Page 42 of Trapped: Between Sky And Wind

He smiles for a moment as if enjoying my enthusiasm. “A house on the edge of the forest with an old neighbor who likes to cook elk goulash with chestnuts and juniper berries. We would be on our own, but not completely cut off. There are doctors, a psychologist, and even a small shopping center. And it’s a place your brothers don’t know about.”

He wants to go to Faro with me, he actually wants to try! He trusts me not to run away at the first opportunity. I’m so happy, the thought makes tears well up in my eyes.

Bren sees it and squeezes my fingers. “After the incident in the park… I could continue to see India Lee. Once the summer is over, you could go to school and graduate. Granted, in the Yukon, you’re also not of legal age until you’re nineteen, but we can make you a year older so there won’t be any custody issues. I could draw, maybe sell some of the drawings…how does that sound?”

I nod my head, completely overwhelmed, unable to say anything. It would be a normal life with Bren, which is exactly what I’ve wanted since last fall. “That would be…almost like a dream,” is the only thing I can manage.

Since only the RV’s tires have to be replaced, we can leave the following day. Shortly before Vancouver, we pass the unmanned border into British Columbia, Canada, on a nameless road.

I’ve been feeling like I’m on a high ever since Bren suggested we go to Faro. We finally have a plan, that’s why we stopped in Seattle in the first place. Maybe everything happened for a reason: the confrontation with my brothers, my escape, the incident in the park. Now the future is crystal clear to me. Every now and then, when I think about Ethan, I get a strange feeling that’s not merely a guilty conscience. Maybe it’s fear of what he might do. I turned off my cell phone so he can’t reach me, none of my brothers, not even Jay. Until things calm down, family abstinence will definitely be best for all of us.

I guess they’re still looking for me. I don’t believe they’ll return to Ash Springs empty-handed. Ethan isn’t going to let me get away. They’ll probably check the surrounding campgrounds and hotels. They might pester Jay over the phone for Bren’s property information. I wouldn’t put it past Ethan to take all of his leave at once just to go to the Yukon.

I pensively run my fingers over the pendants on my necklace and pause at the silver cross. The bad feeling sticks like glue to my hands. Would Ethan go as far as calling the police? I’m shocked for a moment, but then I think about it. What could he tell them other than that I ran away? Or would he also tell them that Bren kidnapped me last year? That’s why I invented the story about my running away. Why would Ethan do anything different today than he would have done then? The answer I arrive at is simply because months have passed since then. Besides, he has no evidence at all. The information in the letters could be dismissed as fabrication. Ethan knows that and he knows how I feel about Bren. He’s definitely not going to go to the police. He must also be aware that I would never forgive him for taking that step. Never. No, he wouldn’t risk that. It might be mean, but it’s good he’s so attached to me.

“Calm down, Lou,” Bren finally pulls me out of my musings.

“What?”

“You’ve had that Lou-lost-in-thought look again. It rarely means anything good. Plus, you get that tiny crease between your eyebrows.”

I smile and run my finger over the bridge of my nose. “Family heirloom, sorry.” The steel-blue Pacific stretches out beside us. Vancouver Island juts out of the sea like the back of a sea monster with hundreds of tiny islands spread out in front of it.

Bren nods to his phone, which is on the console. “Better see what you want to do with the house in Faro. You can furnish it to your liking. It’s as good as empty.”

I consider speaking to him about my concerns for a moment but then dismiss the idea. Bren already worries too much, so happy for the diversion, I grab his phone and search for the photos.

Truly, there is hardly any furniture in the pictures except for a table, a few ancient chairs, and an aging kitchenette. “Is that how you’ve lived?”

“I don’t need much, you know that.”

I zoom in on the photos and discover the entire living room is papered with drawings of me. They show the story of last summer. Me in the Yukon. Sometimes anxious, sometimes uncertain, rarely happy.

Something flutters in my throat. “They’re beautiful.” All masterpieces of disturbing intensity.

“Drawing gave me stability. Also, it was the only way I could tell our story to India Lee. That’s it.”

The fact that he gives me an explanation when I only said his drawings are beautiful shows how well he can read me.

“I’m glad you don’t paint coffins anymore,” I reply with a slight smile.

I think of his mom. I have to tell him soon, otherwise, he’ll get upset later about why I remained silent for so long. In Faro, I think. That’s better than now since he’s driving. In Faro, he can immediately work through it with his therapist.

“We could buy white wooden furniture with a vintage look and signs with funny phrases,” I pick up on the subject of the house again.

“We could.”

“And could we get a pink retro fridge?” I ask, expecting protest.

He glances over at me from the driver’s seat. “Anything you want.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously!”

“You’re not just doing it to make amends?”

“Because I kidnapped you?” he asks dryly.

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