Page 6 of Longing for Liberty

THREE

STATE NEWS: COMMUNITY ONE STATE FORCE STOP DRUG TRAFFICKING ATTEMPT FROM SOUTH AMERICA!

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

Jeremy was a good bit taller than me at six feet, but Amos Fitzhugh was even taller, and definitely wider.

He loomed larger than life in a fancy navy suit, his energy crashing over me and quickly filling the entire room.

I looked down, stuttering, “I’m so sorry, sir.

I’ll be right out of your way.” My face flushed with heat, and I felt my legs weaken as I bent and grabbed my purse and the empty basket.

The door shut with a resounding click as I straightened to find him surveying me.

I froze under the weight of his attention. My eyes flicked up to his brilliant blue gaze, where he stood in total confidence. Watching my face carefully. His presence overwhelmed me.

“Liberty, is it?” His voice was low and unhurried. Serious.

“Uh, yes, sir. But just Libby is fine.” I looked down again, fastening my gaze directly on his loosened navy and cream striped tie as I fiddled with my purse to get it secure on my shoulder.

“Your parents must have been true patriots.”

Not to the extent that he was probably thinking, but I nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” hugging the basket to my torso, my brain tripping over itself to find a way out of this. “Your dinner is ready in the refrigerator, sir. Have a restful night?—”

“Sit down with me, Liberty.”

Oh, shit. Fuck! Every bad word I wasn’t supposed to think or say screamed in my head.

He managed to sound firm and authoritative without sounding harsh, leaving zero wiggle room to disobey.

“Yes, sir.” We moved to the couches, he to one and me to the other across from him.

I sat on the edge of the middle cushion, crossing my feet at the ankle, setting my purse inside the basket on my lap, back straight.

He watched me as he unbuttoned his jacket and sat.

I felt a jolt as his jacket fell to the side enough to show a handgun in a holster.

Guns had always made me nervous, even before the State Force began parading them in our faces every day.

I was certain my lipstick was long gone, and my hair was a mess of escaped wisps.

I self-consciously reached up to try to smooth the top.

I met his eyes one more time before dropping my gaze to his tie and feeling him studying me.

My cheeks were probably pink from the rush of nervous blood.

While I took up as little space as possible, Amos Fitzhugh rested back with his trousered legs in a comfortable man-spread, one arm draped over the back of the sofa while the other unbuttoned his top two buttons and pulled the tie open further.

Was he undressing? My heart sputtered until he finally stopped, leaving the loose tie hanging.

Do not bounce your knee. Do not fidget. Breathe normally. Feel nothing.

“Thirty-five?” he asked.

“Hm?” It took a long moment for me to realize he was asking my age. “Oh. Yes, sir.”

“Originally from the former state of Maryland? Graduated the University of Maryland.”

Okay, so he’d done his research. That made sense. I was going to be in his home, after all.

“Yes, sir. That’s correct.” I still stared at his tie, uncomfortable with how his energy was able to radiate all the way across the space and envelop me.

“Married and living in the singles quarters…how do you like it over there?” His tone barely rose or fell in the conversational tones that most people did. He just sounded…serious.

I thought about the rickety barracks-style duplexes with their lukewarm window air conditioning units that left us sweating at night. “It’s very comfortable,” I said. “I love the garden and orchard.” At least the last part was kind of true.

“Mm-hm.”

I picked apart everything I said, wondering how it sounded, finally adding. “We are blessed.”

“Mm-hm,” he said again, the sound coming from deep in his throat. “What have you heard about me?”

“About you?” Every thought left my mind. “I…hm.”

“That I’m a… scoundrel ?” He said the word with dark amusement.

“No! No, of course not,” I lied. To which he gave a light chuckle without smiling.

“What are they saying about the last maid?”

Blood rushed quickly through my heart as I shook my head like I didn’t know.

“She was on her knees the first time I met her,” he said, making my eyes bulge. “In front of the toilet, vomiting. Pregnant out of wedlock.” Locking eyes with me, he punctuated the words, “Not by me.”

“Oh.” My voice was breathy. Was that true? Had she maybe been pregnant already, but her friend Macey didn’t know? I ran my palms down my skirt, trying to digest this possibility. And then his next words hit like a sucker punch from the side.

“I was sorry to read about your three children. Tell me about that day.”

The shock of him bringing up the kids and expecting me to talk about them had my heart absolutely in my throat, a stinging sensation razing across my skin.

I swallowed and rubbed my free hand down my arm to soothe myself.

I’d told the story many times. I should be used to it.

Staring down at the glass coffee tabletop, I gathered my wits and recited it.

“My mother had the kids that day while my, uh, husband and I were trying to get our finances situated at the bank in Maryland. That was the day…” My voice thickened.

My system was too overwhelmed to tell this story.

He watched me carefully as I cleared my throat and went on.

“…the day the bombs hit, and the banks shut down. Then the borders. I thought my mom would be staying home, but she’d taken the kids into D.C.

to the history museum…” And then thousands of missiles and two nuclear warheads had been launched at North America.

Washington, D.C. was hit. The entire West Coast and the border of Mexico were razed.

New York, all of New England, and lower Canada annihilated.

By whom? Well, the news had made its best guesses at China, Russia, or North Korea, though many other names had been thrown out too.

According to the Three, all of our enemies and even some of our allies had joined forces to bring down the “strongest” country in the world, because that’s the only way our military could have been defeated—if the entire world was against us.

I squirmed, feeling overly emotional and suddenly terrified, considering who I spoke with. Could he read my face? My doubts about what we’d been told?

“Liberty, look at me.”

Oh, God.

Slowly, I lifted my eyes and had to keep myself from jolting at the intensity of his gaze.

My fight-or-flight instinct kicked in again, and I flushed with heat, wanting nothing more than to sprint far enough away that he could no longer see me and I could no longer feel him.

I was breathing too fast. His eyes seemed all-encompassing, like a hunter who’d lured me into a trap.

“I hate that you lost your children that day. And your mother. So many good people, innocent people, were taken.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while never taking his eyes off mine. “I’ve spent every day since then making them pay, and I will continue.”

I swallowed, still trembling, and whispered, “Thank you.”

Did I believe him? No. Maybe in a small way? I didn’t know.

He gave a sharp nod and rested back again. “You’re too thin.”

“Oh?” Another thing I hadn’t expected to come out of his mouth. “I feel…okay.”

“A breakfast will be waiting for you every morning when you arrive. Eat all of it.”

I stared dumbly and blinked before remembering I needed to respond. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

His eyes flitted toward the door, and he cocked his head, giving a jut of his chin. I was fairly certain he was dismissing me.

I scrambled to put my purse on. “Thank you again, sir. God bless.”

“God bless, Liberty.” My name was barely out of his mouth before I was opening the door and slipping out.

I kept myself upright as I hurried to the elevator despite my shaking legs, almost forgetting to leave the basket. I rushed back and set it by his door for the food service workers to collect and refill tomorrow. My heart was still pumping too hard when I got on the elevator, and the doors closed.

I did it. I’d met one of the three most powerful men in the State, and it went okay. At least, I hoped so. And he was going to provide me breakfast, which was really strange, but I wasn’t going to question it too much. He probably didn’t want to find me passed out in his home or something.

As I neared the bottom floor, I let out a long breath and felt myself relax for the first time all day.

I slipped into the throng of workers in the lobby, exiting the cool building and letting myself be shuffled along outside into the heat, out of the city center and to the bus lot.

In the back of my mind were my three kids.

They were always there just under the surface, no matter how hard I tried not to think about them.

And I was usually successful until someone asked about them.

God…I missed them so much it was a physical ache, like I’d been hit in the stomach by a linebacker, and then punched in the chest. At moments like this, I didn’t know how I could keep living without them. Only Jer kept me going.

I swallowed down the thickening emotions and climbed aboard the bus, slipping into an open seat and sighing at the throb in my feet.

I nearly leaned my head back and closed my eyes until I spotted a young woman standing nearby who’d gotten on behind me.

Her posture was stooped while one arm held the bar, and the other was held tight against her stomach.

Her face was ashen with the look of someone on the verge of throwing up.

I stood as the bus lurched forward, grasping the always-oily-feeling bar and motioning her to the seat. All young women these days seemed to be in some active state of pregnancy or nursing. She didn’t argue, giving me a quiet thanks before sinking into the seat.