Page 22 of Mayflower

“I know,” he says softly. “I know who you are. What’s going on, Maddy? Where is Mathew?”

And I tell him. Tell him what happened. I say that there is no news. Mac might be the only person who cares about Raven as much as me.

He listens. No panic in his short questions. No condolences, and I’m so grateful for that.

“Mathew told me about you,” he says. “Mathew likes privacy. The fact that he told me about you at all means a lot. You should know that.”

“I do.” I’m grateful for his company, if only remotely. His low, deep voice is like that of one of the narrators of world history documentaries. I just want to hear him talk endlessly.

“Do you have a minute?” he asks, surprising me.

“Of course! Absolutely! I-I… There are not many people who know Raven personally. I mean, Mathew. You do. You know him better than me. He likes his privacy, yes. I wanted to talk to someone who knows him. Especially now…”

“I see.” The softness and warmth in his voice make me feel hopeful. “Tell me about you and Mathew.”

Words pour out of me. I talk about Raven and me. About who I am, not hiding any details or my past. About how we broke up. About Raven’s deals. How hard it was. Our reconciliation. Sonny. Security. Zion. My father. And then I tell him about the day a week ago when Raven was taken, all the gruesome details.

By the time I finish, I’m crying and sniffling.

“I’m sorry, Mac,” I say almost in a whisper. “I didn’t know who else to call who knows him and understands…”

“It’s all right, Maddy. It’s all right.”

“Tell me something about him. Please? Something you like the most. Anything, really. I know so little.”

“Hmm.” Mac goes quiet for a moment. “Mathew is an incredible young man,” he finally says. “When I met him, his anger was like armor. He wore it like a badge. It sliced silently through others like a knife. I met Mathew when anger was his sharpest weapon. It poisoned him the most, you know.”

It still does, I think as I listen.

“He is very selective with who he keeps close nowadays. And incredibly protective. Mathew doesn’t know he has that power—making someone he cares about feel safe.”

I’m so grateful that he talks about Raven in present tense.

“When Mathew got back on his feet and figured himself out, as much as he could, I felt proud of what he was becoming. I never told him that. He wouldn’t believe me, you know. That’s another thing about Mathew—he has incredible strength but he doesn’t trust others’ opinions.”

“He trusts yours.”

“I tried to guide him. I hope I did a decent job.”

I chuckle. “He says everything good he knows is thanks to you.”

“Hmm. Not true. Mathew had a complicated childhood. As adults, we are who we choose to be. Children? Well, children think they are what others tell them they are. And Mathew, unfortunately, had too many heartless examples before him.”

I close my eyes but don’t respond, afraid to interrupt Mac.

“People see danger and pain in him and mostly stay away. But there is… There’s magnificent strength in a man who rarely saw a moment of kindness growing up yet had the courage to carry on and treat others with respect. His determination in life is astounding. So is his loyalty.”

I realize that tears are streaming down my face. “He said, you taught him that.”

“His past did. He thinks his past crippled him. What he doesn’t realize is that the worst experiences also create the most beautiful opportunities. Weeds are invasive, but there’s a limit to how much they can grow. Tree seedlings might be weak but often grow into magnificent trees.”

I observed Raven with Little, his mild irritation at first when Little started following him around, then surprise when Little didn’t get put off by Raven’s hostility. Children see through adults easily. They see with their hearts. Little never gave up. And then something else happened—Raven’s tenderness toward Little, though tenderness seems like a strange word to use when you think of a man like Raven. Maybe it was kindness, though everyone could tell it was affection. It was so-so beautiful. He couldn’t disguise it, though he tried. And he didn’t realize how much it shined through all his pretense and seeming indifference.

“Mac, may I call you sometimes?” I ask. “Just to talk.”

He is my connection to Raven. I pray that we will both call Mac soon.

“Of course, Maddy,” Mac says. “Please do. Let me know as soon as you find out more about Mathew.”

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