From the Shadows

by Jacqueline Brown

  “She asked me to take care of Quinn,” I said.

  I felt him turn toward me.

  “If anything happens to your parents, she asked me to make sure she’s cared for,” I said, answering his unspoken question.

  “Why did she ask you?”

  “She knew I knew Quinn was hers,” I said, ready to stop pretending that I didn’t know his family’s secret.

  He paused. “How did you know?”

  “I guess I’m smarter than I look.”

  “You look pretty smart.”

  “I figured it out, and she said she knew I knew, based on the way I watched them together.”

  “Did she tell you about what happened, about ….” His voice faltered.

  “About Mick? No, she didn’t, and I didn’t ask.” The truth was, I was happy to not know the details.

  He nodded. “She doesn’t talk about it. Only to her therapist, and that was before Quinn was born.”

  After a few moments, Jonah’s voice broke the silence. “Did you know I was the one who found her?”

  “You found her?” My stomach twisted at the thought.

  He took my hand in his, and I realized for once he wasn’t offering me strength; he was seeking mine. “It was my spring break. My last class was on Thursday, but I wanted to stay and go to some parties. That is probably the biggest regret of my life,” he said, shaking his head. “If I’d come home, everything would have been different.”

  “And Quinn wouldn’t exist,” I said softly.

  He paused as we both thought of the truth behind that.

  “I’ve never understood,” he said, “how such a beautiful child came from such darkness.”

  “It’s the beauty of the ones raising her,” I said, thinking of Charlotte and Quint.

  “You’re right,” he said, nodding.

  “So, when did you come home?” I asked

  “About five on Friday. Mom was somewhere with JP, and Dad was at work. The house was quiet, but I’d texted with East earlier in the day, telling her when I’d be home. She told me at two thirty that she was going riding and she’d be back before I got there. When I got home the house was dark, and Talin was running loose in the front yard—which was weird for that late in the day. I was going to put her up, but then I decided to find East and tell her to do it since she rode her. Thank God, I was being a jerk.”

  He offered me a sad smile. From beside him, a faint scratching sound came from the other side of the door. He stood and opened the door, allowing Astrea into our private office. She growled when she entered, as if she hadn’t realized where we were and she was annoyed we hadn’t asked her permission to be in this space.

  Jonah sat beside me again.

  “Was she there? When you went inside?” I asked, chewing on my top lip.

  He pulled the blanket over his lap and exhaled loudly. “I went in and called for her, but nothing. So I went upstairs and put my bags down. The bathroom door was shut. I called to her again, but still no response. It all felt weird. I don’t know how to describe it. Like something was wrong.”

  “I know what you mean. It’s like an awareness in your body instead of your mind,” I said, taking his fingers in mine.

  “Yes, exactly. Because of that, I tried the bathroom handle. It was locked. I banged on the door, and nothing. I knew she must be in there and I had to open the door right then. I told her to back up, and then I kicked it. The lock broke and the door swung open and she was there,” he said, squeezing the bridge of his nose, forcing his breath to slow.

  My heart was racing and tears were forming, thinking of East as a young girl.

  “Her arm was slit open,” Jonah said, unable to stop his tears. “The knife was still in her hand. She looked up at me, and her eyes were hollow. There’s no other way to describe it. It was like her soul had left her body. I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed a towel and wrapped her arm. I lifted her into my arms and ran to my car. I drove so fast, it’s a miracle I didn’t kill us or someone else. I ran every light. Drove in the left lane. I didn’t care. I couldn’t think. I kept telling myself to calm down and think, but I couldn’t.

  “She never spoke, not a single word. Her expression was like a statue’s. I’ve never had the courage to ask if she remembers me finding her and driving her, but I doubt she does. It felt like she wasn’t really there.”

  “I don’t think courage is the right word,” I said, recalling how courageous Jonah was on that day and every day since.

  “Maybe not,” he said, running his right hand through his still damp hair. “But I’ve always felt bad for not talking to her about any of it. She wanted to once, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t go there with her and I’ve always regretted that.”

  “I’m sure she understands,” I offered.

  “Yeah, but what does that say to her? What you experienced was so atrocious, so horrible, that your brother, who found you, can’t even discuss it? That can’t be good for her.”

  He was right, but I couldn’t say that to him.

  “What did you do when you got to the hospital?” I asked.

  He smiled weakly, knowing I must agree with him—that he should have talked with her about it.

  “She passed out when we pulled up. I ripped the door open and pulled her from the car. Sprinted with her in my arms. When I got inside, they took her from me and I collapsed, sobbing, in the middle of the hallway, like a little kid. I was so scared.

  “So very scared, I had no idea what was happening, no idea if she was going to live. A nurse came to me and asked who I was and who East was. I guess I answered. She asked if my parents were aware of what was going on, and the thought made me cry even harder. The thought of having to tell my parents my sister had tried to kill herself, that she was in the hospital, maybe alive, maybe not. The nurse took my phone from me and found my dad’s number. She called and spoke to him. Her voice was so calm as she explained that East had cut her arm and I had brought her to the hospital. He must have asked if I could talk, because she said I was all right but it would be best not to speak with me right then.

  “Dad was there in ten minutes. I don’t know how he got there so fast, but he did. He gave me a hug and I collapsed on him. He was so strong, so steady as he helped me to a chair. I’m sure he wanted to fall apart, but he didn’t. He let me fall apart instead. He’s always put himself last,” he said, with a hint of guilt that I didn’t understand.

  “A nurse came and told us East was in surgery and everything was going well. The nurse asked if East had been upset or depressed or hopeless. We both said no and I showed her my phone with the text messages we’d exchanged earlier in the day and week. She said sometimes people are good at hiding what they’re going through. But that wasn’t it. East wasn’t good at hiding anything. She never had been.

  “Mom got there a few minutes later. I guess Dad called her. Once East was stable and I had stopped crying, they asked if I could take JP home.”

  “How old was he?” I asked, thinking of the boy I loved most.

  “Three. He was so young, he didn’t understand what was happening.”

  “Thank God,” I said.

  “Yeah, to this day I don’t think he really gets what happened. He was so good while they were gone and it was just me at home with him. He was a tough little kid. So hyper and active.” He flashed a weak smile. “Well, you know.”

  “I can imagine,” I said, nodding.

  “Eli came home and he was so good with JP. I was worthless. I guess I was in shock. I couldn’t even walk past the bathroom, even after Eli cleaned up the blood. I slept on the couch, because I couldn’t go to my room.

  “Once East was out of physical danger, I did a little better. I was at least able to go into my room. When they let her come home, Mom and Dad said we needed to stay with her, so we took turns. Nonie and Pops came too. But East wanted nothing to do with me and Eli. It was like we were the enemy.”

  “That makes sense,” I said.

  “Now
it does, but we didn’t know what had happened. We didn’t know what he had done.”

  I could feel the mixture of rage and heartbreak in Jonah.

  “So,” he said, “when she screamed at us, it didn’t make sense. We had no idea what was going on.”

  “After a few days, Eli had to go back to his parish. A few days after that, I had to go back to school.”

  “When did you find out what happened?”

  “Two weeks later, my dad called and told me East had told Mom what happened and that she was pregnant.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, watching as the emotions came and went on his face. Sadness, anger, rage, hatred, despair, regret. They were all there.

  He laughed a sad laugh. “I made things worse.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, the tension building within me.

  He pulled his knees in, leaning his head against his left arm, hesitating. He released my hand and ran his fingers through his hair, that was almost long enough to tuck behind his ears.

  “I was furious,” he said in a deep, low tone.

  “That’s reasonable,” I said.

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t just furious at Mick, but at my dad. I thought he was a coward.”

  “A coward?” I never would have associated Quint with the word “coward.”

  Jonah stared into my eyes as if apologizing. “I couldn’t understand how he could allow the man who …”—his voice cracked with sorrow—“who raped his daughter, to live.”

  “You thought he should have killed Mick?” I asked, unsure of how to feel. I understood the desire to have Mick dead. I was amazed that vigilante justice didn’t happen more often. But the thought of Quint killing him, that made no sense.

  “I was … I was filled with rage that I didn’t know how to handle. I couldn’t comprehend that man still living, not after what he did to my baby sister. He had to die. He had to be gone from this earth, and I thought my dad should have done it. But he hadn’t, so I decided I would do it.”

  “You decided to kill Mick?” Even in the darkness I could see his eyes had faded into the past.

  “It was a Monday morning,” Jonah said. “I didn’t have class until six that night. I drove home. Everyone should have been gone. I would slip in, get my dad’s gun, go next door, kill Mick, return the gun, and be back at school before anyone found him. No one would ever know, and my family would be safe.”

  I shivered at the callousness. It wasn’t like now, when we killed to survive to the next moment. It was different. It was disturbing. The sensation of Quint’s pistol against my leg became heavy, as if its pressure would cause my leg to break.

  “I got to my house. It was dark. I let myself in and went to my parents’ room.”

  He stopped as if lost in thought, forgetting to speak the words.

  I touched his arm lightly and he jumped, remembering I was next to him.

  “He was there, sitting in the shadows.”

  “Who?” My heart raced so fast I could barely speak the word.

  Jonah exhaled a long breath, loosening his body. “My dad. He was there, rosary in hand, sitting in his chair.”

  “ ‘Jonah?’ I can still hear the confusion in his voice. I stopped in mid-stride. Turned to face him. He sat beneath the crucifix that hung on their wall, and seeing him there …”

  “What?” I asked.

  Tears filled his voice. “I snapped. I-I just couldn’t understand how he could be there sitting in prayer while the man who raped his baby girl was less than a mile away. I went for the gun.”

  “ ‘Jonah, stop. What are you doing?’ he called.

  “ ‘What you should be doing. He can’t live. He can’t be allowed to live, not after what he did.’

  “ ‘You are here to kill Mick?’

  “ ‘No one will know.’

  “ ‘Jonah, you can’t. You can’t take a life, even a life that deserves to be taken.’

  “ ‘He is evil!’

  “ ‘And his life is sacred.’

  “ ‘You are a coward!’

  “ ‘I am a Christian! He has taken enough from this family. I will not allow him to take our souls. Give me the gun.’ ”

  Jonah swallowed. “But I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t give him the gun. He came toward me. He thought I would release the gun into his hand, but I didn’t. We fought. In my parents’ bedroom, I fought my father.” Tears streamed down Jonah’s cheeks. “He knocked the gun from my hand and kicked it under their bed. I was crazy with rage, and my fist flew to his face again and again. Blood splattered everywhere. He fell to their bed, his face … oh God, his face ….” Jonah pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes.

  I wanted to put my arm around him to tell him it was okay, but I didn’t believe those words. I knew Quint. I loved Quint. In the short time I had known him, he had become like a father to me—and yet Jonah had beat him. After Quint’s daughter had been raped, his son beat him. It was not okay. It was awful, and it made my stomach turn and twist.

  As his tears continued, I remembered that Jonah loved his father. Yes, he had hurt him, but Quint was alive, and his face was all right now. This attack was in the past. It was horrific, but they managed to find a way to move beyond it. I needed to do the same.

  I placed a hand on his back and he cried harder, falling against my torso. He held me tight. I wondered if he had ever shared this memory before.

  “Sorry,” he said, and sniffed, releasing me.

  “It’s okay,” I said, loosening my arms as he sat up, pulling a knee to his body. His arm propped against it, he leaned against the grease-stained wall of the garage office.

  Tentatively, I asked, “Was your dad okay?”

  He paused, taking a breath before saying, “I broke his nose and knocked out one of his teeth.”

  I turned away to hide my repulsion.

  “If you want to leave, I understand. I mean, don’t physically leave this place—that’s not safe—but you can leave me and I’ll never bother you again,” he said in accepted defeat.

  I turned to face him. “I’m not going to lie, I think it’s horrible, what you did to your dad. He’s an incredible man and father, and you are so lucky to have him. To think of you disrespecting him like that … it’s a lot to take in. But no, I’m not leaving. That was in the past, and I understand why you did it. I mean I don’t really, but you were so beyond yourself that you lost it.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “You didn’t even know me then. You don’t need to apologize to me.”

  “I know, but it feels like I do. Like somehow, everything I did before affects you in some way.”

  “How could it?” I asked, puzzled, though I felt the same way about my past.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m sorry.”

  “What did your dad do?”

  “I don’t know. I ran like the coward I was.”

  “How did you apologize?” What I really wanted to ask was, How did he forgive you?

  He exhaled loudly. “It’s complicated in an uncomplicated way,” he answered.

  “What does that mean?”

  Jonah leaned against the wall and dropped his hands to his lap. “That was the start of a really bad day.”

  Twenty-One

  Suddenly the memory of Haz’s words rang in my mind and Jonah’s shirt became invisible, revealing his tattoos in the moonlit office: the words from the book of John that offered hope when there was none, and the rosary that had caught Mick’s bullet. The bullet that should have killed Jonah, but miraculously didn’t. Haz saw only the blueness of the ink and the raggedness of the lines. Was he right to be so focused? Perhaps I should have been more focused. Either way, I knew in this moment my life was changing. I would learn the rest of Jonah’s past and decide if it mattered. Did I trust him for the man he was now, or would his past be too awful to forgive? It was easier to pretend it didn’t matter when I wasn’t faced with it, but once I knew, I wouldn’t be able to pretend.

 
“How could your day get worse?” I asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the tremble in my voice.

  Astrea heard it. She left her place by the glass door and crawled onto my lap.

  Jonah turned his head toward me, the moonlight hitting his sea-glass, green eyes.

  “I ran from my parents’ house and got in my car. Before I realized it, I was back at school. I needed to talk to my girlfriend. She knew East had tried to kill herself, but I hadn’t talked to her since my dad had called me the night before.”

  “Your girlfriend?” Intense jealousy struck me like I had never felt before.

  “Rachel,” he said, nodding.

  My stomach dropped. “The girl East said I wasn’t?”

  “I was hoping you hadn’t heard that, or forgotten it, but yeah.”

  “Did you …” I swallowed hard, not able to bring myself to think the words that I knew must follow.

  “Did I what?” he asked, after what must have been minutes.

  “Did you … hurt her?” I asked, my entire body shaking. That would be too much for me to forgive.

  “No! No, I loved her. Why would you think I’d hurt her?”

  “I just … you said your day got worse, and I’m not sure how it can get much worse than beating up your dad,” I stammered.

  “Is that what Trent would have done? Taken out his anger on you?”

  Even in the darkness I could see his jaw clenched tight.

  “Maybe,” I whispered, wishing Jonah had not brought up his name. Wishing that name wasn’t part of my past.

  “I told you, you’ve known the wrong guys.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  “Rachel and I had been dating about a year. She was my first real girlfriend and I believed she was ‘the one.’ I know that’s stupid, at nineteen to think you’ve met your spouse, but that’s how I felt and it’s how I thought she felt. But I was wrong.”

  “What happened? Was she with another guy or something?”

  “No, not all relationships follow scripts from reality TV,” he said, almost amused. “When I got there, I was a mess. I was crying and shaking. I told her what happened to East and that she was pregnant. I told her how angry I was and how I punched my dad. It was all too much for her.”