Up close, I see how handsome he is. The air around him exudes power and authority, which instantly reminds me of Papa. It is a long time before he speaks.
“Delphine tells me we have you to thank for her coming home to us relatively unharmed.”
Only herculean effort makes me speak because I cannot not answer him. I can tell just by the look of him.
“Was luck,” I whisper.
“Oh, that’s not luck,” he says, looking down at me with dark, dark eyes that I will learn can express everything from gentleness and love to cold calculation when he condemns men to their deaths. But today, he looks upon me with appreciation.
And then.
Then he opens his arms to me. I am frozen. What am I to do? Every man’s touch since I have been in this nightmare has resulted in immeasurable pain and humiliation. I peer into his eyes again. The acceptance, the love, and the warmth I see in them envelop me, driving back the horrors I endured for so long.
Gingerly, I walk into his arms, warring because while the thought of touch makes me cringe, the need for a father’s embrace is too great. However, I can only stand it for a moment. I alert him to this by tentatively patting his back thrice, then pulling away. Ms. Delphine and Elin share an amused look. He is just pleased.
“Dad is a hugger. You’ll need to get used to it,” Elin quips.
I look to her, stricken. Is it a deal breaker if I cannot?
“Only with my girls,” he clarifies.
I pause. Am I now considered one of his girls? I search for the proper feeling. The four little words bring me joy but also trepidation.
“Well, come on then,” Elin says brightly. “Let’s find your room.”
My room?
My expectation is that I’ll be relegated to the basement, tucked away like some unwanted guest, shut away in a cupboard under the stairs. But we go up instead of down, through a maze of halls and rooms. She shows me one, two, three, four, five bedrooms before we reach her own.
“This is my room,” Elin says, motioning to a massive room decorated in lavenders, light greens, and creams. She looks at me. “Are there any rooms we passed that you like? Do you like this one? Because you can have it.”
My mouth drops open at her words. Surely, she must be playing me false to offer her own room.
“You saved my mum,” she explains simply. “I owe you everything because she is my everything. Her and Dad.”
I still cannot answer. She continues.
“You’ll get used to Dad; he’s a big softy with us. And by us, I mean you too. You’re a Knight now, Nena.”
Another four words that bring me such incredible joy I nearly buckle at their weight.
“But why?” I blurt, truly confounded by this family and their total acceptance of me.
Elin frowns, as confused as I. “Why not? Mum is a perfect judge of character.” She flips her ponytail. “If Mum gave you her seal of approval, you are in. Relax. Besides, I’ve always wanted a little sister.” She glances around the room, unsure. “Anyway, back to the rooms. You don’t really want this one, do you? I know I said you could have it, but hell, I didn’t mean it.”
Her honesty is amusing. “No, it’s yours. I’ll be okay wherever you put me.”
“Well, Mum and Dad’s room is on the first level because Dad doesn’t want to bother with stairs, so you want to be up here with me. You’ll have more freedom without them breathing down your neck. They’re cool and all, but they’re still parents, you know?”
I nod because I can think of no better response.
Elin chooses another massive room a couple of doors down from hers. She says it is so we have privacy but can still be close. But maybe it is so she can keep an eye on me in case I turn out to be a thief. Thievery is one thing Elin, or anyone, will never be able to attribute to me.
Because I only take when my hand is forced, and that includes when I must take lives.
47
AFTER
Waiting for the fallout from Kwabena’s death already had Nena on high alert, so when she received a frantic call from Cort, she arrived prepared for a gunfight. However, they were in the midst of a full-blown panic for a different reason. Georgia was in tears and threatening to never leave her room again.
“I don’t know what to do,” Cort said, answering the door before Nena could knock. “She asked for you.”
The desperation in his eyes hit Nena like an arrow, and all she could think was that whoever had hurt Georgia would pay. She ran down a list of possibilities: something with Cort’s case; Paul having somehow found out about them and threatened Georgia; something about Kwabena’s death? No, if any of those were the cause of this mayhem, Cort would not be asking for her assistance.