“It’s a storm, but you need to stay with Kai and Mama.”
“No Ebba,” Anika mutters, watching her mother very carefully.
“No Ebba. Only Mama, Mama, Mama.”
Anika smiles a little but doesn’t let go of Sunny’s shirt.
“Why Ebba?” I ask as Sunny rocks the tired child.
“Elba was the head of our hutch, and she had the best bed. Ours was on the ground. When it got too cold, or if there was a lot of rain, Elba took Anika to her bed.”
“Mama,” Anika says, panicking again.
“We have a new bed tonight,” Sunny says. “Kai, Mama, and Anika in a bed.”
“No Ebba,” Anika insists and then notices me watching her.
“Do you want to go to bed now or stay here?” I ask.
Anika doesn’t react to my question. She has no clue what she wants beyond Sunny’s arms around her. Her gaze returns to her mother, who hums the ABC song. I rest my head against Sunny’s shoulder and watch Anika. When the child notices me again, she smiles.
“I love Mama,” I say and kiss Sunny’s cheek.
Anika’s smile grows, and she sits up so she can kiss Sunny’s other cheek. When the next thunder rolls through, she doesn’t flinch as much. Her focus is on her mother, whose confidence rebounds once she knows Anika doesn’t crave that other woman back at the cult.
Glancing at Papa, I ask, “How are we handling security tonight?”
“No one is hitting the house while this storm continues,” he insists.
“Then I think we’ll head to bed now.”
Standing, I gesture for Anika to let me carry her. The sleepy girl reluctantly leaves her mother’s arms, and Sunny quickly joins us. I look at my sister sitting with her feet up in a recliner next to her man, who refuses to put up his feet. Resting between their chairs, Robin opens his eyes and growls at me.
I walk to the chair where Papa holds Mama. She looks up when I stroke the top of her blonde head.
“Where are you going?” she whispers.
“To bed.”
“In this place?” she says, sounding tired.
“Yes. We’ll all sleep tonight while the storm keeps us safe. Then in the morning, Cobain can cook us breakfast.”
Neri snickers at my comment and extends her foot to nudge Cobain’s leg. He doesn’t react, but I think he likes how much we enjoy his cooking. If not, he would probably complain more about feeding us.
After Mama strokes my cheek and then Anika’s foot, I leave the main room and walk down a dark hallway toward the bedroom I picked earlier. Anika watches her mother over my shoulder. I know she’d rather Sunny carry her, but my woman looks ready to drop.
Soon, we are settled on the queen-sized bed. Anika holds Duck and Doll, but her gaze remains locked on Sunny.
“I love you,” her mama whispers. “Do you love Mama?”
Anika nods and whispers the words. My heart soars at watching Sunny find her confidence as a mother. Earlier, she stumbled and fell back into her old habits. I’m proud of how quickly she took charge.
As our daughter returns to sleep, I help Sunny relax by going through the plan. After the storm, we’ll return to the road and head straight for a small airport. Using a friend’s plane, we’ll fly to Texas, where we’ll get enough fuel to fly the rest of the way to Nicaragua. Then after a few more hours of driving, we’ll be home.
Sunny fears flying. I could promise to give her a sedative, but she won’t understand. Instead, I focus on something more tangible.
“Tomorrow, we’ll see about having my parents and Neri watch Ani so you and I can be alone.”
Sunny’s worried gaze immediately warms. Knowing I have her attention, I continue, “We’ll spend a few hours in here, learning what else you want me to touch.”
Without a doubt, Sunny blushes in the dark. Her lips curl into an excited smile as her thoughts return to last night in the hotel. After I made her orgasm, Sunny watched me masturbate. Her aroused expression was all the stimuli I needed. Tomorrow, she’ll learn more about her body and mine.
Sunny is convinced that sex will free her. If she embraces what she was taught to hate, she can burn away the rest of their rules and abuse.
Of course, I know she’s wrong. Trauma stains the mind. It’s why my mother reverts to a childlike response when she’s scared and overwhelmed. At home, she doesn’t need Papa at her side every second. She cooks and dances and walks out to the beach without needing someone to hold her hand.
Growing up, I didn’t think of my mother as a child. In her element, Mama shines. My father doesn’t growl so much or get so stuck worrying about potential threats. At home, they find their way.
No doubt Sunny will act similarly. Before she can adjust, though, she needs a sense of purpose and belonging. She’ll sleep in the same bed every night and wake up to the same people every morning. She’ll have new rules to replace the ones the cult drilled in her head.
Sunny might be wrong about sex acting as a salve for the years she spent submitting. Yet it’s a goal she can focus on rather than worrying about planes or bounties on our lives.
Besides, there are few sights more gorgeous than her face when she feels pleasure. Tomorrow, I hope to enjoy that look again.
NERI
After the movie ends, Papa wants to take Mama to bed where he can distract her in ways that I—as their child—have no interest in witnessing. The problem is he refuses to leave me in the main room alone with Cobain to do what he—as my parent—has no interest in occurring. Papa needs the lie that I’m going to bed, and Cobain will sleep somewhere else. Only then, can he help my mother calm down as the storm threatens to tear off the roof.
Offering Papa what he needs, I tell Cobain goodnight, kiss Mama on the head, and then leave the TV room. Once I’m gone, my parents retire to their bedroom. I don’t immediately return to Cobain since I’ll have to pass Mama and Papa’s room. No way will my father not pick up on the movement.
Instead, I hang out in the armory, where I admire a stockpile of weapons that any small army would appreciate. My attention settles on a Taurus Spectrum that’s too small for the men who lived at this safe house. The sporty gun—with its turquoise grip—suits a woman like myself.
“So, are we not fucking tonight?” Cobain grumbles after entering the room and shutting the door behind him.
“Of course, we are. Don’t you understand how lying works?”
I glance over my shoulder to find Cobain adjusting to my words. His poor feelings were hurt when he thought I ditched him for the evening. I reach out and stroke his bearded jaw as a reminder that I’m, in fact, his.
“These weapons belong to the Arizona Moving Company, yes?” I ask in English before remembering we’re alone, and I can switch to Spanish. “So, would it be stealing from the Company if I took this pistol?”
“The SUV you’ve been driving for days belongs to them too.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“But your father paid for help, and the fee included the car.”
“Think whatever he paid to stay here includes my stealing this gun?”
Cobain finally smiles. “Take what you want. I highly doubt the dead assholes did inventory on smaller weapons. Their activity logs are shit.”