I shove the book back onto the shelf and whirl around. He’s looking at me, but in a casual way, like half of his attention is still on the papers in front of him. Which gives me time to think of the long, quiet evenings on the island when Derek would disappear into his office. The stories I had to dream of in my head because I wasn’t allowed anything other than the Bible and children’s books for Bellamy. "It’s been a while since I’ve read something new."
He waves a hand. “Take whatever looks interesting up to your room, then. Most of those Luna bought for us over the years, vainly hoping we’d become readers like she is.”
“You’re not a reader?”
“Not fiction. I’m currently reading a history of the Canadian Pacific Railway.”
"Is it good?"
"Depends on your interest in surveying disputes."
My face screws up despite myself.Don’t insult your host, Hope Waterford!
But Zane doesn’t look offended.
Which pulls a different request from me, unbidden. "Do you have anything that I might be able to read to Bellamy? I’m making up her bedtime stories right now.”
He gets up and wanders across to a smallerbookshelf on the opposite side of the room from me. “How about a book about the biggest and smallest animals in the Rockies?”
“That’ll do just fine, thank you.”
He doesn’t come all the way over to me, he just sets it down on a small table between us before returning to his desk.
After a beat, he picks up the phone and moves it to sit on top of the book.
My pulse races, and I force myself to keep moving along the shelves. To keep acting like I’m just killing time waiting for laundry, and not panicking on the inside about something that I know—I know—is irrational.
There’s no way Derek can find me if I use a ranch phone just to contact Luna and her sons about chores. I won’t use my name.
How can I make sure that Zane doesn’t use my name?
But he hasn’t even asked me to fill out employment paperwork yet.
He knows I’m on the run.
He hasn’t asked me too much about that yet.
Maybe he never will.
Maybe at the end of the week, he’ll just pay his brother my wages earned, and I’ll be able to put Bellamy into a working car and we can hit the road again.
That should be a comfortingwhat if,but my pulse doesn’t slow down any. It’s not easier to breathe as I envision us heading into the prairies.
The promise of endless straight roads through wheat fields kept me going through the mountains, the interior, and the mountains again.
But now it feels like I’ve hit a breaking point, like I stopped running just long enough for thepanic to catch up with me, and now the thought of fleeing again is overwhelming. Just as it was for three years on the compound.
I open my mouth to tell him that I’m leaving. Better to test him now, to see his reaction, than to wait and find out later that I’m trapped again.
But then I feel an imaginary flutter in my belly, and my bravery seizes up.
It’s too soon to actually feel the baby. I have weeks at least, probably even months, before there are any visible clues that I’m pregnant.
I have time. I don’t have to challenge anyone yet. I should take that phone and use it to figure out my next steps. Slowly. Carefully.
Patience can be brave, too.
My heart lodged in my throat, I force myself to keep moving along the shelf. Past the books I’m so tempted to read to the plant stands in front of the window.
