Irina blinked, clearly shocked. ‘You were given it? By whom?’
‘The community grew pot back then. I didn’t realize it when I was a kid, but I figured it out later, once I’d gotten out. It was their cash crop. The fields were huge. Pastor told us that it was for our own consumption and the healer used it for basic pain relief since we didn’t have access to pharmacies. But looking back, the yield was far more than the community could have used in a decade.’
‘Did your mother give it to you?’
‘Oh, no. The adults must have known what it was, but it was never discussed, at least not where the kids could hear. Mama got some from the healer for Amos’s arthritis. He was her husband until . . .’ Her stomach took a nasty dip at the memory, and she sipped on the non-special tea, waiting until the wave had passed. ‘Until Gideon escaped. Amos was a good man. I think he truly believed in the community’s precepts. He was always good to me, anyway. But he had arthritis and his hands hurt when it got cold. He was a carpenter, so he needed his hands. Mama would make him the tea before he went to sleep and one night I tasted it when he wasn’t looking. That’s a taste I will never forget.’
Rafe was watching her thoughtfully. ‘I wonder if the Feds have checked for marijuana crops in their search for Eden.’
Mercy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I doubt that Eden grows it anymore. We moved after Gideon’s escape and left the fields behind. Someone might have gone back to harvest it later, but that wasn’t something that the regular members knew much about.’
‘They might have a new cash crop now, though.’ Rafe had his phone out and was texting. ‘I’m letting Gideon know that you’re okay and asking if he knows anything about the ways the community made money. It might give us a lead to their location.’
Mercy sipped the tea, watching him, waiting until he’d put his phone away. ‘Or you could ask me.’
Rafe looked uncomfortable. ‘Is that okay? I mean, to ask you to remember?’
‘It will have to be okay,’ Mercy said firmly. ‘I want to help find them.’
‘Then we’ll start there,’ Rafe said, his mouth curving into the smile that warmed her heart. ‘I’m proud of you, Mercedes.’
She shot him a glare. ‘I wish I hadn’t told you my name.’
Irina’s brows lifted. ‘Why? What is wrong with Mercedes? It’s a lovely name.’
Mercy huffed her displeasure, but Rafe’s smile only grew. ‘My bio-dad’s last name was Benz,’ she explained.
Irina snorted. ‘That will remain our secret, yes?’
‘No,’ Sasha said from behind Rafe. ‘Because it’s comedy gold.’ She pushed Rafe over so that she could see into the bathroom. ‘That’s not special tea, is it, Mom?’
Mercy laughed. ‘No. We’ve already been down that road.’
‘And I missed it.’ Sasha exhaled a put-upon sigh. ‘We were worried about you, kiddo. You want to come back and talk about this now?’
No. ‘Okay,’ Mercy murmured and took the hand Irina offered, rising from the floor, which had been blessedly cool against her heated skin.
‘Nobody in our family saw the video,’ Rafe said soberly. ‘We won’t do that to you.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
Irina gripped her chin, staring hard into her eyes. ‘You did nothing wrong. Repeat that, Mercy Callahan.’
‘I did nothing wrong,’ she said quietly.
‘Again,’ Irina demanded. ‘I believe you. I want to know that you believe you.’
She’s right, Mercy thought. Borrowing some of the older woman’s strength, she straightened to her full height. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong,’ she said firmly.
‘Better,’ Irina said with a sniff. ‘Still not what I want to hear, but better.’ She dropped Mercy’s chin, set the mug on the sink vanity, and grasped both of her hands. ‘You are not alone, Mercy, even if you might feel that way.’
Mercy’s smile was rueful. ‘I know I’m not alone. But it’s different when it’s you. Me, I mean.’
Irina tilted her head, going silent for such a long moment that Mercy began to fidget. The older woman turned her gaze to her children. ‘I know,’ she finally murmured.
There was a moment of absolute silence as the full meaning of her words sank in. Then Sasha gasped audibly. ‘What?’
Rafe had grown abruptly pale. ‘Mom?’ he whispered.
Mercy could only stand there, gaping in shock. ‘You?’
Irina squeezed Mercy’s hands, but her gaze remained fixed on Rafe and Sasha. ‘It was long ago, dorogieyie. Before I left Russia. It was why I left Russia. Why my mother got me out, just like Mercy’s mother did for her.’
Sasha’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘You never told us.’
Irina’s smile was sad. ‘Why would I? When would I? When you were children? It’s not something that one tells their babies and even after you started growing up, one of you was still too young. And now that Zoya is seventeen . . .’ She trailed off. ‘It was such a long time ago that it didn’t seem positive to bring it up. I don’t like to speak of it, but your father knows and has long accepted it. We cannot punish the man who assaulted me, but we can help others. It’s one of the reasons we are so active with the rape counseling charities and why we encouraged public service.’ Her lips turned up, a small smile but a real one. ‘You all have made us proud – Rafe, you and Meg and Damien are police officers, Sasha a social worker who helps children, Jude is a prosecutor, Cash a physical therapist, and Patrick fights fires. I may even get a doctor in the family if Zoya continues in her path. My children right wrongs, protect the community, save lives, heal bodies, and nurture spirits. No mother could ask for more.’
‘It’s also why you were so upset when you thought Gideon had been . . .’ Sasha pursed her trembling lips. ‘Assaulted.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I work with victims every day – children, even – and I can’t say the word.’
‘It is harder when it is family, I think,’ Irina said gently. ‘And yes, knowing that Gideon was almost assaulted was very difficult for me.’ She stroked her thumbs over Mercy’s knuckles. ‘Knowing how you suffered as a girl, and then once you’d believed yourself safe, had to endure the second kasyoel who recorded his crime with his phone . . . This is much harder. The men who hurt you must be punished – the man in Eden and the man in New Orleans – and if we can help make that happen, then that is what we will do.’
Mercy swallowed hard because Ephraim had forced her for an entire year. But she’d managed to lose at least some of those memories. Her twelve-year-old mind had often shut down to spare her the full horror. The clear memories she shoved into her mental box and nailed it closed.