She saw Eric in happier times, along with his sister Rose Ellen, saw them as the children shed played with on Aunt Lucy and Uncle Mikes farm. There were Uncle Rhetts children, too, though shed seen them less frequently. They were so much older than she: Lauren, who loved horses, older by eleven years; and shy Ethan, whod grown up to be a doctor, older by seven. And theyd lived so far away.
She saw herself, a nervous teenager in a long slinky gown, dancing with Uncle Rhett, newly elected president of the United States, amid the dazzle and excitement of his first inaugural ball, and Dixie, the new first lady, radiant and laughing, dancing with a red-faced but determined Eric. She saw herself as a gawky child in overalls, riding on one fender of Aunt Lucys green John Deere tractor, while Eric laughed at her from his perch on the other side.
And she saw an even smaller child, thrilled and scared witless, arms in a death grip around her daddys waist for one exhilarating turn around the block on his Harley. Much later shed learned to ride motorcycles by herself, and had even had her own Harley for a while, but it was that first terrifying trip she remembered most vividly.
Her parents faces-her earliest memories. Their home in Sioux City. Her room. Pictures and more picturesseasons and colors, places and facesimages upon images.
And nownothing.
Im blind now. What if I never see again? What if its forever, and all I will ever have are these memories?
Chilled and sweating, she jerked herself awake. Her heart was pounding; nearby, a monitor was going off. A familiar hand was holding hers, stroking her arm. Touching her face. Her mothers voice crooned, as if to a very small child, Hush, sweetie, its okayits okay.
Mom? Caitlyn croaked. At least the pain was better; she didnt feel quite so nauseated.
Were both here, honey, her dad said. His fingers felt warm on her wrist. She sighed, and the monitor went silent.
Can I have some water? A moment later she felt the top half of the bed rise beneath her, forcing her upright, and fought a momentary stab of panic. She fought the urge to put out her hand, to try to hold away the nothingness that hovered just above her like a solid ceiling. She felt the smooth, slightly crisp touch of the straw on her lips, tipped her head cautiously forward and drank. Thanks, she said, and settled back, shifting to find a comfortable position.
How are you doing? Can we get you anything? Her moms voice was unsteady, and that unnerved her. As a physical therapist, her mother was used to hospitals and hurt people; it took a lot to shake her.
She squeezed her mothers hand. No, Im okay.
Her dad, from closer by, said, Honey, if youre up to it, there are some people here that would like to talk to you.
Ive already spoken to the police-
Not the police. Its He hesitated, which wasnt like her dad, either. Honey, its the truck driver you, uh He has-
Caitlyns heartbeat stumbled, then quickened. She croaked irritably, Is he still here? She didnt feel up to soothing his guilty conscience.
He is, and he has, uh, some people he wants- the sigh of escaping breath interrupted the flow of words -Caty, I think you should hear what he has to say.
Before she could answer, she was distracted by pain and pressure in her fingers; her mother was squeezing them so tightly they hurt. She resisted gently and murmured, Mom
The pressure ceased instantly. She felt the cool press of her mothers cheek against hers, heard a quick, husky I think I should go. Ill be outside.
There was a stirring, then an emptiness beside her. Caitlyn broke a brief and awkward silence. Dad? Whats wrong with Mom?
Bear with her, her father said softly. This has been hard on her- again, that whisper of breath -on us all.
Silence came once more. This time the memories that filled it were gentle and comforting: the sturdy strength of a finger clutched in her chubby hand; the crunch of footsteps and huff of breath and a tall man running beside her wobbling bicycle on a hot summer day; a hug and a goodnight kiss that smelled of a brand of aftershave shed never learned the name of.
Daddy, she said as the easy and unbidden tears came, Im sorry. Im so sorry
Hey The empty space beside her was taken up by that familiar warmthfamiliar smell.
I didnt tell youI couldnt-
Tell me what, punkin?
What I was doing. I couldnt-I still cant. Its so important-do you understand? Her eyes stabbed futilely at the darkness; shed have given anything to see his face. Anything. Please let me see his face again. Please
She heard a gusty sigh. The hands that held hers tightened, then let go. No, I cant say I do understand, Caty. There was a pause, and then her father added in a dry voice, Youre not helping, you know.
Im sorry. Weighted with a helpless sadness, she used her orphaned hands to wipe her face and heard a grunted Here- as a wad of tissues was tucked into her hand. Drier-eyed and quieter inside, she said tightly, I cant risk giving away the others. What we do is so important. The people we help have nowhere else to turn. It has to go on. Even if I cant
So, her dad said, and she could hear him struggling to understand, I guess its like the old Underground Railroad, huh? During the Civil War. Only you help people escapewhat? Domestic violence? Sexual abuse?
Abusers. Those the law cant-or wont-touch. Sometimesthe law and justice arent the same thing. She sniffed and, feeling tremulous and exposed, fought to smile. I guess it is a little like the Underground Railroad. With some witness protection thrown in. Sometimes its not enough to just escape, she added somberly. Sometimes people need todisappear.
Ah, Caty. I understand that. I do. But why you? Her dad was silent again, but only for a moment. Then he gave a short, wondering laugh. I guess I know the answer to that. But how in the world did you get into-
The Internet, of course. Her lips hadnt forgotten how to smile, after all, though it only lasted for a moment. It was my first year away at college. I was lonely, homesick. And Id get to thinking about how lucky I amyou and Momthe way you two met The sentimentality embarrassed her; she shrugged it away with a sniff. I wanted to find out more about it, thats all-domestic violence, abusers, stalkers, all that stuff. And, well, thats how it began. Im sorry.
Caty, honey. Im the one whos sorry To her dismay, her fathers voice was chokedthickened. Unable to think of words that would comfort him, she groped for his hand and patted it awkwardly.
From behind the glass partition nearby, C.J. watched the emotions play across Caitlyns face, graphic and revealing as those lines of closed-captioning dialogue on the television screen. He watched her father bow his head to hide the anguish in his face from eyes that couldnt see it.
From behind the glass partition nearby, C.J. watched the emotions play across Caitlyns face, graphic and revealing as those lines of closed-captioning dialogue on the television screen. He watched her father bow his head to hide the anguish in his face from eyes that couldnt see it.
Hed been eavesdropping unabashedly, with arms folded and jaw tightknots in his stomach he couldnt get rid of no matter how many times he told himself he wasnt responsible for those people being here, and this way. Shed made her choices, Caitlyn had, long before shed ever met him, and shed made him part of her crusade without ever asking him if he wanted to be. No sir, legally he wasnt to blame-probably not ethically, either.
He had a fairly clear understanding of all that. He also had a clear understanding, deep down amongst those knots in his belly, that there was another standard of measurement, one he didnt know the name of or where hed learned it-the one that says when it comes to helping out another human being in dire need, a man doesnt stop to count the cost to himself. By that standard hed fallen miserably short, and he was having a hard time living with that.
Furthermore, he knew he wasnt going to be able to live with himself until hed figured out a way to make it right.
Right now, watching the two of them together, the father and his daughter, Wood and Caitlyn Brown, watching their faces-the grief in his, the fear in hers-what was giving him those knots in his belly was the realization that there maybe wasnt going to be a way to make this right. Ever.
Though C.J.s eavesdropping hadnt given him much with which to console himself-and quite a lot that didnt make a lot of sense to him-hed heard enough to be pretty sure the subject matter wasnt something either party to the conversation would want the FBI to know about. So when he saw his in-law-once-removed, Special Agent Jake Redfield, and his lawyer, Charly, approaching, he stepped around the partition and announced himself and them with a warning cough and a gruff Hey.
C.J.- Looking relieved, Wood rose and motioned him over. I was just telling Caty- ingrained honesty won out and he amended it to -was about to, anyway. Here, why dont you He sidestepped hastily around the chair hed been sitting in and offered it to C.J. instead. To his daughter he said unnecessarily, Honey, C.J.s here. I told you he has something he wants to talk to you about. Some people-ah. His eyes shifted to focus beyond C.J. as Jake Redfield and Charly filed into the room, filling it to its standing-room-only capacity. Here they are. Well. Okay, C.J., Ill leave the introductions to you.
Though Wood backed out of the way of the gathering crowd around his daughters bed, C.J. noticed he didnt leave the room. Finding himself a corner, he settled into it and stood erect with his arms folded on his chest in classic military style, like a sentinel. Like a bodyguard, C.J. thought, vigilant and ever ready. Determined to keep watch over his little girl but maintaining a low profile about it.
With so many pairs of observant eyes in the room, C.J. tried his best to avoid looking too long or too hard at the woman lying in the bed, lest he give away more of what he was feeling than he wanted to. But a glance gave him an image that lingered, of those delicate, fairylike features set in an expression both guarded and intent, and at the same time faintly annoyed. He focused on her hands, lying curled and slightly overlapping on the blanket that covered her to her waist, and a different kind of memory, sensual memories of their featherlight touch on his folded arms made his voice gruff as he introduced Charly, then Special Agent Redfield of the FBI.