But it put up a wall between them. A stint in the Army hadn't settled Eren or his bear the way he had hoped; instead a lot of other things had happened, and he came home to find that he no longer fit as he once had in the small town he grew up, where everyone still thought of him as little Eren, tagging along with his brother and sister.
He had left as a boy; he came back a man who had lived a life that his family couldn't possibly understand. If he told them, they would want to help, which would put them in danger and also force him to give away other people's secrets as well as his own.
No. His family couldn't be involved.
He would have to deal with this alone, as he always did.
LUCY
Lucy wokefrom dozing under her flap of canvas when the tone of the boat's engines changed under her. She was stiff, shivering, thirsty, and chilly. Groaning softly, she sat up and looked over the railing.
The boat seemed to be approaching its destination. They motored past a jewel-green headland with a stone building perched on top of it. Lucy sat up a little straighter. Was that acastle? Or some kind of fort? She wondered again where she was.
The boat was now churning slowly through smoother waters bustling with other boat traffic. Lucy looked ahead and her heart caught in her throat.
This town, wherever it was, took her breath away with its beauty. It was a sprawling ramble of bright-colored houses in colors that ranged from jewel tones to Easter Egg colors. They were purple and yellow and green, robin's-egg-blue and coral and red. The colorful town stepped up the hillsides surrounding her. Some of the houses were even built over the water, standing on scaffolding.
Lucy was so captivated that it wasn't until the boat jostled along a pier that she abruptly began to think about getting ashore before her unknowing hosts found out they had a stowaway.
As it turned out, her exit couldn't have been easier. While the sailors were busy bring the boat in to the dock and tying it off, Lucy simply clambered over the railing and stepped ashore.
She wobbled a bit after spending hours on the sea, getting used to the feeling of solid land under her feet. Although she felt terribly disheveled, no one around her looked at her twice. It dawned on her that the casual dress of everyone around her, where flannel and rubber boots seemed to predominate, meant that her scratches and torn clothing and unruly hair drew none of the attention that they would have in, say, Paris or New York City. If anything, she was a little overdressed.
She glanced back at the boat, and then started walking away from the docks, up the steep, paved roads leading into the town.
Her stomach rumbled as she began passing places that sold food. The time appeared to be somewhere around midmorning, based on the restaurants swapping out breakfast menus for lunch. Lucy hadn't realized it was still so early. The sun must have just risen when she had jumped out of the jet onto the runway. Her body clock was completely messed up; she was still on European time in her head.
Thinking of the flight reminded her that she had to be careful. She slowed, glancing around for any sign of the hulking shapes of her uncle's enforcers. There weren't that many people out and about on the streets, which would make them stand out, but also made her stand out.
She ought to disguise herself somehow, if she could. She stopped in front of a store selling tourist things, hats and T-shirts and the like, and only then, with a swooping sensation in her stomach, realized that she had no way to pay for anything.
This was a problem that had simply never come up for her before. If she didn't actually have her own credit cards on her, then she was with someone—Mom or her driver—who had one of the company cards and could pay for her. She was once again struck by how much she should have learned by now, in her mid-20s, but between Mom's protectiveness and her family's isolation, she had never had an opportunity.
She patted her pockets as if all of her missing things, her phone and purse and wallet, had suddenly reappeared. But all of that had been taken from her. She had, quite literally, nothing except the clothes she was standing in.
Tears of desperate dislocation and loneliness sprang to her eyes. She felt more miserably alone than ever—and suddenly, terribly aware of the dismal situation that faced her.
How can I eat? Where will I sleep? How will I live?
Fiercely, Lucy pushed down the tears, swallowing hard and balling her hands into fists until she had herself under control again. If a young woman with torn clothes on the sidewalk was going to draw attention, a young woman sobbing would draw even more.
At least, she realized abruptly, she knew where she was. The name of the town was on the hats and T-shirts. St. John's, Newfoundland.
Well, I was sort of right,she thought, finding a little satisfaction in the thought. She had been held at her uncle's villa in France, and although she had been unconscious for part of their flight, she'd been pretty sure they were flying west.
Then she thought,Why Newfoundland?But the answer came to her with uncomfortable clarity. Her uncle must have a place here that he meant to have his men take her to. It was probably uncomfortable, a shack or a remote island. The villa was too comfortable, and too close to town. In some more remote location, they could make her sign the papers that she had refused to touch in France.
We'll just see about that,she thought fiercely.
She cast a last, longing look at the racks of hats and shirts, and then started walking again. There was some small part of her that gave a brief, passing thought to taking one of the hats, but she pushed it away immediately. First of all, it felt wrong, and second, she was so completely unpracticed at anything of the sort that she'd probably flub it horribly. She would probably drop the hat and run away at full speed with her guilty conscience pursuing her. In fact, just thinking about it was making her steps speed up until she was power-walking away from the store, as if guilt alone made her feel like she had done the deed anyway.
I wish I had a misspent youth to fall back on,she thought tragically, slowing down. Her calves were starting to burn and cramp on the hills, and her headache was back. She was very tired.I wish I had learned to shoplift and pick locks and forge documents instead of learning Latin and French and math from private tutors.
She drifted to a stop in front of a small shop selling donuts. As she gazed longingly in the window, a sweet-looking matronly woman came out with a large paper bag and paused.
"Are you all right, dear?" the woman said. "Are you hungry?"
"I'm ..." Lucy started to say that she wasn't, even though it would be a lie, but her stomach rumbled loudly.