Blood and Bone(22)

"Then what happened?"

He shrugs. "Well, nothing. Don't get me wrong-you wanted more, but I  could see what it all meant to you. Sex was a way to manipulate men and  control them. So we talked. I came over every night. We talked and I  cooked, and then we talked some more until one night you fell asleep  with the lights off. When you woke in the morning we stayed in the bed,  in the silence, and we knew. I confessed I didn't want to kill you, and I  didn't want to die, so the only solution was to run."

"And that's where we are now? On the run again?"

His eyes narrow as if he's squinting to look down the highway better.  "Not exactly." He sighs. "We burned the car after the accident we staged  and tried for three years to be an honest couple, traveling and hiding  from our employers. But you slowly got worse and worse. Your paranoia,  nightmares, and sleepwalking were getting so bad I didn't know what else  to do. The job had been a focus for you. It had closed off your brain.  When you worked you didn't have nightmares or sleepwalk. I looked into  people with amnesia, operations that caused it, and accidents that  resulted in it. We decided together it was the best option for you." He  pulls over to the side of the road and gets out of the car. He messes  around in the trunk and comes back with a small box. He hands it to me  and drives on. "This is everything we had from before the operation."

He drives, and I flip through three years of my life that I will never  get back. There is a small photo album with trips to different countries  and holidays. In the beginning we are smiling and look happy. As I flip  through it I can see the decline in myself. My skin becomes sallow and  pale. My eyes have huge bags under them. My hair is darker and darker  but messier and less glossy. By the end, in every photo I can see worry  in his eyes and a hollow distant stare in mine. The last three pages are  photos of me sleeping on trains and in cars and in beds. It's  disturbing how easily my father chased us around the world, even after  he was dead.         

     



 

When we get back to Pat's, he stops the car, giving me a look. "Five minutes, okay?"

I nod, getting out and carrying the album to the front door. She opens  the door with a leery look on her face. "You was gone when I got up. Ya  been gone the whole day. I thought we was gonna spend time together."

I nod. "Sorry. I had to see something." She glances past me to the man  in the car. I lift the photo album to block her view. "I have something I  need you to see and that I need you to know." She looks confused but  opens the door wider so we can both walk in. I sit down on the floral  couch and brace myself for the very real possibility she is going to  tell me I am insane.

I flip to the start of the book. "Six years ago I ran away with a man  named Benjamin. He was the first person I think I ever loved."

She scowls at the photos. "I never heard of him."

"I kept him secret. We traveled for three years, and I spent every  waking moment trying to outrun my father and the things he did after Mom  died."

She swallows hard, shuddering a little. I know that feeling well.

"I went everywhere and did everything I could to be rid of it all, but  it didn't work." I flip pages until I get to the depressed pages. She  points at the one of me looking particularly horrid. "That's how your  momma looked when she died."

I nod, not even a little suspicious about how that happened. "Well, I  was done. I needed a new life. So I had an operation to make me forget  everything. When I woke, I was told I was in an accident. I was told I  was a victim of amnesia. I was convinced my life was perfect before the  car accident. I had a great man who cared for me and a cat named Binx."

The name of the cat makes her cry as she nods. "That makes sense."

I turn to her as tears start to roll down my cheeks. "I need to go back  to that place. That beautiful oblivion that sits there waiting for me.  The innocence of my mind and creation of my new past is the only thing  that's going to save me."

Tears roll from her oddly colored eyes, looking similar to mine, I  imagine. She sniffles, sucking her trembling breaths momentarily before  nodding again. "I don't blame you at all. If I could have taken it all  away I woulda. I woulda done anything. I woulda walked through fire to  make it go away. I didn't know what was happening until the school  called the social workers for help. I just didn't know." She lifts my  hand to her lips and kisses, closing her eyes and gripping me. "Is there  a world where I won't remind you of him, or do I have to stay here in  this world?"

I nod. "I think so. But you gotta leave this all behind. You must come  with us, not tell anyone where you're going and not be in communication  with anyone. Can you do that?"

"I can."

I wrap my arms around her, gripping her. "You are going to have to trust  Benjamin Dash. Whatever he says is how it goes. He knows how to do  this. He's the person I trusted last time with my memory erasing."

She sniffles and smiles, leaning into me more. "I will do whatever it takes. I don't want to lose you again, Sam."

The name makes me feel dirty. "Jane. I like Jane."

"Jane it is."

"We're going to bring you with us this time. Pack your things, Aunty.  You won't be able to bring much, just the basics." I kiss her cheek and  get up, leaving her there. When I look back I try to be as upbeat as I  can. "I'll send him to come and get you. He uses the name Derek since we  ran away."

She smiles nicely. "I'll be ready when he comes."

"I have to go. The government might be watching the house." I wave,  clutching my photo album and hurrying outside. I run down the stairs to  the car, realizing I might have led Derek into a trap.

When I get into the car he cocks a dark eyebrow at me. "Something you want to tell me?"

I nod. "Two things. She's coming with me this time, and we have to leave now. Rory might be watching the house."

He lifts his thumb, pointing behind us. "He's right there." He starts  the car, driving carefully until he rounds the corner, and then lets his  driving loose. He skids around the next corner, flying through the  residential area, using the parking brake to skid around the next corner  into an alley. We have done a complete rectangle, only we exit out the  back of the neighborhood, away from my house. He drives fast, speeding  away. I'm nervous, but he looks pissed so I don't say anything about the  driving. Instead, my hands don't leave the holy-shit handles, and my  breath doesn't leave my lungs.         

     



 

He turns several corners, passing people on the wrong side. Eventually, I  close my eyes, ready to flip out. In the dark of my closed eyes, the  driving feels more like a topsy-turvy sea, tossing our boat about.  Suddenly we come to a complete stop, back up abruptly, and stop again.  He turns the car off and sits quietly with only his breath making  noises.

I open an eye, scared of what I'll find, but it's actually quite  beautiful. He's driven us to a small house with a huge yard surrounded  by tall trees. The manicured spot is stunning-the sort of yard you would  imagine grandparents would have out of boredom. No working person could  maintain something like this. Rosebushes line the bases of the trees on  one side and lilac bushes the other side. It must be fragrant in the  spring and summer. We are parked in a garage of sorts next to the little  white house. My hands cramp up as I release them from the handle,  giving him a confused look. "Did you lose them?"

He nods. "Why did you trust him, of all people?" His voice is cold and distant. I don't recognize it. "Why him?"

"He had a lot of evidence against you, and none of it proved you worked for any agency. You look like a serial killer to them."

A small smile toys with his luscious lips. "I am what I am, Jane. I just prefer not to classify it."

Something about the statement chills me. I know he's sick. I can see it  on him when he loses his control, but it's easy to forget about when  he's being the Derek I've always known. It's easy to see him as a  regular man. To me he is the only man. I take his hand in mine, trying  to ignore how cool and clammy it is when I bring it to my lips. "I love  you, Derek."

He shakes his head. "I know you love me, but you don't know me, Jane. Not really."

"I do know you. I remember knowing you and loving you. But I prefer the Derek you were in Seattle."

His gray eyes are void of all green. I think that the green is the  goodness in him and the gray is the evil. When he's too full up on bad,  the green doesn't show. I lean forward, completely terrified of the man I  am pressing my lips against, and yet intrigued that he is the gentle  giant with me. He never hurts me. I don't think he can.

He kisses back. It's wooden and unemotional, but it warms slowly. His  lips begin to move, rubbing against mine. Our fingers find their way up  each other's arms, gripping each other.