by Rona Jameson
I glance up at her from between her legs and grin at the dazed look on her face. I make sure to keep her eyes on me while I yank the shirt from her body and use it to wipe my face. My eyes snap closed at the naked beauty before me. “Will you please get dressed? My dad won’t wait all day.”
“Hmm. I’d rather stay in bed with you all day.”
Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open your eyes.
I do and watch her disappearing into the bathroom where her clothes are.
My body is strung tight, my cock ready to burst out of my jeans, but I do nothing. That was about Wren. I wanted to reassure her that she’s mine and goes where I will. Except, I don’t want her thinking—“Wren.” I moan as she comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later dressed in another black T-shirt of mine and her shorts. She has no clue as to what she does to me, which I try to ignore and remember what I’d been about to say. “You know I want you, right? Not just the sex. I want you as a person. I’ve been enchanted since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
She smiles softly. “A boy who draws me amazing pictures, and who climbs on my roof to deliver them to me, and risks the wrath of the Reverend, has to like me for more than sex.”
I splutter and end up coughing and wrap an arm around her neck to pull her close. “I don’t just like you, I love you, Wren.” I kiss the top of her head and grab a shirt from the set of drawers by the door on our way out of the attic.
“Wait,” Wren says. “I want you to know that I’m not looking at you as my savior. I mean you are going to get me away from him, but my heart is involved, Rafael. I don’t ever want to lose you.” She nibbles her lips.
“You won’t.” I kiss the lips I’ve been imagining a lot, a chain of thought I need to stop now before it becomes embarrassing. “Let’s talk to Dad and then we can figure out what’s next, okay?”
The look on Dad’s face as we appear causes me to grin. He’s embarrassed, which also means that he knows exactly what we’ve been doing upstairs. I don’t care.
“Remind me to give you something once our talk is over,” he says and looks at me with meaning.
I have no clue what he’s talking about until his eyes flicker between Wren and me. The lightbulb goes off in my head. Condoms. Now it’s my turn to blush.
Clearing my throat, I usher Wren into a seat at the kitchen table and, after unscrewing the cap for her, hand her a bottle of water. She takes a long drink as I pull up a chair beside her. I don’t want her thinking she’s alone.
Dad sighs, sitting opposite. “I don’t know how much Rafael has told you.”
“Only about what happened that day,” I insert.
Nodding, Dad continues, “I’m a former DEA Agent, Wren. When I lost my wife and son, I tried to find a lead, anything, to find the person responsible. Then I found a thin thread that linked the Reverend. You see, he had disappeared ten years ago and hadn’t been heard of until after Sarah and Roman were laid to rest. I knew. Sarah had always said the Reverend would find her one day, and he did.”
“You’re saying he killed your mom and brother?” Wren turns watery eyes toward me. “How can you like me?”
“Wren, you’re just as innocent as they were.” I squeeze the hand on her lap.
“It wasn’t the Reverend’s hand that carried out the killings. Peter Wild, I’m guessing was one, but there was another man, we don’t know who yet.” He clears his throat and his eyes flicker to me, as he adds, “Sarah owned this house.”
I snap my head up and stare at my father in surprise. “What? You told me Jeremiah had managed to set it up as our background. Bought the place.”
“I didn’t want you asking too many questions, so I left it at that.” He winces. “I’ll explain that after, but, Wren, I need to ask you if you’ve seen any drugs? Any suspicious activity going on? Because the DEA thinks there are drugs being distributed from here. They’ve watched for over twelve months and so far, they have nothing concrete.”
Wren looks pale while she stares at my father, taking in everything he said. She releases my hand and wraps her fingers around the water bottle. Nervously licking her lips, she says, “There is always something going on that makes no sense to me, but it’s not new. I mean everything is the same as it’s been for years. The only new things are the uniforms, journals, and the removal of all thirty computers from the school.”
“You’re sure on the number?” Dad asks.
“Yes. When they arrived at the school, I was thirteen and the Reverend asked me to count the large boxes as they went inside. I’ve always remembered that because he had never asked me to help in any way before. Even if it was to distract me.” She shrugs. “I don’t know anything about drugs, though. I guess they could be in a cupboard in the house for all I know because I don’t know what they look like.”
“The DEA got a tip, which had put the Reverend on the watch list, that it was heroin. The only reason the Reverend stayed on the watch list was because of his connection to the raid in Amarillo. That’s how I found him this time.”
“Didn’t you save Mom from that raid?”
Dad looks at me and gives a resigned sigh. “Sarah was married to a Lucas Jacobs in Amarillo.”
“What the fuck!” I jump up and glare at Dad. “Are you telling me what I think you are? Because if you are, then you fucking lied to me! You told me her husband died during the raid.”
“I’m confused,” Wren says.
I can’t respond because my head is full of disbelief and even grief. “How didn’t I figure it out?” I question in a soft voice. My throat feels like it’s full of glass as I chug Wren’s water.
“What is going on?” Wren holds my gaze and I can’t look away as I drop back to my chair.
“Dad?”
Dad runs his hands through his hair and sighs wearily. “Sarah DeLacroix was Joy Jacobs. Your mother, Wren. Roman was your brother.” It takes Wren a few moments of silence to understand what Dad is telling her.
She shakes her head while tears run down her face. “Are you sure my mother’s dead? The Reverend never said that.”
“I’m sure, Wren. I knew her while she was married to him. She helped us, but unfortunately, your father looked clean as a whistle.”
“She left me with him.” Wren glances at my father before staring in shock through the kitchen window. I’m not sure she’s seeing her house, but she’s certainly thinking about something.
“She didn’t leave you. She thought you were dead.”
“And she never checked?” I ask the question for her.
“The night of the raid, she wasn’t where we’d agreed to meet, so I went looking for her. She was distraught, she said you weren’t breathing. There was a fire, set by the group not wanting to be taken alive. We thought the child that had been recovered was you. It eventually gave her relief knowing you hadn’t suffered in the fire because you’d already been dead.” He pauses. “It wasn’t until after her death that I discovered you were alive. I’m just as confused as you are as to what happened that night. Why did she think you were dead? The only person who can answer is the Reverend.”
“Why can’t I remember her, my brother, anything from then? I would have been, what, seven, almost eight? I should remember something.”
“I don’t know, Wren.” Dad looks gray, and Wren is even paler than normal.
I want to hold her to me, comfort her, but I don’t. I’m scared she’ll push me away now that she knows the truth. I still can’t believe I never worked it out. I feel like an idiot. I’d known Dad was keeping things from me, I just had no idea it was that. The woman I’d considered my mom, and the boy I considered my brother, had been Wren’s true parent and sibling. I didn’t know whether to rejoice or be jealous. I shake my head. I have no reason to be jealous. When I think about it, I’m angry that Wren was left behind.
“Rafael?” Wren whispers my name and slowly reaches out for my hand.
My heart races as I grab it up in mine and hold on. “I don’t know what
to say.”
“Don’t say anything, son, just sit back down because we need to end whatever is going on and leave town…with Wren.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she states in a firm voice.
My heart slowly starts to sink when she squeezes my hand. “I need to know what happened to me in Amarillo and why my mother left me for dead. I can’t leave. The need to know the truth will eat me alive.”
“I get that, but it might not be safe for you to go home.”
She ignores Dad’s comments and asks, “How do you know Peter Wild is dead?”
Surprised, Dad quickly looks at me before he shakes his head. “The Reverend and two other men killed him the other night. My contact at the DEA wants the drugs.”
“I don’t know anything about drugs. I told you already. I do know that Peter Wild was a disgusting pig. He had my photographs all over his bedroom.” She shudders. “Sick.”
“The Reverend was in the process of pouring accelerant over Wild’s cabin when we left,” I add.
“You mean you were nearly caught, again.” Dad raises his brows.
“Tell me about the drugs, please. What do they look like? What kind of place would they need to store them?”
“The DEA suspects that they’re either getting their opium from elsewhere or they’re growing it themselves. Ariel footage doesn’t show sign of the latter, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
“How do you grow your own?”
“Poppies,” I tell her. “Papaver somniferum is the type of poppy that produces opium. The quick explanation is that the opium is removed from the pod of the flower. It’s then refined to make morphine, and then further refined into different forms of heroin. The market value for a kilo is around forty-five thousand dollars.”
“That’s a lot of money.” A frown creases Wren’s brow and when I’ve finished explaining, she says, “So they’d have to keep them hidden but still have them outside.”
Dad pauses and sits forward. “What do you know, Wren.”
“Stop pushing her.”
“It’s okay,” Wren says. “I do know where poppies are growing. It wouldn’t be viewed from the air because it’s covered.”
“Covered? How?”
“The forest goes on for miles. If you head toward the stream Rafael has seen and keep going straight, you’ll come to them. The trees hide them from view.” She shrugs. “I don’t know if they’re what you’re looking for, but they are red poppies. Pretty. The Reverend told me never to enter the area where they are because I could get sick.” She tilts her head. “Thinking about it now, the butterflies never went close either. Some would follow me, but they’d always stay back. I haven’t been for months.”
“At least he warned you away, and you listened.” I offer her a wry smile.
“I do listen sometimes.” She sighs. “I want to remember my mother and Roman.”
“We’ll try and help you remember when this is over and you’re safe. First though, you have to act as though you know nothing. He can’t know, otherwise, he’ll flip.”
“I’ve been acting all these years.”
“You go home, Wren, before the Reverend gets back. When it’s dark, Rafael and I will go and find those poppies.”
“Be careful. The Reverend knew the last time I went. I don’t know how. Maybe he’s put cameras up or something. But he knew I’d been there.”
Dad nods and I pull Wren into my arms, and whisper, “You be careful. If you need help, run over here and hide, okay? I’ll find you.” I kiss her pale cheek and watch as she leaves, her shoulders slumped.
“Do you think I should go with her?” I ask Dad. “She doesn’t look right.”
“She’s had a shock.”
“I thought she was okay.”
“Son, you’re not okay after finding out you were left for dead by the person who should protect you.”
“Fuck! I’ll go to her.”
“Not now. Later. Give her time alone to process everything.”
“What if she decides she doesn’t want any part of us…of me?” I lean against the sink and watch Wren enter her own house. I feel as though I’ve been punched in the gut. I just can’t bring myself to believe she wouldn’t want to be with me. “I won’t let that happen.”
Dad pats me on the back. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She won’t change her mind, which reminds me—” He grins and reaches into a cupboard, then places a large box on the counter. “Bought you some rubbers. Use the fucking things, Rafael.”
On that note, he leaves me to my own embarrassment and disappears to the front of the house.
34
WREN
THE MOMENT I’m inside the house, my feet pound upstairs and I hide inside my bedroom. There are so many things churning inside of my head that I can’t concentrate on just one. The main thing is how could my mother have left me? That hurts. It more than hurts. It feels like I’ve been cut somewhere deep and I can’t stop the wound from spilling out inside of me. I don’t know what to do. I want to scream and shout and kick. My breath is difficult to catch as I slump in a ball on the floor. All this time, I thought she was living her life elsewhere. Not dead. Now I’ll never get to know her. Or my brother. How could I forget I had a baby brother?
I’m glad Marcel had given me something else to think about because it gave me time to pull myself together. I honestly thought I was going to fall apart in his kitchen. No matter what the truth is, it doesn’t change the past ten years that I’ve lived under the control of the Reverend. Nothing changes that.
Dragging myself up from the floor, I crawl onto the bed, and roll onto my back. My heart hurts and I don’t know what to do about it. I was unwanted.
That’s not true!
Why hadn’t I told Marcel and Rafael about the church basement and the computers that I’d seen? I should have told them. The same can be said about the basement under the house. After what they told me, I wonder about the door and whether or not there is something behind it. Do I want to know?
I have buried my head for years not wanting to snoop too closely because I knew I would get caught and punished. I can’t get away with anything in this town.
“Wren?” My name yelled from downstairs has me frozen to the bed.
The Reverend is home and I didn’t hear his car. Weird. It makes the loudest of noises. I stay unmoving and wait.
“Wren, are you home?” he shouts again.
I’m tempted to shout back, “No.” However, I stay silent.
Doors slam around downstairs and then I hear the front door rattle on its hinges as its closed. “What is he doing?” I mutter, wishing my bedroom was at the front of the house so I can see if he’s left. I don’t hear anything else downstairs, even though I lie still for maybe twenty minutes. Still no sound. So, he’s left.
I want to know about the door in the basement. At least, if I check it out first, and make a big mistake by getting caught, the punishment won’t be as bad as what he might do to Rafael or his father, right? That’s my way of thinking. Not that I want to be punished.
Sitting up on the bed, I glance around and continue to listen for movement downstairs, but there is no sound, just the usual creak of the old house. I quickly change into a dark pair of jeans and my flat-heeled boots. They lace up to mid-calf, so they’ll keep me warm in the basement. I toss my own T-shirt off and give a secret smile when I look down at the black one of Rafael’s that I’ve borrowed. It smells of him, so I want to keep it close. I intend to wear it the next time he sees me. I hadn’t missed how his eyes had heated when he’d seen it on me.
A wave of sadness washes over me as I think about the boy who holds my heart. He got to spend close to seven years with my mom and brother—the family I can’t even remember. It hurts a lot, if I’m honest, and there is also jealousy trying to break free. However, I’m more than aware the Reverend is the one to blame. The one to hold responsible for my loss, and Marcel and Rafael’s gain, and then, eventually,
their loss. He’s an evil man who will soon get what he deserves.
Anger eats at me as I yank a sweater over my head and move across the room. My bedroom door creaks at a certain point, so I only open it enough to allow me to slip through.
I know which floorboards to miss so I don’t make a sound as I make my way downstairs. I walk quietly from room to room, but the Reverend really has left. I glance through the front room window and then the kitchen and see no sign of his car. I frown because I really did not hear his car when he arrived or left again. Surely, he didn’t walk from the church because that is unheard of.
Instead of wasting more time, I place my hand on the doorknob leading to the basement and my belly fills with nerves. I haven’t really thought about this. I hate it down there. I snatch my hand back and step back. Swallowing around my growing nervousness, I quickly move and grab a flashlight from the junk drawer in the kitchen. I check to make sure it works and then yank the basement door open before I can change my mind.
You can do this. One foot in front of the other.
The flashlight is bright as I move forward and close the door behind me. My heart races as I move the light around to check that I’m alone down here. I then focus on where I saw the door, and I discover it’s real. It’s solid wood and I blink when I focus on the padlock. It’s hanging open and the door looks slightly ajar. At least from my view at the top of the stairs it does. Telling myself I can do this, I slowly move down the old stairs, hoping they’re not making too much noise. I can’t hear anything with the blood rushing through my ears.
With my feet on the ground, I move forward, ignoring the scratching noise coming from behind. Vermin. That sound I am used to down here. My nose twitches from the foul smell the closer I get to the door. I tuck my hand inside of my sweater and cover my mouth and nose while my other hand trembles holding the flashlight.
Forcing my feet forward, I reach for the edge of the door and pull it toward me. It opens without a sound and I find myself staring into a dark tunnel. Questions tumble through my head as to how I didn’t know this was here, and I can’t help but wonder where it leads. I thought I was observant. I knew who was sneaking around with whom. I even knew who the Reverend slept with on which particular day. However, I had no idea this was right under my nose. Clueless!