She says his name as if it burns her tongue. The sneer on her face is not pleasant, and I’m sure she’ll need more Botox after this conversation, for she’s surely breaking the plastic shell with her looks of disgust.
“But I want you to remember something, Amber. I can hurt far more easily than I can help. So, leave here, and never look back again. Leave my son alone. Forget he was ever in your life. Your father kidnapped him once. You chose not to help him then, but I’m asking you to help him now. This is the last time I’m asking. Consider it your last warning.” She doesn’t yell or raise her voice even slightly, but the threat in her tone is obvious.
I don’t want to go to battle with this woman. I’m too tired to battle anyone.
And she’s right.
I didn’t save Christopher. And even now, I’m keeping him captive and chained to me until death do us part.
I know this.
Louisa is speaking the truth.
I turn my attention back on Papa Rich and study his face. He’s not angry or full of rage. Dark circles are under his eyes, and he appears as if he’s aged in the short time we’ve been apart. I hurt him. I can see just how deeply I did.
He’s been out there the entire time, hiding in the smoke from the flames of Hallelujah Junction. He didn’t give up on me. He never would. Never.
When our eyes lock, he calls up, “It’s time, Ember.”
“But I’m married, Papa. You married us. You chose Christopher for my husband. I can’t just leave him. I’ve tried to be a good wife. I have.”
My voice sounds weak. I’m weak.
I hate it.
I thought I’d grown stronger, and yet, with just his presence in the room, I’m a coward once again.
“I allowed the devil to enter me,” Papa Rich says as Scarecrow nods beside him. “The decision was a poor one. I misjudged. I wanted a strong man for you, Ember. I wanted one who wouldn’t cower to me or anyone and would protect you at all costs, but—” He looks down at his boots and then back at me. “—when Christopher arrived that day in Hallelujah Junction, I thought it was a sign from God. I now know it was a temptation from the devil. I’m merely man, however, but have repented for my sins for allowing the evil within the walls of my home. Fire burned down that evil.” He takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling in what appears to be defeat. “I chose the wrong husband for you. I will rectify that decision now.” He extends his hand again. “You don’t belong here, Ember. I’m here to save you from the grips of the devil’s work.”
“Go pack your bags,” Louisa instructs loud enough so that Papa Rich and Scarecrow can hear. I can tell her patience is thin, and she’s not going to allow anything negative to be said about her son any longer. “That man—Scarecrow—is right. The pilot I hired won’t wait for long. He’s risking a lot by flying you all back to Nevada.” When I don’t move right away, she adds with more force, “Go. Hurry up.”
“I can’t leave without speaking to Christopher.” I swallow against the lump forming in the back of my throat and blink against the burning of tears threatening to fall. “I need to at least say goodbye. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“You hurt him by staying,” Louisa snaps. “And if you don’t leave while he’s at work, he’ll never let you go. You’ll be trapped, and so will he. Is that what you really want? You’re going to drown him, Amber. You know this. I can see that you know this.”
I glance at Papa Rich and Scarecrow and consider her words, even though they shatter me from my very depths.
I don’t want to leave.
But I don’t want to stay.
“Go pack, Amber. Hurry. We only have a small window,” she repeats with more force.
As if her words are the key to curing my paralysis, I do exactly as commanded.
She’s right. I know this is not the place for me. I don’t belong, and I seriously doubt I ever will, no matter how hard I try. And Christopher has his life here. His work, his friends, his social stature, and his family. He has slid so easily back into who he was before me, and frankly… deep down, I know there is no room for me in that life.
But I love him.
I love him so much.
But love is not always enough. I can’t live in the fairy tales I read back in the schoolroom. This is reality—as cruel as it may be.
I enter our room and try my best to not look at the bed we shared together. I don’t want to remember his touch, his kisses, his promises that all would work out in the end.