Page 112

“If it was left up to me, I’d say yes. But she doesn’t want anyone arrested,” Charlie said. “She just wants them to go away.”
“But she can heal, and my baby is sick!” one woman cried.
Charlie saw her in the crowd and stared her down.
“Yes, ma’am, and I’m sorry. But you don’t live her life, or understand. If you did, you wouldn’t be here. Two weeks ago three men tried to kill her because of who she is...and this week you all don’t mind using her up until she’s dead anyway, just to fix what’s wrong in your lives.”
“But why is she the way she is, if she wasn’t meant to heal?” another asked.
Charlie moved closer to the gate. “I’m not even going to respond to that. She didn’t ask to be born like this, and she has lived hell on earth because of it. Get off this property, leave her alone and don’t come back. I am her boss. I am her friend. And I am also her bodyguard, and the next time someone shows up at this gate acting the fool, I’m coming out shooting and asking questions later. Go home. Your lives are not her business, and she is none of yours.”
“My baby is so sick,” the woman said again.
“And you just dragged him out in forty-degree weather wrapped in nothing but a blanket? Now where’s the sense in that? I’m done here.” Then he looked at the officers. “If they’re not gone in ten minutes, start hauling them in for disturbing the peace.”
Then he turned around and started back up the driveway, and the closer he got to the house, the faster he went. Something had to change, but he didn’t know what, or how to make it happen and still keep her safe.
The old house was silent. There was a pall over the place, not unlike how it had felt when Merlin had died.
Wyrick had abandoned the kitchen for prowling the halls, poking in rooms on the third floor, then the second and the ground floor, revisiting the basement where she’d lived, staying longer in some places than others, but always on the move.
Charlie managed to get her to stop once long enough to eat a sandwich, and then she was gone again, her shoulders slumped, her stride slow and measured. He ached for the turmoil, but he couldn’t change her life any more than she could have changed the lives of all those people at the gates.
Losing Annie had taught him that when it was time to let go, there was no power on earth that could change her fate.
So he’d stayed out of Wyrick’s way, letting her prowl, knowing she would figure out on her own what she needed to do.
By noon there was private security at the gates, and he was confident enough in their presence to finally relax, and when she wanted to go out to the greenhouse, he went with her as far as the door, and then let her go inside alone.
That was her place...hers and Merlin’s, and he honored her need for space and quiet. When she came out, the little bowl she’d taken in with her was still empty.
“No tomatoes today?” he asked.
She shook her head, and they went back inside.
“I’m going up to my room,” she said. “I don’t want food, okay?”
He nodded, and then watched her go up the stairs and stood waiting until he heard her open and close her door.
He went down the hall to the den and tried to watch TV, but he couldn’t focus. He kept thinking about her, upstairs alone.
And then night fell. He checked in with the security team outside via text. They were on the job. And then he set the security alarm and went upstairs.
He paused in the hall between their rooms, thought about knocking, then decided to just go to bed. He had the door open and had crossed the threshold when he heard her door open behind him.
He turned. She had been crying. He’d never seen her like this, and it scared him.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Sure. Want to come in my room?”
She nodded and crossed the hall, then as soon as he was inside she turned to face him.
“I’m leaving.”
His heart stopped, but he didn’t move.
“I’ve been talking to Merlin all day, and I’ve already told the house goodbye. I don’t know where I’m going yet, but I can’t live like this anymore. I’d rather be dead than in hiding.”