He stared at her. Shock, confusion, and so much pride that he had no right to feel. She was beautiful. Stunning. Perfect.
“Hi, Echo,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
No one had called him that in over eleven years, and it took him right back to his days of working at DynaTech. The small weight of her in his arms as he carried her to that locked room where grown men were paid to attack her. He’d tried to refuse. Many times. But Ned Dynam was an evil man and he knew exactly what to say to keep him in line. When it came down to it, he always had to choose between the kids Ned tortured and his own son. Of course, he chose his son. Now here was one of those kids, smiling at him as if he wasn’t a leading character in her childhood trauma.
“What are you doing here, Violet?” He practically barked. This was no place for a young woman like her. And now that he knew who that guard was talking about, he wanted to gouge his eyes out for looking at her like that and cut his tongue out for talking about her that way. To him, she’d always be that cute six-year-old. The little girl he’d have gladly given his life for. The same one who’d thanked him for saving her, after he’d led the people that she loved into an ambush that had very nearly killed them, and her.
“I brought you something,” she said. Her voice was soft and sweet. Like music. A melody he once knew all too well but could hardly remember with the passing of time. That was the onething his dreams never got quite right - the exact pitch and tone of her voice.
She reached into bag and pulled out a folded sheet of construction paper. The kind kids draw on at school. She unfolded it and slid it across the table to him, but he wasn’t allowed to touch it. He just stared at the drawing of what looked like a man, him it seemed, and some other man he didn’t recognize.
When he brought his gaze back to her she was smiling like she was expecting him to like it or understand it. “What is this?” He barked again. He really didn’t like her being here and bringing up even more feelings about his past than he was already inundated with on a daily and nightly basis.
“It’s from Charlie,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I told him I was finally going to be able to come see you this week, and he wanted to make something special for you. He’s been really loving this new art class they have going on there. And the teacher, Miss Zoey, is really nice. She’s not supposed to play favorites, but between you and me, I think Charlie is her favorite.”
His chest grew tight and his throat felt like it was closing. He hadn’t talked to his son in years. Because of his disability, it was hard to get him on the phone, and the few times he’d called to ask about him, the staff knew he was calling from prison and just brushed him off or simply hung up on him. “You know Charlie?” It was all he could find the words to say.
She nodded. “After you and my dad got shot, we were all waiting at the hospital for my dad to get out of surgery. When I asked who was going to see you when you woke up, we found out that you only had Charlie, and he couldn’t come see you. So, I came to see you instead.” She shook her head. “You probably don’t remember.”
“I remember.” The words came out hoarse like he’d swallowed a frog. But damn, he remembered. Her words played over and over in his head every night like a broken record. Some nights they were comforting. Others they were haunting, and he’d shoot out of bed covered in a cold sweat. “I remember,” he repeated, rubbing the knuckles on the hand her fingers had so gently touched that day.
“After my dad was released from the hospital, and was fully recovered from his injuries, he found out where Charlie was, and we went to see him. He was funny and nice, and he showed us his room. After that, we started exchanging letters. Well, I sent letters that the nurses would read to him and he’d send me pictures. I have a whole stack of ones just like that except he usually draws pictures of himself and the things he likes to do. I left a bin of them with the guard before I came in here. You can keep them all if you want.”
His breathing wasn’t right anymore. His vision was blurring, and his heart was racing to the point he thought he might have a heart attack. “You’ve been in touch with Charlie all this time?”
“Are you mad?” She asked, her tone suddenly fearful with a hint of apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be mad. I just felt so bad for him. He was all alone. And after they sentenced you to all these years in prison… I just didn’t want him to be all alone in the world. I remember feeling that way, but I had Aunt April. He didn’t have anyone.”
Fighting back the hot tears that threatened to spill over his eyelids, he cleared his throat. “I’m not mad. I wish I’d known, but I’m not mad. Violet, I-” He had no idea what to say. To thank her seemed silly and weird. She hadn’t done it for him. She’d done it for Charlie. His son. “I don’t know what to say.” He finally admitted, feeling completely overwhelmed and like the biggest idiot in the world.
“He inspired me to take art classes at a local community college while I was in high school,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to write and illustrate children’s books, and I’m almost done with one that I think I might try to submit to an agent.”
He hadn’t forgotten the books she used to write and draw in her room with April. He’d never looked at them, but he’d seen some of them in passing when she was working on them, and she was damn good, even back then. “That’s incredible,” he said.
There was so much he wanted to ask her. To tell her. Then she grew serious. And he tensed. Not sure what to expect. She’d already surprised him just by being here, and then again when she’d told him about Charlie. All these years, he’d thought his son was alone in the world, and here she was telling him that the one prayer he’d ever prayed, had actually been heard and answered. His son had a friend in his corner.
“But after I graduate,” she said, “I’ve decided that I’m not going to art school.”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers, not sure why she was telling him this.
“I’m going to follow in my dad’s footsteps and pursue a career in law enforcement. Specifically, I want to be a prison guard.”
“What? Why?” He couldn’t have helped the explosion of questions if his life had depended on it. There he was counting down the seconds to when she’d leave so he could draw in a full breath without worrying about someone looking at her the wrong way, and she wanted to work in a place like this?
“Because I want to help people,” she said matter-of-factly.
“There are a lot of other ways to help people,” he said, feeling completely unprepared and inadequate to be having this conversation with her. Shouldn’t this be something she talked about with her dad?
“People like you who have no one,” she explained without missing a beat. “And before you say anything else, I know there are some prisoners who are mean and dangerous. But there are also people like you here who are more gray than black and white. I might seem like this perfect and innocent young woman to you, but I’ve lived my life in a very gray area, Echo. I know what it’s like to have something inside you that you hate, something that brings out the worst in you. I know what it’s like to make choices you’re not proud of, and to know that you’ve done things you’d rather forget. I know what it’s like to live and drown in that gray area that all but consumes your every thought. To wake up in a cold sweat because it haunts you day and night.”
His eyes grew wide at her words. It was like she was reading his mind. But the Violet he knew was good down to her core. What did she know about this gray area she was talking about?
As if to answer his unspoken question, she continued. “I still think about them. Those soldiers. The knives.” Her voice grew softer as she spoke, but he heard every word. “Their screams still wake me up some nights.”
“Violet, that wasn’t your fault,” he insisted, knowing exactly which incident she was referring to. It washisfault. He should’ve intervened sooner. He’d watched her grow tired, but he’d held out not wanting to get his own ass in trouble. Except he was a grown man and she’d been a little girl with a lot of power.
She gave a quick shake of her head like she couldn’t bear to remember it one more time. “I know what it’s like to live in that gray area, Echo,” she repeated. “And I know what a difference it makes when you have someone in your corner to help you through it.”
Lucky her. He never had anyone like that. But that still didn’t mean she should work in a place like this. Not with the kind of people he was surrounded by.
