Fugitives of Love Read online

  As Brenna stood over her and pulled up the covers, Sinclair took her hand, tugging it gently.

  She climbed in next to her and Sinclair fell asleep in her arms.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Sinclair awoke alone to music playing lightly in the front room. She listened to what must be the local radio station, because a Phil Collins song ended and she recognized the voice of the DJ. Her eyes felt puffy and sore, and when she sat up, her head thumped mercilessly. It was late afternoon and it took her a moment to get her bearings.

  It’s out, she realized. She had spilled everything to Brenna that morning, and now the sharp sting of remorse cut through her. But what surprised her was the mix of feelings that jumbled up inside her.

  She was petrified now that someone knew her secret. After twenty years of guarding the truth, she had confessed it, and the sour bubbling in her gut was the fear of no longer having complete control.

  But she also felt extreme grief over her confession. It brought back many deliberately suppressed memories of the man who had adopted her, fed her, and raised her. However, the beatings she’d suffered far outweighed any fatherly recollections.

  Strangely, her stepfather wasn’t the complete source of her anguish.

  After fleeing Brenna and New York, she had driven the first hundred miles or so in absolute fear. She felt brain-dead from the sudden onslaught of what she’d perceived as a threat. She’d barely thought about anything more than hands-on-the-wheel and drive-the-speed-limit. Not until she’d reached Hartford, Connecticut, did she begin to process what had happened.

  A simple case of mistaken identity on the part of the police officers had made it evident how easy it would be to get caught. She had no business being in New York, which meant she also had no business being in a relationship with someone who lived there.

  By the time she’d crossed into Maine, she knew she had been foolish to believe she could be in a relationship with Brenna. One stupid, fucking decision when she was fifteen had formed the rest of her life, and she wouldn’t subject Brenna to the mess she had created.

  Brenna didn’t deserve to be with a killer. And as chickenshit as it sounded, Sinclair didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in prison.

  When she’d arrived home, she dove back into her cocoon, back where she belonged, with no more false hopes or stupid notions. It had been ridiculous to masquerade as a normal person who could fancy having an out-of-town lover.

  She had freed Brenna from further problems and now things would return to the way they had to be.

  But then Brenna had come after her, and the only way she could get her to stay away was to tell her the truth. Though Brenna had said she would help her, no matter what, she’d never be able to handle a disaster this big.

  Like a student afraid to face the principal, she forced herself to get off the bed and face the reality of her past.

  *

  Brenna sat at the table with a cup of coffee. She looked so beautiful in the waning afternoon light that remorse stabbed Sinclair.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Like I have a hangover.” She sat at the table and Brenna fetched a cup of coffee for her.

  Brenna sat back down with Sinclair’s drink. “This will help.”

  “Thanks for staying, although I’m not sure why you did.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Brenna, it’s not like I confessed to stealing bubble gum from a dime store. I killed my stepfather and took off. And now I’ve condemned myself to a secluded life here. That’s the choice I made. The only other one is going to prison.” She felt sick and spoke her next words as gently as she could. “Either way, there’s no way this, you and I, can work.”

  “It can, Sinclair, if I know one thing.”

  “What?”

  “How do you feel about me?”

  Sinclair smiled faintly. “Meeting you made me understand what love really feels like. Being in your arms is so powerful. An energy that’s almost too intense to understand makes me want to jump up and run and yell that I’m head over heels.”

  “That’s what love’s all about.”

  “And that’s what makes this so fucking hard.”

  “Don’t renounce us. Don’t deny what you feel.”

  “Don’t you see that I have to? My life is ruined because of something I did. Yours doesn’t have to be.”

  “Sinclair, I know we hardly know each other, but the connection I feel with you astounds me. I knew my ex-girlfriends much longer but liked them so much less.” She held up an open hand in emphasis. “I want to be with you.”

  “Please, Brenna. Throw in the towel before it gets worse.”

  “Never give up.”

  “What?”

  “Never give up. It’s something I believe in, Sinclair.”

  “Maybe this time you shouldn’t.”

  Sinclair looked out toward a lobster boat bobbing in the waves. Brenna’s heart thumped against her chest as she watched her.

  When Sinclair turned back, her eyes seemed sadder than before. “You say you’ve never struggled for anything. I’ve struggled all my life. I endured my stepfather’s beatings and wiped up my own blood. I got good at lying about my scars and the burn marks from his cigarettes. When my stepbrother got old enough to smoke, he put out his butts on me, too. I was destroyed by the time I was ten, and by the time I left, I was used to the sick routine. And it made me into someone that isn’t…normal.”

  Brenna leaned forward, the determination inside her hammering. “You entrusted me with your secret, knowing that the truth could drive me away. And you must be feeling very fragile right now.” She picked up a cobalt piece of sea glass and held it up. “This got broken and beaten against the ocean’s rocks, just like you did years ago. And you’re as exposed as this glass is right now. But look at it. Maybe it’s not the same as it used to be, but it’s stronger than ever. And more beautiful.

  “When you told me what happened, I was shocked. What stunned me weren’t your actions, but the weight you must have felt from keeping such a secret. I can’t imagine all the horrors of the abuse, but the heaviness in your eyes, and the way the pain physically pulled your face down, cut right through me.

  “I won’t leave you now. Not when you cared enough to confide in me. I don’t know what will happen, but I can imagine how horrible it would be if I walked away from you without knowing what could be.”

  Sinclair’s head dropped and she began to cry. Brenna moved closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

  “I was programmed to believe that I didn’t deserve mercy or love. I know it was all bullshit, but that stupid record keeps playing in my head.”

  “Let’s begin to erase it.”

  “I want to think that I can. I look at you and feel absolute trust, and that terrifies me,” Sinclair said as her head slowly came up. “If I can’t believe in you, I might as well give up completely. But I don’t want to give you up.” Fresh tears ran freely down the folds on either side of her nose. “I’m so tired of running and hiding.”

  Brenna began to open her mouth but Sinclair said quickly, “I know. Never give up.” She wiped the last of her tears with the back of her hand. She looked away and surveyed her belongings.

  The long silence stretched out, with the rumble of two sets of waves marking the duration. Finally, Sinclair said, “There’s only one way to truly stop running.”

  As if taking an inventory of all the things that made her feel safe, she finally said, “I need to go to the police and face this.”

  Brenna took her hand. “I love you, Sinclair.”

  “I love you, too. And I’m scared to death.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Things began to move quickly for Sinclair. After years of staying put, she was about to leave her safe cocoon again, but this time the world would know who she really was. However, an odd sense of relief tempered the waves of fright that constantly washed ove
r her. At times, she felt a glimmer of hope and promise, but it was too fragile to trust.

  Brenna went back to New York, but only to arrange for a longer absence from the gallery. She would return in three days and accompany Sinclair to Little Creek, New York, where she would turn herself in and answer for her childhood decisions.

  She hadn’t thought much about Little Creek in recent years. She wanted to forget the old neighborhood with its small houses that were close enough to the railroad tracks to feel the rumble of the trains that came through.

  Those were the same tracks she had used to get out of town. The first night, she’d walked and run alongside them until it was so dark she could no longer make out exactly where the gravel on the side of the tracks met the grass. She didn’t want to trip and sprain an ankle so she’d pushed her way into some bushes to sleep.

  The next morning she found a road and followed it, until the pain in her empty stomach forced her to stop in a roadside café.

  When her stepbrother had told her to get out of town, she’d had the presence of mind to take the money she’d been saving for a new CD player.

  The pancakes on the café menu looked so good. She counted the dollars and change she’d hastily stuffed in her pocket. She had just over forty dollars. How could she justify spending one tenth of that on pancakes when she didn’t know where or when she’d ever get any more money? Sinclair’s stomach painfully rumbled again so she ordered a small side of hash browns instead.

  Sinclair put some soothing music on to try to push the dark cloud of anxiety out of the room. Her body felt heavy and even making a cup of tea was so arduous, she had to sit down on her couch. All the arrangements she had to make before she left Pemaquid Point swirled around her mind and daunted her. Should she turn off the utilities and board up the house against nor’easters? It depended on how long it would be before she came back. Then again, would she ever return?

  Sinclair lifted the teacup to her mouth but was too nervous to drink.

  She thought about Petey, the squirrel. She would have to leave a huge pile of nuts for him because she might not…

  The tears came so fast they flooded her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks before she could even gasp at the finality of her life.

  She still had time to change her mind. Only one person knew the truth. But if she did, she’d be back where she started, alone and constantly looking over her shoulder.

  She put the teacup down and stood. Her legs felt as heavy as the waterlogged timber that washed up on shore, and it occurred to her that the gloomy fog that had moved in over the coast perfectly matched her mood.

  Her neck and shoulders ached as she gazed out over the water. She’d reached a point in her life where having true love was possible. However, if she started a new uncertain life, it would completely destroy the one she’d created. She couldn’t have both.

  It was truly all or nothing, a crazy gamble where, either way, the outcome didn’t favor her. The tide could recede all the way back to Europe and still wouldn’t be as low as she felt at this moment.

  Had her confession been the biggest mistake of her life?

  She turned toward the kitchen and put away some dishes. She adjusted the towels that hung on the handle of her stove. She prayed these mundane things might ground her and provide a sense of normalcy.

  This house, she thought, my little place of solace and refuge.

  But now, the comfort she sought had evaporated like the morning’s sea mist on her windows. As long as she’d lived alone in the house, she’d never felt lonelier. She longed for Brenna, who would hold her and tell her she would be okay. Because right now, she didn’t feel like she would.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Beanie’s jaw had dropped and her mouth hung open, but she hadn’t yet said anything.

  “I’m letting you know about Sinclair and where we’re going, but I don’t want you to tell Mom and Dad,” Brenna said.

  She sat in her flat with her sister. The sun had descended behind the city skyline, and lights were coming on in the apartments and lofts beyond her large windows.

  “I can’t believe—”

  “It was a long time ago, Beanie. Sinclair was fifteen and had been badly abused all her life.”

  “I know. I meant I can’t believe she survived.”

  “She’s decided to turn herself in.”

  “What will happen to her? To your relationship?”

  “I don’t know. But we want to be together.”

  “I suppose the future looks a little dicey now, huh?”

  Brenna nodded. “I’m afraid we may lose our chance at a life together before it can begin.”

  “You know how Mom is with your girlfriends. No one’s good enough for you and with this…”

  “I could be with Princess Kate and Mom would still think it a threat to my gallery.”

  “Petra did mess you up, you know. You stayed locked up with her in that little love nest for so long, the delinquency notices were piling up at the door.”

  “That was a long time ago, too. My business is important to me and I know that. But I also know I can’t keep taking my cues from Mom.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Which one, of a thousand things, are you referring to?”

  “Sinclair. You know…what happened to her father. That she…did that?”

  “No.” Her heart ached for Sinclair. “If I’d seen him beat her, I might have done the same thing.”

  “Really?” Beanie looked frightened.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I have the power that comes with being an adult now. I would call the police and make sure he never touched her again. She was so young, and maybe she didn’t think she had any options.”

  “Aren’t you worried she’ll go to prison?”

  “I am. Very much so. That’s what’s so scary about this whole thing. But I won’t walk away from her now.”

  “I suppose you have to gamble. You can’t live together on the lam.”

  Brenna chuckled weakly. “No, we can’t. Listen, I’ve met with a defense attorney my lawyer recommended and told her about Sinclair. She said she’ll meet us in Little Creek.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll drive back to Pemaquid Point and pick her up.”

  “Be careful, sis.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Brenna said. “It’s Sinclair I’m worried about.”

  *

  Long stretches of silence punctuated their drive along Interstate 90. Brenna drove while Sinclair gazed out the passenger-side window.

  “I haven’t been on this road in a long time,” she finally said.

  “What do you remember?”

  “Hitchhiking with some really nice people. I stayed out of cars that didn’t have another woman in them and did all right. Some gave me a few dollars, which really helped.”

  “Was it scary?”

  “At night, yes. Most of the time I found a covered, out-of-the-way place, and no one ever bothered me. The cold, rainy weather was the worst part, especially since I didn’t have any extra clothes.”

  She continued to look out the window. “When we moved to Little Creek, my stepfather couldn’t farm any more because he couldn’t afford any land so he did manual labor at the hydroelectric plant. He began to drink a lot more and it got worse.”

  “The abuse.”

  Sinclair nodded.

  “I had a little radio in my room, and I’d listen to a classic rock station, especially Elton John and Jackson Browne. I had to keep the volume low because my stepfather only liked country. Any little thing could set him off so I tried to remain invisible and just listen to my music.”

  Raindrops dotted the windshield and Brenna turned on the wipers.

  “We don’t really know each other,” Sinclair said. “Not well, I mean.”

  It was a surprising non sequitur but Brenna just nodded. “You know me well enough to let me come with you.”

  Sinclair seemed to contemplate Bren
na’s statement. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  “It’ll be okay.” Brenna took Sinclair’s hand.

  Sinclair looked back out the window.

  *

  They checked into a motor lodge in Little Creek, right off the highway. It was late and the sun had already gone down. Brenna couldn’t see much of the town. What would it look like in the morning when the sun came up?

  Would it be a sleepy little place? Would it look quaint? Or faced with a scary and unknown outcome for Sinclair, would it appear sinister?

  “I know I’ve asked you more times than I should, but are you doing all right?”

  Sinclair sat on the bed. “Now that we’re here, I’m more tired than I thought I’d be.”

  “Emotionally tired?”

  “Probably.” She ran a hand through her hair. “There’s so much I don’t remember about that night. I guess I blocked a lot of it out. But now that we’re here, I wish I could recall more.”

  “You’ve been through a lot already. And the drive couldn’t have been relaxing. How about we get something to eat?”

  “Do you mind if we stay in? I don’t want to go out.”

  “I can pick up something.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Brenna joined her on the bed and put her arm around her. “Then let’s just rest. We don’t have anything to do until we meet the lawyer tomorrow afternoon when she gets in from New York.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Marie Alvarez.”

  “Is she nice?”

  “She’s nice to clients and mean to adversaries.”

  “That’s good.” She looked around the room and repeated slowly, “That’s good.”

  Sinclair’s small talk touched Brenna deeply. It was so unlike her. She wanted to protect Sinclair and comfort her, but she looked so lost she wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Tell me what you need, Sinclair.”

  It seemed like she didn’t intend to answer, but she eventually said, “I want to go back and see the house. See if my stepbrother Topher is still there.”