by L. J. Wilson
“But the photo—I saw it, Bash… You were in the pile, your eyes just staring.”
“After they shot the others, they staged that gruesome photo op. They’d almost forgotten me—so jacked up on their crime, their payoff. One guy saw I was still chained to the pole. The asshole in charge said, ‘Throw him on—but make sure he’s dead first.’ I got lucky—the shooter given the direction was a boy, maybe fifteen. His aim was that bad. The bullet hit—while it hurt like a son of a bitch, I knew it was a flesh wound. He stared. I stared back. I wasn’t giving the little fucker the satisfaction of begging for my life.” Evie inched back, cupping her hand to her mouth. “He was about ten, maybe fifteen feet away. I told him if he wanted to do it right, like a man, he should step up and hold the gun right to my head.”
“Bash… no,” Evie said, dropping her trembling hand onto his.
“In the moment, I preferred the alternative. I saw those guys, feet away—a human pile of suffering. Some weren’t dead yet, but they were all badly wounded, in agony, bleeding. I saw the gas cans and I guessed what was coming. The boy stepped closer and raised the gun. I kept my eyes open and my mind on you. He could take my life, but he couldn’t take my last thought. After a second or two, he…” Sebastian widened his eyes. “He couldn’t do it. He just turned and walked away. I was quick enough to think to play dead. There was so much confusion, a river of blood. No one was paying attention to me. The kid and another guy threw me on the heap. It took everything I had to keep still, keep my wits. The one in charge said ‘take the picture—something for their families’ Christmas cards.’ I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out, but I literally managed not to blink. My arm,” he said, lifting the casted limb toward Evie, “was busted pretty bad…”
Evie tipped her head, breathing deep at what had to have been excruciating pain. “Dear God… I can’t begin to think…”
“Don’t,” he said. “I’ve been in some close scrapes, bad shit situations. I’ve never been in anything like that. I was surrounded by bodies—if they were lucky, they were already dead. If they weren’t… The next thing I knew, I smelled gasoline. They tossed a match, but I guess they weren’t prepared for the backlash of flames. They just grabbed their money and took off. From where I’d been chained, toward the rear of the building, I’d seen an exit. The fire was moving fast. I squeezed out from under the bodies and hauled myself to the back door a step ahead of the fire.” Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment. “I turned back, but it was too late. There was an explosion, the building engulfed.”
“But, how… then what? That was months ago.”
“Sam might have said how remote the AmeriTex work location was. The warehouse where they held us was even farther—on the edge of the Amazon Basin.”
“The rainforest.” Evie knew of the vast, dense forest, human population was sparse—tribal mostly. But it was the terrain that would most likely kill a person, an impenetrable wild region.
“I started walking… dragging myself really. At that point, I figured it was a matter of time—my wounds or exposure. I dropped over on something that looked like a road. Days later, I woke in a village. It made La Carta look like a booming metropolis.”
“But you were alive.”
He nodded. “I was alive. I’m not even sure how. A family—native clan—had taken me in. The only medical means were something between a witch doctor and spiritual healer. He did splint the arm, which is probably the only reason it’s still attached to me. My injuries were bad, but before long communicating became a bigger problem. The bullet was lodged in my shoulder. I knew it had to come out. So with the doc’s help, I managed to get him to boil me a knife and…”
“And…” Evie said, dropping from her knees onto her bottom.
“And I cut the fucking thing out…”
From there Sebastian went on, telling Evie everything. How afterward infection set in and he’d spent time—he didn’t know how much—drifting in and out of a feverish state. The Amazon tribe spoke in an odd dialect, a hybrid of Spanish, Portuguese, and native tongue. It made verbal communication nearly impossible. There was no electricity, no phone, no way to get a message to her or to Sam. Eventually, Sebastian did improve. The family, the tribe, seemed to look upon him as some sort of North American novelty. He said they were gracious but incredibly primitive, their contact with the outside world as unlikely as the region in which they’d survived for thousands of years. In time, Sebastian healed enough to move on. The tribe packed a tarp filled with food. Evie listened as he ticked off the native offerings—smoked armadillo, boiled plantains, indigenous plants, which Sebastian said he was most grateful for. “You really had to know which plants were edible and which ones would kill you. It seemed like a fifty-fifty split.” Sebastian went on to tell Evie that the tribal elders took him by boat to the other side of a crocodile filled river. Then they pointed toward a mountain trail, indicating that the other side was the way out. “What were my choices?” he said, Evie’s eyes locked in a wide stare. “I had to get back to you… the boys.”
After sitting for some time on the cabin floor, they helped one another to their feet. She inspected Sebastian from top to bottom, the T-shirt hanging open. “It made more sense to get to Sam first,” he said. “And when I did they sent a ride.”
“A car?”
“Helicopter,” he said, shaking his head. “We tried to get in touch right away. Sam sent some agents to the Rose Arch—you weren’t there. I thought for sure you’d gone to Bim.”
“Bim…” A breath sunk into Evie. “I… things were so different than when you wrote that letter years ago. I just… I didn’t do it.”
“When Bim said he hadn’t heard from you, I didn’t know what to make of it. He’d been waiting all these years for a chance to repay me. He was as distraught as me when you didn’t contact him.”
Evie glanced toward the feather bed and whispered, “I so wish I had… You’ve no idea how much.” Her gaze cut to his.
Sebastian smiled, touching her face.
“For one wild second I thought I might never find you. I didn’t… Well, I didn’t think you’d come here. But then, it occurred to me, for better or worse, this,” he said, glancing around, “probably seemed like the closest thing to home.”
Evie wanted nothing more than to get out of the cabin and out of Good Hope. Hannah’s reaction to Sebastian was stunning enough. Evie did not think she could bear to witness Ezra’s. Hannah agreed to tell him she’d left, which he would be expecting. News of Sebastian’s survival would be a shock, salt in Ezra’s reopened wound. Evie’s single, saving grace was that she’d been honest—whether Sebastian was dead or alive reuniting with her husband was not Evie’s choice. Solace was also found in the fact that she’d never told the boys about their father’s presumed demise. His return wasn’t traumatic. Instead, Aaron and Alec were merely overjoyed to see Sebastian. Evie clung to those thoughts and feelings as they headed home to Nickel Springs. Riding in the passenger seat next to him, she closed her eyes, letting the sound of Sebastian’s voice wash over her.
That night the caretaker’s cottage eventually grew quiet. In the living room were the things that made them a family—a collection of history books Evie had given Sebastian, one every Christmas. The native souvenirs they’d collected in South America, a toy box so full the lid had no hope of closing. Evie breathed deep, thinking mostly of the people in the next room. Sebastian had fallen asleep in Alec’s bed, his eldest son crooked between his body and cast, his uninjured arm cradling Aaron. Standing in the doorway, Evie saw perfection. It was why she chose to go to bed alone. She didn’t want to disrupt that state of mind. Just as she drifted off, Evie felt the weight of the mattress shift—she’d nearly gotten used to the sense of being alone in the bed.
“Hey,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “Did you want me to spend the night with the boys?”
She didn’t answer.
“Evie?”
An onset of tears was hardly unex
pected, Sebastian perceiving them as the aftermath of the whole horrid experience. When he reached for her, the way he had in Evie’s dreams, in the way that had kept her alive, she could only respond in kind. She banished the previous night from their bed and her mind. She welcomed Sebastian home passionately and without hesitation, in the ways they both wanted.
Sebastian had been given several months’ leave. It allowed them to be a family again while giving everyone time to readjust. Weeks into their old lives Evie saw differences, little fissures in Sebastian’s personality that weren’t there when he returned from other assignments. He was unable to sleep and grew snappish with her and the boys. He drank more than she ever recalled. Faced with his edgy, odd mood, it seemed like reason enough to keep her night with Ezra a secret. Then, two months later, Evie’s secret took on a life of its own, landing at the forefront of everything. She received confirmation of what she already knew—the obvious signs of a third pregnancy. With a baby due in June, the basic math was alarming—she’d slept with both Sebastian and Ezra within a day of each other. Sebastian’s reaction, thrilled by the news, was a contrast to Evie’s. The prospect of a baby seemed to smooth his emotional scars in a way nothing else had. Evie tried to soothe herself with the odds—it was almost a certainty that Sebastian was the father. She’d lived as Ezra’s wife for more than a year, and there’d been no child. Two nights in the cabin with Sebastian had resulted in Alec. And for a while longer, Evie let probability dominate.
But when Evie learned there’d be twins, she grew more anxious—or perhaps her guilt doubled. Hiding her concern became increasingly difficult. Sebastian began questioning her, wanting to know if she was unhappy about having another child. He prodded and coaxed, insisting there was something different in her demeanor. Evie’s outlook wasn’t dreamy like it had been with Alec and Aaron—acting as if these babies were somehow a burden. “I don’t get it,” Sebastian said. “After everything that’s happened, I thought for sure you’d label this baby… babies, heaven sent.”
Evie didn’t know how much longer she could keep up the façade. She nearly choked on his words—on his hopeful, heartfelt sentiment—needing to rush from the room.
1985
Nickel Springs, New York
At the beginning of Evie’s eighth month, Sebastian wanted to know when she planned on preparing—not for one but two infants. There was no crib, no new clothing. She hadn’t suggested a single name. She didn’t wonder out loud, “Boys or girls?”
He wanted to know why.
The question pounding at Evie’s brain wasn’t “Why” but “What if…?”
She remained evasive and Sebastian grew agitated. On a sunny Sunday morning, he cornered Evie in the kitchen, demanding she explain herself. Sebastian fired question after question, almost an interrogation. She was stunned by his adeptness—clearly this was a skill he’d acquired while in the government’s employ. Was there something wrong with the babies? Did the doctor tell her something she hadn’t shared? Maybe it wasn’t the babies. Maybe it was him. Was there a chance she simply didn’t love him anymore?
And Evie’s culpability hit tilt. Her deception had caused Sebastian to borrow trouble that didn’t exist. Leaning against the kitchen counter, barefoot and largely pregnant, Evie couldn’t lie any longer. Her legs grew wobbly and her whole body trembled as the confession about her night with Ezra spilled out—the precarious timing. Last time she’d been in such a state, Sebastian had rushed forward, catching Evie as she fell.
This time she’d no choice but stand on her own two feet. This time he backed away.
It was a twofold reaction. Evie understood that intellectually, Sebastian grasped the facts: Evie and Sam and the United States government thought he was dead. Viewed through that lens, it wasn’t as if she’d cheated on him. No. Evie knew she’d done something far worse. She slept with her husband—the one man Sebastian could not be. It tore at him for days, like fall leaves through a shredder—reducing him to fragments of the man she knew. The unpleasant fact wasn’t enough and he insisted on knowing more, like the setting for her and Ezra’s long awaited reunion.
“The cabin,” she said, her voice barely audible. “The night before you came back.”
He nodded, growling something about adding insult to injury. She’d never seen such an unreadable look on Sebastian’s face. Finally, he broached the rest of the conversation, the part Evie had been dreading most of all. “So what do we do?” he asked. “Just wait to see if they’re mine… or his?” It broke Evie, so many truths gushing like blood from an open wound. Evie Neal had always been a wonderer, curious about places beyond Good Hope and what it might be like to live a life beyond its confines. In all her wondering, Evie had never imagined anything like this.
When she returned from the store the next day, an even fiercer argument ensued—mostly because Evie fought back. Sebastian was highly agitated, saying hateful things to Evie as his sons cowered in a nearby corner. “Maybe you should have never left Good Hope in the first place,” he boomed. “Maybe your marriage really was a holy proclamation. As it is, you couldn’t even divorce the son of a bitch—and I let you get away with it. Maybe we were just the devil’s joke.”
He was unnervingly angry—drunk, really, she surmised from the half-empty bottle on the kitchen table. Angry yes, but she couldn’t believe he drank that much while minding his sons. Sebastian’s surly state angered Evie and this time she didn’t shrink from his accusations. When added to his on-going, ill-tempered mood, it left Evie with a man she didn’t like very much. She yelled back, telling Sebastian he had to take some of the responsibility. If it weren’t for his life-threatening choice of job, the circumstances with Ezra would have never existed in the first place.
“So it’s my fault?” he yelled, his large frame looming. “My fault that you chose to fuck your husband at the first reasonable opportunity? That you decided to crawl back in his bed while I was doing everything I could to crawl back to you. No, Evie. You don’t get to blame me for that.”
It hurt more than any strike to the face Ezra or his father had delivered. It’d hurt because it’d come from Sebastian. He stormed from the cottage, leaving Evie in a puddle of confusion and despair. The next morning when he didn’t return, Evie didn’t know what to think—and maybe she didn’t as she took the boys, got in the car, and drove away.
Hours later she arrived in Good Hope. It wasn’t a conscious effort, more of an autopilot response. Her car idled just outside the gates and Evie held firm to the keys. At more than eight months pregnant, Good Hope was the last place Evie expected to find herself. She almost threw the car into reverse. But as she looked over the seat, the question was obvious. Back up and go where?
Once she was safely inside Hannah’s house, her friend listened to the tale, her eyes barely moving from Evie’s oversized belly. Evie hadn’t told Hannah about the pregnancy because she had confessed to her friend about sleeping with Ezra. The omission of her subsequent pregnancy had been part of Evie’s avoidance. Hannah would have insisted, months ago, that she deal with the many truths that now confronted her.
“And the babies?” Hannah said on a whispery breath.
“They’re not due for a few weeks.”
“Evie, that’s not what I’m asking you.”
She folded her arms, resting them on her oversized stomach. “They’re Sebastian’s, of course. You know Ezra can’t… Well, we were together for more than a year and nothing…” Evie’s crossed arms rose and fell on the breath she took. “No matter who the father is…” She stopped, blinking back tears. “Either way, I’m feeling rather alone.” Overwhelmed, Evie sunk into the room’s most comfortable chair. “I came here to think, Hannah. Can you let me do that—for a few hours, maybe a day? When we last talked, you said Ezra would be away this whole month—a retreat. I thought… Well, I don’t know what I was thinking, other than maybe you’d understand.”
Hannah was quiet, perhaps gauging the myriad of possible replies. “You’
re right. I did say Ezra was gone on a theological retreat. What I didn’t mention was his father. Reverend Kane is on leave from his South American missions, filling in for Ezra. Evie, if he finds you here…”
She shifted, her back aching from her condition and the drive. “Then our visit will be briefer than I thought.” Evie pulled herself out of the chair more quickly than she’d sat. “We’ll go now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not leaving here—not unless it’s to go back to…”
“Who, Hannah? My husband? It’s a tricky question. Sebastian and I, we thought we were so clever—that what we felt for one another would be enough to keep a binding piece of paper from mattering. In the end, it’s only made the truth we’ve avoided worse.”
“Perhaps now,” Hannah said, her gaze cutting to Evie’s stomach, “Ezra will agree. He’ll allow you a divorce.”
She almost asked Hannah if she’d been drinking. “Do you think so?” Evie said, teary-eyed, shaking her head. “Do you really think Ezra’s compassion runs that deep? That in the history of the Fathers of the Right, the grandson of its founding leader, the current clergy to oversee all sect members, should be the first one to divorce?” Evie laughed. “Better still, Ezra was always quite good with math. He’ll see this,” she said, her hand grazing her girth, “and wonder the same thing we all do—if God’s finally seen to it that the Kane lineage continues.” Evie brushed tears from her face. She was in no condition to drive—not with her sons in the car. “Fine. We’ll stay the night, in the cabin—away from any of the others. No one will come down the path. We’ll leave at daybreak.”
By early evening, after settling in the cabin, Evie had calmed a bit—long enough to eat some supper and take a bath. She gratefully accepted when Hannah said she’d keep the boys for a few hours. Even so, Hannah was leery about leaving Evie alone. “I’m fine, really,” Evie had insisted, rubbing her round belly. “They’ve been quiet considering all the fuss. I don’t think there’s much room left in there to move.” Evie had raised a brow and glanced toward feet she could not see. Nevertheless, Hannah said she’d be back to check on her. In the meantime, she’d sent Tobias by with an upholstered chair. It offered Evie something besides the bed or the wooden kitchen chairs. In his quick entry and exit from the cabin, Tobias didn’t say more than hello, barely making eye contact.