Page 32 of Keepsake
Lark swallowed hard. “I know.”
She didn’t, though, and that was the problem. “I used to have bad dreams,” I blurted out.
“Really?”
I nodded in the dark. “Had a lot of them after I got kicked off the ranch. Took about a year until they stopped. I’d dream about the beating I got on the day I left.” Hell. That was enough sharing.
Lark sighed. “So you’re saying I could have another ten months of this.”
“No! Not necessarily.”
She smiled, and the proximity of her mouth to mine was hard to ignore. I did it, though, by asking her a tough question. “Lark, what happened to you in Guatemala?”
Her face fell. “I got kidnapped.”
“Fuck.”
Lark gave me a bitter smile. “That’s quite the curse word for you.”
I smiled back because it was true, and because she’d noticed. I had a weird relationship with cursing. Mine was the mildest language on the farm by a country mile. When a curse was necessary, I usually opted for “dang it,” or “shoot.” My strongest curse was “fuck,” because even after three years I couldn’t bring himself to take the Lord’s name in vain.
“You’re changing the subject,” I pointed out.
She wrinkled up her perfect nose, looking one hundred percent awake now. “I don’t like to talk about Guatemala.”
“I know that, and I’m not usually the kind to pry. But I am curious what keeps you up at night.”
She wore her thoughtful face for a moment, and I realized that I’d already memorized all of her expressions. “I’ll bet you are. And I guess you deserve to know, since you’re the one who wakes up when it happens.”
“Nah,” I backtracked. “You don’t have to tell me. Instead you could tell me why you were living in Guatemala in the first place.”
“Ah.” She flopped back onto her pillow. “I was working for a nonprofit that educates farmers in developing nations. I was there to teach some local farmers about seed-saving practices and multiculture. That kind of thing. I thought it was the best job ever. I wassobrave—the kind that turns out to be stupid. People told me to be more careful, but I walked places where you’re not supposed to be alone.” She met my eyes. “It’s not like I had a death wish. But I thought—if we all act scared of each other all the time, we’ll all just huddle in our corners. And the world will stay fearful.”
I gave her hand a squeeze, silently asking her to go on.
“But a few weeks into my year of living boldly, some men grabbed me off the street of this tiny town and put me into the back of a van. I was screaming, mind you. But everyone sort of vanished when it happened. I spent twenty days in a shed out in the middle of nowhere. There was a bucket to pee in and almost no food.” Her voice had begun to shake. “I thought I was going to die out there.”
I already regretted asking her to talk about it. And the only comfort I could offer was to rub her hand between both of mine. “Why did they take you?”
“Ransom.” Her voice was flat. “Organizations that send people to work in far-flung places all have kidnapping insurance. So there are countries where grabbing stupid girls is a cash crop. But this group—turns out I was their very first target, and they hadn’t figured out yet how to be kidnappers. So it took them a long time to reach the negotiator. It’s almost funny, right? I couldn’t even get kidnapped by the right people.”
“It’s not funny at all.” I lay down beside her again, still holding her hand.
Her eyes got wet, but she went on. “I thought nobody was ever coming for me. So I started working on this young kid. A teenager. I was trying to convince him to just let me go.”
Her voice was rough, and I wished I hadn’t asked her to relive it. But we’d come this far. “What happened?”
“They found out. And they killed him. In front of me. I don’t actually remember every detail. A doctor told me that the mind sometimes protects us by hiding upsetting memories.”
I didn’t say anything because there wasn’t anything to say. So I stroked my thumb over the back of her hand.
“Aren’t you glad you asked?” Her voice was bitter.
“I’m so sorry, Lark.”
“Well…” Her voice faltered. “I’m sorry I scream at night. I wish I could stop.” She rolled sideways to face me. We were nose to nose, staring at each other. She looked a little wild, and fierce. Like she wished she could burn her enemies to the ground. “I’m so sick of being afraid,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be anymore.” Her hand was still in mine, and I gave it one more squeeze. “If anyone wants to get you, they’ll have to go through me.”
