Livia Lone (Livia Lone #1)(31)

She didn’t know how to respond. “I . . . I lock when I shower.”

“You lock it. But you shouldn’t. We’re a family now. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

She wanted to argue, to tell him she didn’t have any family, except for Nason. And why was he accusing her of secrets? She only wanted privacy while she was in the bathroom. She was the one who should have been accusing him, because it wasn’t right that he had unlocked the door like that.

But it was his house. And she didn’t know how to express these thoughts. So she only said, “Is it about Nason?”

“Not as such,” he said. “Not directly. It’s actually about you.”

He took a sip of his drink, then waited a moment as though expecting her to respond. When she didn’t, he said, “I’ve had to pull some strings, call in some favors, but it’s going to be formal. I meant it when I said we’re a family now. Because Mrs. Lone and I are going to adopt you. You’ll be Livia Lone, and an American citizen. How does that sound?”

It sounded terrible, actually, as though she was being thrown in some sort of cage she could sense but not clearly see. And why was he telling her this here, now?

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s a lot to think about, certainly. But I feel . . . it’s all going to work out. I’m glad you came into our lives, Livia. Four sons, but never a daughter. A family isn’t the same without a daughter. It’s what I’ve always wanted. And I think . . . I don’t think it’s an accident that you came to us. I believe God heard my prayers, and answered them. Do you believe that?”

“I . . . I think so.” She didn’t, though. She only wanted to say what he wanted to hear so he would go away and she could lock the door again. It wasn’t right that she had to stand here talking to him, her hair dripping wet and with nothing but a towel in front of her.

“So I don’t want locked doors between us. No secrets. Or . . . maybe there’s a better way to put it. I want us to be able to trust each other with our secrets. Not hide them. Do you understand?”

His words, and the way he was looking at her, were making her increasingly anxious. “I think so.”

He smiled. “What I’m saying is . . . I want you to trust me.”

“All right.”

“Do you, Livia? Do you trust me?”

She knew she should say yes, but she couldn’t. She tried to think.

“You . . . you been very good to me.”

“Have been. I have been very good to you.”

“Yes. You have been. Nanu tries to teach me that grammar.”

“Is trying. But do you trust me?”

Why was he asking her these things? While she was standing dripping wet in a towel?

“I . . . I only a little know you. Only know you a little, I mean.”

He nodded gravely. “Yes. And I want you to get to know me better. Really know me. And I want to really know you. All right?”

Just go, she thought. Just go.

“All right.”

He stepped closer and she shrank back. But the wall was behind her, and all she could do was press up against the cold tiles. He put his hand on her shoulder. She wanted to push it away, but she was afraid of what that would mean, what he would do. And she was angry, angry that he had unlocked the door and come in without asking, that he was asking her these questions, that he was looking at her in a bad way. She knew she should look in his eyes, but she was afraid he would see her anger and it would upset him. So she looked down—the Lahu way, not what Nanu had told her was the American.

He caressed her shoulder for a moment, then leaned closer.

“Good,” he said. “Very good. We’ll come to trust each other. I’m sure of it. And we’ll keep each other’s secrets. That’s so important, Livia.”

Livia nodded and tried not to grimace.

“And no more locking the door, all right? That’s not what people do when they trust each other.”

He squeezed her shoulder and walked out.

She didn’t bother with the lock again after he had left—she thought it could only make problems if he caught her, and besides, the lock had proven useless.

She didn’t like that he had come into the bathroom like that. But what could she do? It was his house, he had the right to go where he liked.

But. But. But.

The way he had been looking at her. The way he had stepped too close and touched her.

Her mind flashed to the deck of the boat, and Skull Face and the other men, and what they had made her do. She shook her head, trying to make the image go away. Were all men like that? They hadn’t been in the village, but . . . maybe that’s because in the village, Livia and Nason were part of a family. Or at least, that’s how it had always seemed. Until her parents had sold them. But once they were alone, were all men like this? How could she ever be safe?

She opened drawers, not entirely sure of what she was looking for, and paused when she saw a metal hairclip. She picked it up and examined it, considering, then pushed it into the crack under the door, tapping it into place with the bottom of a heavy drinking glass until it would go no further. She turned the knob and pulled hard, but the door wouldn’t budge.

She nodded, satisfied. Mr. Lone had told her not to lock the door, and she hadn’t. But now it couldn’t be opened, either.