Liberty At Last (The Liberty Series)

by James, Leigh

  I felt like I’d outgrown that person. I pressed my face against his forearm gratefully. He smelled like sweat, some other sort of metallic odor that I associated with guns firing, but underneath all that was his smell, the smell that I’d tried to recall so desperately when I was alone in Matamoros.

  “Ian’s waiting for us,” he said and smiled down at me. He looked tired. “I promised I’d text him when we got here. He can’t wait to see you,” he said. We looked at each other, knowing the real truth: Ian couldn’t wait to see me, yes, but it was his granddaughter’s return that had to have him sleepless with worry and excitement. Heavy on the worry.

  “What did you tell him?” I asked, nodding my head towards her.

  “The truth,” John said, and he no longer looked just tired — I could see he was completely exhausted. “I told him she’s not the same person,” he said, careful to keep his voice low.

  “She’ll be okay,” I said, wanting to believe it for his sake.

  “We’ll see,” John said. “But I have to keep her on lockdown here, and that’s not going to help.” I looked over and found her awake and staring at us, a repulsed look on her face, like she smelled something unsanitary. I automatically dropped my hand from John’s face.

  “Nothing’s going to help,” Catherine said. “And I don’t feel like seeing Ian right now, either. I need to sleep.”

  “Fine,” said John, trying to sound like he didn’t care in the slightest and failing miserably. “Sean, can you take Catherine to the barracks? Have Jake come out to watch her. He knows we’re on our way.”

  Matthew pulled up to the big house to drop us off. “Have a good trip home,” John said to him. “Give my regards to your family.”

  “See you in a few,” Matthew said. He sounded happy. He must miss his wife and his son; he was gone so much. I wondered briefly how much John paid him. It must be enough to make it worth all that time away, if that was possible. “I’m gonna go get my tan on. And try to relax before we start all that training next week.” He winked at me evilly and I frowned at him. And mentally gave him the finger.

  I got out of the car and John leaned back in, towards Catherine. “I love you, honey,” he said, quietly. I watched as she just turned away.

  I hooked my arm through his as the car pulled away. It wasn’t morning yet but the sky was brightening. I stood still for a moment and closed my eyes. I heard the ocean and I could smell its saltiness; I heard the wind in the pine trees, I turned around and opened my eyes to look at the big, rolling lawn. I looked up and saw the last stars visible in the sky and I thanked them. I felt wild with happiness, suddenly. I reached up and threw my hands around John’s neck.

  “I’m so happy to be here,” I said, and kissed his unshaven cheek. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too,” he said, and although I knew that he meant it, I could hear that weariness, that sadness in his tone.

  “It’s okay,” I said, and hugged him to me. I patted the side of his face as he leaned on me. I could feel all the tension in his body he’d acquired from shielding himself from rejection. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “He’s asleep,” I said wearily to Ian as I sat down next to him at the breakfast bar. I’d made John go and lie down after he’d showered; I stayed and rubbed his back for a couple of minutes, and by then he’d fallen into a deep, motionless sleep. I was going to join him soon, but I needed to see Ian first. And to eat more.

  “I am so happy to see you back here in one piece,” Ian said. “It was a ridiculous thing that you did. Brave, but ridiculous.”

  “It was more ridiculous than brave, Ian. I admit it.” It was too early for breakfast, but Ian had scones and bagels and tea set out. He poured me some and I gratefully accepted it, adding milk and two sugar cubes.

  “But you brought her back. No one else could do it, not for all these years, and you managed to. It makes me think that you and John are more alike than it appears on the surface. You might be just as tough as him, and that’s saying something,” he said.

  “It was fool’s luck, Ian,” I said. “And honestly? The way Catherine is now? I’m not sure it was really all that lucky I found her.”

  “She’s not okay, is she?” Ian asked. I felt for him — this was his granddaughter we were talking about, who’d been a sweet eighteen-year old when he’d last seen her. Certainly not the same person who’d burnt me with her cigarettes for sport and most recently referred to me as a “fuckwad.”

  “She’s really not okay,” I said. I’d thought about it before, and I’d decided that my approach should be the same with Ian as with John. I was going to be honest, so they didn’t get their hopes up too high, but I wasn’t going to be brutally honest, so that any hope they’d managed to keep alive crashed and burned.

  “Matthew says she’s been turned,” I said, and shrugged helplessly. “I guess I agree with him. She wants to go back — she thinks she belongs in Mexico. She’s fought us kicking and screaming the whole way back. John told me there’s something called Stockholm syndrome — he thinks she has it. When a person who’s been kidnapped starts to identify with their captors? More than the people they left behind?” I asked.

  He nodded. “There’s been some high-profile cases where that’s happened,” Ian said. He looked a little grey at the thought.

  “She’s been so mean to him,” I said. “She’s really been horrible. I know she’s your granddaughter, but it’s been rough,” I said.

  “No worries,” Ian said, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with a cloth. “I’ve spoken to both Matthew and Sean on the phone since you’ve been on the road. Without John knowing. I wanted to hear what was really going on. John sounded so distant, he was so brief — and at the same time, he was so happy to have you back in one piece — that I knew it had to be bad.” He put the cloth back into his glasses case and clamped it shut. “I really wanted to talk to you, but I knew you needed to just be with John and I heard about your sister —”

  He jumped up and hugged me out of the blue. I laughed. “Here I am, only thinking about Catherine, and I forgot to ask you about Sasha,” he said, beaming at me. “How was it?”

  I smiled at him and laughed. “A little awkward,” I admitted. “It’s been a while.” I took another sip of tea and thought about it. “She’s not used to seeing me on my own. Plus we hadn’t seen each other in so long — I was still mad at her for that, so that was hard. I’m not used to being mad at her.”

  “And now?” he asked. “Are you two going to stay in touch?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, and I knew in my heart that it was true. “I don’t care about what happened. I forgive her. I love her; she’s my sister. And she’s all the family I have.” I shrugged.

  “Exactly,” Ian said. “Good girl. But now you have to help John see that.”

  “He sees it,” I said. “He’s the one who flew her to Nashville and made me have dinner with her.”

  “I mean — John needs to see it about Catherine. That she’s still his daughter. That he can’t give up on her,” he said.

  “He’s not giving up on her, Ian,” I said. “He’ll do anything for her. It’s written all over his face. It doesn’t matter what she says or how she acts. He loves her, regardless. She can tell, too. But she doesn’t seem to care.”

  “Then it’s her I need you to work on,” he said. I practically choked on my scone.

  “She’s not exactly my best friend,” I said evenly, trying to hide my real feelings. Such as: she’s a total bitch and I hope she gets locked in a psych ward and stays there for a really long time. “She thinks it’s gross that I’m going out with her dad,” was all I let myself say.

  Ian shrugged. “It’s a lot better than dating the leader of a brutal cartel,” he said.

  Dating. Huh. If only that were all. I just nodded at him.

  “I’m just asking you to try,” Ian said, smiling at me. “I’m so happy you’re back. John was a total wreck when you left. You two need each
other,” he said, almost to himself, shaking his head. “And about Catherine. I happen to know that if anybody can do this, you can. You’re very capable,” he said.

  “Don’t overestimate me,” I mumbled, in between bites of scone.

  “Don’t underestimate yourself,” Ian said, and he and John sounded more alike than ever. “Now, go take a shower and go to bed. You and John sleep in. Jake’s got Catherine — he’s been bored without an assignment, so he’s happy to have a high-priority one — and I have a couple of the other guys on perimeter patrol. We’re safe until at least ten am.”

  “You know they followed us, though, don’t you?” I asked. “It was in Tennessee. John and the guys beat the daylights out of them.”

  “I know, I know,” Ian said, standing up and patting me on the shoulder. “We know Catherine is a flight risk. Luckily, we have a bunch of ex-Navy Seals around, dying for a little action. They’ve been bored stiff around here for the last couple of weeks,” he said. “They might even shoot a couple of noisy squirrels, just to keep it interesting.”

  “Great,” I said. More things getting shot.

  “They eat all my birdseed,” Ian said, taking in my expression. “They have it coming. Now go — I’ll clean up. I’m up for the day now, anyway. So I’ll be on the lookout, too.”

  I stood up and hugged him. “Don’t go see her without talking to John,” I said, pleading. I shook my head. “She’s not the same girl.”

  “She couldn’t be,” Ian said, looking out the window into the brightening landscape. “We left her down there too long. That’s another thing to not underestimate: the power of a parent’s, or grandparent’s, guilt,” he said. “That’s strong stuff.”

  “I won’t,” I whispered to him. For a second, I pictured my mother on the couch, passed out, hiding from god only knew what demons. “I won’t.”

  I was tired. Tired of thinking, tired of worrying, tired of trying to figure things out. I blocked Catherine from my thoughts and decided to take a hot shower. The bedroom we were in had quite possibly the nicest bathroom in the whole world. The floors had heated tiles; the vanity was a beautiful grey marble and the mirror above it was ornate, silver and massive. The toilet had its own room with a door to close. The shower had two shower heads on opposite walls and a bench that could sit four people — at least. I wasn’t really sure why that was in there, but if I let my mind wander for a second, I could think of several ways John and I could make use of it.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the lust out of it which was creeping in like steam on a mirror, making it difficult for me to see straight. John was sleeping and I needed to let him rest. I took a quick, hot shower and washed my hair with that amazing shampoo they always had. Then I got out, dried myself off, and gratefully found some hair gel and a blow dryer with a diffuser on it under the sink. Ian must have stocked the bathroom for me and I loved him for it. I took my time blow-drying my hair. Actually, when you had hair this long and unruly, you had no choice but to take your time drying it. It takes forever. I read somewhere once that people reported feeling the most bored and disconnected when they were grooming themselves. Even though I was happy to be back with modern amenities, I totally got that.

  Finally I was done with my hair. I brushed my teeth and went out to the bedroom. It was about seven in the morning. The shades were drawn but I could see John on his stomach, his favorite sleeping position. He looked peaceful in his sleep; this was probably the first time he’d actually relaxed since he’d picked us up in Mexico. He’d left a pair of Red Sox pajamas on the bed for me; I pulled them on and gratefully climbed into bed next to him, nestling against his warmth.

  I don’t know how long I slept. Not long. I woke up to him thrashing and yelling in his sleep. So much for him being relaxed, I thought. My poor baby.

  “NO!” he yelled, thrashing from side to side. I tried to calm him down by rubbing his chest gently, but I was powerless over the imaginary demons torturing him.

  “KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF HER!”

  “Honey, wake up,” I said. He didn’t respond. Then more loudly: “John. You’re having a bad dream. Wake up.” He opened his eyes a little and I could tell that he was dazed, not recognizing the room. I peered down at him. “Honey, you just had a bad dream. It’s okay,” I said.

  He sighed and rubbed his face. “They had her,” he said, pulling me down onto his chest. “They had her and they were bringing her back. And she was smiling at me while they pulled her away. That was the worst part: she was smiling at me, and I didn’t know if it was because she was happy to see me one last time…or if it was because she was happy she was never going to see me again.”

  I laid on his chest and twined my hand through his. We sat there for a moment in the quiet, and I could feel a powerful sadness rolling off of him.

  “John,” I said softly. “I don’t have a child, so I don’t know how bad this really hurts. I can only imagine. But she’s back —” and it’s all my fault — “and now you at least have a chance to help her. If you hadn’t gotten her back, she would be doing god only knows what for the rest of her life.” I.e., torturing people and using drug and blood money to buy ridiculously expensive shoes.

  “Isn’t it better to feel the pain your feeling now? Better than never having seen her again?” It was a legitimate question, even without my own self-interest in the answer at stake.

  If I could have a do-over, would I still have gone down there to find her? Not in a million years, my inner voice piped up, and I had to agree with her. I would have left the crazy bitch alone. Really, though, my answer depended on John’s answer.

  “I’d rather have her here, safe,” John said. He sounded completely sure, but then he went quiet. He waited a minute before he spoke.

  “But to look into your own child’s eyes, to not know that person anymore…To believe that they may have become someone unrecognizable, who’s capable of horrible things…That is a sort of pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

  “John, I know you’re glad she’s back, and I am, too, but I’m sorry,” I said. “I did this. She told me she wanted to be left alone and I didn’t listen. I didn’t think she was capable of making that judgment.” I could have saved you so much pain, including pain you don’t know about yet.

  “I would want her back even if she were pure evil,” he said, finally, reassuring me. “And she isn’t. She’s bad, sure, but my daughter’s still in there somewhere.”

  I hoped he was right.

  “One thing I wouldn’t change,” he said, sounding even more grave, “is how I feel about you going down there to find her. Aside from how mad I was, and how crazy stupid it was of you — it makes me sure of you, Liberty. He was quiet for a second. “It makes me sure you know your own heart. And that’s exactly what I need from you.”

  He leaned up and looked me in the eye. His face, all chiseled and lined with sadness, still made my heart race. He kissed me quickly on the lips, making me want him.

  “I do. I know what I want,” I said, and reached up and put my lips to his. His parted, and I let my tongue connect with his, surely, confidently, letting him feel with his body what I meant with my words. I love you.

  “Do you want to go get breakfast?” I asked. He shook his head, no, and he was suddenly looking at me with hooded eyes.

  “Want to take your mind off things?” I asked, playfully, suddenly feeling naughty. I pulled back and smiled up at him. “‘Cause I was thinking…”

  “That bench in the shower?” John asked, his eyes gleaming wickedly. I could feel his mood lightening, his sadness abating, his body pressing against me.

  I nodded.

  “That’s my girl,” he said. He stood up and scooped me off the bed, carrying me into the bathroom. Where we made excellent use of the bench.

  “Pancakes, please. And more eggs, bacon. Please,” I said.

  “Jesus Liberty, you’re starting to sound like Matthew,” John said, and Ian chuckled while he put more food in front of me.


  “You need coffee,” John said, pouring me a cup and winking at me behind his father’s back. Oh yes, I did. I was tired from the grueling and intensely hot working over he’d just given me upstairs. I blushed up to my roots and refused to look him in the eye as I realized I was sore, sitting here on the barstool. If I looked at him, I might start getting hot flashes. And start making excuses to get him to take me back upstairs, even though I was feeling deliciously used up.

  “Careful,” John said, putting a steaming mug of coffee down in front of me. “It’s hot.” He whispered this playfully into my ear and I swatted him away, although I was delighted that he’d shaken off his nightmare enough to be funny.

  We’d all sat down to eat when Sean came in. “Mr. Quinn,” he said formally, shaking Ian’s hand. Sean was more reserved than a lot of the other guys, which probably just meant that he had some manners, as the other guys tended to have none. Ian showed him to a chair and John poured his coffee.

  “What’s up?” John asked. “I thought you would have been heading to Charleston by now.”

  “I’m going to PVD in ten minutes,” he said. It was about a half hour to the airport in Providence. “I just wanted to touch base with you before I left.”

  “Go ahead,” John said, and I noticed that he put his fork down without touching his eggs.

  “I talked to Jake about Catherine,” Sean said, and he looked like he felt sorry about it. The smattering of freckles he had over his nose gave him a youthful, earnest appearance. They made him look as if he were only capable of telling the truth. In this case he seemed to wish he didn’t have to. “She hasn’t slept. She was just pacing and looking out the window. She wouldn’t talk, and she wouldn’t eat or drink any water. Which was different from when we were on the road,” he added.