But wasn’t this what she was essentially signing up for by being here? To be that person for Georgia like Mum had been for her?
Finally she said, “No one will ever take the place of your mum, Georgia. Some little details of her face may fade, but the most important parts always stay.” She paused. “Can I show you something?”
Georgia nodded, tilting her head this way and that as she looked at herself.
Nena jogged to the living room, where her rucksack sat on the couch—not where she’d left it. Cort must have moved it. There was a gun in a secret panel within the bag, but seeing as how Cort hadn’t come running, he hadn’t found it. She lifted its straps and hustled back to Georgia’s room, where Georgia still admired Nena’s handiwork.
Georgia joined Nena on her bed. Nena opened her bag, and Georgia looked on curiously as she pulled out a white container and a bottle of cologne.
Georgia shot her a quizzical look. “Olay and Hugo Boss? Are they for my hair too?”
Nena almost laughed, but her response was to open the plastic bottle and give it a quick sniff before holding it out. Georgia leaned in, taking a deep inhale. Nena sprayed a fine mist of the cologne in the air, and Georgia leaned into that too. She regarded Nena, who gazed at the two bottles, one plastic, one glass, with all the love of the world, and waited.
“These are my first parents, the scents of them, and what I remember the most about them,” Nena said. “I’ve kept these with me for half my life. They comfort me. Ground me. Settle me. They remind me of who I used to be and who I used to have.” She checked their tops were on tightly before slipping them back in her bag.
“When I’m in my darkest moments, missing my mama or papa, I pull them out and put some of Mama on or spray my papa. Feels like a kiss and a hug. They’re always with me.”
Nena wiped at the tears now sliding down Georgia’s face. “Find the thing that helps you remember your mum the most and keep her with you, because you don’t have to let her go, ever. But you also make room in your heart for others to get the privilege of loving you as well.”
“I already have.”
Oh, Nena wasn’t ready for that. Or for when Georgia threw herself into Nena’s arms, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist in a breath-sucking embrace. Nena hesitated, and then slowly, she put her arms around Georgia’s shoulders. She inhaled the coconut shea of Georgia’s hair, a new scent she’d cherish. She’d rushed to Georgia’s aid because Cort had called her and Georgia needed her. But Nena knew it was really her who was the one in need of them.
48
BEFORE
Assimilating into the Knights’ lavish lifestyle the past few months has been difficult. Most of the time, anxiety plagues me. All this sudden good fortune could be snatched from me at any moment. I cannot relax well enough to enjoy any of it. I live each moment in this opulence like it is my last, because I have conditioned myself. Nothing good stays good, for me.
They are a good family, treat me very well. They give me space. They never ask me about my past, and I am thankful for that, since I am not ready to share my story. It embarrasses me, believing once they know of my cowardice in my village, that my people gave their lives to protect me and I did not try to do more, the Knights will be ashamed and no longer feel I am worthy of them, as I already believe.
Each day is a discovery of new freedoms. I walk the grounds, pushing to see how far they will allow me to go, memorizing and mesmerized by my surroundings. They never stop me. I speak little, only answering when spoken to. But I like to listen, enjoying how comfortable and loving they are with one another. They remind me of my family.
I learn about everyone’s idiosyncrasies. Ishmael, the chef, hates when anyone peers over his shoulder while he cooks. Raul loves to discuss plants and flowers and allows me to prune and pluck with him in the greenhouse. He tells me to name the plants so they will return my love and grow for me. I find horticulture very soothing. The head of security, Montreal, is funny and a ladies’ man. He is seeing two of the maids at the same time, but they do not know. He winks at me to keep his secrets.
I do wonder about the number of guards looking after the family. They go everywhere we go, especially when Mr. Noble and Ms. Delphine travel, which is often. It all has to do with Mr. Noble’s business dealings, of which I am unclear. I have heard “Tribe” and “Council.” I cannot make sense of any of it.
“Why do you call Mum and Dad Ms. Delphine and Mr. Noble? You sound like all the people who work for them, and you don’t work for them, Nena. You’re family,” Elin says one morning as we prepare for school. The Knights have enrolled me in the same private school Elin attends, one vastly different and more formal than what I am accustomed to.