Conscience (The Bellator Saga Book 2) (42 page)

The Past

“There’s enough American and Canadian currency to get you across the border. Fake passports are in the car. Prepaid phones are in the glove box.” Caroline handed Christine an envelope. “This is the information you’ll need to access the bank accounts we set up for the girls. There should be enough to last them until we can get up there.” She didn’t bother pointing out that the money, which would have been their inheritance, would likely last them generations over.

“Foreign bank accounts,” Christine huffed. “So much for your ethics.”

They’d tossed out a lot of their standards over the past month. Breaking through firewalls, hacking into networks, thievery. Perceived tax evasion was the least of their concerns.

“We saw the writing on the wall,” Caroline said. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m carrying around a lot of guilt about that decision. But it was necessary.”

“I was kidding.”

Christine had copies of the trust paperwork and knew damn well how it had been organized. Caroline should have recognized the obvious joke. Her nerves were overriding her logic. “Oh.”

Christine started to say something then abruptly turned away, fiddling with the medal around her neck.

“Chrissy, don’t do this now. We can’t. You need to go.” Caroline knew that Christine was holding back tears and couldn’t look her in the face. “I need you to do this. Please.”

Christine composed herself quickly, turning around and taking Caroline’s hand. “I know.”

They walked down the foyer to where the girls were waiting with Jack, their backpacks in tow. He gave them both fierce hugs. “I love you,” he said hoarsely. “We’ll see you soon, I promise.”

Jack cleared his throat, avoiding Caroline’s gaze. “Well,” he said. “I’ll be in here.” He dashed into the study and shut the door behind him. He’d be damned if he let Christine Sullivan see him cry.

Caroline turned to her eldest. “Mo, I need you to be brave for Feef. Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Tom are going to get you to where it’s safe. Jack and I will be there as soon as we can.”

Marguerite studied her, still unconvinced. “Are you sure?” She looked down at her sister, who gazed upon their mother with fear in her eyes.

“Why can’t you come with us?” Sophie asked.

Caroline kissed her youngest daughter’s forehead.  They tried to talk about it repeatedly, but to no avail. She’d been feeding both her children the same lines for the past day and a half. “Feef, we have some things we need to do here first.  Things to help make it right again. We-” She would never be able to adequately explain or justify why she and Jack couldn’t leave with them. Caroline turned again to Marguerite. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it was necessary. You know Christine, Tom, and Jess will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

She’d said a swift goodbye to Jess earlier, while Jack was still with the girls. She loved Jess, she knew how much Jess cared about her daughters, and the two of them didn’t want to dwell on it for too long. It was very hard saying goodbye to her. Jess made it quick so that she could take a few minutes to pull herself back together in the car before they left. She was determined to be strong for Marguerite and Sophie.

Marguerite nodded. “I know they will.” She gulped. “Mom-” 

Caroline willed herself to keep her emotions in check. “I love you and your sister so much. Don’t you ever forget that. Jack and I will be with you as soon as we can.”

Marguerite leaned in for a hard hug. “Promise?”

She prayed she could keep her voice from shaking. “Promise.”

Tom came stumbling in, bringing a surge of snow with him. “We’d better get a move on. Word is that the borders here in the Northeast are a nightmare. May not be open much longer.”

Caroline hugged her children tightly. “Go with Tom. No more time to waste.”

Marguerite and Sophie were both crying openly now, with Sophie gripping Caroline’s waist.

“Mommy, I don’t want to leave you,” she cried. She hadn’t used that term for her mother in years.

“I know.” Caroline’s voice broke. “But I need you to do this. This is the only way Jack and I can keep you safe.” She reluctantly let Marguerite go but held Sophie for a long time, drying her daughter’s tears and kissing her hair. She turned again to her eldest. Sophie refused to let go of her. It made her next words all the more important. “I’m counting on you, Mo. Take care of your sister.”

Marguerite threw her arms around her mother’s neck in one last embrace. “I will, mom. I promise.” She kissed Caroline’s cheek. “I love you.”

Caroline noted that Marguerite was now taller than her. How had that new development escaped her in the past few weeks? She clutched her tighter, not wanting to let her walk out the door. “I love you, my Mo Mo.”

“I know.” Marguerite pulled back first, then squeezed her mother’s hand.

Caroline turned to Tom and hugged him quickly, her hand still clasped with Marguerite’s. “Be safe,” she said.

He held onto her long after she’d let go, kissing the top of her head. “Sure thing, Punky.”

Sophie and Marguerite withdrew from their mother and Tom hustled them out the door. Caroline could hear Sophie starting to cry again as the door shut behind them. A small sob escaped her lips and she turned again to Christine. “I can’t-”

“Then don’t.” Christine took Caroline in her arms and held her very tightly, a rare initiation of affection from an extremely reserved woman. But she’d been more effusive the past few times they were together. Caroline didn’t want to analyze it too much because she didn’t want to upset herself.

Jack came out of the study holding one of their black backpacks. His eyes were still watery. “There are four pistols in here with plenty of ammo.”

Christine let go of Caroline and glared at them both. “Seriously?”

Caroline pulled herself back together. “Promise me you’ll use them if it comes to that. The time for nonviolence is long gone. They aren’t going to treat any of us with kid gloves anymore. I know how you feel about guns but you’re going to have to readjust your perspective. I’ve been to the range with Tom; he knows how to use them. So does Jess.”

“Are you telling me that my gay daughter is now a gun toting lesbian?”

“Pretty much. She has a thing for women in uniforms. Be sure to use that if you need to slip by the Border Patrol.”

Christine rolled her eyes. “You two do enjoy your little jokes, don’t you?”

Jess had revealed her sexuality to Caroline before telling her own family. It was still a sore point with Christine, though she was trying to work through it. Her relationship with her youngest daughter was an ongoing ideological and emotional battle. Caroline could only hope that it wouldn’t cloud Chrissy’s judgment while traveling.

“You’ll have plenty of time to hash out your stereotypes of each other during the car ride,” she said.

Christine took the bag as Caroline let out a shaky breath. Jack shifted over to put his arm around his wife. “Keep it together, now,” he whispered.

Caroline gave Christine a despairing look. They’d waited too long. They had waited far too long and the road ahead was full of danger. “I’m trusting you, Chrissy. I know you’ll keep them safe. Don’t let the government take them. Don’t let them hurt them. Don’t-”

Christine cut her off and clasped Caroline’s hands. “Your daughters are safe with us,” she said clearly, in contrast to the brightness in her eyes. “You know that. We’ll get them to Ottawa.”

Caroline grabbed her in a fierce embrace, not wanting to let go. “I love you. Please take care of my children. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I know you will, Punky,” Christine said.

She couldn’t help but smile. “You almost never call me that. Not anymore.”

“Maybe I should have said it more often.”

Caroline tried to tamp down the panic rising in her throat. She didn’t want any of them to leave. She hugged Christine again, burying her face in the cashmere wrapped around her neck. It smelled like Christine’s perfume, and Caroline took a deep breath as her tears dripped onto the expensive scarf. “Be safe,” she said in a muffled voice. “Please, please be safe. We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Christine pulled back and delicately wiped the tears from Caroline’s face before wiping off her own. “I believe you,” she said. “America’s Political Sweetheart never disappoints.” She cupped Caroline’s face in her hands and kissed her on both cheeks, then leaned in until their foreheads were touching. “I love you, Caroline.”

She kissed Caroline’s forehead a final time before taking a deep breath and turning to Jack. Christine grabbed his shoulder harshly, not making eye contact. Her face was still wet. “Protect my girl,” she said.

And then she was out the door, leaving a burst of winter wind in her wake. Caroline stood in the foyer with her arms crossed, staring at the grand entrance to the Governor’s Mansion. She lingered there for an agonizing amount of time, willing them all to come back long after she and Jack had heard the car pull away.

Jack squeezed her shoulder with a shaking hand and she came apart. Caroline collapsed onto the marble floor and began to hyperventilate, crying deep, racking, unbearable sobs. His strong arms encircled her from behind, lifting her up, pulling her toward him. She grabbed onto his sweater, sobbing hysterically until her throat hurt, holding on to him as tightly as she could. He rocked her back and forth on the cold marble, his tears blending with hers. Together they wept for what seemed like hours until they silently rose and walked up the stairs alone.

Caroline could still smell the sweet flowery fragrance of Sophie’s hair, could feel her shaking as she clutched her hippo and held tightly to her mother’s waist. She could still hear Marguerite’s trembling yet confident voice, wondering how on earth she could have produced such an amazingly strong, mature child, who had held up better than any of them during the past twenty-four hours. She could still feel Christine’s arms wrapped securely around her, closer than she’d ever held Caroline before. In nine years of friendship she couldn’t ever recall Chrissy telling her that she loved her, even though Caroline knew how she felt. She was terrified that she would never hear Christine say it again. They were no longer there. Jack was all she had left.

They were gone.

The Fed

I lied. I lied to all of you. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.

She’d been standing on her tiptoes for an eternity, slowly feeling the blood leaving her body, taking whatever shreds of humanity she had along with it. The only thing keeping her knees from buckling was the knowledge that if she allowed herself to sag, the pain in her arms and wrists would be even greater than all the other parts of her that hurt.

Caroline remembered learning about the practicalities of crucifixion in parochial school. How they broke Jesus’ legs to force him to sag on the cross and suffocate.  What a terrible, awful lesson that was. She choked out a bitter laugh.

You’re no Christ figure, Gerard. Try again.

She was ready. She recited every prayer she could remember. She begged God for mercy. She wondered if she was good enough to get into heaven. She questioned every policy position. Every press conference. Every statement she ever made on the House floor. Every bit of fluff she recited at campaign rallies. Every conversation she had with God while kneeling in the pew before Mass every Sunday. And she knew that God knew she was a liar and always had been.

I’m so sorry. I should have tried harder. I should have done more.

Her parochial school prayers came rushing back to her.
Kyrie eleison, christe eleison, kyrie eleison
. Every Mystery of the Rosary she could still recall. The Memorare. Once, twice, ten, twenty, thirty times. There were no tears anymore; she had none left. She had given her spirit to God and He wouldn’t take her. She knew that everyone she had loved and lost would be waiting for her in a heaven she didn’t deserve.

She imagined Tom laying in the snow, Jess beside him, the guns now useless in their frozen hands.  Christine nearby, looking graceful even in death.  Marguerite in her puffy blue coat and Marquette scarf, red spilling out over the bright white on the ground.  Sophie with her mother’s beloved hippo wrapped in her arms, her face pale and cold to match the winter’s night.

Jack’s body, riddled with bullets, face down in the woods.

I killed them. I killed all of them.

Bob. Ellie. Katie. Jenny. 

This is my punishment. This is my fault. I’m not good enough. I didn’t do enough. I didn’t stop this.

She’d let her friends suffer for her. Die for her. And she had done nothing to prevent it from happening. Sorrow turned to regret to guilt. Perpetual, overwhelming guilt. Guilt over her bad decisions, guilt for abandoning her children, guilt over the agony she caused Jenny and Ellie, guilt for wishing that she could have had a quick bullet to the head like them.

She was a fiend, a charlatan, a leviathan of hypocrisy. Monstrosities like her deserved to suffer. She’d been so stupid to believe in hope. Hope was an excuse to be weak, to hold onto things that were never really there. Better to know the score, accept it was over. Jenny figured that out. She made her peace. But Caroline held on, never really wanting to believe that there was nothing left. Would she be in a different position if she accepted the truth? Maybe her family would still be alive if she never believed to begin with.

She said the prayer out loud this time, even though her voice was almost gone. Maybe God or his mother would hear her better that way.

“Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary,

That never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection,

Implored your help, or sought your intercession,

Was left unaided.

Inspired with this confidence,

I fly to you, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother.

To you I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful.

O Mother of the Word Incarnate,

Despise not my petitions,

But in your mercy, hear and answer me.”

Caroline still refused to give in to her interrogators but had no qualms about begging mercy from above.

“Our Lady, help me,” she whispered.

She felt herself slipping into darkness, and this time she welcomed it.