Page 63 of Liar Byrd
“Okay,” he repeats gruffly.
He slides his arms around me, lifting me and pausing for a second, eyes on my face, as if to get my measure.
His dog tags are cool against my chest, and his grip around me is loose yet secure.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him.
After another nod, he carries me downstairs.
Chapter 22
Byrdie
Two days in the den with my bandaged ankle propped up on the daybed with two thick cushions is about all I can stand before I’m bored out of my mind. I have never been someone who sits and does nothing for hours, even when I was sixteen.
On the first day, I had the novelty of three men periodically checking on me. Nance also visited, and I was dealing with a sore, aching ankle that hurt every time I moved it, no matter how much Tylenol I took. And I have Vonn’s dog tags to distract me. Pondering Vonn’s past was at least an hour of interest.
Not even the TV that Makhi set up for me is entertaining. The daytime shows all started to merge together. Seeing how other people lived, happy and smiling, with families and children, reminded me of everything I had lost and all the things I didn’t have. So, I switched it off and stared into space, wondering how long a sprained ankle takes to heal.
It’s day three of resting my ankle, and I’m bored. Bored with TV. Bored with staring into space. Bored of hobbling to use the half-bath next door to brush my teeth, wash my face, and clean myself with a washcloth instead of taking a shower as I prefer.
I wake after a nap to find a white envelope sitting innocently at the foot of my daybed.
Yawning, I sit up and reach for it, wincing as I pull on my ankle. There’s a glass of water and a small bowl of cut fruit on the table beside me, so whoever delivered the envelope also stocked up on snacks for me.
The white envelope is thick and heavy, with Jessica Bradley scrawled on the front in a bold, masculine font. I know before I open it that Nash left it. Vonn would want to hand it to me when I was awake, and Makhi would wake me up to give it to me.
But Nash? Nash is determined to keep his distance, and I have no idea why.
I tear the envelope open and spend the next fifteen minutes counting and re-counting the thousand dollars I empty into my hand.
The pay for a maid was $500 a month. That’s what the ad in the grocery store window said. Nash bumped it up for no reason I can understand, but this isn’t right. I was expecting $500 biweekly. This is way,waytoo much money.
Did Nash accidentally give me everyone else’s pay as well?
There is no note—nothing to say that I would receive a bonus.
Nance knocks twice and sticks her head in, spots the fruit on the side of my daybed, and nods, pleased. “Ah, someone already brought you a drink.”
“Wait!” I call out before she can leave again, raising the cash in my hand. “I think Nash paid me too much money.”
She walks into the den, a cozy pale blue side room just off the entryway, with a powder blue velvet daybed I’ve spent the last couple of days bored out of my mind, and floor-to-ceiling windows that open to the back garden.
“You’ve done more than any maid ever has. I can’t recall this house ever looking so loved," she says, smoothing out my sheets. “He paid you what you deserved, and that’s all there is to it.”
She leaves, and I stuff the cash back into the envelope, tucking it under my pillow for safekeeping.
For the first time since I ran from Jeremiah, I have options. I don’t have to run blindly and hope his acolytes don’t catch up to me. I can plan for the future.
Stay or leave?
Once my ankle heals, I can go to a lot of places with a thousand dollars and a fake ID. I can’t leave the country because I don’t have a passport. I never had one. So where do I go?
California maybe, or the closest town to Canada, which is as far away as I can get without leaving the country.
But do I want to?
Being a maid at the Gabriel Mansion has become my new normal. Maybe cleaning isn’t a big enough life for someone else, but it is for me. Someday I might want more, but knowing I have a big iron gate between me and the rest of the world makes me feel safe.
