Page 8 of Dying to Meet You

The double doors, which were cracked open at the end of the addition hallway, open farther as Blaine looks at us. “Dinner’s ready.” Scrambling up, Zach stands as Weston wiggles free of me. “Daddy C made your favorite tonight. Better hurry,” he says, clapping his hands together as he walks closer.

“Tacos?” Wes gallops past him, pulling Zach along by an arm. “Yes!”

Once the doors close, Blaine turns to me. “Newsflash, Eden is staying with me tonight. She’s slept in your bed for three nights in a row.”

Keeping my face as blank as possible, I stare him down. He fidgets before breaking eye contact. It’s mildly amusing that he thinks he can intimidate me. I’m taller, more muscular, and last time I checked, he still couldn’t fight his way out of a box. With his wavy hair, arrogant little facial contortions, and trim build, he is no slouch, but I don’t have any interest in how he looks. Just another frustrating thing to him.

“Cool, cool. How have you mastered both unfazed and annoyed at the same time?” he asks as he quirks his lips at me. “And just a heads up, with Matt leaving for trial, Keir wants to have an FBI detail watching our home.”

That’s a no. “Not needed.”

“That’s my take on it, but Keir’s got Eden on board with it. I think.” He’s scrutinizing my face while giving me news that takes my annoyance to anger, but there is no power in putting emotions on display.

During times like this, I shift to messages that were ingrained in me.Eliminate the threats by any means necessary.I should be able to protect us all. How’s that for hard to relate to? Eden and her grandfather are the only exceptions. With both I’ve been able to talk about the past. It’s still uncomfortable sorting through all that’s happened. To accept the truth. Roger, Eden’s grandfather, told me the truth can be seen as an acronym: taking real understanding to heart. Fleeting moments of truth are painful.

Moving down the hallway together, Blaine continues, “Anyway, I figured you’d be able to talk some sense into Keir. The last thing we want to deal with is Jergen Rivera hanging around.”

Unlike the rest of the guys, Rivera gives me a wide berth. His tasteless jokes and behavior are just weak covers for an insecure, unintelligent man. I got my message across early on, meant to both inspire and terrorize him-a reminder my history with incompetent FBI agents didn’t end well for them. He was gifted with my case file. Since then, he barely looks my way.

The commotion coming from the dining room reaches us: the kids’ chatter, the boys’ laughter, dishes being moved around, barking from one of the dogs. I may treasure my solitude, another byproduct of a childhood lacking in the nurture aspect, but I need the commotion our family generates, too, sometimes. Blaine sits in a chair across from Eden while I stop by Warner’s highchair to move his sippy cup closer. He shoves cut-up orange slices in his mouth while simultaneously humming, his little legs kicking at the table.

Keir looks up from his place next to our three-year-old little cherub. “My phone blew up. Rassier knows?”

“Expect a panicked call from dignitaries at the consulate. That web is coming down. They’ll all be on the run soon.”

He nods his head with a grimace. “Yeah. They’ll come here. To the US.”

Blaine hands a plate with two tacos on it to Zach while interrupting us. “I love when you speak in indecipherable jargon. Good talk, guys. It’s dinner time, could you put a pin in this?”

We all dig into the assortment of tacos, corn bread, and rice that Caleb has made as Eden looks over Waverly’s drawings. “You’ve done a beautiful job getting your great grandma’s expression just right. I may not say it enough, but you’re so talented sweetheart.” Faintly blushing Waverly tucks the drawings back in her folder before using her fork to deconstruct her tortilla.

Our girl, at nine, is busy with dancing, drawing, and all the animals. Eden said watching Waverly getting these opportunities heals her inner child. For me, I worry she’s too scheduled. Do we push her because she does well in everything she tries?

Everyone is talking over each other. Caleb tells the boys a story about a flatulent schnauzer at the vet clinic today, making them erupt in giggles. Warner plays a game of fetch with his cup, tossing it and clapping as one of us retrieves it. Meanwhile, Zinnea sits slouched down in her chair, glowering, with her arms folded and plate untouched.

Caleb launches in about our new neighbor, who stated he is going to challenge the business zoning of the vet clinic across the road from our home, because he has a problem with the “lifestyle” we’re living. “The government would never…” he starts in. Yes, yes, they would.

Don’t underestimate the ways the government can and will weaponize policies when they want.

Chapter Four

Make me

Eden

OndayswhenIwake feeling an overwhelming sense of unease, I stand utterly still at the bedroom window staring at the clouds. The hope I bury in my soul that I’m doing good by helping others breathes calm over my anxiety. I know I shouldn’t exist. It will be a stain on me forever, but it drives my purpose. I’ll do my damnedest to undo the damage caused by cults.

The note that nags at me is clutched in my hand. I just don’t get it. It’s over. The nightmare I endured growing up is finished. The truth of it all was revealed a few summers ago. Now this? Dread blooms in all its glory inside my heart. The words don’t make sense in meaning, but what it alludes to does.

The crows would know why you need to die.

It’s no joke. I’ve been trying to convince myself it was, but it’s only delaying the inevitable-telling my husbands, because this sounds like a threat from the past we’ve left behind. I grew up in a cult shrouded in so many lies twined together, the pieces will never all fall in place. The crazy bitch I believed to be my mother had a boyfriend who believed the crows he kept would tell him what God wanted done. Spurred on by his meth use and a drive to torment us kids, he’d use the crows to scare us.

But that was a different life. He’s gone and so is she. So, who could know this information and be using it?

Could it merely be a coincidence?

Right. Because every wacko uses crows as a threat. It’s amazing how many arguments I make trying to justify why I shouldn’t be freaked out. It’s the real reason I’m not putting up a fight about the security detail Keir wanted; the Columbian cartel doesn’t seem as scary to me as this note written in inky block letters.

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