Page 24 of Evolved

“I’m in full control of my wits.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

She turns toward me, her face tight with held-back emotions. “And yet the two of you have decided your opinions hold more value than mine?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Yes, it is. I could have spoken with those people.”

“We’d have died if you tried. They shot at us.”

“They didn’t know who we were.” She slaps the pill bottle down on the table. “And we nearly died fleeing.Fleeing!Like cowards in the night. You know what separates a leader from a follower? A leader trusts themself to handle a situation. They don’t fear the unknown because they believe themselves to be capable enough to face any foe.”

I walk slowly to the table, the beads on the blanket rattling softly with my every step. “And good leaders take their advisers’ suggestions to heart.” My words come out gently, but this is as close as I’ve ever gotten to outright dissent, and we both know it. “Knox is the most qualified among us to evaluate risk.”

“The Secret Service haszerotolerance for risk. He will never be comfortable withanysituation. He never was. They always want to run and hide andnevergo to outdoor events. That wasalways their mission.You know that.”

It’s true.

“You can’t expect Knox to sacrifice himself as a one-man army.”

“I never asked him to fight them. Only to step aside and letme talk to them.” She swipes a hand through the air as if to clear it, and regains her preternatural calm. “We need people. How many were there last night? Ten? Fifteen? We could use them. We cannot do this if the two of you refuse to let me take a risk now and again. I am old, and I’m not in perfect health, but I’m not frail. I’m not dying. And I won’t be treated like an invalid.”

My throat gets tight. I’ve built my life around serving this woman and her career. She’s the only person I’ve ever trusted, the only person who made me feel safe, like I had a home and a team and a purpose.

My mouth goes dry as she carries on talking, reviewing all the ways we need to get organized, how everything we had got soaked, and Nancy Alweston weighed about eighty-one pounds, so we need new clothes, presidential clothes, and we need food beyond what we put in the go-bags and escape car. She finishes with, “I want those talking points I’ve been asking for.”

My bare cold toes dig into a brick floor that’s long been worn smooth.

Gran and I don’t cry, though—at least not in front of each other.

“I can’t write,” I say, and I’m so grateful it comes out crisply, confidently, borderline assertively.”

She rounds on me, rising from her chair, the pill bottle clutched in one hand.

“Yes, you can. Find the moment you quit thinking I was the woman for this job.” Her chin lifts. “It wasn’t me who changed.

I cross my arms over my middle like it might stop the words from bubbling out of me, but they’ve been bubbling for weeks. They nearly came out last night. “You sent Gina off.”

Her mouth wobbles. “I had to.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Just trust me. I’ll tell you when it makes sense. Not yet.”

“You knew she’d die.” It shifts, leaving my throat, contorting into something close to a sob. I stifle it, just wrestle the sad person inside me down, and do exactly what Knox accused me of. I shove a sock in her mouth.

Gran’s face is white now, her chin raised up high, revealing the thin, papery skin of her neck.

“You sent her off knowing she’d die. How do I know you won’t do that to Knox?” I ask, and this time, my voice is low and quiet. “Or me?”

“I won’t,” she says quietly.

“I don’t believe you,” I say back.

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