A Whisper in Time (39 page)

Mrs. Merritt watched me, hesitation in her manner. When next she spoke, her voice was soft and low. “I know this will be difficult, but you need to tell me about the abuse.”

Mark had suggested several questions to me. Yet neither of us had anticipated this one. Could I get through it?

Of course I could, because I had to. I focused out the window at the trees rimming the garden, their reds and golds muted in the fading light. “Mark calls it abuse, and I must agree that my treatment fits the definition. Yet I didn’t think of it as abuse. At the time, it was merely the way the world had to be. There were families in need of servants, and there were families with excess children. Some learned to be satisfied with their situations. I was one of the unfortunate children who did not.

“Mistakes required correction, and I made many. Indeed, I was a most difficult girl to discipline, but my master gloried in the effort.”

A shadow crossed the window and then back again. Mark was pacing. His unrest strengthened my resolve. My hands clawed into fists, as if rending the shroud around my past. “I didn’t like my treatment, but I survived. What else could I do?”

The chair squeaked beside me. When Mrs. Merritt spoke, her tone was soothing. “Why have you not turned these people in, Susanna? There are ways to deal with them.”

“Truly, are there?” I met her gaze frankly. “How well does the government manage abuse cases? Are all children protected from the people who hurt them?” I shook my head. “My master didn’t abuse his children. He didn’t abuse his wife. He abused
me
. The government would be better occupied with saving children who need its help. I am safe now.”

Silence greeted my speech. Sympathy softened her expression, and there was something more. Something hopeful.

She rose to her feet, stretched for the window, and rapped sharply. Seconds later, Mark and his grandparents came in.

Mrs. Merritt made a casual gesture at the other chairs. “Let me see the evidence.”

Mark yanked me from my chair and wrapped me in a tight hug. I lay in his arms, drained from telling my story. It wasn’t over, but perhaps it was close.

It took five minutes to spread the documents before Peggy. She scrutinized each item and then opened a small case at her side. “I’ll take the baptismal certificate, the school transcript, and a photo of the Social Security card.”

“Not the Bible?” Charlie asked.

She shook her head. “The easiest to fake. It would be suspicious.”

Mark nudged the DVD with Caleb’s speech. “What about the video affidavit?”

The corner of her mouth tilted upward. “It may be the most compelling for you, but I can’t use it unless it’s written, signed, and notarized.” She smoothed the documents together and placed them carefully inside her case. She looked at each of us in turn, her gaze landing last on me. “There are three places where this whole gamble could fail. Judge Tew might notice what he’s signing and refuse. When I go to clock the court order in, someone might notice it doesn’t have a case file. Once it arrives at Vital Records, they might try to check up on the evidence. But after it gets that far, you’re home free.”

Charlie cleared his throat. “How long before we know anything?”

She pursed her lips. “The timing has to be perfect. I’ll have to catch the judge on a busy day, and I’ll have to hit the courthouse on a Friday at four-forty-five. Could be as early as Thanksgiving. Could be as late as the New Year.”

Gran leaned against the bar, a cup of tea cradled between her palms. “What happens if this doesn’t work?”

“Susanna will have to hire an expensive lawyer and spend a lot of years in legal limbo.”

It was time to ask the questions that had gnawed at me since I learned of her involvement. “What happens to you if you’re caught?”

She tilted her head, considering me. “Worst case? I’ll retire, which I’m about to do anyway.” She closed her case and stood, preparing to leave.

“Why are you doing this, Mrs. Merritt?”

She reached out and clasped my hand briefly. “I’ve spent enough time working in the judicial system to know that justice isn’t always what we get. Every now and then, it’s nice to see the law bent to fit the circumstances.”

C
HAPTER
F
IFTY
-F
OUR

T
HREE
L
ITTLE
W
ORDS

I pulled into the parking lot of Olde Tyme Grill. It was full and I was late. My study group was already here.

As I jogged through the maze of cars, I tried to think about the not-so-secret pop quiz we’d be having tomorrow in physics, but it was hard to keep my thoughts there. Too many other topics had me interested.

Thanksgiving was a week away, and already the wait for Susanna’s birth certificate was making me crazy. For the past five weeks, she’d had nothing to say about it. She’d found plenty of things to do instead. Susanna’s handwriting business was taking off. At the moment, she was swamped with orders for invitations to holiday parties. She’d also taken a set of first-aid classes that my mom found for her.

Most important, though, was her “study program,” as we’d begun to call it. Granddad had offered to turn her fake high-school transcript into a legal homeschool diploma, but she declined. Susanna wanted a “real” education, and to her, that meant getting ready for a GED. She was cramming hard even though it would be months before she could even take the placement exam required by the community college. Math scared Susanna the most. Dad, the engineer, had become her tutor whenever he had time.

I’d finally made a major decision about college—to
delay
my decision. November first came and went without me applying early to Virginia Tech. Dad was disappointed. He kept hoping I would make the commitment, but I just couldn’t. Not yet. January would be soon enough to send out applications, and May first would give me plenty of time to choose. Much as I hated to admit it, I didn’t have my head straight about Susanna—what to do about me and what to do about us. I needed the extra time.

The study group was already seated in “our” booth. Jesse was slumped into a corner, his glazed eyes staring into space. The girls were talking rapidly and laughing a lot. I slid onto the bench beside Gabrielle and grabbed a fry. “What’s the topic?”

Jesse moaned.

Benita sighed dreamily.

Gabrielle squirmed happily. “I went to London this weekend.”

I turned to look at her. “Why?”

“To see Korry. He’s still filming on a soundstage there.” Her lips curved into a tiny smile that hinted at stuff that wouldn’t be shared. “It was fun.”

“London, Mark. Did you hear that?” Benita poked my hand with an incredibly strong index finger. “She went to England for a
weekend
.”

“She’s sitting right next to me. Of course I heard.” I ate another fry, surprisingly curious to know more details. “So what did you do?”

“We talked and did touristy things and…” Gabrielle grew serious suddenly. “Okay, guys. I have to apologize. I’ve been a pain in the ass lately, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s a cute ass,” Jesse offered helpfully.

Benita’s strong index finger jabbed him in the head. “Girlfriend present.”

“Yes, my love, my goddess.” He leaned close and whispered something in her ear.

She blushed and said, “Officially forgiven now.”

“I thought so.” He kissed her neck.

“Really, guys?” I looked at Gabrielle. “Proceed.”

She shrugged. “There’s not much else to say except…” She straightened, eyes bright. “He’ll be here during Thanksgiving break for a day. Do you want to come over and meet him? There’ll be a few other people over.”

Benita and Jesse nodded in unison.

“Maybe,” I said. Never could be too sure about my plans. I had no intention of missing a single moment of Susanna’s first Thanksgiving.

“Mark,” Jesse said, his voice sharp.

“What?”

He jerked his head toward the entrance to the dining room.

I turned to see what was so important, and had to grip the table to keep from falling off the bench.

Susanna stood in the doorway, scanning the dining room.

My heart seemed to swell until it filled my chest, my throat, my whole being.

Other than the four of us, nobody else paid her any attention, because she looked completely normal. She wore a navy dress I’d never seen before. It left her throat and forearms bare and stopped at her knees. But most amazing, she also had on leggings and riding boots.

I catapulted from the booth and tore across the room. Her gaze met mine almost instantly and there it was. One of those rare, gorgeous, heart-stopping smiles that I lived for.

“What’s going on? You look beautiful.” My hands went straight for her waist and I hauled her up against me. “How did you get here?”

“Bruce dropped me off.”

“Why?”

“Mrs. Merritt called.”

Three little words that crackled down my spine like lightning. “What did she say?”

“It is over.” Her joy radiated like a blazing fire. “I exist.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

Locking my arms around her, I gave her a hard, brief kiss. A kiss of relief. Happiness. Wonder.

“Mark,” she said, blushing and trying to wiggle away. “We have an audience.”

“Let ‘em watch.” I buried my head against her shoulder. It took all of the most manly thoughts inside me to keep the tears at bay.

The noise dipped in the room before returning, even louder than before. If Susanna hadn’t made an impression when she walked in, my display of affection guaranteed she’d be noticed now.

“I cannot breathe,” she said with a laugh.

I released her slowly, hardly able to take in the news. It was over. The past was behind us now. She could get a real job, get her education, whatever she wanted. And my world—
our
world—would let her.

“Hey,” I said, sliding my hand into hers, “come with me.”

When we reached the booth, Benita jumped up and scooped Susanna into her arms. For a fraction of a second, Susanna froze, and then she relaxed and even made a clumsy attempt to hug back.

I reclaimed her hand and said, “Susanna, meet Gabrielle.”

“Hello,” Susanna said with a nod, her smile still glowing. “It is nice to finally meet you.”

“Yes, it is.” Gabrielle’s answering smile was cautious. “I was just telling the others that I’m having a party at my house on Thanksgiving. You should come.”

“Perhaps we shall.” Susanna looked up at me, her eyes searching my face for something. She looked happy and serene and…

I wasn’t sure what exactly that look was trying to tell me, but I knew that I wanted to find out alone. To focus on her. To celebrate her victory.

“Guys,” I said, my gaze never leaving hers, “we’ll see you later.” I turned around and practically ran from the room, dragging her along with me.

When we reached the relative privacy of the parking lot, I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her until we were both dizzy, not stopping until I felt her cool fingers clutch at my wrists, holding on for dear life.

“Mark?”

“Yeah?” I could not get enough of this Susanna. This beautiful,
ready
Susanna.

“Where are we going?”

I took off again, heading for the truck. “I don’t care—as long as you’re with me.”

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are so many people to thank that it’s hard to know where to start. First, I offer grateful praise to the writing community (especially Rubies and Retreaters) for their generosity to me and all authors. Please don’t stop. To my family and friends, thank you for your interest and loyalty—and keeping me honest. To the fabulous people who contributed personally to this story, I am so grateful for your roles in making it the best book it could be: Angela, for her insights into the justice system; Jeff Thigpen and the Guildford County Register of Deeds, for their insights into birth certificates; Alec and Andrew, for helping me understand Mark; Mike Mazzella and Jan DiSantostefano, for answering questions about ruining knees and thumbs; Trish Halley, for knowing beautiful places in the mountains; Llewellyn, for lending her writing skills; Tom, for his patient advice on bodyguards, athletes, and life; Laura Ownbey, who is a true gift to literature; the transformative Jessica Porteous and Richard Storrs and the rest of the team at Spencer Hill Press; and Kevan Lyon, my extraordinary agent. Finally, to my amazing daughters and husband, thank you for being the kind of family that allows dreams to be possible.

A
BOUT
T
HE
A
UTHOR

Elizabeth lives in North Carolina (mid-way between the beaches and the mountains) with two daughters, one husband, and too many computers. When she’s not writing software or stories, Elizabeth loves to travel, watch dance reality shows, and argue with her family over which restaurant to visit next.
A Whisper In Time
is the second book of the Whisper Falls trilogy.