“Will you take me to my husband?” Lila asks and Nathan nods.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Seven
N athan should have left hours ago. He finished packing his bags this morning and gave his statement to the company. There will be no police involvement; there isn’t anything that the police will be able to do for any of them. Nathan knows how these sorts of cases will work. The Kramer family will be given all new identities and more than enough money to make up for the time that they have lost. They will be given passports to any location that they choose, to be of any country of origin, or they will be provided with a new home to make the rest of their life with so long as it’s in another state. They will be compensated greatly for no other reason than that they are good people, and that the company wants to make sure that they keep their mouths shut. So long as they never speak of what happened to them and fully commit themselves to their new lives, they will live out however many years that they have left in peace and total happiness.
Nathan should have left it at that, but instead, he asked to be allowed to personally deliver the money to the family so that he could mentally close this chapter of his life. It’s getting harder and harder to let go of things. It’s getting harder to just let it pass by him and not want to be involved. Some part of Nathan wants to witness for himself that they are alright.
When he pulls into the driveway, the grass is mowed, and the porch has been repainted. No doubt, those things were done in the cover of darkness while the family recovered in order to make the house ready for sale. The car in the driveway in front of him has had four new tires put on, and inside, no doubt, the carpet has had the stench of years of spilled liquor scrubbed out of it. This time, when he walks up the front porch steps, gently massaging the raw skin on his wrists where the shackles had been hours before, he isn’t smacked in the face with the unwashed smell, and the man who flings open the door isn’t at all the same Bradley Kramer that he met two days ago.
Bradley flings himself out of the doorway and wraps both of his arms around Nathan’s neck uninvited and holds the man close with trembling arms. Nathan knows that he’s muttering something into the fabric covering his shoulder, but he can’t understand what it is until he pulls away. “Thank you,” Bradley breathes, tears threatening him again. No doubt, it will take months for the red rims and heavy, purple bags under his eyes to fade, but there is music coming from inside the house. There is life happening here, and hopefully, it will continue to thrive like this until such a time as they choose to do something else with their time, until they decide where they want to move or who they want to become. Never before has Nathan really put too much value into the choice side of things. He’s never given those choices. He goes where he is told and when. He becomes the people that he is asked to be, and he never thinks too much about it.
“I never thought….I never considered that maybe….Lila’s told me everything,” Bradley confesses with soft tones, his hands still clasped on either of Nathan’s shoulders. “Lila’s sleeping now; she says the mattress is as good as she remembers it. Emma will take longer...she doesn’t understand what happened...I never thought that they would still be alive...and they are, and they are home...because of you. How can I ever repay you? Please, name anything in the world.”
Nathan smiles softly, for there is nothing that he could even dream of wanting that this man in front of him would at all be able to give him. “Stay kind, don’t ever give up.”
Bradley nods. “I promise. I don’t know who you really are, or how you made all of this possible, and I don’t care. Whatever happened to put you on this path, you’ve forever saved my life, and I am indebted to you. Please, wherever I go, should you ever need to find me, my door will always be open to you.” Bradley considers inviting him inside, but his daughter is focused on the television like it’s the most novel thing in the world, and Nathan wouldn’t dream of interrupting that. He wouldn’t know how to answer any questions that she might have anyway. So instead, he nods, and Bradley releases Nathan’s arms. Nathan holds out the attaché case full of stacks of money and their documents for starting over. Nathan hands him an entire new life, neatly contained inside of a bag, and he’s beyond happy to do it. The longing for companionship of his own starts to tug at him. He’s not certain if it’s for family, a loved one, or simply just friends. Perhaps he just wants something.
It’s for the best that he doesn’t get to see Lila again. He didn’t have a chance to ask her if she was really able to see the same things that he had, or if he had simply imagined it. Would it be better for him not to know? Would the company let her leave if they knew the truth? If they knew that perhaps she could have the visions as well? Nathan wants to ask her if she has ever had visions before, if she knew him somehow from some other point in his life. Though, if she did answer any of those questions, the company would know. They always know, and Lila has been through enough already, so Nathan doesn’t say anything else. Those questions will all go unanswered, and he will find a way to be fine with it.
With a final nod and not another word, Nathan heads back to the car that the company has agreed to let him keep. It’s not as nice as the black sedan that he had before, but the hybrid will suit him just fine. It’s comfortable enough and most importantly, it’s quiet.
Opening the driver's side door, he slides inside, the car coming to life with the press of a button just as the phone in his pocket vibrates, likely with his next assignment. He places it on the dashboard and pulls out of the driveway, planning to read it whenever he returns to his hotel suite for a much deserved long shower and an indulgent meal from room service.
He makes it about halfway there before he has to pull over, the curiosity getting the better of him, and to his surprise, it’s an information file instead of coordinates, this time detailing his high school and college transcripts with only the names of the individual schools blanked out. Decent grades, it’s not much to go off of, but it’s an insight into the person that he used to be. An average student at the very least. Just another small puzzle piece, but it’s enough, for now.
The story continues . . .
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Nadia Siddiqui has always been an author at heart—writing stories in her room since she was in high school. Now her stories have come to life. She spends time with her calico cat in Los Angeles, CA.
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