches, and he stops, his back to me.“Because I love you.And the thought of never seeing you again…”His words trail to silence, caught in the wind and soft hush of snow.
“I love you too,” I whisper.He turns around, hopeful, and I’m quick to add, “But I’m with Alex now.”
“Yeah,” he says, taking a breath, “and you love him.”
“Yes.”
He steps closer, barely a foot between us.“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Erin.I know that.I mean…I don’t even deserve to be here, in front of you, without you killing me.”His laugh is nervous, as though I might just do it.“But if you let me explain, you know, just tell you why I did what I did…I think it might help.”
“Help you, or help me?”
Silas hesitates.“Both, maybe.Or neither.”He lowers his head, looking up at me through his hair—or he would be, if it weren’t shaved so close now.“We won’t know till we try.”
I study his eyes a moment.He seems genuine, and while my anger boils in my stomach, and my logic screams inside my head that everything about this is a bad idea…the piece of me that still loves Silas takes his hand.
The foyer’s empty.“Up here,” I tell him, pulling him to the staircase.I let go of his hand on the landing when he squeezes my fingers slightly.
There’s only one place I know where we can be alone to talk, without the risk of someone walking in.I nod towards the linen room, remind Silas to keep his voice down, and open the door.
“Put this under the door,” I tell him, tossing him a long, cylindrical pillow.When he’s covered the gap, I turn on the lights.
“Erin…oh, my God.”He covers his mouth with his hand, his eyes sweeping up and down my emaciated body.Even with Fiona’s makeup tricks, the dark circles under my eyes and the hollows of my cheeks must still be visible.“What happened?”
My face burns with embarrassment, and even more anger.“I’ve...been sick.”
Silas steps forward, his hand slowly reaching for my shoulder.I shut my eyes as his thumb touches my collarbone.“Not eating?” he asks.“Like…because of me?”
I slap his hand away.“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammers, “but it’s just—”
“I know, I look like shit, okay?”
“No, no.I didn’t mean it like that.”He takes a breath, rubbing his face again.In the light, I study him more closely too.The soft, charcoal-colored bangs falling across his eyes are gone.His hair’s shorn, as though hacked at with a straight razor, and bleached to a brassy white-blonde.The scruff around his jaw is thicker now, more of a beard.He smells like a bar: heavy smoke and sweet, oaky liquor.
“You’re still so…so beautiful.”He whispers this.I shut my eyes as his hand brushes a loose piece of hair from my face.
“Kidney failure.”I pull my head back.“I’ve been in and out of the hospital for weeks.”
“God, Erin…I—I’m sorry.”Silas cracks his knuckles, his eyes watering as he scans me again.“Are you….”
“Dying?” I snap.
He bites his lip, waiting.
I wish I were calloused enough to let him believe the worst, but as bitter and bitchy as I can be, I don’t have the heart.“I’m okay now,” I tell him.“Just finished treatment a few weeks ago.In a month or so, they’ll tell me if I’m cured or not.But my prognosis is good.”
Silas brightens at this, just a little.“I should have been here for you,” he says.
I don’t agree or disagree; instead, I sit on a wooden trunk in the corner, arms folded, and nod at him.“You wanted to explain yourself.Now’s your chance.”
He nods, as if suddenly remembering why we’re really here.“I didn’t mean for you to get blamed for what I stole from the ranch,” he says, and when I roll my eyes, he adds, “I mean, I did at first.But I didn’t know anything about you, Erin—I saw some form on Juliet’s desk, about a new community service member coming in, and I knew if anyone did notice the money missing, it’d get pinned on the new serve.
“I didn’t know it was you.We got community people there all the time.”Silas starts to pace again, his footsteps muffled by the blankets and curtains pooling on the floor.“I started stealing the money before I even met you.The first morning you arrived.Piece by piece.”
“You could have stopped.Like…shit, I don’t know, when you asked me out on a date, maybe?When you realized you liked me?”
“I wanted to, but it was already on its way to Mexico.”
I just stare at him.“On its way…to Mexico.”
“Yes,” he nods, as though this doesn’t sound crazy to anyone but me.“I couldn’t have it in an account with my name, you know?So I was mailing it, a little at a time, to this guy there.A doctor.Actually, a…plastic surgeon.”
Suddenly, it all clicks into place.“To fix Emma’s eye.”
Silas moves a few feet forward, his eyes pleading with me to understand.“For years I’ve been to doctor after doctor.All of them refused to operate on her—said it just wasn’t possible to fix her eye socket, even for a glass eye to fit.”
“But then you found one who would.”
He nods again, jittery, as though he’s been dying to find someone to tell this to.“Not just reconstructive, Erin,” he whispers, pulling a wooden stool up.He sits, our knees touching.“This doctor said he could replace the entire socket and eye—even the hair for her lashes and eyebrows.”I think I see tears forming across his eyes, but the dim light makes it hard to tell.“I just had to come up with the money—and I did.A little at a time, from every place I’ve ever worked.I robbed neighbors that went out of town.I sold just about everything I owned.Stopped paying all the bills I could, sold my car and bought a piece of shit.”
“This miracle doctor doesn’t come cheap, huh?”
Silas glances at me.“He can make her normal, Erin.This doctor can undo everything I did to her.”
Involuntarily, I picture the story Silas told me: how he got wasted, years back, and accidentally started the fire that burned his then-baby daughter.I met her before I even knew she was his, at the special education ranch where Silas and I worked.I can still remember her face, with or without the many kidnapping reports I’ve seen since Silas took off: her beautiful eye, a strange mix of green and blue and silver, in such stark contrast to the stretch of scarred, disfigured skin where her other eye should be.
“So is that where she is?” I ask him.“Mexico?”
“Not yet.”His knees jump and shake; I start to wonder when he slept last, or if he’s on drugs or drunk, or some combination of the three.“Finally got enough—I’m taking her as soon as I leave here.Tonight.”
“Silas, this is crazy.You can’t kidnap a child and take her to Mexico for some experimental surgery.”
“He’s done it before, Erin—I’ve seen photos.”Silas rakes his fingers through his hair, but does it too much and grabs air, as though his hair was cut off only recently.“I’m telling you, this doctor can make Emma look the way she’s supposed to.He’ll restore her vision, give her confidence, help her fit in.”He leans forward, his arms resting on his knees, and looks up at me.“Then I’ll take her home, to her mom.She can get on with her life, and I’ll…turn myself in.”
I watch his head fall again as he says this.“You’ll be in prison, Silas.For…I don’t even know how long.”
“It’s worth it,” he says, “if I can give Emma even a small part of—of what I took from her.”Finally, the tears fall.Silas covers his face and weeps.
And, try as I might to fight it, something inside of me breaks.I reach out to him, touching the side of his face with my hand.He won’t look at me, but places his hand overtop mine, holding it there.
“Please don’t tell anyone I’ve been here,” he whispers.“I just need a few more months.He’ll do the surgeries in stages, and once she’s healed, I’ll bring her home.I’ll take what I’ve got coming.I just need time.”
I move my thumb across his skin, back and forth, slowly.“I won’t tell anyone, Silas.I promise.”
He moves his eyes to mine again.“Thank you.”
We stay like that a minute.A burst of party noise—faint, but distinct—comes through the vents and snaps me into reality again.I pull my hand back, standing.
“I don’t forgive you,” I tell him firmly, “but now, at least, I understand why you did it.And maybe someday—I don’t know when, or even for sure, just saying it’s possible—I could see myself…”
Silas stands too.“Like I said, I’ll understand if you never forgive me.I just needed you to know…I didn’t want to hurt you.”He spreads his hands.“All of this was for Emma.”
“I understand,” I say again.
“That’s more than I deserve.But it makes me really, really happy to hear.”He checks his watch, rocking back on his heels.“Guess you have to get back down there, huh?I bet people are noticing—” He stops, looking around the room.
“What?”
“What is this?” he asks, kicking at the pile of pillows Alex and I used as a bed, just a few hours ago.It feels like another lifetime now.
