“Normally I would say it’s fine for us to stay,” CJ said. “But if we end up with a repeat of that raid in March…well, I don’t think we’re up to that. Grandma and I better go with the rest of you.”
“Alrighty then,” Greg said. “We leave this afternoon, which means we should start packin’ up the houses now. Terrell says the clearing is about three-quarters of a mile from here. Families should bring enough food to keep people happy—maybe somethin’ to entertain the kids, too. And bring sleeping stuff in case somethin’ goes wrong.”
There were groans at that last part but no outright complaints.
“Can I bring the baseball, Greg?” Zach asked. “We could play another game.”
“Sure. Anything else before we start packin’?” he said to the group.
When nobody spoke, Carrie straightened. “As soon as Jamansky leaves, I’ll come let you know it’s safe to return.”
Greg spun. “When I said everybody behind the pond tonight, I meant everybody, Carrie. No exceptions.”
She gave him a strange look. “But Jamansky’s coming to see me.”
“And you won’t be home.”
“Greg…”
“I’m not budging on this,” he said, finally understanding why she hadn’t fought his plan. “It’s not safe for you to be here.”
His grandma patted her hand. “Gregory is right, dear. That man is dangerous.”
“But I have my citizenship now,” Carrie said.
“Yeah?” Greg shot back. “So did I when he cuffed me and killed my mom.”
Carrie’s eyes widened as if he’d slapped her, making him regret letting the words come out so sharply. Technically Jamansky hadn’t killed his mom—not directly—but Greg would never forget the moment the patrol chief’s gun had turned on her. She’d fallen, breaking her hip, and sending her spiraling toward the end. And yet, Jamansky had scoffed.
“Looks like I’d be doing her a favor.”
She died a few hours later.
Carrie knew what had happened that day. She knew what Jamansky was capable of. So why would she risk seeing that creep ever again?
“Greg,” Ron Marino said, “Carrie has a point. It will look suspicious if no one is home when this patrol chief comes back. What if he decides to visit Carrie another time, only this time we won’t know he’s coming? Or maybe he’ll just wait around for her to come home. Either way could cause major issues.”
“Exactly,” Carrie said. “I have to stay. I need to find out about Oliver anyway.”
Every one of Greg’s muscles went rock hard, but in a burst of genius, he said, “Hey, Richard, you woulda done anything for my mom, right?”
“Right,” Richard said. He still looked deathly pale—also wary at the sudden change of direction.
“Does that courtesy extend to her son?”
“Possibly. Why?”
“What if you’re at Carrie’s house instead when Jamansky comes tonight?”
“No!” Carrie said, shooting to her feet.
“Now hold on,” Greg said. “Richard has his citizenship, too. What if he pretends to be your dad or uncle or whatever? He can just tell Jamansky you’re gone, had to step out, or whatever reason.”
Carrie was shaking her head before he even finished. “I need to ask about Oliver.”
“Which Richard can do as easily as you,” Greg noted.
“But he’s coming to make sure I’m feeling better. I’ll ask a few questions, and that’s it,” Carrie said. “I can handle myself just fine.”
Like Oliver did? Greg bit back the words, knowing they weren’t worth the pain they would cause her.
Thankfully, Richard saw the logic of his plan. “I can handle myself, too, except I don’t have two siblings counting on me. I have to agree with Greg on this, Carrie. I’m the safer choice. Will you do me the honor and allow me to pose as your father?”
“But you’re sick!” she said.
Richard smiled tiredly. “As are you. But I’m afraid this situation isn’t safe for you. If this patrol chief really is romantically interested in you…”
“Obsessed,” Greg cut in. “Ashlee specifically said he’s obsessed with Carrie.”
“If that’s the case,” Richard said, “then—”
“It’s not,” Carrie said, face reddening.
“Or if he’s trying to get revenge on Oliver by lashing out at you,” Terrell Dixon added from his spot on the grass. “Either way, I agree. Richard should stay.”
Desperate, Carrie scanned the group for support. The women seemed unsure, but every man Greg saw nodded emphatically. They got it. They knew enough about David Jamansky and alpha-types like him. They understood how dangerous he could be.
“All in favor of Richard talking to Jamansky instead?” Greg asked.
Every hand lifted. That is, every hand but Carrie’s. Greg could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head, a deep laser-like beam. He was going to pay for this later.
He didn’t care.
“Then it’s settled,” Greg said. “Everybody but Richard behind the pond tonight. We better start packin’ up the houses now if we’re gonna be done in time.”
As people started for home, he found the courage to turn around. Carrie’s deep blue eyes pinned him, waiting for an apology or for him to change his mind. He refused. Her life motto involved sacrificing herself to save others. But he couldn’t let her—not this time. Not even for Oliver.
Standing, she brushed off. “I better get home, May. Apparently, I have some packing to do.”
Standing, she walked down the sidewalk and past Greg without another glance.
“Want help?” Greg called out.
Carrie didn’t answer.
He grunted to himself, pretty sure she’d heard him just fine.
Running a hand through his shaggy hair, he sighed. “Alrighty, Grandma. Let’s get y’all ready.”
eleven
THE LAST TIME THE CLAN played baseball, Amber, Maddie, and Lindsey offered to be cheerleaders. Amber had loved that, especially watching Braden get all sweaty as he killed it on the field. Today she sat with her friends—old and new—on a ratty blanket, watching the clan play. Braden lay on the blanket next to her, in and out of consciousness, with Ashlee Lyon acting as a germ barrier to Braden’s younger sisters.
Amber studied the slow rise and fall of Braden’s hand on his chest. She loved that he still wore the red cloth bracelet she’d made him. He said he wasn’t as cold today, but his skin still burned hot, and he slept almost nonstop.
She nudged his shoulder. “Hey,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
Braden didn’t respond, but Maddie did. Not very nicely, either.
“Leave him alone, Amber,” Maddie growled. “I’m serious.”
Lindsey leaned forward to see down the line. “Is she trying to wake him up again?”
“No, I just thought he moved,” Amber said.
“Whatever,” Maddie said. “Let him sleep. He’s been through enough.”
As if Amber didn’t know that? She just liked it when he woke up. It reassured her that he was actually improving. For some reason, he was taking longer than the others to bounce back, which worried her. A lot.
Sighing, she hugged her knees to watch the stupid game.
The area they were hiding in was bumpy and filled with weeds, so the players spent forever stomping down a spot to play. Then Greg went easy on the batters since they were back to using the rusty pipe for a bat, and everyone had to catch the ball barehanded. He pitched soft enough even Amber could have hit it. He was the only decent player out there, too. Jeff Kovach was long gone, Terrell was too sick—obviously Braden, too—and Sasha was watching the little boys. Somehow Zach had convinced Carrie to play even though she looked tired. Then again, Zach always got away with murder. Carrie stood over the third base rock, rubbing her bad ear and blinking a million times—two annoying habits she had picked up recently.
Everything was irking Amber today, including Ashle
e Lyon who, for some reason, was being super quiet.
Leaning over, Amber felt Braden’s forehead again. Hot, even in the shade. How did anyone think he was improving?
“Hey, Ashlee,” she said. “When can I give Braden the next shot?”
Ashlee Lyon swatted a bug off her arm. “Tonight. Before bed.”
“That long? I think we should give him an extra one now. He’s not doing well.”
“They told us in the township that it would take a day or two for the medicine to kick in. He just needs time.”
“Time stinks,” Amber muttered. Either it went aggravatingly slow, or it sped by, stealing perfect moments before they had barely started. She leaned back on her elbows, keeping her left side pressed against Braden even though it made her hot and sticky.
“Speaking of time,” Ashlee Lyon said, glancing up at the sun, “what time do you think it is?”
“No clue. Are you really that worried about your ex and Richard?”
Maybe that’s why Ashlee Lyon was being so quiet.
“Yes. I hope he doesn’t bring his dogs.” Ashlee Lyon hugged her knees. “If he does, he’ll have no problem tracking us down—tracking me down.”
That kick-started Amber’s heart. Ever since she’d woken up in March to patrol dogs barking and searching the neighborhood, she’d had nightmares about them returning.
“Bretton and Felix know me well,” Ashlee continued, barely watching the game. “If David’s smart, he could track me from the office to your neighborhood. And then…”
Amber smacked her leg. “Why are you telling me this? Have you told Greg and Carrie?”
“No, because there’s nothing we can do about it anyway.”
“Well, don’t tell them,” Amber said firmly. “They’re stressed enough. I’m sure it’s fine. We’ll be fine. We’re nowhere near the neighborhood, so we’re fine, okay? We are. Stop freaking me out.”
A soft moan sounded on the other side of her.
Amber twisted around.
“Braden!” she said excitedly. “You’re awake!”
His beautiful turquoise eyes opened. Barely. Blinking a few times, he found her hovering over him.
“How long was I out…that time?” His voice sounded groggy.
“Forever,” she said. “But that’s okay. I know you’re tired. Sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“Yeah.” He licked his dry lips.
Ashlee Lyon stood. “He needs to drink. I’ll go get him some water.”
As she left, Amber brushed some sandy-blond hair off Braden’s warm forehead. “Does your head hurt any less?”
“Some. How’s…the game?” he asked.
“Awful. I wish you were playing.”
Another weak smile. “Me, too. I think…” He paused for a slow breath. “I think I lost something.”
Amber looked around. She hadn’t seen him bring anything in the wagon they’d carted him over in, and he still wore his red bracelet. “What is it?”
His hand moved around on the ragged blanket, feeling around until it found hers. He brought her hand on top of his warm chest and clutched it to him. Then he closed his eyes again with a contented sigh.
She didn’t mind that time when he drifted back to sleep.
* * * * *
When Carrie saw Ashlee Lyon heading toward the water bucket, she decided that was excuse enough. Energy drained, she waved at her brother.
“Hey, Zach, I’m going to rest for a bit.”
Zach didn’t care. He was in baseball heaven. But Greg shot her a worried look. She hadn’t felt up to baseball, but Zach had begged her to play. Greg had pitched, but he’d watched her often, giving her a thumbs-up anytime she made a good play—anytime she made any play. Groveling from afar. He offered his NY Yankees cap again to shield her eyes, but she insisted she didn’t need it. Now, he looked amazing wearing it while she had a stabbing headache.
She knew the game. Usually she even enjoyed playing it. But with everything…
Ashlee ladled some water into a small drinking cup.
“Can I join you?” Carrie asked, grateful to enter the shade.
Ashlee looked up. “Oh. Sure.”
The government clerk looked worried, pushing Carrie’s own fears back to the surface.
Richard. Jamansky.
Oliver.
“Are you doing okay?” Carrie asked. It was Ashlee’s boyfriend, after all, causing all the issues. Her neck seemed to have healed, but her cheek was still red from where he’d hit her.
Ashlee took a small sip of water. “I’m thinking about going back.”
“Oh. I can take you back once Richard says it’s safe.”
“Not back to your neighborhood.” Ashlee rubbed the rim of her cup. “Back home.”
Carrie stared at her. “Why?”
“I don’t belong here. I’ll only cause more issues by staying. And if I can just get access to my computer, I might be able to figure out where Oliver is.”
“You’re not causing issues.” Ashlee shot her a look, but Carrie went on. “Seriously. It’s nice having you here. As for going back, it doesn’t seem safe for you. Maybe David will tell Richard where Oliver is. Hopefully after tonight and the patrol sweep Friday, we’ll know more about a lot of things. What if you wait to decide anything until then?”
Ashlee sighed. “Yeah. I guess.”
The game dwindled until it was just Zach, Greg, Tucker, and the Dixon twins tossing the ball around. The boys were running Greg ragged, but he didn’t seem to mind. He never did, which was good because the game—even the little she had contributed—had worn her out. She needed to get off her feet. But at least Zach was enjoying himself.
Which reminded her…
“Can I ask you a question?” she said to Ashlee. “Since I own my house now, I need to get citizenship cards for Amber and Zach. Do you have any suggestions?” She dreaded going into Shelton again. In the last six years, she’d only been around real citizens once, and her date with Oliver hadn’t exactly turned out well. Case in point, she was sitting in a weed patch instead of her house.
“My partner, Ellen, will probably be covering my shifts,” Ashlee said. “She’s not exactly the easiest to work with, even before I disappeared, but don’t let her scare you. Just tell her what you need and make sure you have all your paperwork. You’ll need to have the fee ready, too, prorated for the year which I can help you calculate. Probably a few hundred dollars. And you’ll need the new currency, but I think Greg already exchanged your money.”
“A few hundred dollars?” Carrie said. That was a small fortune. “I’ll have to check with CJ. Our hospital trip used a lot of our money, but I don’t know how much. Actually, didn’t you give Oliver money to help us?”
Ashlee shrugged.
Just another way Carrie was indebted to her. “Thank you.”
“It’s fine.” Ashlee waved away a mosquito buzzing around her blonde hair. “I just wish I’d brought the rest of my money with me. I wish I’d done a lot of things before I ran off like a spoiled brat.” She ducked away from another mosquito. “Why am I the only one getting eaten alive? It must be my hairspray.” Scratching her scalp, she said, “You’ll need Amber and Zach’s birth certificates, and any other paperwork you can think of. Ellen shouldn’t ask for it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”
Better safe than sorry.
Carrie stole a glance over her shoulder at Greg. His arm was cocked back, ready to pitch another one, but seeing her gaze on him, he straightened. A corner of his mouth quirked up, offering her another apologetic smile. The hundredth of the day.
Safe.
Sorry.
“I could…come with you into town?” Ashlee offered. “If I returned, I could process their cards for you.”
Carrie turned back. It was a half-hearted offer, like Ashlee really didn’t want to go back home, she just didn’t know where else to go. “No. I’ll be fine. I’ll go with them Wednesday. I don’t mind going on my own.”
&
nbsp; “Goin’ where?” Greg said, coming up behind her.
Carrie flinched but didn’t turn. “Thanks for your help, Ashlee.”
“Sure.” Ashlee’s gaze flickered to Greg, probably wondering if Carrie would answer. When Carrie didn’t, Ashlee said, “Well, I better give Braden his water before he falls back asleep.”
As she left, Carrie picked up her own cup and ladled water out of the bucket into it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Greg watching her, waiting for an answer. She wasn’t about to tell him and let him turn the clan against this, too.
“How are your grandparents holding up?” she asked, taking a sip.
“Fine,” Greg said. “And you?”
“Fine.”
A soft breeze blew her hair around. She watched the boys play while pondering the price of citizenship—both literal and theoretical. With Greg gone, the boys started tossing the ball back and forth, faster and harder to see who could catch it barehanded without flinching. It looked painful.
Greg still watched her expectantly.
She shaded her eyes to search across the field. “Are you sure your grandparents are okay? May looks tired, and your grandpa seems to have fallen asleep. I actually need to ask him something. Excuse me.”
“Carrie, wait,” Greg said, snagging her arm. “Are you ever gonna talk to me again?”
“Talk about what?”
“The game. The weather. Where you think you’re goin’ Wednesday. Why you’re mad at me. Why you won’t even look at me now.” Reaching up, he turned her chin until she met his questioning gaze.
“I’m not mad,” she said.
He cocked a brow.
Didn’t he realize that she could never be mad at him again, not after everything he’d done? She owed him too much. She owed him her life and the life of too many others. So she wasn’t mad at Greg—could never be again. But her thoughts were too turbulent today, so she politely squirmed free and turned back.
“I’m just worried,” she said. “Is Jamansky at my house yet? Will Richard know what to say? How mad will Jamansky be when he finds out I’m avoiding him?” And beyond those questions, how would the clan afford to have three more people paying taxes? What if they ran out of money? Or medicine? And Oliver. Always Oliver. She sighed. “I’m just worried.”
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