by Rona Jameson
I have no time to listen to Dad as he mumbles something about stupid idiots. Instead, I find a way onto Wren’s roof.
14
WREN
I’M NOT sure how long I sit behind my locked bedroom door, but a car moving away from the house indicates that Peter Wild has left. A few minutes later, I hear the Reverend come upstairs and go into his bedroom. He won’t be out until morning.
My hands tremble as I get to my feet and move toward the window. I stare outside and look up into the clear night. Tonight, there are no clouds and the stars shine brightly.
Careful to not disturb the peace, I open the window and gently climb onto the roof. I reach back inside for the blanket I keep close for these nightly stargazing activities. This is one of my favorite things to do when I’m not in the garden or puttering around inside the glasshouse. I spread out the blanket—careful I don’t fall from the roof—and then settle down on my back. I sigh in relief and finally begin to relax as my eyes dance over the bright stars. I often wonder if there is life on a star or distant planet. I like to think there is.
Over my shoulder, a hissing sound makes me jump in the quiet night. I turn my head and hold my breath when a dark shadow appears—Rafael. He seems to like showing up around me at the most unexpected of times.
Looming over me, he places his hands on his hips and grins. “You look cute.”
A blush starts to coat my cheekbones when I realize where we are. “You can’t be here,” I whisper. “The Reverend will kill us both if he finds you here with me.”
Rafael shakes his head and gets comfortable on the blanket with me. There are a few inches separating us, but we can’t be like this—at least, not here. My mind races until Rafael says, “I climbed up the opposite side of the house from where he sleeps. I won’t let him hurt you, Wren. I promise.”
Tears sting my eyes. “You can’t promise me that. No one can.”
He turns onto his side and his eyes look deeply into mine. “I won’t let him hurt you.” As his eyes move to my lips, he settles down on his back, his gaze no longer on me. “I’m sorry I left before. I haven’t felt…anything in a long time, and you made me feel.” He pauses. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you with your butterflies, and to experience a small portion of what you must every time they’re with you, it made me happy. For those few seconds with you, I felt really happy, Wren, and then I remembered why I don’t deserve to be happy, and I left.”
“Why don’t you deserve to be happy?” I pause. “And you didn’t leave.” I keep my gaze on the stars because I think it would be easier for him to answer, plus I don’t want to see his face if he lies to me about staying.
“I don’t want to talk about it now. Maybe one day I will,” he finally answers and sighs. “I was leaving but something compelled me to stay.” I feel his gaze as he asks, “How did you know?”
I shrug. “I felt you close, which makes no sense.”
He offers a kind of grunt in response before changing the subject. “Has your father always been such an asshole?”
I wince at his bluntness, but I don’t contradict him because that’s what I often call the Reverend in my head. “I don’t think so. I remember he used to take me for ice cream in town when I was a little girl. He’d take me to the hair salon, and to the diner for supper. I don’t know exactly when things really started to change. It was like my father had died and the Reverend took his place. The change was sudden and drastic. Like he’d gone to sleep one night and woken up as the man he is now. I was too young to understand what happened back then, plus, if I’m honest, I never really paid attention.”
“Power went to his head.” Rafael’s fingers gently brush my hand and I realize he’s giving me time to get used to his touch before he intertwines our fingers together. “I like holding your hand,” he admits. “I wanted to do this today in school so you wouldn’t feel alone.” He squeezes my fingers. “I didn’t want to be on the sports field with those idiots. I wanted to be walking home with you. After yesterday, I figured you’d be in more trouble if word got back to the Reverend. So, I stayed away from you. I don’t want you to be in trouble because of me.”
Silence follows his words and I’m happy to just lie here beside him while he holds my hand. The stars above us twinkle down and I feel brave. As though being here with him gives me the courage to speak my mind. For the first time since I can remember, I know he is someone who will listen and not repeat what I say.
“It hurt that you ignored me today, but now that I know why I’m okay with that. I’ve never had a friend before.” I hesitate. “Are we friends?” We stare at each other in the moonlight.
“You’re my only friend, Wren.”
I smile and turn back to the stars. “I’m glad.”
“I don’t really know how to talk to girls anymore. My social skills deserted me a while ago.”
Thanks to Alice, I know a brief history of what happened to Rafael and his family, so I stay clear of that for now. I’m sure that’s in the “I’ll tell you later part.”
“Pretend I’m a boy, then.”
He chokes on a laugh. “Trust me, you look like no boy I’ve ever seen.”
Smiling, I untangle our hands and roll onto my side so I can look at him. “The Reverend had a visitor tonight.” I pause. “Peter Wild. The Reverend likes him, but he gives me a creepy feeling. I feel dirty after the way the man looks at me.”
“What do you mean?” Rafael asks, menace in his voice. “Did he touch you, Wren?”
“He kept moving his eyes over my body and it gave me a bad feeling. I got out of there.” I chew my lip. “He didn’t touch me.”
Rafael goes into his own head while I look over his face. He really is beautiful to look at but it’s his lips my eyes keep focusing on.
“I don’t feel dirty when you look at me…or how you looked at me that day.”
Rafael blinks and I know he’s thinking about that day in the window. He swallows hard, his voice uneven as he asks, “How do you feel?”
I feel a deep blush run across my cheeks, but I’m not going to back down with this boy whom I really like. “I feel hot and flushed.” I lick my lips. “Swollen.”
“Wren,” Rafael hisses. “Stop talking, and please stop looking at me like that.”
My eyes snap to his. “Like what?”
He groans and closes his eyes. “Like you want to kiss me.”
Of course, my eyes stray back to his lips and I lick mine. “I don’t know what it’s like to kiss a boy,” I admit.
Rafael stares into my eyes and abruptly sits up, grabbing me so I don’t fall backwards from the roof. He turns me so I’m safe and leans over me. “I like you, Wren, and I’m not sure what to do about it.” He glances away. “Let’s try being friends, okay?”
Disappointment flutters through me even as I agree. “Friends.”
He nods and withdraws a piece of paper from his back pocket. “I drew this for you.” Hesitantly, he hands it over.
I open the paper and find myself shocked speechless at the sketch of my butterflies and me. He’s drawn it from memory of the day we first laid eyes on each other. I’m in the garden with my arms outstretched and the butterflies covering my arms and shoulders. He even captured Tiger Lily on the tip of my nose.
“Say something,” he begs, embarrassment in his tone.
“It’s amazing.” Tears clog my throat as I look from the sketch to him. “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.” A tear escapes and slips down my cheek. “You have a talent with pencils.”
“My therapist suggested drawing might help me to relax. I just didn’t know I could draw as well as I do.”
“Well! Thank you.” I smile through my happy tears.
“I’m glad you like it.” His lips twitch up in a half smile.
“I love it.”
Silence follows and when I find myself going to sleep, I whisper, “My mother left when I was young. The butterflies are my only friends, well, un
til you moved in next door.” I sigh. “In my own stupid babbling way, I’m trying to tell you that if you need to talk, about anything, you can find me in the glasshouse or here on the roof.”
Rafael studies me for a while, and says, “I’ll remember that, and when I’m ready to tell you what happened in New Orleans, I’ll find you.” Then, to my surprise, he hesitates before leaning forward to press a kiss on my forehead. “Go and get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I’m sad when he moves away after one more glance at me because with Rafael, I’ve let my guard down and have felt more relaxed than I have in a long time. I want to beg him to stay with me, to crawl into my bed and just hold me while I sleep. I know without asking he would do it. All I need to do is ask.
The only thing that stops me from saying the words is the man sleeping in the room next to mine.
The Reverend can never know of my growing friendship with the boy next door.
15
RAFAEL
WHAT THE HELL is going on with Peter Wild?
Dad meets me at the back door as though he too had been outside. I pause and then enter in front of him. We keep the lights off and move into the darkness of the old house.
“I wasn’t spying on you,” Dad whispers. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He runs his hands through his hair. “You don’t seem to be thinking straight is all, and I’m worried you’re not focused.”
“Dad.” I grit my teeth. “I’m twenty. I’m also older and wiser after the last three years. I know Wren is under my skin, but there is nothing I can do about that…the butterflies connect us in some way.”
He gives me a bemused smirk and raises a brow. “Butterflies? Rafael, that is not very original.”
“I’m going to bed.” I head upstairs and hear Dad’s footfalls behind me.
“Rafael, I’m trying to understand what’s going on in that head of yours,” he says frustrated. “You’re my son, and all I have left.”
“Dad.” I turn. “You saw the butterflies that day. I think they belonged to Wren. The way they respond to her is unusual. There is something…” I trail off because I don’t understand how or why. I’m not even sure I’ll ever be able to explain it.
“Who was there?”
Dad switches gears and I take a minute to run my hands through my hair. I tug on the long strands. “Peter Wild.”
I’m about to ask him if he can find out about the man when I notice the look of hatred on Dad’s face. He knows him.
“Tell me.” I wait.
“He was with Lucas Jacobs in Amarillo. You, of course, only know Lucas as the Reverend,” he says through barely controlled rage. “We didn’t have anything to hold Wild or Jacobs on back then. A couple of times over the years, your mom thought she saw Wild watching her. Each time I would look into it but could never find any trace of him. Frustrating as hell.” He holds my gaze. “And now you’re saying you’ve seen him here? This isn’t good at all.”
“Do you think he’s been here all along with the Reverend?”
“I never believed they’d gone their separate ways. They both slowly disappeared off the face of the earth.”
Dad looks gray as I slowly approach him and rest a hand on his arm. “Dad?”
He looks haunted when he tilts his face to meet my gaze. “I’m thinking Wild must have been the one to go after your mom.” He sits heavily on the stairs and drops his face into his hands. “On the day we raided, I went straight for Sarah, needing to protect her. The sneer on Wild’s face that day was something I won’t ever forget.”
Not knowing how to help, I stay silent and watch him.
“Wild had a temper, and everything we were told back then was hearsay. No one had actually seen anything. The case in North Texas had been solid enough to get a warrant for the raid. Various members—Jacob and Wild—had hidden their involvement well. There was also no evidence that either man had taken part in an underaged wedding, nor had there been any drugs found. I suspected Wild had disposed of his bride when he’d finished with her. Again, no evidence. I felt helpless not being able to get anything solid enough to hold them longer than we did. Perhaps if I’d pushed and pushed, then your mom and Roman would still be alive.” His voice breaks and I find myself swallowing back my own tears.
“We’ll get them, Dad. We’re here and they can’t do anything about it because of the house. They’d be stupid to do anything to you or me because they know you’re former DEA.” I grab his shoulder and squeeze. “I hope you know that I have to protect Wren. I can’t leave her to them.”
“I know, son. I had no intention of leaving her, I just wanted you to keep your friendship with her as just that.”
I offer a wry smile. “We are friends, Dad.”
“You like her though.”
“Yeah, I do. A lot more than I should.”
Shaking himself free of the demons that have surrounded him for all these years, Dad sighs. “Let’s sleep on it.” Dad turns and goes into his room, troubled.
I move up the spiral staircase to my room and sag against the closed door. My head feels like it’s about to explode.
They made a mistake when they came after Mom and Roman. A big mistake.
Knowledge is a powerful weapon that the Reverend has used to his advantage for years. No more.
We are going to stop him and we’re going to rescue Wren in the process.
16
WREN
COLD SHIVERS SLIP down my spine from the moment I step foot on school grounds. Unable to put my finger on what is off, I glance at the few students milling around outside of the building. Their conversation stops. Something is really off.
The Reverend had acted weird at breakfast and he’d worn a secretive smirk on his face. That bothered me too. There is a golf ball sized lump in my stomach, and it won’t go anywhere.
I nervously swallow and walk into the building. The hallway is quiet even though students loiter around. I keep my head down and move to my locker. The turmoil continues to grow inside of me as I enter the classroom.
A new teacher is writing on the whiteboard: Mr. Bradshaw.
My eyes focus on Rafael at the back of the room. His gaze moves back and forth between me and the empty seat beside him.
Hiding a smile, I sit in the seat two away from him, desperately wishing I was free to sit beside him. Rafael keeps giving me sidelong glances. I know this because I find myself doing the same until the classroom fills up, and I don’t want to get caught.
Mr. Bradshaw shows his disinterest in the class. His eyes are drawn to the hands on the clock more times than anything or anyone in class.
In front of me, Alice twitches, and her head tilts to the side. I get the impression she wants to tell me something, which is odd for her. She babbled the other day, but I put that down to excitement. Today, not so much. No one else appears to notice, and Mr. Bradshaw, once again, glances at the clock. A frown mars his brow.
I’m not curious by nature, however, over the past few years, I’ve watched and listened without drawing attention to the fact. In the future, the knowledge I have could mean my freedom. The something known as “the Reverend” hasn’t been right in this town for a long time. His sermon demands worship and for a reason I haven’t fathomed yet, they allow it.
As I start to raise my hand to ask a question, the classroom door opens and a teacher struggles inside carrying a shipping box. Without a word being exchanged between him and Mr. Bradshaw, the man leaves after setting the box down. Mr. Bradshaw smiles and opens it with a flare that surprises me considering how unemotional the man has been since the beginning of the class period.
“This is what I’ve been waiting for.” He digs into the box and retrieves a book. It looks like some sort of journal, which baffles me, and he continues, “All students are receiving one of these today. You are expected to keep a journal from now on. Write down everything you do to help your parents, and the Reverend. Everything has to be written down in this book. The Rever
end will choose ten diaries a week to read. No exception.” He looks so pleased with himself, and all I can do is stare in shock.
I want to vomit.
I glance around the classroom and notice the look of pleasure on some faces, and utter fury on Rafael’s. His fists are clenched so tightly on the desk that I’m surprised he doesn’t slam them down into the old desk and snap it in half. I don’t understand any of this. Has the Reverend finally lost his mind? Is this why everyone has been acting weird? I don’t know what to think anymore, but this is too much. Apart from Rafael, it doesn’t appear that it’s too much for the others. Had they known?
Mr. Bradshaw slowly passes the journals out, and repeats, “Remember, everything you do to help your parents, and the Reverend, must be written in this book. If you misbehave or get in trouble with anyone, it has to be written down. Any test scores from school have to be written down.” He smiles. “Because of your gift, I will allow you to leave the classroom five minutes early.”
Sitting in shock, I watch as though in slow motion the other students smiling and clutching their new journals. As if they’ve received a special gift. Something they’ve always wanted but never had, until now. I briefly turn it over in my hand, it’s flimsy to the touch. The covering is dark brown, and ruled lines are on the pages. I don’t want to see anymore so I don’t bother reading the headings.
Rafael bumps into my desk and I move my shocked gaze to his. “Meet me around back,” he whispers while moving out of the classroom.
Mr. Bradshaw watches closely before he turns his attention to Rafael and his eyes follow him as he leaves.
Not wanting to be left alone in the classroom, I grab my things and dash to the door, where he stops me. “Wren Jacobs, correct?”
My hackles rise as I slowly turn.
“I was told by the Reverend to say hello to you. Your father, um, the Reverend is a good man. I hope you know how lucky you are to have him as your”—he coughs—“Reverend.” His smile is friendly and open, it’s obvious by the color high on his cheeks that he’s embarrassed.