great-aunt Mercy. Fruitful just … hoped she wouldn’t notice, I guess. But she noticed. Of course she noticed. She felt the strings. She told the Prophet. And she told Gilead.”
Gray said, “Here it is.” A track across the grassland, the cliff tops, and a sign. Tunnel Beach.
We turned. We ran. A track of beaten earth, easier going. Nobody out here, not this early. The sun was up, and the pink was fading. Gray had taken Xena off her leash, and she stretched out and ran, then circled back to us.
It was all peaceful. It was all perfect. But it wasn’t that way inside me.
Gray asked, “And what happened then?” His voice was quiet. Controlled.
I reminded myself that I was here. The wind on my face, the sea ahead of me, and a man at my side whose caring might matter, because I might be able to accept it, at least a little bit. I could accept it for my sisters, anyway, so I breathed in the salt air and told him. “Gilead tried to get her to tell how it had happened. How he does it … he doesn’t use as much force as you’d expect. Real beating, with fists—that’s not allowed. People would notice. You’re meant to use … restraint, as a man. As a husband.”
Gray said, “But he found ways.” I glanced at him. His jaw was set so tight, there was a muscle ticking there. You see that in men trying to hold back pain. Or trying to hold back fury.
I said, “Yes. And still, she didn’t tell him it was me. She said she didn’t know my name, that she didn’t know how it was set up. She swore she didn’t say it was me. But after that—that evening, Sunday evening—there was a meeting, a shaming. They took turns, the men did. That’s what they do. Sort of … beat you down with words. With guilt, and shame, and fear of going to Hell. You can’t imagine how real that fear is. The women were crying, Uncle Aaron said. Being told their sin was known, being told to confess to the community, and to God. Five of them did, and Obedience said … that they said ‘Chastity.’ They said it was me. Uncle Aaron had texted me before that, though, told me to come that night instead of a couple weeks later like we’d planned. He was going to smuggle them to Wanaka in the truck, but we didn’t get the chance. So instead, he told them to go to the shed, and I came as soon as I got off work at midnight.”
“But they must know it’s you, then,” Gray said. “Who took the girls. Even if your father didn’t recognize you, he’ll put the pieces together.”
I couldn’t keep going. I slowed, and then I stopped and bent from the waist, my hands on my knees. Gray was there beside me, his hand on my back, saying, “Daisy. Come on, now. Come on.”
I said, “Just a … minute. I … can’t.” I dropped to my heels, my arms around myself, and started to shake. Uncontrollably. Horribly. Full-body tremors, like in the truck. Except that this wasn’t a reaction to escaping. This was a reaction for all the people who couldn’t.
And to my own dread.
Gray was down there, too, and Xena dropped to her haunches and whined, an urgent sound. Gray’s hands were on my shoulders, but I couldn’t look at him. I had a hand over my face, trying to hold the sobs back.
He didn’t say anything at all. He crouched there on the track, his hands gripping my shoulders, and waited.
The sobs were painful, ripped out of me. I was gasping for air, my lungs burning, my eyes and nose streaming. The sounds were ugly, and I knew that I was, too. I’d fallen over now, was on my bum in the grass, clutching myself, pulling my legs into me like I was trying to avoid the blows.
Gray was still there. His arms all the way around me, wrapping me up, pulling me into his body so I was nearly in his lap. His hand smoothing over my hair. And still, he didn’t talk. He didn’t say, “Don’t cry.” He didn’t say, “It’ll be all right.” He just held me.
Finally, I ran down. A few more deep, shuddering breaths, and I was still. I finally said, “That was … bad. Sorry. I’m a … mess.” My voice was shaking, and my hands were still