In Too Deep

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  “Fine,” he said. “We’ve already covered this. It’s not your fault.”

  “But you lied to me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re admitting it?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to be deceptive, but I’m very sorry you feel like I was. I knew you would shoulder a certain amount of responsibility for my injuries. Even though you shouldn’t. And I wanted to downplay it as much as possible. But it was never my intention to keep the truth from you. Ever. I don’t want there to be secrets between us. About anything.”

  No secrets? But there were so many secrets.

  “Will you accept my apology?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry I lost it.”

  He smiled. “You’ve had an exceptionally trying day,” he said. “You’re allowed to be less than rational. Although I will admit it kind of scares me when that happens.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” He took a step toward her. “I’m glad I can make you irrational.”

  He had no idea. No clue how much she wanted to let him make her irrational in more ways than one.

  But that wasn’t who she was.

  She was a rational and logical woman who was in control of her emotions. Or at least who could choose when to act on them and when not to.

  And now was not the time.

  “I think we need to finish our conversation from yesterday.” She glanced at her watch. “Or I guess it was technically two days ago.”

  Adam slowed his approach toward her. “You want to talk about your parents? Now? Tonight?”

  “I think we should.” She sat in one of the chairs and pointed to the one beside her.

  He stared at her longer than she was comfortable with. “Okay.” He leaned against the back of the chair. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t sit, I hope.”

  The formality in his tone suffocated her more than the combined weight of his body and the roof had this morning.

  “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  Thick silence wrapped around them. He didn’t prompt her to start. In some ways he almost seemed like he didn’t care if she started talking or not.

  “I know you’re going to have to tell the others this,” she said. “And honestly, at this point, I don’t even care. Some secrets are too heavy to carry. But I would appreciate it if you would ask them all to use this information with discretion.”

  “Of course.”

  Here goes nothing. “My parents divided all their assets when I was in my early twenties. Just like you would if you got a divorce. Except they never got the divorce. And then when Dad got sick, he got a new accountant, new lawyer, new financial advisor—new everything. There are even a few documents that are sealed until my thirtieth birthday. There’s some sort of trust. I don’t even know what all will be involved. And, of course, my mother was furious but is no help.”

  She’d never been any help.

  “My parents’ marriage was a sham. I didn’t know that either.” She shook her head. “I sometimes wonder if the extreme dysfunction of my family life is part of why I am so extraordinarily bad at picking up on social cues. The interactions modeled for me in my home were all . . . wrong. What I thought was love was manipulation. What I thought was acceptance was more often a power play. What I thought was true . . . was a lie.”

  The only way she knew Adam heard her was that he shifted his feet.

  “Before Rosita left, my mom pretty much left me alone. She didn’t get too worried about what clubs I joined in school or even what classes I was taking. I was smart. As long as I was bringing home straight A’s, I don’t think Mom cared one way or the other what I did. The only time she insisted on anything—at least that I can remember—was a dance and etiquette class. It was very important to her that I knew how to waltz and which fork to use.”

  Adam still didn’t respond.

  “But when Rosita left, my mother got . . . very interested.” She shifted in the chair, but pain shot through her head. If Adam wasn’t going to engage, then maybe she shouldn’t either. She leaned back on the cushion and closed her eyes. This was better.

  “Everything came under her microscope. And nothing was good enough. I was in the wrong clubs. Didn’t have the right friends. Didn’t wear the right clothes. Didn’t have my hair styled the right way. My nails were a disgrace. My eyebrows, a train wreck.”

  Fifteen years later, she could still hear the words coming out of her mother’s mouth. See the fury on her face.

  “The summer between eighth and ninth grade, she launched into an ‘improve Sabrina’ project the way she would have tackled an assignment at work. I’d started school a year early and skipped a grade in elementary school, so I was only twelve at the time. I was already the youngest student headed to high school that fall. I would have been insecure enough without my mother’s frequent reminders of how far I fell short.”

  She could still picture the outfit her mother picked out for her to wear the first day of high school. It had been cute, but Sabrina had hated it.

  “Unfortunately for my mother, her efforts failed. You can put the geek into preppy clothes, but you can’t make her fit in with the preppy kids. While my mother’s friends had daughters who were worried about homecoming dances and running for student council, I was president of the computer club. Which sounds more impressive than it is. There were only three of us.”

  One of those guys had killed himself her junior year. The other one had gotten lost in a world of mind-altering drugs and disappeared after his freshman year of college.

  She cleared her throat. “The point is that my mother fought me and my wiring for years. But at some point, the façade in my home began to slip. Or maybe it had never been there, and I just started seeing things more clearly. Regardless, I was sixteen when I realized my parents didn’t just not love each other. They hated each other. And I began to suspect that while they didn’t exactly hate me, they resented me. I assumed they had stayed together for my benefit. I now know they had stayed together for their own benefit. My needs would never have been enough for them to make that big of a sacrifice.”

  She didn’t open her eyes, but she heard Adam move from behind the chair. Heard him move toward her.

  “I left for college at sixteen,” she said. “As soon as they drove away, I took everything out of my closet, loaded it into my car, and donated it to a thrift store that supported abused women. I bought jeans and T-shirts and Chuck Taylors. I went to a salon and got my hair cut the way I wanted it. I probably would have gone a little goth for extra spite, but that seemed like too much work. I decided I didn’t care what anyone thought about me. That I wouldn’t conform to anyone’s definition of beauty or societal appropriateness. I didn’t go home until Christmas. When I got out of the car, my father just shook his head. My mother was away on business and when she got home, she didn’t get in a fight with me. She got in a fight with my dad. I’d never heard such venom. And they were spewing it at each other equally.”

  She blew out a breath. “From then on I spent as much time at school as I could. I don’t even know what to say about my dad. He was so passive. He let Mom have her way most of the time. But after I turned eighteen, he started calling me on a regular basis to ask if he could take me to dinner. I always said no.”

  Light pressure on the chair told her Adam had rested his hand on the back of it. She needed to hurry and get through this.

  “But then I met a grad student who invited me to church. My reaction to God and Jesus was understandably cynical, but this girl had a happiness about her—a joy I couldn’t help but envy. It took a couple of years before my logical, rational search for truth led me to the One who is Truth.”

  Thank you for pursuing me, Father.

  She knew Adam was hovering over her, but she still didn’t open her eyes. “My dad never stopped calling. He called once a month to ask me to dinner. I ignored him for four years. But then we went
through a study at church on forgiveness. It was convicting. So the next time he called, I said yes. It was awkward, but I felt compelled to at least be respectful of him as my father. We were just starting to figure out how to get along when he got sick.”

  So many emotions swirled through her. That stupid medicine Leigh had insisted she take was kicking in. Her entire body felt heavy and her eyes fought for permission to close permanently. But this conversation had to happen. Now. And then it would be over.

  “He made all his own decisions. Bought the house. Lined up medical assistance. Didn’t want my mom to see him. Made all his own arrangements. To be honest, I didn’t expect to spend much time with him, but when the university here offered me a position, I felt like it was what God wanted me to do. So I moved here. I made it a point to visit him a couple of times a week. Eventually I bought my tiny house and put it on the edge of the property. It let me check on him every day without having to move in.”

  Moving in had not been an option.

  “But then he started talking about Rosita. Sometimes he talked to me like I was Rosita. He told me he was sorry. Over and over again. One time he looked straight at me and said, ‘Yvonne will kill us both if she ever finds out,’ which has made me wonder if my mother had any idea what was going on. I have no idea if he had a consensual affair with Rosita or if he forced her . . .”

  Adam’s quick intake of breath came from far closer than she’d expected.

  “And knowing what I know now about labor trafficking, I can’t help but wonder if she was a slave. I don’t know why she didn’t run.”

  Adam’s hand curled around hers, but she pulled her hand away. “I know you feel sorry for me,” she said. “But don’t. I’m fine. I’m just telling you all this so you’ll understand.” She had to say it. No matter how much it hurt. “You need to understand how messed up I am, Adam. I’m the most wrong person in the world for you. And I’ll never be able to be the right one.”

  “Because your family was a hot mess?” Even though he whispered the words, she could hear the intensity in them. “Because your parents were horrible to you? Because you like skinny jeans and T-shirts?”

  “No,” she said. “Because I don’t know how to be any different. I don’t know how to pull off a dinner party. I don’t even know how to maintain a regular friendship, much less know how to have a healthy relationship.”

  “You’re a quick learner, Dr. Fleming.”

  She’d let this go on way too long. Now they were both going to hurt. A lot. But it was the only way. She had to do it. “I’m damaged goods. The only person who I think ever really loved me probably wasn’t even free to leave the premises. Trust me on this. You’ll be much better off without me.”

  Sabrina yawned.

  She’d been slurring her words for the last couple of minutes. She still made sense, except for that part about how he would be better off without her.

  That was ludicrous.

  The brush-off she’d given him earlier had hurt his feelings, but now he had so much more insight into how she ticked.

  And if it was possible, he was drawn to her more than he’d ever been. His family had its share of dysfunction, but nothing that compared to what she’d been through. His parents hadn’t understood his choices. They’d tried to convince him to go to law school—even sweetening the pot with some lucrative offers most twenty-two-year-olds would have jumped at.

  But never, not once, had he ever felt unloved. Unwanted. Unimportant.

  He studied her face, her lashes that fluttered closed. He could hear the anguish in her voice. How was he going to handle this?

  Did she care about him and just didn’t think they could be a good match long term? Or maybe she was trying to let him down easy with the classic “It’s not you, it’s me” brush-off.

  “We can talk about this tomorrow,” he said. She gave a weak shake of her head. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed.”

  She leaned on him as he walked her back inside. Leigh and Ryan were cuddling in an oversized chair by the fire. Leigh jumped up when she saw them.

  “Is she okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Sabrina’s mumbled response was less than encouraging. “Those pills.”

  “I’m glad you took them. They should have knocked you out cold twenty minutes ago.” Leigh gave Adam a knowing look. She knew better than anyone how much pain he was in. “Do you want Ryan to help her up the stairs?”

  “No. I’ve got her.” Adam reached down and scooped Sabrina’s legs into his arms. Her resistance was so weak it worried him. “What did you give her?”

  “Pain medicine,” Leigh said. “The same stuff I’m going to give you in about five minutes. And you’re going to take it or Ryan has been instructed to handcuff you and force it down your throat.”

  “To look at you, no one would expect you to be such a violent little person,” Adam said.

  Leigh led the way up the stairs. “You think I’m kidding.”

  The only thing Leigh was ferocious about, besides Ryan, was her patients. “I know you are, but I’ll do as you’ve requested. After she’s settled.”

  Leigh turned right at the top of the stairs and opened the first door on the right. “In here. The girls are getting the upstairs. The guys get the basement.” She must have gotten the room ready earlier, because the sheets were turned down and a small lamp cast a subtle glow over the room. Adam laid Sabrina on the bed and slid her glasses from her face. He placed them on the nightstand and stepped back to make room for Leigh, who adjusted Sabrina’s head and legs, pulled the covers over her, and turned out the light.

  “You’re next,” she said. “So it would be helpful if you put yourself in a bed before the meds kick in.”

  When Adam got downstairs, Gabe, Ryan, and Anissa were conversing at the bar in the kitchen. “Where did you come from?” he asked Anissa.

  Anissa had on a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt. And her hair was wet. “We’re all staying at Hotel Weston tonight.” She pointed at Leigh. “This one is very hard to argue with.”

  A grin stretched across Leigh’s face. “I wish we could all hang out when we weren’t worried about someone getting killed, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  Leigh had a servant’s heart and a gift for hospitality she didn’t get to use nearly as often as she wanted. “I’ll fix breakfast in the morning, but not before eight. I expect Gabe, Adam, and Sabrina to sleep at least that long.”

  She handed Gabe and Adam each a small capsule, then slid glasses of water toward them. “Bottoms up.”

  “You are very hard to argue with,” Gabe said. But he took the medicine without further complaint. Adam followed suit.

  “Now,” Gabe said, “before we both lose our senses, what’s the connection between Sabrina’s dad and the accountant?”

  When Adam finished retelling Sabrina’s story, four sets of eyes stared back at him, their expressions ranging from horror to sorrow. Leigh got up and grabbed a box of tissues. “How could anyone be so . . . so . . . mean? To their own daughter?” She blew her nose.

  Ryan squeezed Leigh close. “So based on Sabrina’s suspicions about her father, you think the accountant was mixed up in some sort of human trafficking ring?”

  “I think we’d be crazy not to consider that possibility. It fits what we know so far.”

  “This is going to get messy.” Gabe rubbed his eyes. “I worked a couple of human trafficking cases when I was undercover. They’re a special kind of awful.”

  “I guess we know why Sabrina is so passionate about her volunteer work.” Anissa took a tissue for herself and handed the box back to Leigh. “I worked a case with that team she’s on. Those people are amazing. So dedicated.”

  Sabrina was part of a team of self-proclaimed computer nerds—high-level nerds. Not a single one of them had less than a PhD. Most of them had several. They got together one weekend a month to give another set of highly trained eyes to the video and computer evidence that human trafficking investigators all
over the Southeast compiled and sent to them.

  Their success rate was off the charts.

  “Is she going to be able to handle this if the investigation turns up solid proof against her parents?” Gabe poured himself some water. “Because even though they were horrible to her, they’re still her parents. And her mom is still alive. And is a high-powered executive who probably wouldn’t hesitate to sue for defamation of character.”

  Adam considered the question. “I think it will be harder than she expects, but she’ll do it. She’s been carrying this secret for a long time. She doesn’t have any actual proof and no way to know if her mother knows anything or not. It’s been a nagging suspicion for a long time. In some ways, it will be a relief to have solid answers.”

  He hoped.

  “We need to pray for her. We need to pray for all of you,” Leigh said. “This case has already been dangerous. I have a bad feeling it will get worse before it gets better.”

  She leaned into Ryan, who nodded at all of them. “I think she’s right. Let’s pray. I’ll open.”

  All eyes flicked to Anissa. “Fine. I’ll close,” she said.

  Five heads bowed. Ryan began and they went around the circle, praying for wisdom, insight, safety. Leigh focused on healing and protection. Then it got to Anissa.

  “Oh, Father. We’re tired. We’re tired of fighting evil and watching it seem to win time and again. We’re tired of hearing stories like the one we heard tonight of children being mistreated and humans—men and women made in your image—sold as property. We long for the day when you return and everything that has gone wrong gets made right. But until that day, we’re your servants and we ask that you give us guidance as we do the work you’ve given us to do. We know that despite the evil these people are perpetrating, in a way that is both holy and merciful, you love all of us. You love the victims and you love the victimizers. We don’t understand that, Lord. We don’t know how you can do it. But we do know that in your love for these evil men and women, you will not allow them to continue in their sin indefinitely.

  “We’ve seen how you’ve allowed tragedy into our lives to bring an evil person to justice, and we pray now that you will use the evil that has touched the life of our friend to help free the captives and restore homes and families.