Whereas, whenever Jennifer came over, she insisted on fussing over me. I thought at first that either Isaac or Jason must have looped Jennifer in on the plans for my departure before I had the chance to tell her. She seemed to know all about it the very first time she stopped by after Isaac’s initial visit. But it had become clear that Cletus was the mastermind behind my escape plan, and of course he’d told her everything.
Jennifer hadn’t liked the idea. We’d passed an afternoon writing notes back and forth about it—and about Jason—but our time had been rudely interrupted by Mr. Miller shoving his way into my house, making threats and being loathsome.
Anyway, enough about that odious man.
Because of the ongoing murder investigation, I’d missed my daughter’s wedding shower. Even if I remained in town, I would miss her wedding for the same reason. In the end, even Jennifer appeared convinced that I had no choice but to eventually leave Green Valley and go on the run.
As I closed the door behind my son and swapped stares with him in my foyer, I recognized that eventually was finally upon us.
“I have steak and fried cauliflower. Is that okay?” I asked, pressing my palms to my stomach. It was in riots.
“That sounds great. I also brought laundry.” Isaac handed over a canvas satchel along with his helmet. He looked pointedly at the bag. “Do you mind starting those now and I’ll come back to get them later? I can’t stay long.”
I knew what was in the bag. I’d been preparing for this moment for weeks. But preparing for something, no matter how much, didn’t mean I’d ever be ready for it.
I waited to speak until I was sure my voice would sound normal. “Sure thing, baby. The food is in the fridge. Help yourself while I see to these. Do you mind if I turn some music on? I’ve been playing old records recently.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I turned from my son and walked blindly into the living room. Once there, I dropped the bag and helmet to the couch, flipped on the record already on the player—Louis Armstrong’s All Time Greatest Hits—and squeezed my eyes shut. Notes from What a Wonderful World filled the room and I bit down to stifle a sob. The music would hide the small sound, but I needed to get control over myself before I started bawling.
Would you believe that I’d been both looking forward to and dreading this day? I missed Jason. I missed his teasing and flirting, his sweetness and thoughtfulness. And I missed his roughness, too. I was also restless to do something other than hide in this house where I didn’t feel particularly safe. The way things were, I couldn’t fully be part of either Jennifer or Isaac’s lives. I reasoned, in a way, I’d already left Green Valley.
Even so, the thought of actually, physically leaving my babies behind persisted in strangling me.
I felt Isaac’s fingers curl around my arm. He turned me a split second before his solid arms surrounded my shoulders. My son pulled me into an embrace and I pressed myself against his chest, doing my best not to burst into tears. My heart hurt. I felt hollow and dazed.
“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely above a breath, almost lost as Louis Armstrong began playing his trumpet. “I wouldn’t let you leave unless I trusted Jason to keep you safe.”
Bursting with feelings, I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to speak. I wished I could talk to Isaac freely, openly, using our voices instead of pen and paper and whispers. I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to tell him so many things.
“Forget about this place. Be happy, Momma.” He rubbed a circle on my back. “You deserve it.”
He held me. We swayed to the music, dancing together until the last notes of the song reverberated from the speakers. Then we had no more time. The clock was ticking. I sniffled, but I didn’t cry.
This was it. The moment had arrived.
While Isaac made noise in the kitchen as though fixing himself steak and fried cauliflower, I started the washing machine with no clothes inside, and then numbly changed into the outfit he’d brought me. Soon, he’d walk me to the door and talk about how he needed to leave, how he couldn’t stay longer, how he’d see me again.
He wouldn’t be the one leaving and he wouldn’t see me again. He wasn’t the one who couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t be the one wearing his helmet or riding his motorcycle back to the Dragon to meet Jason and a new life on the run.
I would.
And after tonight I knew there was no coming back to Green Valley, my old life, or my sweet children. There was only moving forward into the unknown.
Chapter Twenty-Four
*Jason*
“We don't see people as they are. We see people as we are.”
Anaïs Nin, Little Birds
I experienced no relief when Diane, driving Isaac’s bike, pulled into the Dragon’s lot. I hadn’t seen her in ages—I ached for her, to see her and touch her, to be with her—but none of that mattered right now. We had a mission and I reckoned we had a long way to go before I’d allow myself the luxury of contemplating anything but her safety.
Once we were in Listvyanka, on Lake Baikal, safe from US extradition, maybe I’d breathe easier.
Diane parked Isaac’s bike at the end of the row. I lowered her kickstand before she cut the engine. She didn’t remove her helmet and carried only the clothes on her back. We walked to my bike. Saying nothing, she hopped on behind me. We departed, leaving the compound, all the Iron Wraiths, and the last twenty plus years of my life with no time to spare and without a backward glance.
This plan—having Isaac visit his mother for weeks until his coming and going didn’t seem suspicious or noteworthy, and then having Diane pose as her son, wearing his helmet and tailored versions of his clothes in order to leave her house undetected—had been Cletus Winston’s idea, but it had come with a caveat.
The third Winston sibling had demanded that his betrothed be given a chance to say goodbye to her mother. She wanted a proper goodbye, not one written on paper and passed back and forth over a kitchen table. Reluctantly, I’d agreed. I didn’t like it—the sooner we left, the safer she would be—but I’d agreed. For Diane’s sake.
We didn’t speak on the drive to the safehouse where we’d had so many happy times. A car—a new car with Texas plates, registered to a man from Texas who didn’t actually exist—waited for us in the garage. Once Diane and Jennifer said their goodbyes, I would drive us to Dallas where we’d catch the plane, and I doubted I’d sleep a wink until we touched down in Russia.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but couldn’t have been more than forty-five minutes, we reached the gate of the safehouse. As it opened, Diane’s arms tightened around me, and when we parked at the far end of the circle drive, she tore off Isaac’s helmet.
“Where’s Jenn?” she asked close to my ear the moment I cut the engine. “They were supposed to be here already, right?”
I removed my helmet. I wouldn’t be needing it anymore. “They’re here,” I said slowly, listening for sounds of Cletus, or anyone else. “If I know Cletus Winston, he parked elsewhere.”
“What? Why?”
“Trust issues.” Still scanning our surroundings, I took her hand and helped her from the bike.