Lareina pushed matted hair out of her eyes, but some invisible curtain remained. “Lunch?”
Louise laughed and pointed to a box on her desk. “Since everyone has the day off, we all get delivery pizza.”
The warm smell of dough and sauce tickled her nose. Somehow she’d slept through it. How could she not wake up at the smell of food? “What time is it?”
“Eleven o’clock. You were sleeping so tight I didn’t want to wake you up. You better eat something though, and start getting ready for tonight.”
She reviewed her plan while she ate pizza, while she showered, while she brushed her teeth. It would work. It had to work because she wouldn’t get a second chance. She thought about Nick and her hands shook. She looked at the curling iron on her dresser; its solid red light indicated it was warm. In the mirror, she watched one shaky hand lift a strand of her hair then let it drop in front of her. “I don’t know how to do this.”
Louise crossed the room and reached for the curling iron. “Here, let me help you. It’s hard to reach the back by yourself anyway.”
“Where are you going to go when you get out of here?”
“There’re five others who are going to travel south with me,” she explained as she expertly twisted Lareina’s hair around the barrel.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? I’m taking the train to Dallas.”
“Maybe you should come with me.” Louise untwisted one curl and started another one. “I hear things are getting pretty dangerous to the north with riots and train derailments.”
Sitting in front of the mirror, Lareina studied her reflection. To anyone else, she would look so different from the unkempt, hollow-cheeked image on the wanted poster, but she still saw the resemblance. She’d been running from something her entire life, and she didn’t like who she’d become for it. Going south with Louise, who had become like a protective big sister, appealed to her, but she knew she couldn’t go back to San Antonio.
“Thanks, but I have to get back home.”
“I understand. Just be careful. The world is dangerous,” Louise warned.
“I’ll be okay.” She smiled. “I’m more nervous about tonight.”
Louise set the curling iron down. “Speaking of tonight, I have something for you.” She walked over to her desk, took something out of the drawer, and brought it back with her.
Lareina took the vial in her hand and examined the clear liquid inside.
“Mix this in his drink thirty minutes before you want to get out of there and he should be asleep by the time you leave,” Louise instructed.
Her muscles tensed, the vial rested limply in her hand. “This won’t hurt him . . . or anything.”
“No, nothing like that. He’ll be well rested in the morning to face his brother.”
With Louise’s help, Lareina brushed on some makeup. The dress was a shimmering diamond, a glittering jewel sprawled across her bed. How many hours had she spent staring into the windows of dress shops? How many dresses found in abandoned houses had she wished to try on? This dress surpassed them all and it belonged to her. When Louise left the room to visit a friend, she slipped it on and carefully hid her pendant beneath the rippling blue material. Three months had elapsed since Susan pressed the pendant into her hand and since that moment, not a second passed that she didn’t feel its deadly touch.
At exactly six o’clock, Louise answered a knock at the door, revealing President Whitley standing in the hallway with a bouquet of roses.
“I’ll be ready in one minute,” Lareina said from across the room. She slid her feet into the silver high-heeled shoes delivered with her dress and glanced into her purse at the vial stashed inside an otherwise empty compartment.
When she stepped forward a smile spread across Whitley’s face. “You look stunning,” he whispered and extended the bouquet toward her. He had always treated her with kindness and she would repay it by abandoning him, starting a riot that could destroy Oak Creek, and making him look like a fool in front of the brother he admired. She froze.
“Those flowers are so pretty.” Louise accepted them from the president. “I’ll put them in a vase and I’ll see you two at the party.”
A second to breathe helped her to refocus on the part she had to play. “Thank you, Louise.” She linked her arm through Whitley’s. “I suppose we should get going.”
Together, they followed the network of wide sidewalks lined by perfect landscaping that she could navigate with her eyes closed. Despite the familiarity, she could only think, This is the last time. She would never again walk those perfectly smooth sidewalks because on her way out of the party, she would be running.
When they arrived at the cafeteria, two men pulled the doors open for them to enter.
“Are you ready?” Whitley whispered.
Lareina clutched his arm tighter as they walked up the stairs to a mezzanine looking down over the party. From below she could hear a cascading waterfall of voices and laughter. White lights gleamed on the banister and along the balcony rail, then reached up in strands to meet in the center of the domed ceiling. She’d stepped into the polished silver shoes of a princess and any of the runaways from San Antonio would call her a fool for running away from the best opportunity she would ever find in her life. The voices sounded distant, like the ringing of a pebble dropped into a well. Whitley stopped walking and she realized they stood at the top of the stairs.
“Should I make the announcement, sir?” Officer Storey asked.
Whitley looked over at her and she nodded. There would be no turning back. “Yes, we’re ready.”
Storey walked over to the railing. “Can I get everyone’s attention?” he repeated three times before all chatter from below stopped. “Introducing President Whitley and his fiancée, Rochelle Aumont.” Storey stepped aside. Somewhere below, a door squeaked on protesting hinges to admit late guests. The room was a collection of held breath, an accumulation of reverent anticipation.
Together, hand in hand, the newly announced couple approached a railing enveloped in white lights. Hundreds of people, clustered in a shapeless mass, stared up at them. The trickle of a cheer crescendoed to minutes of applause and inaudible toasting that bordered on hysteria. Lareina waved. What else could she do?
The commotion below tapered out and changed focus. People dispersed, forming circles of conversation, visiting the buffet, or dancing in the open spaces. Still, she noticed one person near the buffet table look up at her contemptuously then turn back to his group of friends, who broke out in obnoxious laughter. As her eyes glanced from one individual to the next, she was met with a glare from anyone still paying attention to her. Anyone oblivious of the plan hated her. They only cheered under the heavy obligation of fear that forced them to conform to Whitley’s rules, orders, and opinions. She depended on anonymity, the convenience of being invisible and disappearing into a crowd. If Galloway walked in, he wouldn’t even have to pass out his posters.
“Are you okay?” Whitley whispered.
She watched the people below. None of them looked at her. Forced laughter and fake smiles shimmered through the crowd. She closed her eyes and felt the missing joy of Oak Creek vibrating around her. “Never better.”
For the next four hours, they ate and danced and laughed. Each strawberry and deviled egg reminded her she would soon be hungry, each glance through the window that these were her last moments of warmth, each dance with Whitley that he would soon want her captured as desperately as Galloway.
At eleven he took her hand and led her back up to the balcony. They sat together on a bench, listening to music and laughter below. Lareina rested her head on his shoulder and looked at the rising moon outside, sensing the quickly passing time.
“Your hot chocolate, sir.” A man set a tray with two steaming mugs, a bowl of whipped cream and a cup of marshmallows on the side table next to her.
“Thank you,” the president responded, waving the man away.
He stood and str
etched. “I have a surprise for you. Give me a moment?”
“I’ll get the hot chocolate ready. Whipped cream as usual?”
“You know me too well,” he responded with a wink as he walked away.
Looking around for observers and determining she was alone, Lareina slipped the vial out of her purse, dumped it into one of the cups, then returned it to hiding. Quickly she scooped in some whipped cream, stirred it, and topped it with marshmallows, leaving her cup plain.
Whitley returned with padded footsteps and a slightly shaking hand. His eyes and mouth pinched into a nervous smile. He held his other hand behind his back. “I know we’re already engaged and everything, but I never got to give you the ring.”
She took the small gray box he held out to her and closed her eyes. Her pounding heart ached like her legs after running from Galloway.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
Opening her eyes, she clasped the box tighter. “Just enjoying the moment.” She took a breath and, with the flick of her thumb, pushed the box open. It glimmered brighter than the lights and she couldn’t breathe. The contents of that little gray box could buy her tickets to anywhere in the world; she could travel the world if she wanted. President Whitley reached past her, picked it up out of the box, and slipped it onto her finger.
“There, it looks even better than I imagined.” He held her hand in his.
Looking down at the ring on her finger overwhelmed her with thrilling elation and sinking guilt. Her mind brought up images of every proposal she ever read about in her lifetime, and yet nothing she imagined could ever match the excitement and dread she felt. The music below stretched, softened, and her words jumbled until she remembered her plan.
“It’s perfect. I’ll never take it off.” She handed him his mug and took the other in her hand. “Let’s toast.” The mugs clinked and she sipped her hot chocolate as Whitley drank his. “This is really good. Did I get the cream-to-marshmallow ratio right?”
The president tipped his mug and swallowed more of the warm, sweet liquid. “It’s perfect. We should dance.”
Lareina took his hand, and there on the balcony they danced to a series of slow songs. The moon lifted higher into the sky, taking precious minutes with it.
“Our wedding is going to be amazing,” the president said as they turned in slow circles. “You get to plan it just the way you want. Nothing is off limits.”
Smiling as they spun through drifting notes, she could already picture her lacey white dress and the church filled with summer daisies. “We definitely have to have chocolate cake.”
Whitley yawned. “You’ve got it.” He yawned again and stumbled forward.
She caught his arm. “Are you okay?” Together they walked over to the bench and sat down.
He looked at her through bleary eyes with his forehead rested against his hand. “I guess I’m just getting tired.” He leaned his head back against the railing. “I did get up pretty early to make sure everything would be perfect.”
“Here, close your eyes for a few minutes and you’ll be as good as new.” She guided his head down onto the cushion of the bench and sat with him. The ring sparkled with each movement of her finger, music bounced across strands of light, and Whitley breathed in an even rhythm.
“Can I wear a yellow dress for our wedding?” she asked the chest that rose and fell, rose and fell.
Whitley didn’t answer. She stared down at the sparkling ring on her finger and visualized thick bundles of cash in her hands. It would buy food and shelter for a lifetime. It would be irresponsible to leave it behind. She stood, took a step toward the stairs, swallowed back a wave of nausea, then turned around.
“I’m sorry it couldn’t work out,” she said to the sleeping president. “But I feel claustrophobic living inside of a wall and you’re more of a pathological liar than I am.” With her eyes closed she slipped the ring off her finger and placed it on the cushion next to him. This is your fault, Nick Ziel, she thought. Then, turning on her heels, she forced herself to walk away on betrayed feet that clung to the floor.
Kicking off her shoes, she snuck down the steps, and exited through a back door. She crossed the sidewalks, barely touching the cold pavement beneath her feet. Icy air collided with her face and sent tingles down her bare arms and legs. Unintelligible shouting, splashing, thumping, and cracking ruptured the usual facade of peace around the barracks. Her bare feet crunched over brown tree needles and discarded pine cones, too numb from the cold to feel them. Leaning into a tree, she focused on breathing, listened for Nick’s footsteps, his voice. What if he didn’t escape? Would she walk into the chaos to find him?
“Nick, are you here?” she whispered. “Nick?”
“We’re over here.”
Lareina spun around and noticed the movements of silhouettes under low hanging tree branches. Nick sat next to Louise in a circle with five other people.
“What took you so long? We’ve been waiting forever.” He stood, looking a little wobbly, but smiling. He came toward her, ducking under prickly branches, then stopped. A goofy grin spread over his face. “Wow, Rochelle, you look so pretty . . . not that you don’t always look pretty, but . . .”
Closing the gap between them, she threw her arms around Nick and held him in a tight hug, the way she’d wanted to for the month prison bars stood in her way. Touching him was like touching the outside of an oven door, and he smelled like unwashed gym socks, but she’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life.
“All right, you two.” Louise laughed. “Shall we get out of here?”
Lareina let Nick go, but kept one hand on his arm, still afraid he might disappear. She examined the faces, squinting through darkness, and gripped his arm tighter when she felt the plunging absence of a comforting face and confident voice.
“Where’s Aaron?”
Louise shrugged. “Either he changed his mind or he didn’t make it.”
“He promised not to be late.” She pushed her heavy feet forward, scanning the shadows of trees. “I can’t leave without him.”
Louise caught her wrist and pulled her back. “There isn’t any time. If we’re going to make it through the gate, we have to go now while the guards are distracted.”
Aaron said he would come. He said he would bring medicine. He couldn’t have changed his mind. She turned to Nick. “You go with Louise. I’ll get Aaron and meet you outside.”
“Not a chance,” he protested. “I’m coming with you.”
“You can barely stand up. I’m not dragging you back across this place.”
“And I’m not letting you go alone.”
The previous peace between them evaporated. Louise and the others shuffled from one foot to the other.
“Come on, Rochelle, we have to go,” Louise begged.
Two options and no time. It would be so much easier to take Nick through the main gate, but she knew Aaron wouldn’t have failed to appear unless something got in his way. “You guys go. Come on, Nick, we’ll get out a different way.”
The others left. Lareina brushed dirt and needles off their hidden bags and handed the lighter one to Nick. She pulled socks and shoes onto her feet and led him across the deserted sidewalks. He gaped at the buildings, his first view of Oak Creek, as they jogged to the guard station. He could only be described as awestruck when they approached the president’s house. Remembering warm sunshine and a picnic in the soft grass, she stopped and listened but only heard Nick’s ragged breathing.
“You all right?” she asked with her eyes on the shed she’d observed during the picnic.
“Just catching my breath . . . I thought we were going to find Aaron?”
She nodded and pointed at the shed. “If I’m not back here in ten minutes, climb onto the roof of that shed, then walk along the wall to that tree and use it to climb down on the other side. The train will come by in less than twenty minutes and take you all the way to Dallas.”
He clutched her shoulders and held her there
. “Stop telling me what to do. I’m coming with you.”
“We don’t have time for this.” She pulled free of his grasp. “Quit arguing with me and go hide in the bushes.”
“Quit arguing with me. I’m following you and you can’t stop me.”
Her eyes burned into his, willing him to give up. She knew in a reversed situation she wouldn’t let him go alone either, but it didn’t diminish her frustration. “Fine, just stay behind me and do what I say.”
Together they snuck across the yard and peeked over bushes at the guard station. The entire building glowed with light and the front door stood wide open, spilling a yellow rectangle onto the lawn.
“If they caught him, he’s in there,” she whispered.
Nick stood. “Great, what are we waiting for?”
Grabbing his wrist, she yanked him back down. “That place could be swarming with guards. There’s no way to know who we’ll encounter inside.”
“How many guards do you think are in there?” He rubbed his wrist.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think we could look in the window?”
Nick’s swarming questions teetered at the top of her forced calm, threatening to topple it into panic. They had to get out in time or they’d miss the train and never get far enough away on foot. They couldn’t leave Aaron behind, but walking into the guard station blind could get them all thrown in the barracks for the rest of their lives.
“Just let me think,” she snapped and immediately regretted it when Nick recoiled and nodded down at his hands. He swayed slightly and Lareina thought she could easily push him over using one finger.
“All right, let’s go.”
With Nick close by her side, they crossed the small lawn between the bushes and the guard station, then remaining close to the building, snuck around to the front door. They listened for voices from within, but silence enveloped them.
Sweating despite the cold, heart slamming against her chest, she plunged into the building. An empty room surrounded her. The pounding of her heart in her head, Nick breathing, and more silence.
Hope for the Best Page 23