by Rose, Karen
Irina scowled. ‘It should not have been a factor, as you say. You could have been a naked dancer and you still would have been a victim, wronged by this . . . kazyoel.’ She spat the final word in a way that needed no translation. ‘How do you say . . . ?’
‘Asshole, Mom,’ Rafe said from the doorway.
Mercy stiffened and reflexively tried to straighten her hair. ‘Rafe. I’m—’
‘If you say you’re sorry, we will have words,’ Rafe said mildly. ‘Is everything okay in here?’
‘Oh, sure,’ Mercy said lightly. ‘I’m just having a minor nervous breakdown. But the tea seems to help.’
Rafe gave the mug in her hands a sharp glance. ‘Mom?’
Irina rolled her eyes. ‘It is peppermint tea, Raphael. I am not so careless as to give Mercy my special tea without asking her first.’
Mercy looked from Irina to Rafe. ‘Special tea? Do I want to know?’
‘It’s THC-infused tea,’ Rafe said. ‘Legal here.’
‘But not in New Orleans,’ Irina said sharply. ‘Do I look like duraska to you, dorogoy moy?’
‘No, Mama,’ Rafe said dutifully, dipping his head in apology. ‘You know I could never think you an idiot. But if Mercy gets drug tested when she goes back to work, that stuff sticks around.’
‘Which is why I did not give it to her.’ Irina nudged Mercy’s shoulder playfully. ‘But if you want some, you need only to ask.’
Mercy found herself laughing in earnest. ‘I’ll remember that. Thank you.’ She glanced up at Rafe. ‘Don’t worry about me. I know what pot smells – and tastes – like. I was five years old the first time I tried it.’
Irina blinked, clearly shocked. ‘You were given it? By whom?’
‘The community grew pot back then. I didn’t realize it when I was a kid, but I figured it out later, once I’d gotten out. It was their cash crop. The fields were huge. Pastor told us that it was for our own consumption and the healer used it for basic pain relief since we didn’t have access to pharmacies. But looking back, the yield was far more than the community could have used in a decade.’
‘Did your mother give it to you?’
‘Oh, no. The adults must have known what it was, but it was never discussed, at least not where the kids could hear. Mama got some from the healer for Amos’s arthritis. He was her husband until . . .’ Her stomach took a nasty dip at the memory, and she sipped on the non-special tea, waiting until the wave had passed. ‘Until Gideon escaped. Amos was a good man. I think he truly believed in the community’s precepts. He was always good to me, anyway. But he had arthritis and his hands hurt when it got cold. He was a carpenter, so he needed his hands. Mama would make him the tea before he went to sleep and one night I tasted it when he wasn’t looking. That’s a taste I will never forget.’
Rafe was watching her thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if the Feds have checked for marijuana crops in their search for Eden.’
Mercy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I doubt that Eden grows it anymore. We moved after Gideon’s escape and left the fields behind. Someone might have gone back to harvest it later, but that wasn’t something that the regular members knew much about.’
‘They might have a new cash crop now, though.’ Rafe had his phone out and was texting. ‘I’m letting Gideon know that you’re okay and asking if he knows anything about the ways the community made money. It might give us a lead to their location.’
Mercy sipped the tea, watching him, waiting until he’d put his phone away. ‘Or you could ask me.’
Rafe looked uncomfortable. ‘Is that okay? I mean, to ask you to remember?’
‘It will have to be okay,’ Mercy said firmly. ‘I want to help find them.’
‘Then we’ll start there,’ Rafe said, his mouth curving into the smile that warmed her heart. ‘I’m proud of you, Mercedes.’
She shot him a glare. ‘I wish I hadn’t told you my name.’
Irina’s brows lifted. ‘Why? What is wrong with Mercedes? It’s a lovely name.’
Mercy huffed her displeasure, but Rafe’s smile only grew. ‘My bio-dad’s last name was Benz,’ she explained.
Irina snorted. ‘That will remain our secret, yes?’
‘No,’ Sasha said from behind Rafe. ‘Because it’s comedy gold.’ She pushed Rafe over so that she could see into the bathroom. ‘That’s not special tea, is it, Mom?’
Mercy laughed. ‘No. We’ve already been down that road.’
‘And I missed it.’ Sasha exhaled a put-upon sigh. ‘We were worried about you, kiddo. You want to come back and talk about this now?’
No. ‘Okay,’ Mercy murmured and took the hand Irina offered, rising from the floor, which had been blessedly cool against her heated skin.
‘Nobody in our family saw the video,’ Rafe said soberly. ‘We won’t do that to you.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
Irina gripped her chin, staring hard into her eyes. ‘You did nothing wrong. Repeat that, Mercy Callahan.’
‘I did nothing wrong,’ she said quietly.
‘Again,’ Irina demanded. ‘I believe you. I want to know that you believe you.’
She’s right, Mercy thought. Borrowing some of the older woman’s strength, she straightened to her full height. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong,’ she said firmly.
‘Better,’ Irina said with a sniff. ‘Still not what I want to hear, but better.’ She dropped Mercy’s chin, set the mug on the sink vanity, and grasped both of her hands. ‘You are not alone, Mercy, even if you might feel that way.’
Mercy’s smile was rueful. ‘I know I’m not alone. But it’s different when it’s you. Me, I mean.’
Irina tilted her head, going silent for such a long moment that Mercy began to fidget. The older woman turned her gaze to her children. ‘I know,’ she finally murmured.
There was a moment of absolute silence as the full meaning of her words sank in. Then Sasha gasped audibly. ‘What?’
Rafe had grown abruptly pale. ‘Mom?’ he whispered.
Mercy could only stand there, gaping in shock. ‘You?’
Irina squeezed Mercy’s hands, but her gaze remained fixed on Rafe and Sasha. ‘It was long ago, dorogieyie. Before I left Russia. It was why I left Russia. Why my mother got me out, just like Mercy’s mother did for her.’
Sasha’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘You never told us.’
Irina’s smile was sad. ‘Why would I? When would I? When you were children? It’s not something that one tells their babies and even after you started growing up, one of you was still too young. And now that Zoya is seventeen . . .’ She trailed off. ‘It was such a long time ago that it didn’t seem positive to bring it up. I don’t like to speak of it, but your father knows and has long accepted it. We cannot punish the man who assaulted me, but we can help others. It’s one of the reasons we are so active with the rape counseling charities and why we encouraged public service.’ Her lips turned up, a small smile but a real one. ‘You all have made us proud – Rafe, you and Meg and Damien are police officers, Sasha a social worker who helps children, Jude is a prosecutor, Cash a physical therapist, and Patrick fights fires. I may even get a doctor in the family if Zoya continues in her path. My children right wrongs, protect the community, save lives, heal bodies, and nurture spirits. No mother could ask for more.’
‘It’s also why you were so upset when you thought Gideon had been . . .’ Sasha pursed her trembling lips. ‘Assaulted.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I work with victims every day – children, even – and I can’t say the word.’
‘It is harder when it is family, I think,’ Irina said gently. ‘And yes, knowing that Gideon was almost assaulted was very difficult for me.’ She stroked her thumbs over Mercy’s knuckles. ‘Knowing how you suffered as a girl, and then once you’d believed yourself safe, had to endure the second kasyoel who recorded his crime with h
is phone . . . This is much harder. The men who hurt you must be punished – the man in Eden and the man in New Orleans – and if we can help make that happen, then that is what we will do.’
Mercy swallowed hard because Ephraim had forced her for an entire year. But she’d managed to lose at least some of those memories. Her twelve-year-old mind had often shut down to spare her the full horror. The clear memories she shoved into her mental box and nailed it closed.
Wishing for a fraction of Irina’s strength, Mercy turned her focus to Rafe, who looked broken.
Rafe’s throat worked as tears ran down his face, unchecked. ‘I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry. I don’t . . . I don’t know what to say.’
Irina released Mercy and wrapped her arms around her son. ‘Thank you for your sorrow on my behalf, sin rodnoy moy. As I said, it was long ago. I haven’t “gotten over it,” nor have I forgotten. But there are whole blocks of time when I do not think of it. That is the best I can expect and I’m grateful for those times, but when I hear of other victims, I remember.’
‘So do I,’ Mercy said quietly. But she hadn’t volunteered to help other victims like Irina and Karl did.
‘Stop it,’ Irina chided. ‘I can see your thoughts on your face, Mercy. We each have our path to healing. We each must decide what we are able to do for ourselves and for others. What is it that the airline attendants say? Put the mask on yourself first? If you want to help others in the future, I will be there to guide you, if you wish. But you will not berate yourself for the way you’ve sought healing. Am I clear?’
Mercy managed a smile. ‘Yes, ma’am. Someday I’d like to hear how you escaped your situation.’
Irina’s smile was genuine and serene. ‘Someday I will tell you. Now, let us leave this bathroom. It is not a sanitary place to have a family meeting.’
Rafe’s laugh was shaky. ‘I love you, Mom.’
Irina took his cheeks in her hands and pulled him down, placing a kiss on his forehead. ‘And I love you, Raphael.’ She did the same to Sasha. ‘And I love you as well, Anastasia.’
‘Boo,’ Mercy said, forcing a lightness into her voice that she didn’t feel. Not yet anyway. ‘Your real name is nice, Sasha.’
‘Yours is expensive,’ Sasha fired back, then hugged her mother again. ‘Do the others know?’
‘No. I suppose I must tell them now, but it can wait, yes?’ She lifted her brows at her children. ‘Yes?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, Mama,’ they said in unison.
‘Your secret is safe with us,’ Rafe said, then cleared his throat roughly, still visibly shaken. ‘Can you be around food, Mercy? Because I never got to eat dinner and I’m starving.’
‘I can,’ Mercy said. She hoped. Keeping food down when she was this stressed was never an easy task. ‘I never got to finish the mac and cheese that you made me, Irina.’
‘Farrah said it was your comfort food. We thought you deserved some comfort this night. Come.’ Irina took Mercy’s empty mug and led them out of the bathroom.
Mercy and Rafe were the last to file out, Rafe looking so shattered it made Mercy’s heart hurt. She took his hand and threaded their fingers together. ‘Will you be okay?’
Rafe stared at his mother’s retreating back. ‘Yes. Eventually. I . . . we didn’t know.’
‘She shared it for me, to help me,’ Mercy murmured, overwhelmed by Irina’s generosity. ‘You have an amazing mother, Raphael Sokolov.’
‘I know.’
Eight
Granite Bay, California
Sunday, 16 April, 12.00 A.M.
Rafe had questions. So many questions. For his mother, for his dad, for Gideon, and for Mercy herself. The only thing he knew for certain was that he needed to get Mercy somewhere quieter. The two of them sat at the Sokolov family table while his mother, his father, Sasha, and Farrah made plans with Daisy over the speakerphone. His father’s attorney was working to get the video removed from the website that published the foul article on Mercy, thank goodness. Fortunately, money talked, and his father had contacts in powerful places.
Daisy had used her media connections to get an interview set up for Mercy with a reporter who’d been sympathetic and fair during and after the February fiasco. Now they were all speaking animatedly about what Mercy should and should not say to the reporter. All while Mercy sat with them, pale and hunched, and very alone despite the crowd.
He slid his arm across the back of the chair, wincing as she flinched. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
She turned to meet his eyes, hers filled with fear, sadness, and utter exhaustion. ‘I know. I’m just . . .’
‘You’re tired, and my family can be a lot,’ he murmured quietly. ‘I’m aware of this.’
She smiled in earnest at that, understanding flickering amid the pain. ‘I guess so. They’re helping. I appreciate it. It’s . . . I’m tired.’
‘Which is why we’re blowing this joint,’ he said lightly, holding up his phone. ‘I texted my brother Damien. He’s coming to escort us back to my house. You’ll get some quiet and some sleep.’
Her brow crinkled a little, then smoothed. ‘Oh, right. Damien is another police officer.’
‘Yep. He works in the Russian division, out in West Sac.’ He patted her shoulder when her frown returned. ‘He’s a good guy. You can trust him.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I can. I was just wondering why West Sac has a Russian division? Do they investigate Russian organized crime?’
He chuckled. ‘No. West Sacramento has a large Russian community. Damien’s group serves them. Damien’s fluent in Russian, so he was a natural for the division.’
‘Do you speak Russian?’
‘Some. Mom spoke it at home when we were little, but mainly when she got . . . emotional. That translates to upset because one of us was misbehaving. Or when she was driving and someone cut her off in traffic.’ He was encouraged by the humor in her eyes. So much better than the numb despair that had dominated a moment before. ‘That’s why I know the word for “asshole”.’
Her lips twitched. ‘Kaz . . . What was it?’
‘Kazyoel.’ The word his mother had used to describe the piece of shit who’d drugged Mercy. New rage bubbled up inside him and he wanted to throttle the kazyoel with his own hands. But his rage wasn’t what Mercy needed at the moment. She needed his support. His comfort. His protection.
‘I’ll have to remember that word,’ she said, and then her shoulders seemed to relax a fraction. ‘Thank you, Rafe. You all have made a really sucky evening a little bit better.’
It was all Rafe could do not to lean in and kiss her. But it wasn’t the time. She’d already fallen asleep in his arms. That was more than he’d expected. Still not enough, but more than he’d dreamed.
A throat clearing had him looking at the rest of the table, which had gone silent. ‘Yes?’ he asked, falling back behind the wall he’d built over the course of his life, pulling his nonchalant persona around his shoulders like a cloak in winter.
‘Are you listening to anything we’re saying, Rafe?’ Sasha demanded.
‘Yes. And no,’ Rafe answered honestly. ‘You guys can talk all night, but I think Mercy needs to get some sleep. I’m taking her back to our house. Farrah, you too, if you’re ready to go.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mercy,’ Daisy said, dismay in her tone. ‘I didn’t realize how late it was. You must be exhausted.’
Irina and Karl looked equally dismayed as they really looked at Mercy. ‘Oh, izvini doragaya maya,’ Irina sighed, zapping back from savvy media planner into mama bear in the blink of her eyes. ‘We are sorry, too. You can sleep here, of course.’
Mercy’s gaze flicked to Rafe’s. ‘Thank you, but . . .’
Rafe jumped in to save her from needing to decline. ‘It’s quiet at my place, Mom. Sometimes some folks need a little quiet t
o rejuvenate.’
Sasha’s eyes turned shrewd as she tilted her head, studying him for a moment, then giving him a brisk nod. It was like she saw that he needed the quiet as much as Mercy did. ‘I’ll get the cats ready to go.’
Farrah was smiling at him. ‘I’ll get our bags.’
Karl harrumphed. ‘I’ll get the bags. You and Irina can wrap up some supper to take back for leftovers.’
Irina was already on her feet. ‘But it’s secure here, and—’
Just then the front door opened and closed loudly. ‘Rafe?’ Damien called.
‘In the kitchen!’ Rafe called back. ‘Damien’s going to escort us home,’ he told his mother. ‘He’ll stay up on the third floor since Daisy’s with Gideon tonight.’ As she should be, because Gideon needed her. Rafe hadn’t seen his friend that devastated in a long, long time.
Irina’s smile was rueful. ‘I should have known you would have prepared, Raphael. But tomorrow is Sunday. You will come back for dinner, yes?’
Rafe gave her a nod. ‘Of course, Mom. We wouldn’t miss it. Thank you.’
Irina winked at him. ‘Is nothing,’ she said, waving her hand and layering her accent on thickly. ‘You’re a good boy, Raphael.’
Mercy snorted quietly. ‘Suck-up,’ she whispered to him, but she was smiling and that was all that mattered. She turned to the rest of the group. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be able to think more clearly and I’ll do whatever we agree is best. Rafe is right. I need a little quiet time to recharge. I don’t want you to think I’m unappreciative—’
Karl patted her hand. ‘We get it, Mercy. Rafe thinks we don’t know that he fixed up that house to give himself quiet time, too.’ He arched a brow at Rafe. ‘You really didn’t think you’d fooled your mother and me all these years, did you?’
Rafe opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it again when he realized he had no idea what to say.
Mercy snickered. ‘Busted.’