That was the question, wasn’t it? She’d escaped Eden thirteen years before, had undergone years of therapy to forget what she’d experienced. Well, not to forget. No one ever truly forgot sexual assault. But she was able to live with the memories, to relegate them to the proper places in her mind. She’d been doing so well.
Until Sacramento. Until Gideon. Until she’d learned the truth.
‘Gideon,’ she murmured. ‘He changed everything. I have to see him. To tell him that I’m sorry.’
Farrah frowned. ‘Sorry for what?’
‘For hating him all this time.’
‘Mercy, honey, we’ve had this conversation. He left you in that awful place. He killed his boss and ran away because he didn’t want to work. Left you and your mama to bear the consequences, which were brutal. Resentment is natural.’
Except that none of that was true. It was a filthy lie, concocted by the men who’d owned them back then. Why didn’t I question? Why did I believe that ridiculous story? Why did Mama let me believe it? A sob started to take root in her throat, and Mercy fought it back. ‘He was only thirteen.’
Farrah cupped her cheek. ‘I know. He was young and scared. He probably didn’t know what you and your mother were suffering after he left.’
Mercy shook her head. ‘No, you don’t understand. I found out something when I was here before. I found out why Gideon escaped. He didn’t just run away.’
Farrah’s eyes widened. ‘What? How did he escape, then?’
Mercy thought about her mama, about those final minutes of her life. ‘Mama told me to find him. Right before she was . . .’ Murdered. Mercy couldn’t say that word, either. Because it was my fault. Her mother had sacrificed her life. For me. ‘At first I was shocked, because I’d thought he’d been dead all that time. But Mama said that he’d escaped, that he was alive, and that he’d help me. But then I got so angry. I said no, that he was selfish. Mama said, “There’s something you need to know about Gideon.” And now I know what that was.’
Farrah waited patiently, as if they weren’t standing against the wall of a crowded airport terminal.
Mercy swallowed again. ‘They hurt him. They beat him. Almost killed him.’
‘Oh my God,’ Farrah whispered, horrified. ‘Why? Because he killed his boss?’
‘He did that, but only because he fought back when one of the men tried to . . .’ Say it. Stop being a coward. Say. It. ‘Tried to rape him. He killed the man by accident and the other men from the community beat him so bad that he almost died. He couldn’t walk, couldn’t see, was barely conscious.’
Farrah stared in shock. Then she gave herself a little shake and asked, ‘How did he get out?’
‘Mama.’
‘Oh.’ The word escaped Farrah on a quiet rush of breath. ‘I get it now. Your mama smuggled him out, didn’t she? Just like she smuggled you out.’
Mercy nodded. ‘But she left him at a bus stop, all alone, hoping someone would find him. She had to leave him. She had to go back . . . there.’ To Eden. ‘Because of me.’
‘To protect you. Oh, Mercy. I’m so sorry.’
Mercy blinked rapidly. She would not cry. Not here. ‘I didn’t know. I hated him all those years. I hated him for something he didn’t do.’
‘He’ll forgive you. I know it.’
‘He already has.’ For that, anyway. ‘I guess I haven’t forgiven myself.’
‘No,’ Farrah drawled again. ‘Say it ain’t so.’
Mercy was amazed to hear herself chuckle. ‘It’s so. It’s so so.’
Farrah hugged her again, hard. ‘We’ll get through this. You and me. I won’t leave you.’
Mercy couldn’t quite breathe from being squeezed but didn’t want to move out of Farrah’s embrace. This was love, safety. Acceptance. ‘You’re staying for two whole months?’ she asked lightly, even as she clung.
‘I’ll stay until I know you’re okay. I got time coming from the university and if I get lonely for my captain, he can get himself on a damn plane. You’re worth it, Mercy.’
‘I love you, Ro.’ Mercy blurted the words, shocking herself. Farrah had often said the words to her, but Mercy had never been able to say them back. ‘I should have said it years ago. You’re the sister I never had. Your family is my family.’
Farrah reared back, blinking in surprise, and then her eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were tears of happiness and affection. ‘Oh, baby girl. I love you, too.’ She straightened her spine and grabbed the cat carrier. ‘Let’s get our suitcases before my mascara starts to run.’
Mercy forced her feet to move. One step at a time. One breath at a time. You can do this. Be brave. At least she had a few hours to center herself before coming face-to-face with her brother or any of the Sokolovs.
‘Would you look at that?’ Farrah said, pointing down the escalator to where people waited at baggage claim. People holding signs.
Specifically, people like Sasha Sokolov holding a sign that said CALLAHAN, each letter in a different color. Because that was the way Sasha rolled.
She was tall, like her brother. Blond, like her brother, with the same dark brown eyes that lit up with an inner joy that Mercy envied. Just like her brother.
‘That’s Sasha, I take it?’ Farrah drawled.
Nervously Mercy scanned the waiting crowd for Rafe, but he wasn’t with his sister. Relief left her a little dizzy, even as disappointment sat like lead in her gut. Why would he come to meet her? She’d left him without a single word. ‘Yeah. I, um, didn’t know she’d be meeting us. I didn’t even tell her which flight we were on.’
Because she hadn’t wanted Sasha to meet them. She hadn’t wanted anyone to meet them. She needed time to prepare herself for the hard conversations that lay ahead.
‘Mercy!’ Sasha shouted, waving her rainbow sign. ‘Over here!’ Not willing to wait – for much of anything – Sasha charged, sidestepping several travelers like a running back dancing upfield.
Farrah laughed. ‘I think this is gonna be fun.’
Mercy had just braced herself for impact when Sasha grabbed her in a fierce hug, lifting her to her toes. ‘I’m so glad to see you,’ Sasha whispered, then pulled away, holding her hand out to Farrah. ‘I’m Sasha.’
Farrah bypassed Sasha’s hand, going for the hug, and Sasha made a happy sound. ‘I’m Farrah. Thank you for meeting us.’
Sasha stepped back with a mock glare for Mercy. ‘It wasn’t easy. I’ve been here for hours, waiting on every flight that could possibly have started in or transferred from New Orleans.’