Page 117 of Gilded Saint

“No,” Jack says. “He knows you’re alive but has no way of reaching you. Well, I suppose he could use his contacts—us—to get word. But, no, he doesn’t know your real identity or what country you moved to.” He places his elbows on the table and links his hands in a relaxed prayer posture. “Same goes for your wife.”

“Which brings us to why we’re here,” Sophia says. “Ready to download? We’ve read the debriefs, but there’s more we need.”

Chapter38

Willow, aka Lily

In Phoenix, we stopped in a small gun store, and Sam purchased a black handgun he placed in the glove compartment, along with a box of ammunition. The purchase served as a reminder that while we might be theoretically untraceable, Sam doesn’t gamble with safety.

We stood in awe at the Grand Canyon. Ate the most delicious beignets in New Orleans. Boarded a plane to New York City because when he asked where I’d like to visit, and I told him I’d always wanted to go there, we ditched the rental and presumably his handgun, and on Broadway we attendedSix, a play about King Henry’s six wives. From there, we rented a car and drove to Annapolis, Maryland. He pointed out restaurants he liked “back in the day.”

Before we arrived in Washington, DC, he warned me he’d never move to the DC area unless I absolutely loved it. I enjoyed visiting the monuments I’d only seen photographs of, but I couldn’t see us living there due to the crowds and the traffic.

From DC, we drove to Charlottesville, Virginia, a smaller, quaint college town where I learned he’d once dated a girl who went to school here. I’d asked what happened to them, and he shrugged, saying they weren’t that serious. Because of my experience with Jules, I understood exactly what he was saying. I’d cared for Jules at that time in my life, but I was young, and I loved the freedom and rebellion he represented more than him. Knowing if we were ever discovered, my father would likely have him killed, made me end things earlier than I might have otherwise. But still, all things being the same, it’s clear Sam also had relationships that were important but not meant to last.

From Virginia, we drove to Asheville along rolling highways lined by trees. We checked in to our Asheville hotel hours ago. And now, we’re in the Land Rover he purchased outside of Charlottesville. We’d been in a rental, but when he saw the older SUV in a used car lot, he swerved to make a last-minute turn into the lot.

Sam assured me he’ll buy me whatever I want, but I’m a nervous driver. I drove ten miles lower than the speed limit when we went to return the rental after he purchased his giant new automobile. I’m sure I’ll eventually drive as it seems Americans love to drive, but I drove little in Italy. At home, my father’s security accompanied me and therefore drove. In Florence, as a student, I biked whenever I found myself free of security. Here, the cars speeding along on the freeway feel enormous, and I’m still not used to the measurement system, which is disorienting on the dashboard.

We’re parked on a neighborhood street with small bungalow homes, broad-leaf trees, and mailboxes stationed at the end of each driveway. Sam’s knee bounces up and down, and he’s on his phone, checking texts. In the glove compartment is a small box of SIM cards, should he need to destroy the one in his mobile and replace it. He also picked up a new handgun when we arrived in North Carolina, as there’s no waiting period to purchase one here.

Our windows are rolled down, and a soft breeze blows through the vehicle. The day was warm, but the temperatures are dropping quickly.

Over the last several weeks, Sam has spoken of his sisters with increasing frequency. Sloane is the one closest to him in age, and he said that when they were younger, they spent a lot of time together. His youngest sister, Sage, had been sick as a child, but he says she’s healthy now, and she’s the one who is expecting a child with his best friend from high school. He doesn’t know the story of how they got together, but he said he couldn’t imagine a better husband for his sister. And Sloane married a guy he doesn’t know well, but he’s been around him and believes he’s a good guy. Sage’s husband is named Knox and Sloane’s husband’s name is Max.

Knox and Max both have last names that start with the letter W, which meant they were assigned to the same homeroom. That’s how they met, and they became fast friends.

“Do you think they’ll be much longer?” I ask.

“Should be soon.” Finished with his messages, he taps the phone against the steering wheel in the same rapid beat as his bouncing knee. I reach for his hand, remove the phone, set it in the drink holder, and link our fingers.

“It’s going to be okay. They’re going to be thrilled to see you.” He’s nervous, and he shouldn’t be, but telling him not to be nervous won’t do anything. “Tell me about them. Your sisters.” He’s told me about them, and the look he gives me says he’s thinking the same thing. “Tell me a favorite story.”

He exhales and lifts my hand to his mouth where he playfully nips at my skin.

“Come on, there has to be something. Is this the house you grew up in?”

“Here? No. I told you, I grew up in Rocky Mount.”

“Is that near here?”

“Not at all. Sounds like it belongs in the mountains, doesn’t it? No, it’s farther east. About an hour east of Raleigh, where Sloane, the oldest of my two younger sisters, lives now.”

“Which sister were you closer to?”

“Well, Sloane’s close to me in age. She…she struggled in school. More in middle school. By high school, she didn’t give a fuck. I mean, sorry. She didn’t care about what others thought. But I was probably her closest friend.”

“Why’d she struggle in school?”

He half-smiles. “Mom always said she sees the world differently. And she does.”

“What does that mean? Is she–”

“If she was diagnosed with anything, Mom didn’t share it. She was big on avoiding labels. For a while, there, I was one of the few who could calm Sloaney down when she’d work herself up.” Pride rings through his words.

“It’s odd your mom didn’t share what was going on with you.”

“She did. In her own way. And you gotta understand…my parents. We had tough years. Sage was really sick. It’s hard on a family when a kid’s in and out of the hospital. Mom had a group of friends who were all parents of sick kids, and they were tight. Guarantee you they backed Mom’s approach. You asked for a memory… I can remember someone in a mall coming up and asking what was wrong with Sage. Said it like this, ‘What’s wrong with her?’ I don’t think Sloane heard, or if she did, it didn’t register. But Mom, man, I thought she was going to lose it on the woman. It was just… We were all so protective of Sage, and Sage was dressed up to go out to the mall. It was a big deal, you know, and she thought she looked normal. And she did. She was just…really thin. Pale. Probably had a bandage or something. I don’t even remember. But I remember Mom. It was like she doubled in size. Transformed into super momma bear. Had me and Sloane take Sage to get a cookie from the American Cookie Company. Told us we could get soda too.” His slight grin tells me this is a fond memory, but tears threaten in my eyes. “I love my sisters,” he says, sniffing back his emotion.

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