Whispers from the Past (10 page)

We got out and circled to the back of the van. He crawled inside and then handed me two containers. They were heavy and smelled of chicken and collard greens. I followed him into the building and down a short hallway.

We entered a big room with long rows of tables and many metal chairs. There were no lights on overhead, but a room on the far side was illuminated. We crossed to it.

“Edith, I’ve got a delivery,” he shouted as we pushed into the long narrow kitchen.

A tall woman emerged through a doorway that was covered with a clear plastic curtain. “Hi,” she said.

“Edith, meet Susanna. She’s an employee of Lucy’s.” He smiled my way. “Maybe we’ll recruit her.”

“That would be great,” the older woman said. “Do you know how to drive a van?”

“I don’t know how to drive at all.” I nodded as I admired the immaculate kitchen. “But I am strong and I can carry a lot.”

“Good. All arms are welcome here.”

It took two more trips, but we soon had all of the food inside.

While they spoke, I wandered into the dining room. It seemed sad, somehow, to be so empty. It ought to be filled.

I walked down the hall and pushed out into the night to stand in the yawning silence of the parking lot. There was little happening here in southeast Raleigh. The occasional car sped past, always thumping loudly.

A group of three men walked on the sidewalk across the street. They were speaking words I did not recognize. I turned away.

“Hey,” someone shouted.

I looked over my shoulder. The men had crossed the street and were standing not far away. I wasn’t pleased with their change of location, but neither was I afraid. “Yes?”

One of them took a step closer. “Can I bum a cig?”

“Bum a cig?” I shook my head in confusion. “I’m sorry…”

The man started running toward me. My skin felt electric, the same feeling I had when my master’s son used to hunt me in the woods. There was something wrong here. I spun around and reached for the door.

His hand caught me by the neck and pushed me against the rough concrete of the building, his fingers digging into my hip. Fear stole my breath and radiated through my limbs. My master had held me this way once, toying with me, his grip too tight to overcome. I had been trapped.

Wits were little defense against a man with determination and strength.

“I asked nicely, bitch,” a hot voice hissed in my ear.

The soup kitchen door banged open. “Let go of her, asshole,” Isaac said in a hard voice.

“What—”

An instant later, I was free.

Isaac gave me a push. “Get inside, Susanna. Now.”

I hurried in the door. As it slammed shut, I heard the stranger say, “Hey, man. It’s cool. I was just messing with her.”

A clock ticked as I rested my scratched cheek against a cool wall inside the building. I did not think. It wasn’t the right time to reflect on what had happened outside. Perhaps when the shivers had ceased…

It wasn’t long before Isaac stepped inside, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and urged me to walk beside him to the van, where he patiently helped me strap in. The three men were gone.

He climbed in and pulled out of the lot. I pressed back into my seat and stared straight ahead, taking slow, measured breaths. It had been so many months since I’d felt physical fear that I’d lost my skill at tolerating it.

I had been warned about crime in this century, naturally. I knew what to look for, or thought I did. Yet there had been no need to think on it deeply. Mark’s neighborhood was safe. So was Marissa’s apartment complex, as well as the bike routes that I followed routinely. I had not worried until that man had me helplessly pinned and stripped of my trust.

We had traveled all the way through downtown Raleigh and had entered the highway before Isaac spoke.

“Why did you go outside?”

I could no longer recall my reasons. My mind was carefully blank, and I wished it to remain that way. “I like the night,” came out on a whisper.

“It wasn’t safe.”

If he would not give me the silence I craved, I would simply have to take it. I shifted sideways on the seat and turned my back to him.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

M
ESSY
S
TRANDS

Where was she?

Her cryptic text had been more frustrating than reassuring, and I’d received nothing else from her. I’d called Marissa, who said Susanna hadn’t come home yet.

So here I sat, waiting in the parking lot outside of Lucy’s, wondering where she was. No one inside had been sure, although they seemed to think she’d gone somewhere with Isaac. His Mercedes was here.

An old van bumped and creaked into the darkened parking lot. I leapt from the truck and had reached the van’s passenger side before it braked to a stop.

I yanked the door open. Susanna unclipped her belt and fell into my arms.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

Her body trembled against mine, but she didn’t speak.

“Where have you been?”

Isaac had walked around the hood of the van. “She went with me to a soup kitchen.” He sounded grim.

I still couldn’t get what was going on. Pushing aside the messy strands of hair that clung to her cheek, I gazed down at her. One side of her face had been scraped and scratched. “What happened?”

She sucked in a deep breath. “I stepped outside the building,” she said, her voice rasping, “and there was a man.”

“A man? What man?” When she did nothing but burrow against me, I scowled at her
friend
. “Talk to me, Isaac,” I bit out.

He stood several feet away, watching me warily. “The soup kitchen is off New Bern Avenue.”

“You took her to southeast Raleigh?” I forced out between gritted teeth.

“She asked if she could come along.” He looked up at the stars and then back again, meeting my gaze head-on. “A guy grabbed her. By the time I got out there, he had her slammed against the wall.”

“Holy—” Her choked cry cut off my expletive. I cradled her more tightly.

“Mark, please take me home.”

I gave a nod and half-carried her over to my truck. She paused as we passed Isaac, and she held out her hand to him. He took it hesitantly.

“I do not blame you, Isaac. You did not know how I can be.”

He nodded, gave her hand a light squeeze, and let go.

Over her head, I exchanged a glance with Isaac.
I
blamed him. The twist in his lips confirmed that he did, too.

I helped her into the truck, buckled her in like a little child, and then held her hand all the way to their apartment. When we got inside, I practically hauled her into her room. She fell onto her bed and curled up on her side.

Marissa came in and handed me the first aid kit and a warm, wet cloth. I knelt in front of Susanna and did what I could to clean her cheek. Other than the occasional hiss of pain, she barely acknowledged my efforts.

When that was over, I lay on the bed behind her and wrapped her in a hug. She turned in my arms and snuggled her head into my neck.

It took a while, but her trembling eased. Yet I could tell from the tension in her body that she hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Susanna, can I ask you something?”

She nodded against me.

“Did you know you were going to southeast Raleigh?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know what that meant?”

“I thought I did.”

I sighed.
Southeast
had probably sounded like a direction to travel, not an actual place with a reputation. “It’s the most crime-ridden area of the city.”

“That is the part I did not know.”

I kissed her temple. “Please don’t go back there.”

There was a long silence, so long that I assumed she’d agreed with me.

But I was wrong. “It’s important work, Mark. People should not go hungry.”

Cupping her chin, I urged her head up until our gazes met. “It’s not safe.”

“I understand that now.” Her eyes fluttered shut. “Please don’t leave me yet.”

“I’ll be here. As long as you need.”

It was past midnight before I eased away from her sleeping form and slipped from the apartment.

Just thinking about what had almost happened was making me crazy. When it came to my world, there was so much she didn’t know. After this, how could I ever be comfortable letting her go anywhere without me?

I was the only one who knew her past. The only one who seemed to instinctively know what she would understand and what she wouldn’t. I alone could see where the gaps existed in her knowledge.

In her head, she might want me to attend the college I most desired, but she had to be terrified. I knew I was. She couldn’t make it without me. Not yet.

I knew that she and my parents didn’t want me to plan my life around her, but Susanna had to come first. She needed me to protect her from a society she couldn’t comprehend. As far as I was concerned, she had to be number one.

When I pulled into the driveway, I could see the lights on in the family room. I’d blown past my unofficial curfew without texting home. That had been stupid, but I’d been so wrapped up in Susanna’s problem that I hadn’t thought about how much Mom might worry.

I locked up the truck and went inside, bracing myself for a pair of pissed-off parents.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN

M
YSTERIOUS
R
OOM

I awakened slowly, blinking at the clock. It was past nine. Too late for me to attend the early service in the chapel at the end of the lane. Had I ever slept so late since my illness last summer?

Stretching, I breathed in the lovely scent of bacon. Marissa was home. I had never known her to go to church.

I smiled at the thought of a good breakfast and felt the tightness in my face, an instant reminder of my folly the night before. I reached a hand to my sore cheek. Perhaps I would avoid mirrors this day.

After donning an old gray skirt and striped top, I bound my hair into a loose braid. If Mark came over today—as he surely would—he would be loath to see me dressed this way. But it felt comfortable and proper to me, and I needed both.

When my phone buzzed on the desk, I crossed the room on bare feet. Three messages.

I exited my room, warmed by his attention. When I reached the kitchen, I found Marissa sitting at the table, listening to her phone.

“Hey,” she interrupted her caller, “your girlfriend just showed up.” Her eyes narrowed on my face. “Susanna looks like hell.”

“Marissa,” I admonished as I slipped onto my seat. When she pushed a plate of bacon across to me, I accepted a slice.

“Here,” she said, holding the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

I took it with a sigh. How would this conversation proceed? With anger? Concern? Demands? “Hello.”

“How do you feel?”

“I am fine, Mark. Truly.”

“Uh-huh. What does your face look like this morning?”

“I do not know.”

“Afraid to look?”

“Uninterested.”

There was a long pause. He was gathering his courage to say something that would upset me. I had a good idea what that might be.

“Susanna, you didn’t promise me not to go back.”

“Nor will I.”

“Why would you even consider it?”

“I shall not repeat this error.”

“Then let me go with you.”

“Have you ever been to a soup kitchen?”

Another long pause. “No.”

“They don’t need bodyguards. They need people who want to work.”

“Why does it have to be you?”

I sighed. How could I share what this meant to me? “You cannot understand what it feels like to have lived with hunger—and then find that you can help others get more to eat. I
must
do this.”

“It puts you at risk. So, yeah, I don’t understand.”

He worried that I would never be able to function in this world without him, and he believed that last night’s incident had proven him correct.

Perhaps it had.

It would not stop me from helping where I could. “I am finished with this subject. Let us talk of something else.”

“Fine. Are you dressed?”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming over to get you. When do you have to be at work?”

“Five.” I relaxed, glad that we would find a way to get our minds off this unpleasant incident. “What shall we do today?”

“Hang out. Just the two of us.”

“It is the best kind of date. See you soon.” I ended the call and handed the phone back to Marissa.

She tapped the screen twice and then slid it into her pocket. “Mark told me what happened to you.”

I returned her gaze steadily but had no response. There was nothing further to say on this matter.

She wrinkled her nose at me. “I detect some tension there. What’s going on with you and my brother?”

“He wishes to protect me. I wish to…make mistakes in peace.”

“Only you and Mark could have an argument where neither of you is wrong. It’s hard to take sides when that happens.” She sighed. “No, it’s not. He
is
my brother. I have to side with him. And you must admit—in verbal fights, guys are always the underdog.”

I chuckled and felt no ill will. He
was
her brother.

“So,” she said, pushing a plate of buttered toast toward me, “is there anything you want to ask me?”

Indeed, I had many questions. What other such unknowns would I stumble over? I had mastered how to use modern technology, but would I ever master how modern people acted? Was it my destiny to walk always one step behind Mark?

Marissa watched me with curious eyes. I shook my head at her and nibbled at a slice of toast. Some thoughts were too private to share with her. They should only be shared with him.

And there were yet some thoughts that were too malformed, too frightening to share even with myself.

“Fine,” she said. “Then it’s my turn. Tell me about the place you used to live.”