Traveller

by Abigail Drake

  “I’d better get you home, my big tall Viking.”

  Sven nodded very seriously. “Yes, you should, my luscious Lucinda.”

  “The boys will see you back safely,” said Michael. He nodded at Quinn, Anthony, and Sean. My friends tried to protest, but Michael insisted. I wanted to stay and help Leah and Margaret clean up, but they would have none of it.

  “Most of it has been done already. We’ll finish tomorrow.” Leah yawned, and gave me a little peck on the cheek. “Many happy returns.”

  Margaret kissed me, too. “Happy Birthday,” she said.

  When we reached my grandparents’ caravan, Michael pulled something from behind his back. “Happy Birthday, Emerson.” He looked embarrassed as he handed me two carefully wrapped bundles.

  “Michael. I don’t know what to say.”

  He rubbed his head with his hand. “Just open them. They’re only small, but I wanted to give you something.”

  The first package contained a beautifully bound, limited edition copy of Self Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson. The second package held a small box with a dainty ring inside. I looked up at him in surprise.

  “It was my mother’s.” Michael’s voice was gruff. “And her mother’s before that. I wanted you to have it.”

  “Thank you.” My voice was thick as I struggled not to cry. The ring was a simple, elegant Celtic knot. It slid easily onto my ring finger.

  Michael pulled me into his arms and looked into my eyes. “You never finished what you were saying before. You were telling me what you loved most of all. I guessed it was chocolate.”

  I gave him a coy smile. “Chocolate is a close second.”

  Michael trailed kisses up my neck. I sighed and tilted my head back so he had better access. He worked his way to my mouth and began giving me soft little kisses that took my breath away. I tried to get the words out between kisses, but he could be very distracting when he set his mind to it.

  “The thing I love most of all…is you, Mr. Nightingale.”

  Michael cupped my face in his hands and stared at me, his face inches away from mine. The stars twinkled brightly in the inky black sky above him. I felt like I was spinning and spinning, but not because of the alcohol. Michael himself was able to make me dizzy with a single glance.

  “And I love you, Emerson Jane Shaw.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The only place you’ll find sympathy here is in the dictionary.

  ~Grandma Sugar

  I slept with Michael’s ring on my finger and the book he’d given me next to my pillow. It didn’t matter that Leo had tried to strangle me or a Moktar wanted to kidnap me. I was miles away from my family, I’d lost my journal, and had to write a paper for my Shakespeare class, but I didn’t care about any of it, because Michael loved me.

  Daddy’s telltale ringtone filled the air, waking me. I answered it immediately, a big, happy grin on my face.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, pumpkin.” Something wasn’t right. I knew it as soon as he spoke.

  “What happened?”

  “Pappy George had a little spell. He’s in the hospital. Sorry I didn’t call on your birthday.”

  “Is he okay?”

  Suddenly, I found it a little hard to breathe. I sat up straight in my bed. Pappy George was getting older, but he’d always been as strong as an ox, or so I’d thought.

  “He just needs to rest, and stop eating so much fried food. Grandma Sugar said he is too stubborn to die, and too stupid to change.”

  “Should I come home?” I closed my eyes, dreading the answer.

  “No, he’s going to be just fine. Please don’t worry your little head about it. I just felt bad I couldn’t call you. I couldn’t use my phone at the hospital. Did you have a nice birthday?”

  I told him about my party and my friends. I wished with all my heart to tell him about Anselina and Matthew, but that wasn’t the kind of thing you dumped on someone during a long distance telephone call.

  “Well, I’d better go, sugar.”

  I clung to my phone, not wanting to hang up. “Daddy, if Pappy George gets worse and I need to come home, you’ll tell me, right?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “You know I will, Emerson. Now you get back to those books. I love you.”

  “You, too.”

  I hung up the phone and just stared at it. Pappy George, with his giant frame and winning smile, was indestructible. I couldn’t imagine him in a hospital bed attached to tubes and wires and a machine on the wall. I just couldn’t do it.

  Anselina came in carrying a breakfast tray. “Good morning. I heard your phone, so I knew you were awake. Did you have a nice time last night?”

  I smiled, but it took some effort. “It was wonderful.” A tear trickled down my cheek. “My daddy called. My grandfather is in the hospital.”

  Anselina patted my head. “There, there. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what Daddy said.” I wanted reassurance, but she’d already turned her back to me and started tidying the room.

  “Eat your breakfast, love.”

  The tray was piled high with eggs and bacon, sweet rolls, and a pot of coffee. My stomach lurched at the sight of the bacon and eggs. I managed to nibble on a roll and drink a few cups of coffee, and felt a little better with something in my stomach. I showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and my Western Kentucky sweatshirt, needing comfort today. I didn’t bother with makeup, and just let my hair air-dry.

  I had to get my mind off Pappy George, and finish a paper for my Shakespeare class, so I pulled out my laptop and set to work. It didn’t take long for me to realize I needed materials from the library. There were works to cite, and information I couldn’t find online. I went out to search for Michael.

  He sat in the middle of a meeting with several of the council members, including my grandparents. Apparently, they were having a serious discussion. Mavin was among them, and squawked on and on about something. Every time she paused to take a breath, her gaze went right to Sampson. He never once looked at her. I started to think the abrasive Mavin had a little thing for him. Anselina attempted to calm her down. Michael looked irritated. I interrupted them, but didn’t know what else to do. They all went silent when I approached.

  “What is it Emerson?” A muscle worked in Michael’s jaw. Not a good sign.

  I shoved my hair behind my ears. “Can I speak with you for a moment, or should I come back later?”

  Michael and Anselina shared a look, and then he narrowed his eyes at me. “Now is fine.”

  We walked over to a quiet spot under a tree. Actually, I walked. Michael sort of stomped. He was in a delightful mood this morning. I felt bad asking him to take me to the library, but he wouldn’t want me to go by myself.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Michael held up a hand to stop me. “I know what you are going to ask, and the answer is no.”

  I looked at him in shock. I knew it was a pain for someone to escort me around all the time, but it wasn’t exactly my fault.

  “Excuse me?”

  Michael put his hands on his hips. He wore a tight black t-shirt and jeans, and he looked luscious as always, but he was making me angry enough to ignore his hotness for now.

  “Anselina told me about your grandfather, and I’m sorry, but you can’t go back to Kentucky. I will not permit you to leave.”

  I took a step back. “You will not permit me?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I have your passport.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My passport had been safely tucked into an inside pocket of my backpack. I’d grabbed it the first time I went to my apartment with Michael and hadn’t checked it since then, but assumed it was still there. Apparently, I’d assumed wrong. I swallowed hard.

  “You stole my passport. That’s why you looked so nervous when I searched through my backpack after Leo attacked me. You thought that was what I was looking for.”

  Michael’s face was
as hard as a stone. “It’s in a safe place, and I did it for your own good. If you leave, you’ll die.”

  “Which is why I agreed to stay.” My lips began to quiver and I brushed angry tears away with the back of my hand. “For your information, I wasn’t planning to go back to Kentucky. My grandfather is doing fine, thank you for asking. I just came to tell you I have to go to the library and need an escort.”

  Michael winced, reaching for my arm. I backed away. “Em, I’m sorry. I’ll take you to the library after this meeting.”

  “No, thanks.”

  I turned on my heel and walked away. Michael called out to me, but I ignored him. He didn’t follow, which was wise. I found a quiet spot under a tree where no one could see me, and sat down to have a good cry.

  I was homesick and missed my family. Pappy George had always been a huge part of my daily life, and now he’d had a “spell,” southern-speak for a heart attack, and I hadn’t even known about it. I’d been getting drunk and making out with Michael when the people I cared about most in the world were suffering.

  The thought of Michael brought a fresh flood of tears. I loved him, but he was difficult and controlling and awfully hard to get along with. He just stepped in and took over, without ever asking what I wanted or how I felt. He did it to protect me, but he treated me like a mindless idiot.

  “Are you okay, Emerson?” Margaret stood a few feet behind me, a worried frown on her face.

  “I’m fine.”

  I tried to wipe my tears and hide my face, a hopeless endeavor. I looked like a swollen lobster when I cried. I obviously wasn’t fine.

  Margaret sat down next to me on the grass, so close our arms brushed against each other. “We didn’t start off well, but I really like you, Emerson. You can talk to me if you have a problem. I hope you know that.”

  I sniffed. “Thank you, Margaret. I just miss my family. My grandfather is in the hospital, and I wish I could be there with him.”

  Margaret put a comforting arm around my shoulders. “You’ll get used to it, Emerson. It’s not that bad here. We’re your family now.”

  I leaned away from her and looked at her face. “Everyone keeps talking like I’m staying here, and I’m not.”

  Margaret gave me a sad little smile. “Do you really think he’ll let you leave?”

  “Michael? Of course, he will. He can’t force me to stay.”

  Margaret bent her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her dark hair fluttered in the artificial breeze of Michael’s air circulators.

  “When you were a Dweller, it was different. You were an outsider. Now that you’re a Traveller, it changes everything. You are his, Emerson.”

  “I am not.” My voice shook, and I had to wipe away more tears.

  “Traveller women are like trinkets placed on a shelf. Pretty little baubles. Our men guard us with their lives, but they will never treat us as equals. If you expect more, or hope for more, you’ll just be disappointed.”

  Margaret’s voice sounded hollow and dull. She was so full of pain, the extent of which seemed impossible for me to understand.

  “I’m sorry, Margaret. I’m not that girl.”

  “Neither am I,” she said with a wry grin. “Not any more, at least.”

  I fell back on the soft grass and stared up at the sky. It was a beautiful sunny fall day. Big white fluffy clouds floated past like giant wads of cotton candy. Margaret lay down beside me.

  “Patrick and I have started talking more. He’s drinking less. We’re getting to a happier place. But I don’t have options, Emerson. A Traveller girl gets taken every single year. Because of the Moktar, I’m a prisoner, even if my cage is a shiny, new, state of the art caravan.”

  My laugh was completely devoid humor. “Michael took my passport. I wasn’t even planning to leave, but now I’m trapped here.”

  Margaret reached for my hand. “We all are.”

  We lay there, hand in hand, just watching the sky. It felt nice. Margaret and Leah were like the sisters I’d never had. I told her about my paper, and how I couldn’t get it done without going to the university, but didn’t want to ask Michael.

  “Patrick can take you. Let me get him.”

  Patrick suggested Margaret come, too, which made her very excited. Getting out of the compound was a big deal for her. “Do I look all right?”

  She wore the standard gypsy gear of a micro mini and a tank shirt. I’d gotten used to seeing a lot of skin at the compound, but wasn’t sure the outside world was ready for it.

  “You might want to bring a cardigan. It’s a little chilly today.”

  Margaret flashed me a brilliant smile, and ran back to get a sweater. I grabbed my backpack from my grandparents’ caravan. They were still at their meeting. I checked the inside pocket just to be sure Michael spoke the truth. My passport was definitely gone.

  As we walked through The Shambles, Margaret took everything in, her eyes aglow with excitement. When she begged to duck into a little shop, Patrick and I waited outside.

  He folded his brawny arms across his chest, and squinted up at the sun trying to fight its way through the clouds. He looked so much like Michael, and yet they were very different. Michael hid his pain and controlled his emotions. Patrick wore his hurt, and his heart, on his sleeve. But both of them used tattoos to record what they’d lost. Michael had a tattoo for each friend who’d died, and even for the monsters he’d killed. On Patrick’s right bicep was a Celtic cross with his mother’s name and the words Ar Dhies De’ go Rabh a Hamen.

  “What does that mean?”

  Patrick looked down at his bicep. “May she sit at God’s right. I got it when I turned eighteen, and finally gave up on ever seeing her again. I guess a dozen years is the limit to keeping false hope alive.”

  “I’m sorry about your mother.”

  Patrick gave me the typical Nightingale shrug. “Thank you for being kind to Margaret. She’s been going through a rough patch. She seems to be getting better, and you’re helping.”

  “I think you’re helping, too.”

  Patrick nodded. “We’ve had…problems. I didn’t handle things well I’m afraid, and I’m sorry for that.”

  Patrick stood almost as tall as Michael, but with a bulkier build. If Michael looked like a lean panther, Patrick was a bull. He had the same shaved head as his brother, and his eyes were blue, too, but he had lines of worry on his face Michael didn’t possess yet.

  “I need to explain something about my little brother.” I gave him a wary glance. He pulled on his leather jacket and tucked his hands into the pockets, his eyes scanning the street. “He takes his job very seriously. I wish I could help him, shoulder some of the burden for him, but he is the Ceannfort. I am not.”

  “I understand he has quite a bit on his plate right now…”

  “You don’t understand half of it.” He shook his head. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but do you know what that meeting was about this morning? Mavin wants to stop you from going to university, from leaving the compound at all.”

  “Can she do that?” My throat was tight, and I felt a little sick. They didn’t even know about my missing journal.

  Patrick rubbed a hand over his head, a gesture so reminiscent of Michael it pulled at my heart. “She has a valid argument. You were attacked. It’s put all of us on high alert.”

  “But Leo is just a Dweller.”

  “Dweller or not, it falls into Michael’s lap. They’ve finally succeeded in making him stop going to university, and now they’re going after you. Do you have any idea what university meant to him?”

  “He deserves to go. They shouldn’t be able to stop him.”

  Patrick gave me a hard look. “They didn’t stop him. You did. The minute that Moktar started tracking you, the decision was made for him.”

  I felt like I’d just been sucker punched in the gut. “That isn’t fair.”

  Patrick turned to me, his expression grim. “Life isn’t fair, but we make the most of it
. We don’t have a choice. Don’t be so hard on my brother, lass. I know you care for him. Just try to understand. It’ll make things easier for him.”

  “I will.”

  Margaret bounded out of the shop with a huge grin on her face. Her excitement was contagious as she ran on ahead of us, peeking in shop windows. Others noticed, too, but not in a good way. Men ogled her, and women glared at her, but she seemed oblivious. Patrick observed the furious expression on my face and chuckled.

  “You get used to it, Emerson. There’s something about us that sets Dwellers on edge, something deep inside us they recognize as a threat.”

  “But you work to protect them.”

  “We work to protect ourselves. The safety of the Dwellers is just a byproduct.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “That’s cold.”

  “The truth usually is.”

  Patrick and Margaret left me at the library, after I assured them I was safe. They needed some time alone, and so did I. I set to work on my paper, but my thoughts kept going back to Patrick’s words. I was the reason Michael had to quit school, and I needed to find a way to help him. I was ruining his life.

  Suddenly, it became clear what I had to do. Stepping into a quiet alcove of the library, I called the U.S. Consulate in York, explaining I’d lost my passport, and needed to visit my grandfather in the hospital. It was easier than I expected because I had my drivers’ license with me. They said they could have a temporary passport for me by tomorrow.

  I hung up, and called my father. He answered on the first ring.

  “Daddy, I need an airplane ticket. I’m coming home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Don’t go off with your pistol half-cocked.

  ~Grandma Sugar

  After I made my decision, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I’d leave quickly, and the Moktar would not be able to track me during the day. A risk, but one I had to take. I would not be a prisoner here.

  I felt a little pang at the thought of Michael and my grandparents, but I had little choice, and it would be better for Michael in the long run. With me out of the picture, he could go back to school, and I wouldn’t feel so guilty anymore.