"Carolyn . . ." Molly said, but Carolyn shook her head and wiped at her eyes.
"Anyway, Hector came to your father specifically because Hector had this idea about a council. I know now from the news reports on Acadia what came to be as far as that went, but when he first spoke of it, he spoke of a group of men who understood what it was to fall in the "big society" as he called it—a group of men who had personal knowledge about the evils of our culture—men who could guide and mold this 'land of plenty.'"
I thought about what I'd learned from the news reports on the Acadia council—things I hadn't understood when I'd lived there. Hector had gone around the country gathering together a group of men who had been disgraced in one way or another and were desperately looking for a place to find respect again, to reclaim some small measure of the power they'd once had. And of course, there was the financial gain. Hector was paying them a yearly salary—far more than any of them had been making in their previous jobs. The police had looked for the money trail, but apparently Hector had known how to hide it. The property had been paid for in cash and put in his false name as well. They'd never found a thing that would clue them in to Hector's true identity.
And of course, the council had been chosen to benefit Hector in a myriad of ways as well . . . a judge . . . a police officer . . . I moved that aside.
Sadness welled inside me as she discussed Acadia, even the idea of it. It had been my home. It had been where I fell deeply in love. And somewhere inside me, just speaking of it, sparked a longing so intense, it shocked me, because it had also been the place where life ended. Of course, it wasn't the place I longed for, but a person. And for me, that's where he'd always be. I swallowed heavily.
"What happened to make my father see Hector for who he really was?"
"You," my mother said quietly. She looked off behind me as if she was recalling something specific. "He had met you, but one day you ran in while your father, Hector and I were talking, and you had a sundress on. Hector saw the birth mark on your shoulder and he got this look." She shivered. "The look in his eyes . . . it was . . . hungry." She paused for a minute. "Things changed after that day. Your father saw the way Hector looked at you, the way Hector became obsessed with you. He was obsessed with this idea that you were the key to this journey to the afterlife the gods had planned for the people that would live in this perfect utopian society of his." She shook her head. "After that, your father started distancing himself from Hector . . . made excuses when Hector asked to come to our home. I had hoped your father was on his way back to being the man he had been. But then one day, we came home from a hearing about your father's old company, and . . . you were gone. The nanny we'd left you with thought you were playing in your room." Tears welled up in her eyes again. "Just like that, you were gone. And then," she sucked in a breath, "your father was, too."
I scooted my chair out, stood up, and leaned over to hug my mother as she cried in my arms. I wiped the tears from her cheeks and then hugged her again. After a minute, I returned to my own chair. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "Everything you've been through . . . I'm so sorry." I knew, that when it came to unthinkable grief, the best someone could do for you was recognize and acknowledge your pain.
My mom sniffled and nodded. "Your father, Eden. He wasn't a perfect man. He had made a terrible mistake. But he loved you more than anything in this world. It broke him to lose you. And he simply couldn't put the pieces back together."
I nodded, picturing the man in the photo Felix had given me, the man whom I recalled so very little of. We both sat quietly, my mom and Molly sipping their wine, me thinking about everything I'd been told in the last hour. It would take me a long time to organize all the pieces. After a minute I asked, "So Hector told you his name was Damon?"
"Yes. Damon Abas. Another false name."
I nodded. I wondered if the police would ever determine Hector's true identity. Now that I knew more about him, it was almost as if he had simply materialized at my parents’ house that day so long ago.
"Did the police look for a place like Damon Abas had described once I was taken?"
"Oh yes. Damon . . . Hector had indicated Acadia was here in the Midwest, somewhere close by." She shook her head. "He never disclosed the location and we had no reason to press the issue at the time. We figured we'd learn more when we began planning our relocation. The police scoured every community that was anywhere near the description Hector had given us. They came up empty. I never realized how many alternative societies are out there, most of them completely under the radar. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack." She looked off behind me for a minute. "I see it so clearly now that I know about Acadia, and I imagine the police do, too. As for the whys and the hows, there are so many things to understand. Half of me wants to, and the other half wants to brush my hands of it and thank God you're back where you belong."