He rolls his eyes, "Girls. You're so fickle. The right one. The magical kiss. The special someone. The spark. It all equates to the same thing-bullshit. You have your minds made up when you meet us. Forcing yourself to love us for who we are is ridiculous."

I raise my eyebrows, "Coming from the guy who hasn’t dated since twelfth grade. Jake told me."

His face flushes like mine does, "That’s not true. I dated at college. I just put myself into my work. He's one to talk anyway, he bloody well works for me now."

I laugh at his red face. He wrinkles his nose and sneers, "You're still a little brat."

I stick my tongue out.

But behind it all, I know their lives were stunted because of our situation. I was taken and everything else was hard. I'm grateful for them.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I take a deep breath and grip her hand. I look down and nod, "Do it."

She rings the bell.

A man in a suit answers the door.

"Hello. How may I help you?" He has an English accent and reminds me of Niles on The Nanny. I love Netfilx.

"We called about meeting with the Adams family." Shell snickers. I fight a grin. "Uhm…Michelle and Sarah."

His eyes light up, "Of course. Yes. Please come in. They're expecting you." My heart is in my throat. He opens the door more and we walk in. The home is posh and overly fancy. I feel like I'm at a hotel I can't afford.

He leads us to a study where a thin woman in a white pantsuit is waiting for us. A man is across the room doing some kind of paperwork. They are both older and worn looking, but in a rich sort of way.

The woman in the pantsuit turns as we are announced, "Miss Mastermen and Miss Monkton to see you."

I still feel weird being a Mastermen.

"Thank you, Franklin. We'll take tea in the sitting room." She rushes at me and puts her hands out, "You must be Sarah." Her eyes are icy-blue like Eli's. Her smile is cold and distant. She never fully warms up I don’t think. I nod, "I am, Mrs. Adams. Thank you for seeing me."

She shakes her head, "Gloria. Please call me Gloria."

His father stands and offers me his hand, "And call me Dick." Michelle snorts.

I shake his huge warm hand. "It's nice to meet you both. This is my friend Michelle."

She waves, "Hi."

They look phony and cold when they greet her, "Hello." They almost talk like they too have accents. They enunciate everything. Mrs. Adams' blue eyes sparkle, "We were so pleased when you called." I see a flash of pain or something in her eyes.

I nod, "I was scared you wouldn’t want to see me."

She shakes her head, "We never blamed you. Dear child, never."

His father smirks, "We were actually quite grateful you existed at all. Poor Eli was considered quite mad for some time."

It hurts me inside but I fight it and shake my head, "It was me." The words are breathy and soft.

His father's response is not one I expected. He grabs my chin and points my face at his, "You saved her. You freed her."

I'm not strong enough for it. I don’t want their forgiveness. I want a clean conscience. I have confessed and wish to be absolved by god, not them.

Her lip quivers. She puts a hand up to her mouth, "Forgive me. I'm just so grateful you are here." She wraps her arms around me. I'm stunned. Even more stunned when his arms find their way around me as well. It isn’t easy to be forgiven.

"Tea is served." I've never been grateful for that statement before but I am now. We sniffle and wipe and make our way into the sitting room, following behind Franklin. It too feels like the set of an Austen movie. Floral and fancy with gilded frames and sculptures and chairs that feel like they haven’t been broken in yet, regardless of being a hundred years old.

I sit and take the tea on a plate with a cookie. I don’t know what I'm supposed to do with it. I stare down at the black tea and dread drinking it.

Shell holds hers up, "Can I get some cream and sugar please."

Franklin looks appalled. "It's got honey and lemon in it. It's Earl Grey."

I gag.

I stir the cup and try not to let the smell get near my face. It reminds me of the cell a bit.

"Have you heard from Eli?" his mother asks casually, as if we hadn’t all just cried.

I nod, "A couple weeks ago. He was in a village building houses with some missionaries and then they were leaving with some doctors from the Doctors Without Borders. They were vaccinating and stuff in a remote area."

She sighs, "I don’t like this. I know he's fond of you, always has been. When he was in the center he used to write you these letters. It was quite sad. Anyway, surely you must be able to get him to come home?"

My mouth waters as I catch a whiff of the tea and shake my head, "No." I swallow, "I don’t think so. He's pretty bent on finding himself."

His dad scoffs, "It's that damned Doctor Bradley, no doubt, that put this foolish notion into his head. Her pseudo science almost lost him several times. She has those theories about pushing people to the brink. Crazy woman."

"Yes." I raise my eyebrows. I don’t know how to tell them it was me that made him want to do this.

Michelle sips the tea loudly before speaking, "I'm sure he's fine. It's good to go get dirty sometimes. Makes you appreciate everything else more. He's only been gone a couple months. He'll be fine."

His parents look disturbed for a microsecond and then smile and nod.

I look at them hesitantly, "Have you heard from Dr. Bradley at all?"

His mother scoffs, "Hmph, she won't darken our doorway anytime soon. That woman is dangerous. Franklin has had her removed from the property. Right before he left, Eli came to us and told us an alarming tale of his recovery with her. She is insane. I blame her entirely for his want to be in South America. He's so bent on proving himself."

His father agrees, "Yes. We have told him time and time again how proud of him we are. Someone like him cannot expect a full life and a full recovery. He is doing well for someone like him." He nods at me, "As are you."

My blood is boiling. It's no wonder he was so dependant on Dr. Bradley, or that he was so easily swayed by her and eventually used by her. I had been stuck on the words, 'the centre', but the last sentence has me there. I stand with the teacup trembling in my hands. "Well, thank you for tea and for meeting with us. We should be going though."

Michelle is mid sip when she stands and hands the cup and saucer to Franklin, who is standing at the ready. "Have a lovely day." I want to say life. I want to practice my boxing moves. I want to scream my face off. I take deep breaths and storm to the front door. Michelle is jogging to catch up to me.

We walk out into the cool spring air and I know what I have to do, beyond forget I ever met those people.

I get her to drive us to the airport.

I phone Lyle, "Hey."

He sounds funny, "Hey."

"I need you to book me a flight."

Michelle looks at me like I'm nuts.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The heat of the day is unbearable to my cold Boston skin. I now it isn’t any hotter than a New Mexico summer day, but it feels like it's scorching me. The jeep I'm in has no roof. I'm holding a rag over my face to keep the sand out of my lungs. I am under prepared and completely moronic. I see this now.

We drive until we get to a small village. The people stare at me. I'm scared and in desperate need of hand sanitizer. I don’t like the feeling of being watched. I get that my blonde hair is intriguing but I'm uncomfortable. I'm not strong enough for this.

My driver climbs out. He's one of the drivers for the Doctors Without Borders. He picked me up from the airport that I called a patch of grass with a shack on it. Lyle and Stuart arranged everything for me.

He looks back at me as he walks up into the village. I watch him speaking to a man. The man looks at me and makes a face. The driver looks back. My breathing is starting to make my chest rise and fall rapidly. I can feel the panic. Something is wrong.

He comes back with a look on his face. A look I'm not sure I can handle.

He shakes his head, "They left here about a week ago and went into a remote part of the jungle. There was a sickness there."

"Okay well let's go there then."

He shakes his head, "Everyone is on quarantine. No one is allowed in or out. They are calling it a plague."

My hand dives into my shorts pocket and grabs at my sani. I dump it into my hand and spread it around. He watches me.

"You okay?"

I shake my head, "I want to go to him."

He gets in the jeep, "No. We go to the closest village but if they don’t have news, we leave."

I'm desperate and sick. He's going to die to teach me to be grateful for the time we spent together instead of always judging myself and him for it. I'm almost crying but I know the sand will be brutal if I cry.

I look up at the clear sky and clasp my hands. I have not prayed since they made me last at church.

"Watch, oh Lord, with those who wake or watch or weep tonight and give your Angels and Saints charge over those who sleep. Tend your sick ones, O Lord Christ. Rest your weary ones. Bless your dying ones. Soothe your suffering ones. Pity your afflicted ones. And all for Your love's sake. Amen." I close my eyes and open my heart. I pray he can see it. He has kept me safe. Up to this point a million things could have happened differently but I see the miracle of it all. I see the help I've received. I don’t see it the way the church does but I still see it.

"You a nun?"

I glance at him, as he drives, "No I went to Catholic school." I lie. I don’t want him to see the poor orphan. She doesn’t really exist anyway. I never was an orphan.

He drives back into the small town where I have a room.

I see him instantly. He looks different. More tanned but like there is less of something. It isn’t anger. He has tons of that on his face. He's walking to the jeep, irate. At first I think it's a mirage but then I realize it isn’t. He's far too mad to be a mirage.