Page 2 of Captive of Outlaws

I shrink into my seat as the eyes of the room turn to me. Who is this guy and who does he think he is, getting everyone to stare at the poor little orphan girl?

I want to flip him the bird.

“And now, sadly, that future will not come to pass for him, or for his lovely wife Jennifer.” Again, this guy—John—hangs his head. “But my hope, as I believe is the hope of many of us here, is that his daughter—”

I jerk my head up again, surprised and angry.

“—will always have a future in Sherwood.” He smiles at me, a smile that turns my stomach.

The speech concludes with some Bible verses and a final amen, and then it’s time for sandwiches and drinks and hopefully, hopefully, finally going home.

I’m hiding in the corner, sipping a Shirley Temple I talked a bartender into making me, when John finds me.

“Maren,” he says, extending a hand.

I don’t shake it.

“What?” I say.

He blinks. Then resets his face. “I suppose you’re still in shock,” he says. “No time to insist on good manners.”

I say nothing. Just slurp my Shirley.

“I know you and I don’t know each other well,” he goes on, “but your father and I were close. Long time friends.” He smiles, in a way that feels entirely inappropriate for a funeral.

“Okay,” I say. “And?”

John bristles a tiny bit—but again, shakes it off. “Do you know what an executor is, Maren?”

I shake my head.

“I suppose your legal education can come later.” Hechuckles. “It’s the person in charge of someone’s affairs after they...pass. And in your parents’ case, that person is me.”

I look up at him, this strange, slick man I’ve barely talked to in my life. “So what?”

John looks taken aback, but only briefly, and doesn’t drop his sickly-sweet voice. “So that means I’ll be the one taking care of you from now on, Maren. You’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“But...” I glance around the room—to the milling crowd of guests, the waitstaff, Ms. Perkins the social worker who’s off helping herself to a shrimp salad sandwich. “When do I get to go home?”

John smiles a wincing smile. “Ah, I’m afraid you won’t be going back to your parents’ house. We’ll be putting it on the market to cover some...debts your father left behind.”

My stomach goes cold. “But that’s where I live!” I blurt out. “That’s where everything I have is. My books, my clothes, my car...”

I blush a little at that last one, because obviously it’s not my caryet.But Daddy always said I would get the Mustang as soon as I turned sixteen. So itfeelslike my car.

“Yes, yes, I know,” John says, patting me a little too firmly on the shoulder. “It’s a difficult reality to face, especially so young. But it’s for the best.”

“Where am I going to go?” I cry. People are staring now, the polite murmuring dying down to listen to the little orphan girl throw a fit. Well, I don’t care. I fold my arms, almost want to stomp my foot. “I want to go home.”

“Your home will be with me now,” John says. “I promise you you’ll have everything you need.”

“No!” I shout, and jump back from him. “I don’t want togo with you! I want to go home!”

The room’s gone silent now, all chattering ceased. And I’m starting to feel...dizzy. Unsteady. Like the one time Daddy took me sailing in the Chesapeake. Rolling around even though I’m standing right here.

“Now, now, let’s not make a scene.” That’s John’s voice, but I can barely see him. “If you just calm down, we can—”

“No!” I scream again, but the world is fading fast from my vision. Colors are swimming together, gravity going sideways, sounds melting into noise...

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