Damnable Grace
Page 83

 Tillie Cole

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“I was given to Meister,” she said, and I felt the guilt take root. “I . . . I do not remember much of that until . . . until a few weeks back when he brought me around.” She hiccupped. “He wanted me . . . he used me as his. Wanted me as his white princess, he said.”
Her words sent a stab of pain into my stomach. Sapphira lifted her head. “I cannot believe this.” Blushing, eyes timid, she ran her finger over my forehead, down my cheek and over my lips. “My mother,” she said and the sound of that name from her lips punctured my heart. “You are my mother . . .” She laughed a single laugh, then her forehead creased and she began to weep. “And you saved me from him,” she said. “You took my place. And he . . . he . . .”
“Always,” I promised and laid her head upon my shoulder.
“Why is life like this?” she asked softly. She looked up at me, and I met her gaze. “This . . . painful. This sad.”
Uncontained sadness burrowed inside of me at the life she had. That she had lived. “It is not,” I said and watched the surprise blossom on her cheeks. “Out there, there is happiness to be found.”
“Truly?” she asked.
“I have seen it. I . . . for a short, precious time, I lived it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “And what is it like?”
“Beautiful, if you only let in the light. If you chase the sunrise.” I smiled to myself. “There is a man out there who made me believe in something I thought was forever lost.”
“What?”
“Love.” I glanced down at my daughter. “I have loved you. I have loved you, yearned for you, yet have been wounded every step of the way. I have a sister—you have an aunt. Lilah. And I watched her be hurt too many times to count. And you have a cousin, Grace, who you would simply adore.”
“I do?” she said in shock.
I nodded. “Then there is AK. The man who showed me what good truly means. Showed me love without condition. A man I left as I could cause him no more pain. He has suffered too much in this life too.” Then my heart fell. “But Meister has Grace. She is here . . . somewhere.”
Sapphira’s eyes closed. “What . . . what will happen to us? What will become of us all?”
I held her tighter as she rested on my shoulder once more. “I do not know,” I said honestly. “But I will fight for us. For you and Grace. I will . . .” I kissed her, stroked my hand through her blond hair. “I will fight for my daughter.”
Sapphira’s breathing steadied into a soft rhythm, and without seeing her face I knew she had smiled. “Daughter,” she murmured and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Mother . . . I like the sound of that.”
As she fell asleep against me, cradled in my arms, I realized that wishes and hopes could come true. I had rocked her to sleep when it mattered most. And although I did not know what Meister planned, I would never let her down again. In this dark moment, I cherished every second of this time. This silent time with my daughter back in my arms. As a baby, her heart had beat next to mine. And in my warm embrace, it beat once again, making me whole.
After all these years of struggle, I had my baby back with me.
Asleep, comforted by my touch.
And I would die to keep her safe.
*****
“Where are we going?” I gripped Sapphira’s hand. The guard did not speak as he dragged us from the room in which we had slept. He forced us into the bright morning light and toward a waiting van.
Three larger vans were beside it. Meister stood, waiting. He watched as the door was opened and we were thrown inside. “Aunt Phebe!” a familiar voice shouted as I hit the floor of the truck. Sapphira came in beside me and I pulled her to my side. Grace was tucked into the corner of the van, looking fearful.
“Grace,” I said in relief and she scurried into my arms.
“Aunt Phebe . . . I am scared,” she cried and tucked her head into the crook of my arm. I shook my head, tears springing from my eyes as I tried to think of what to do. But I had no answers. Gentle fingers wiped away the droplets from my cheeks. I turned to see Sapphira giving me a watery smile.
More pain than I had ever felt in my life rushed through me when I realized that all of this—this pain and suffering, this rough treatment by men—was nothing new to Sapphira. It was all she had ever known.
Grace’s head lifted and looked across at Sapphira. I hugged Grace tighter. “Grace, this is Sapphira . . .” I inhaled deeply and said, “My . . . my daughter.”
I heard Sapphira’s breath hitch, knew she felt the strangeness those words conjured as much as I did. But they felt right, and when I nervously met Sapphira’s eyes, I saw a sense of peace settle within them.
“Your daughter?” Grace sniffed.
“Yes.”
Sapphira ran her hand over Grace’s head. “Nice to meet you, Grace,” she said shyly.
“You too,” Grace replied.
I had little time to enjoy the moment. The doors were slammed shut, and we were plunged into darkness. So I held on to my niece and my daughter, my hands clasped tightly in theirs.
And as we rolled away, I prayed to whoever was listening that I could somehow get us out of this alive.
We deserved our chance at happiness.
Chapter Twenty
AK
Secluded farm, La Cruz, Mexico
My stomach was flat to the roof as I waited, the sun coming over the horizon. It beat on my back, taking me back to Iraq. I breathed steadily, eyes scanning the abandoned farmhouse. We had been here for two hours now, flanked by the cover of darkness. I checked the other positions: Hush and Cowboy at the north, Tank, Tanner and Bull at the south. Flame and Viking were to the west, and beside me were Styx, Smiler and Ky. Ash and Slash were in the dilapidated barn we were using as a hideout, with the truck and the bikes. Rider had been given a gun and told to guard the truck. Fucker could be handy in a fight.
The meeting with Diablos had gone surprisingly smoothly.
“We need passage to Mexico,” Ky had told Chavez, the Diablos’ prez. Like Styx, he had inherited the title when Styx had killed his father in the Mexican war, straight after Chavez’s dad had put a bullet in Styx’s dad’s skull. There was no love lost between the two sons, both in their twenties and of similar build and savageness. But with a “You owe us, and when the time comes, I’ll be cashing that shit in,” from Chavez, the deal was done, and we’d crossed the border, no questions asked, no detection from the cartel, border patrol, or even better, Meister and this Garcia.