“And now what?” Caleb asks. “You want to stay here?”
“That’s up to Ivy,” Bishop says.
Caleb turns his head toward me. “Is that what you want?”
I swallow. Just because I’m not sure how to live with Bishop anymore, doesn’t mean I want to live without him. Maybe I am as selfish as Callie once accused me of being. “Yes,” I say, barely a whisper. Even from across the tent, I can feel some of the tension drain out of Bishop.
“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy,” Caleb says. “A lot of our people are out here because of your father.”
“I’m not my father,” Bishop says.
Caleb stares at him. “Some may not see the distinction.”
Bishop gives a slight nod, then asks, with a raise of his eyebrows, “The same way I might lump Mark Laird and you together?”
“Fair point,” Caleb says after a second’s hesitation. I think I catch a glimpse of respect in his eyes when he looks at Bishop. “I’m not making any promises, but I’ll talk to everyone, urge them to give you a chance.”
“That’s all I’m asking for,” Bishop says.
Caleb nods, glances from Bishop to me. “We’ve put it off long enough. I need to know the story on Mark.”
“Bishop can tell it,” I say. I find I don’t want any more words about Mark on my tongue, as if even speaking of him is infecting me somehow.
Bishop is matter-of-fact in his recitation, beginning with my work in the jail and the crime that caused Mark to be put out, up through the girl he killed on the other side of the fence. When he’s done, Caleb looks at Ash with sorry
eyes, and I know he’s beating himself up for letting someone like Mark near her. He turns those regret-filled eyes to me.
“He’s the one who hurt you, isn’t he?”
Bishop shifts on the cot across from me, but I don’t take my eyes off Caleb. “Yes.”
“What did he do to you?” Bishop asks. His voice is steady, but raw, like he’s fighting hard to keep it that way.
I glance at him and then at the ground. “It was my second day out. He found me. He attacked me…”
“Bashed her face in pretty good. Dislocated her shoulder,” Ash says. No one speaks, everyone unwilling to voice the question they must all be thinking.
“Did he rape you?” Bishop asks finally.
“No,” I say, looking up into his drawn face. “He would have. But I hit him in the head with a rock until he was unconscious.”
“Should have hit him harder,” Caleb mutters.
“Should have killed him,” Bishop says and the two of them share grim smiles.
“I knew you would say that,” I tell Bishop, with a tiny smile of my own. “I wanted to. I knew I should. But I just…couldn’t.”
“Still,” Bishop says, “sounds like you kicked his ass.”
“From here to next Tuesday,” I say, my smile widening. His eyes lose some of their graveness, warming as we stare at each other, remembering another day in another place. From the corner of my eye I can see Ash glancing between us, and I turn my attention back to her, even as heat spreads along my neck and races into my cheeks.
“So what now?” Ash asks. “What should we do about Mark?”
“Nothing to do,” Caleb says with a sigh. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” I ask.
“Went by his tent this morning and it’s cleaned out.” Caleb shrugs. “He must have figured you were going to tell us the truth and he made a run for it.”