Say the Word(48)

I headed for Central Park, maneuvering around clusters of people on the sidewalk and focusing on the feeling of my rubber soles smacking against the pavement with each stride. I ran my normal three-mile loop, then pushed on — faster, further, until my lungs ached and a cramp sliced into my side like a knife wound.

Until I forgot everything, and my world dwindled down to basic elements.

Inhale. Stride. Sweat. Exhale.

I ran until I thought I might pass out, finally forced to stop and gasp for air with my hands braced on my knees by a water fountain in the park. And as I drank my fill, my spasming muscles protesting greatly, the clarity from my run slipped away and my mind once again filled with worry. Sebastian’s face flashed in my thoughts and I couldn’t help but think no matter how far I ran…

I’d never outrun my past.





***


I sat in the crowded cafe at an unobtrusive table by the window, my fingers playing absently with the ends of my freshly showered hair. I crossed my legs beneath the table, barely suppressing a wince at my sore thigh muscles, and took a sip of the frothy latte I’d ordered.

I’d been waiting for about a half hour. The girl was now beyond what could be considered fashionably late and, at this point, I was beginning to worry she’d gotten cold feet and had decided not to come at all. What I couldn’t understand was why. Her note had directed me to a dimly lit, off-the-beaten-track coffee shop in the East Village — surely, none of her relatives would ever find us here. And even if they did, I still wasn’t sure why it was such a cause for alarm.

But the truth was, on the subway ride out here I’d had some time to think about my trip to the tenements yesterday. It might’ve been the aspiring journalist within me, making me see things that weren’t there, or maybe, as Fae said, it was just my inability to shed my southern roots and stop trying to take care of the people around me. Regardless of the reason, my whirling mind had eventually settled on one conclusion.

Namely, that the women who’d been so unfriendly and uncompromising were also quite obviously something else: afraid.

Their scanning eyes and flighty demeanors said, even to my untrained eyes, that they were scared of something — or someone. And while I supposed it was possible that they simply didn’t want some young, American nobody interfering with family business, I had a nagging, if unsubstantiated, feeling that there was something else going on here.

My thoughts turned to Vera as I fiddled with the silver and turquoise bracelet on my wrist, remembering the girl who’d given it to me so joyously. Her warm brown eyes had seemed to glow from within — full of life and youth and hope for the future. If there were anything I could do to ensure that future didn’t get snuffed out, I’d do it.

Yet, after another half hour of staring listlessly at the residual latte foam in my mug, I decided to give up for the day. This was a bust; the girl wasn’t coming. With a sigh, I rose from my seat and headed for the door.

I was almost there when I heard a familiar accented voice call out.

“Wait.”

I turned and spotted her in a shadowy corner on the opposite side of the cafe. There was an empty teacup sitting in front of her; evidently she’d been here a while, watching me without approaching. There was no way she’d missed me sitting by the front window.

Puzzled, I walked over to her table and stopped a few feet away.

“Please,” she implored, her eyes wide and apologetic. “I’m sorry. Just…please sit.”

I stared at her, my emotions wavering between confusion, sympathy, and worry. The girl was young — even younger than I’d thought yesterday, maybe thirteen or fourteen — and she was scared. That much was evident. I moved forward and sat across from her.

Down the rabbit hole, I thought, remembering Fae’s words.

“I’m Lux.” I held my hand out for the girl, and she hesitantly clasped her own palm against mine.

“Mirjeta,” she returned, her voice soft. “You can call me Miri.”

“Hi Miri,” I said, offering a smile to put her at ease. “Thanks for meeting me.”

She nodded, her light brown eyes scanning the perimeter of the coffee shop and her attention focused elsewhere.

“Can you tell me about Vera?” I prompted. Her eyes flew back to my face, a new solemnity filling them. “It’s okay, Miri. I just want to help. I’m a friend of Vera and Roza. I visit them almost every week at the flea market. See this bracelet?” I held out my arm so Miri could see the handcrafted jewelry cuffing my wrist.

Miri’s eyes locked on the thin-pounded silver and the embedded stones that marked the piece, no doubt recognizing its craftsmanship. Her fingers trembled as they reached across the table to brush against the cuff. When her eyes returned to meet mine, they were full of unshed tears.

“I can help,” I told her in a gentle voice. “Please just tell me what happened. I promise you won’t get into any trouble. I need to know that she’s okay.”

“She’s gone,” Miri whispered, her eyes staring through me. “She was taken.”

“What do you mean?”

Miri’s eyes pressed closed, and I could tell she was afraid to reveal anything else.

“Miri,” I whispered, squeezing her hand in my own. “I know you’re scared. But I need your help right now. Vera needs your help.”