3
Ember
Somehow, I manage to fall asleep using Christopher’s shoulder as a pillow. I had tried to eat some, but my stomach and nerves wouldn’t allow it. But sleep at least came, although it doesn’t last for long.
I can hear Christopher and his mother talking as I go in and out of consciousness. He’s telling her the story from the minute he was hit upside the head and shackled in the cellar, the deaths of the poor people trying to help us, our marriage, our escape… everything. I try to ignore the words and sleep. I don’t want to hear what happened again. I don’t want the images to flash in my mind, even though they seem to be forever seared in my memories.
“This is insane, Christopher,” his mother says as I keep my eyes closed so they both think I’m asleep. “I understand why you feel responsible for this girl. I do. But you can’t be expected to take care of her forever. You most certainly don’t have to be married to her!” Her words are low, like a hiss from a snake.
“Shh!” Christopher snaps, and I feel his body tense beneath my cheek. “She might hear you.”
“I don’t care,” his mother hisses again. “This isn’t anything I wouldn’t say to her face.”
“I know you can’t understand why I’m doing this. But Ember and I grew really close while we were trying to survive. I care for her, and in no way would I ever abandon her. So you need to get that out of your mind right now.”
“She’s going to have a lot of issues I don’t think you’re equipped to handle. What about your career? You are far from marriage material at this stage of your life.”
“Yeah, she’s got a lot of damage. But we both do. You don’t think this experience fucked me up? Frankly, Ember is the only person who will ever truly understand me. That place changed me. Maybe for the worse, or maybe for the better. I can tell you I sure as fuck appreciate freedom and life right now.”
“Jesus, what are people going to say? Everyone thought you were dead, when in fact you were kidnapped. But then you want us also to tell people you’re married! Can you imagine the gossip this is going to cause? It’s unreal!”
“Mom, lower your voice,” Christopher whispers as he softly runs his hand over my head. “I don’t want you to wake her. And I don’t care what people say.”
“Maybe you don’t, but I do! And what about your job? Your reputation. You don’t want to be a spectacle or thought of as some broken person.”
“Maybe I am a bit broken. Have you considered that? And I understand Ember is too. Which is why we will stay together and figure this all out. I’m not going to leave her, and I’m not going to fight with you on this either. You need to trust that I’m doing what’s right for me and what’s right for her. I get it; I know we aren’t married legally, but in my heart and in my mind, this girl is my wife. Something happened in Hallelujah Junction that will forever connect us and form a bond that can’t be severed. So I need you to accept this. I need you to welcome Ember and make her feel accepted.”
“I would never be rude to a guest. You know that.”
“She’s going to be more than just a guest, Mom, and you know it. I need you to be there for her. I need you to be there for the both of us.”
I hear her release a heavy breath, but she says nothing more. The momentary silence allows me to fall back asleep. I dream of Hallelujah Junction. I see flames, I see Papa Rich, and I see the schoolhouse. Home. I see my home.
I wake up with a start when the wheels of the plane connect with the ground.
Christopher pats my lap in reassurance. “We’re here safe and sound.”
I blink away the sleep and notice Mrs. Davenport is staring at me once again. I try my best to not pay attention to the fact and instead run my fingers through my hair, wishing I had a brush.
“I arranged for a limo to pick us up,” she says as she reaches for her purse and pulls out a small mirror and lipstick. She applies it with such skill and precision, and I’m once again envious.
“Shit!” Christopher says as he looks out the window.
I look over his shoulder and see cars and people all around the plane as it comes to a stop.
“The media,” Mrs. Davenport says. She looks at Christopher and me and what we’re wearing. “Oh my God.”
“Someone at the police station must have tipped them off. Sold a story,” Christopher says as he leans his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. “Paparazzi is not how I wanted to be welcomed home.”
Mrs. Davenport pulls her mirror from her purse again and looks over her appearance once more. She then looks at me, reaches into her purse, and pulls out a small brush. “You may want to brush your hair, dear.”
“Thank you,” I say as I reach for the brush, grateful.
“Fuck. It’s a goddamn madhouse out there,” Christopher mumbles as he looks out the window again. “There’s no avoiding them. I see the limo, but it’s surrounded.”
“I really wish you two were wearing something else,” Mrs. Davenport says, shaking her head with disgust on her face. “I don’t want these to be the first pictures people see.”
Christopher turns to face me. “There’s going to be a lot of flashing cameras, loud voices, and a million questions coming at us. I’m going to lead us through it as fast as I can, but just keep staring straight ahead, and don’t say a thing. I’ve got this handled.”
“What are you going to say?” Mrs. Davenport asks. “Should we prepare a speech before we get off the plane?”
Christopher shakes his head as he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I’m not ready to give any kind of speech. I just want us to get to the limo as fast as we can. We’ll deal with the media on another day. I’m sure this won’t be the last we’ll see of them.”
“Why are they here?” I ask, my voice cracking from not using it for so long.
“Because of who we are,” he answers. “My family’s name keeps them interested in us.”
“And because of what happened,” Mrs. Davenport adds. “If they got wind of the story… this is going to be huge news.” She reaches for her phone and starts hitting buttons. “I’m calling Jason. He’ll help guide us through this.”
“I can handle it,” Christopher snaps as he unfastens his seatbelt and stands. I do the same, although my knees feel weak, and I worry I might fall.
“We pay Jason a lot of money to handle issues like this for us,” she says, ignoring her son and his wishes completely.
I wait for him to get angry and demand respect as Papa Rich would do, but instead, Christopher leads me toward the exit of the plane. It appears his mother and he have an unknown language I’m not privy to.
He takes a deep breath as the woman who brought us the sandwiches waits for his signal on when to open the door. He looks at me one last time before we exit. “They’re going to be taking our pictures. They are going to want to capture us and paint this story in the most glorified, horrific way. Don’t give them any reason to make this worse than it is. Stare ahead. Keep your emotions at bay. Just focus on walking to the limo as fast as we can.” He leans in and kisses me on the forehead. “It’ll be over fast. I promise.”