Secrets of the Guardian (Waldgrave Book 3) (22 page)

From where she was sitting, she could see Mexico—literally less than a mile away. A country where there were far fewer questions and surveillance cameras. In the end, though, she couldn’t do it. She took Brandon to another hotel to do more thinking. Between the diapers, formula, and gas for the car, the money was going faster than she had hoped it would. She still had around six thousand dollars, but she knew it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t last forever.

It was enough for another couple of months if she was really careful, but it wasn’t like before when Howard had been constantly refilling her coffers every month. Even back when Aaron had taken her on the run, he’d had a continuous money flow from Howard; back then, the New Faith had wanted to keep Aaron and Lena away as long as possible because it thwarted Daray. But now everyone was against her—no one would turn a blind eye to Howard’s passive-aggressive aid. This money was the end; there was no one left to help her now. The Silenti were going to starve her out of hiding unless she came up with a plan very quickly.

They moved to Florida in the following weeks, working their way across the southern part of the country, where the weather was at least tolerable in the winter. Lena survived mostly off of crackers and a water bottle she refilled at every gas station; she was always looking for a place where she might catch a break working an odd job to give them more money, another day, before she would face…she didn’t know what. One week into the trip she stopped eating altogether, just to save the extra dollar that day. They started sleeping in churches and in the car in parking lots; eventually, Lena learned to accept the handouts people offered her. Then she learned how to solicit them.

One night, someone came and knocked on her window while she was sleeping, making her jump into the back seat in surprise. The man had only wanted to be sure she was okay, which she told him she was—she was just taking a nap after a long drive visiting her relatives. He stood outside her car for fifteen minutes, trying to get her to roll down the window or open a door so they could talk. Her hand shaking, Lena managed to get the keys in the ignition and drive away.

After that incident, she bought a cheap hunting knife from an army surplus store and kept it pressed against her hip, strung on a belt she wore under her clothes. She doubted she would ever have the nerve to use it, but somehow it made her feel safer.

February came and went; they had found a small rescue mission to stay at where lunch was free and the cots were at least clean. The people were nice, and near the start of March, a friend she had made at the shelter—Colleen—managed to talk her boss into letting Lena work a couple hours a day for the money that paid for Brandon’s diapers and formula.

Colleen was only washing dishes at a hotel restaurant for minimum wage; the job she secured for Lena was less than minimum cleaning the kitchen. At first, the hotel manager had been skeptical about hiring her because she refused to fill out anything that required her social security number, but she swore up and down that she was a citizen. They settled on a deal where Lena worked after hours doing basic cleaning work for three or four dollars an hour—cash, so she wouldn’t have to deal with taking a check to a bank.

It was a terrible job, but it worked out fairly well, as Lena had been unable to let anyone else watch Brandon for any length of time because he became so fussy without her. They ate together, begged together, and they even slept together in the same cot, Brandon bundled up in her arms like a teddy bear. She had met Colleen at the shelter when she couldn’t find the kitchens, and Colleen had showed her not only where the kitchens were, but which servers were likely to offer her a little more because she had a young child. Colleen had three children, currently in the custody of her ex-husband, and had been quite a help with Brandon on several occasions. She showed Lena cheap fixes for diaper rash, baby blankets, and getting him to sleep in loud environments. She would even hold Brandon just outside the stall while Lena showered at the shelter, and babysit him on the few occasions when Lena needed to be away.

But working after hours, cleaning the kitchen, she took Brandon with her to the hotel so that she could watch him while she worked. He was the last thing in the world that she had, and she was hesitant to let him out of her sight for even a few moments. Most of the people at the shelter were nice people, but some of them were crazy and flaky; it wasn’t the type of environment she wanted to leave Brandon in, whether Colleen babysitting or not.

But at least she was living mostly expense free now; she had resold the Buick for around four hundred dollars when she entered the shelter. She kept the money in the bottom of her right sock and used it to buy Brandon’s necessities, and sparingly for her own. Now, with the money she was making from working at the hotel, she at least had a stable situation.

Lena quickly became the favorite of her supervisor, an older man with a hairline that had receded clear to the back of his head. He had been skeptical of letting her bring Brandon along at first, but then began to marvel at the way that she never tired on the job, she always stayed late to finish, and the way her baby never cried. The job held through March, and the hotel manager made her a shift supervisor and bumped her up to minimum; he said he might have been interested in paying her more, and giving her more hours, if she was willing to fill out employment forms. But she insisted that she couldn’t, and kept working her normal after hours shift. It paid for what she needed, and then some—the little money she didn’t use she saved, just in case, because she didn’t want Brandon to have to go without if their situation suddenly changed.

They got their clothes from a local church that provided food and donated clothing to the needy, and while life wasn’t luxurious, they managed to get by. Brandon’s clothes rarely fit the way that they were supposed to, but he always had enough to stay warm. The pastor at the church arranged for Lena to meet with a doctor at a clinic who provided her with regular checkups for Brandon; as long as he was with Lena, though, he never got sick. He was a happy, healthy, growing baby with a tuft of blond hair starting to sprout on his crown.

In April, the church organized a small trip to the beach for its members, and because they had developed such close ties with some of the frequent volunteers there, Colleen and Lena were invited to go as well. They spent the day with the pastor, his wife, and their four children, walking the beach, wading in the water, and picking up sea shells. For a pastor, the family was remarkably well off—or maybe they just seemed that way to Lena after so much time eating hotel restaurant leftovers and saltine crackers. The pastor’s wife had helped Lena to put sun block on Brandon and gave her a small blue sun outfit with a brimmed hat for him; she had never seen him look so cute.

The family took them out to lunch at a beachfront restaurant where they feasted on fried shrimp, crab cakes, and hush puppies. The pastor’s three daughters took turns holding Brandon during the meal, though he was never quite as happy when Lena wasn’t holding him. He would stare at her from their strange arms, babbling on at her in his thoughts; he tried to jibber his thoughts at the pastor's two-year-old son as well, but always looked back at Lena in confusion when the little boy wouldn't answer him. Colleen kept stealing happy glances at her; all of the pastor's daughters had dark hair, like Lena's, and she was sure that it was the reason he had taken a special interest in being kind to her.  

After lunch, they packed up and washed the sand from their feet and sandals and piled back into the family van, Colleen laughing and joking about French words and other words they sounded like. The eldest daughter chuckled to her herself and took her time buckling Brandon into the car seat the pastor’s family had provided. Lena turned around to answer a question from one of the other daughters and saw—across the parking lot, maybe ten yards away—someone looking at her. It was a young couple, perhaps in their mid-twenties, with two children, a boy and a girl, toddling about as they were watched over by an older woman in a white nanny’s uniform.

They looked…familiar, somehow. Lena was suddenly very aware of the fact that Brandon was gibbering something about a bottle in very loud thoughts; could they hear him? The man had pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, and was pointing it in her direction. His brow was furrowed in confusion and concentration, as if he were trying to place her. As she hoisted herself into the van and settled down next to Brandon, she watched as he pushed a button and took her picture.

What were their names? Old Faith or New? Lena knew that she had met them before…

But it didn’t matter; regardless of who they were, it was time for her to move along before Silenti bounty hunters descended en masse to look for her in this state. The drive back to the church took almost forty-five minutes, and Lena kept turning around to see if the silver SUV the young couple had been driving was following them. She didn’t think it was, but with all the other traffic and the darkening sky, she couldn’t be sure. It seemed there were a million silver SUVs on the roads.

She had to leave tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest.

When they got back to the church, Colleen and Lena thanked the pastor and his wife and children for everything before they set off at a brisk pace back towards the shelter. Down the after-twilight streets, illuminated by the yellow streetlamps and the glow from the traffic lights, Lena kept spinning as she walked, sure that she could hear footsteps trailing after her.

“You okay?” Colleen asked loudly. “You gotta stop that—you’re going to trip and drop him.”

“I’m fine. It’s just…” Lena looked back over her shoulder to be sure they weren’t being followed. It was bad enough that someone had taken her picture with that family…what could happen to them if someone was desperate to find her? “No. I’m not fine, I have to leave. Like, I mean, as soon as possible. I saw someone back there that…that…”

Colleen nodded vigorously. “It’s okay…it’s okay…you need some money or something? I hear there’s a good deal on those bus tickets at that place right now. I mean, let’s walk down there and get you set up…you still got your sock money on you?”

Lena felt around in her pockets—she had taken off her socks when they had gone wading, but it was still there. She hadn’t counted her money in a while, but she was sure she had enough for a bus ticket. When they got to the depot, Colleen asked if she could hold Brandon, possibly for the last time, while Lena worked out her ticket. The only bus that was leaving that night for an out of state location was going North, not West, which would have been Lena’s preference. It was still only early April, and while it was warming up in Florida and around the gulf, they were probably still getting snow in the mountainous regions further north.

“Shit.” She whispered under her breath. “I can’t go that way…I can’t…”

“Sir, are you sure there isn’t anything else?” Colleen had asked commandingly, landing a heavy hand on Lena’s shoulder to stop her from shaking. Having been homeless for almost the last five years herself, Colleen understood the situation perfectly. “Lena, you can’t take this baby up ‘round Pennsylvania this time of year, the two of you will freeze. Nothing? There’s nothing else?”

But there wasn’t anything else. Lena gave up one hundred and fifty dollars for the ticket.

“You’re going to be okay?” Colleen asked in a low voice as they took a seat on a bench in the station.

Lena looked up at her, wide-eyed. “Yes. As long as I can find a place, a place to keep Brandon warm…”

Colleen leaned in to whisper. “Who’s after you?”

“I can’t tell you,” Lena whispered back, shaking her head. “Colleen, I wish I could tell you, but it could get you in trouble.”

“Okay…” Colleen fetched a pen from the ticket counter and a pamphlet from a display. She wrote the address and phone number of the shelter on it. She folded it up and stuffed it into Lena’s pocket. “You take this then, and when you’re okay, you’ll call or write. I’ll leave my information with Dave if I move on, and he’ll get us connected. I just want to know that you’re safe, honey.”

Lena nodded, trying to hold back her tears of exhaustion and fear, and gave Colleen a quick kiss on the cheek and told her goodbye, and then she and Brandon boarded a bus. Brandon only had his sun suit on at that point, and it was dark and cold out. Because they had been going to the beach, Lena had only bothered to bring along a light blanket and clothing for him along in the duffle that functioned as a diaper bag. A stranger pulled a large pair of sweatpants out of his suitcase after they were on the bus and offered them to her.

As the bus pulled off, and strangers stared at her as Lena tried to bundle Brandon up in an old pair of sweatpants, she realized how low she had sunk. The sweatpants held and seemed to work well enough, though; she pulled out the money sock with Brandon asleep in her lap and people still staring at her. She had three hundred dollars.

They survived the bus trip to Pennsylvania without incident; people were nice enough to offer her food and small money donations along the way when the bus made stops. A woman even made a run to a shopping center one evening during the stop to surprise Lena with a care package of diapers, jumpers, and blankets for Brandon. She told them that she was going to work in her friend’s uncle’s bakery at the end of the bus trip, and people seemed to believe her. Wary stares about the baby’s health and well-being eventually shifted to approving nods at Lena’s determination and Brandon’s happy giggles. When the trip was finally over, and Lena found herself sitting in another bus depot as the snow came down outside, she realized what dire
straits she was in.