Page 46 of Wanted

I wrap my arms around myself and nod my head at him.

Reaching over to the dashboard, he shuts the air conditioning off. “You were so hot earlier I was afraid to turn it off.”

I nod again and glance back at my window. Wanting to see the trees more than I want to remember that.

“Are you hungry? I stopped and grabbed a couple of burgers. But you slept right through it, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

My stomach aches at the reminder that I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Yet the moment I actually smell the burger sitting in the greasy bag beside me, bile rises in my throat.

“No,” I nearly gag.

“You sure, lass?” he asks, the skepticism back. “You’ve gone through a lot of trauma and lost a lot of blood. The red meat will do you good.”

Guilt over his concern makes me reach for the bag, but the moment I open it I’m gripped by intense nausea.

Shoving the bag back, I turn my head away and take deep breaths through my mouth.

“I can’t,” I pant and swallow my salvia back.

“That’s okay,” he says reassuringly. “That’s quite all right. We’ll stop and get you something else. Something easier on your stomach.”

He rolls down his window and a blast of cool, fresh air pours in. Grabbing the bag, he tosses it out the window without a second thought. Then he lets the fresh air fill the car for a few minutes before rolling his window back up.

My stomach settling, I look over at him in awe.

His kindness… his thoughtfulness touches me so deeply I have to fight back tears.

“Ah, lass, now don’t you go crying over a hamburger,” he says. “I’m sure a raccoon will make a fine meal of it.”

Feeling silly, I jerk my face away and stare out the windshield.

The road we’re traveling on is mostly empty. Only the occasional pair of headlights flashes by, momentarily blinding me.

I have no idea where we are. I don’t think I’ve ever been in place like this before. A place without concrete sidewalks or tall, looming buildings.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

I probably should have asked that question a lot earlier, but it didn’t seem a priority. Not when I wasn’t sure we would escape in the first place.

Father McCall says almost jubilantly, “Canada.”

“Canada?” I repeat in surprise.

He’s taking me out of the country?

“Yes, I have a few… friends in the Catholic Church up there. They’ll give us shelter.”

I twist back around to face him, my mouth agape. He’s taking me to the Catholics? The same Catholics my father said have lost their way?

Was I wrong to trust him?

Will they do even worse things to me?

“Now don’t you go looking at me like that,” Father McCall says, scowling through his beard. “I haven’t betrayed you. I know you’ve probably heard some awful things about the Catholics, but my friends are good people. Good people who want to help us.”

Granting him the benefit of the doubt for the moment, I ask, “Why do they want to help us?”

Father McCall glances over at me, light reflecting off his glasses. “Because the Order of Saint Benedict has turned their faces from the light of God. The things they’re doing to women and girls like you, the things I’ve seen…” He looks away, his voice choking up. “It’s despicable and heinous.”

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