Page 21 of Caleb
Aaron’s calling me through the earpiece. He’s wondering why we haven’t come out yet. I reply in Hebrew that Miss Murphy’s not ready to leave and wants to linger inside the church for a while longer.
“Is Aaron already asking why we haven’t left?” She rolls her eyes playfully.
“Mmm,” I reply, meeting her gaze.
“There’s a nice garden out through the left door,” she says. “I feel like we could use some fresh air.”
“Of course.” I shoot up from my seat and let her lead the way since it’s obvious she’s been here before and knows her way around.
We walk out, and Miss Murphy chooses a concrete bench below a massive Horse Chestnut tree. She takes a seat and taps the space beside her twice. It’s inevitably awkward for me to act casual around her, but she’s encouraging this dynamic, and I’m finding it hard to resist.
Clicking my earpiece, I inform Aaron of our new location.
“You sound scary when talking in Hebrew.” She smiles like I’m not scary at all, and I smile back, pushing aside the pulsing memories of the number of people I’ve killed in the past. Six, to be exact. Five men and a woman. And even if they were terrorists, I still carry the burden of the lives I’ve taken as a result of the endless conflict going on back home.
“Do I?” I raise a playful brow at her.
“Very much,” she teases.
Inevitably, my smile melts away, and my brow furrows. What would Miss Murphy think if she knew I had killed people before? Would she be scared of me? Her opinion of me shouldn’t matter, but somehow, it does. It makes me want to isolate my past from her entirely, even if sitting here next to her makes it seem like I’m far away from all of it. I know it’s best to keep that information neatly tucked and locked away where it belongs.
“Are you okay?”
I snort. It’s funny that she would ask howI’mdoing on the anniversary of her mother’s death when I know it’s one of the toughest days in the entire year. And I know she’s struggling with the sadness of not having her mother with her anymore.
It must be even harder not knowing what happened the day she was killed. It’s beyond heartbreaking to know the facts are being concealed from her because her father thinks that’s the only way to keep her safe from a nonexistent threat. Knowing the truth would help her heal and feel safe again.
Fuck, she deserves the truth. And I won’t be able to deliver it to her. Ever.
“Caleb?” The sound of my name coming out of her lips disarms me. I look at her and summon a smile, hoping it seems sincere when deep down, I know we’re just two broken people sitting on a concrete bench outside an old church pretending otherwise. “Talk to me. You can trust me.”
I take a deep breath and muscle past the reluctance trying to make me change the subject altogether. It might not be ideal to have this conversation, but the privacy we have right now is convenient. So I make peace with the fact that this girl’s got me cornered, and I start talking.
The First Lies I Told Her
“HIS NAME WAS YON—YONATHAN,”I say, realizing it’s the first time in a while since I’ve said his name out loud. Not that it doesn’t reverberate inside my mind every single day. “He was my closest friend in the military, and he died last December at the hands of a terrorist group’s attack.”
Miss Murphy’s eyes go wide for a second. I can see she’s trying to keep a straight face, but the wordsterroristandattackare never pleasant to hear, especially not when used in the same sentence. They make one’s chest crumple up. I know it does that to me, at least.
Knowing what happened to her mother makes having this conversation more challenging. I don’t want to trigger her memories and fears because I’m convinced that not knowing the truth only makes her imagination run wild about who might’ve wanted her mother killed … and why.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, her eyes warm with sympathy as they refuse to look away from mine. “Were you with him—with Yonathan—when it happened?”
“I was. We’d recently finished with our mandatory military service, but we were planning to stay on permanently. There’s been too much unrest back home, and we felt a duty to our country. But I struggled with the idea because it seemed like we were getting nowhere, you know? But Yon, an optimist, thought that in staying, we would contribute to making a change and saving innocent lives.”
Miss Murphy’s brows are slightly pulled in as she nods, attentively listening to my story.
“In the past five years, there have been more than one hundred terrorist attacks that have killed too many innocent civilians and military members,” I explain. “Yonathan happened to be one of them.”
Miss Murphy sighs, twisting her fingers in her lap. When she notices I’m watching her, she holds down her restless hands under her thighs. And now Aaron’s talking in my ear again. He’s letting me know he found a parking spot and is headed our way.
It’s making me somewhat anxious to know Aaron’s going to see me sitting here so casually talking to Miss Murphy. But I quickly put those feelings to rest becausefuck itand ask him to give us some privacy, to which he replies curtly, “Copy that. I’ll be around.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Murphy,” I say, looking away. “I feel like maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this. Aaron’s headed our way and—”
“No,” she replies quickly, cutting me off. “I’m allowed to stay here as long as I want. I know Aaron’s not used to me going out much. I’m not used to it either. But I want to sit here right now and listen to what you have to say.” A moment of silence hovers between us. “We’re allowed to talk, Caleb. It’s not like it’s forbidden.”
I know it’s not forbidden, but I know my place. And it’s not here, sitting beside her and making conversation about my life. I don’t want to fuck things up. I intend to keep my job, and I know enough about Ambassador Murphy to understand that he wouldn’t enjoy having his sixteen-year-old daughter befriending her bodyguard. Not that he would notice, anyway.
