John Gone (22 page)

“Okay, come with me now,” she said.

John didn’t argue and let her pull guide his
run.

What was I doing even sitting down with
this girl?
John thought.
I knew those men were coming. What
was I doing sitting down at all? More people dead because of me.
This whole family, dead because of me. Generations of possible
Abercrombies dead because of me.

The sound of gunfire continued behind them,
but grew fainter as John and Amandine gained more distance from the
tent.

He berated himself frantically as they ran.
And now I’ve endangered this girl who’s been nothing but nice to
me. Maybe I should just go underground to the lab. It’s not just
me; it’s all of these people. All of these lives on my
shoulders.

“Thank you,” Amandine said suddenly, a tear
flying from her face in the wind as she ran. “Maybe some could get
away, like we do now.”

John said nothing.

“And you saved my life, too.”

“Sixteen,” Amandine answered.

“Me, too,” John replied.

The teens were lying on their backs, staring
at the stars that lit the night sky, draping like a blanket above
them. Since fleeing to the center of the estate’s vineyard, they’d
been asking each other simple questions about anything other than
the afternoon’s tragic events. Amandine had spoken about her
school, last year’s trip to Scotland, and did her best to explain
the concept of
terroir
to John, who knew nothing of wine and
vineyards.

Sometimes during her stories, Amandine would
accidentally drift into her native tongue, then giggle at her
mistake before returning to English. She’d asked John about his own
interests as well, but when he’d spoken to her briefly of computers
and video games, he’d noticed her boredom and stopped. After that,
he’d been content just listening to her speak instead.

It was as if nothing horrible had happened
beneath the tent at lunch, and John was happy not to speak of the
blood-soaked afternoon they’d shared. Fixating on the death of this
girl’s family, crying, worrying, or panicking wasn’t going to fix
or change things. He knew the impact of what had taken place was
going to hit Amandine eventually, possibly soon, and that letting
her talk and laugh while she could was probably the best thing for
her.

The lea in which they rested was expansive
and verdant. John looked west past the vines and saw a warm light
in the distance suddenly flicker out, leaving nothing but starlight
and moonlight to define the grounds. A soft, glowing blue washed
over the back end of the vineyard, making its long, evenly spaced
rows of plants stretching out toward the horizon seem blurred and
unending. He inhaled deeply through his nose. The air smelled of
honey and flowers.

They’d neither seen nor heard from the
Advocates since reaching the vines. Amandine had assured John that
her father’s grounds were enormous, containing numerous leas,
stables, pastures, wine cellars, sheds, and woodlands to keep his
pursuers occupied.

She’d also had the idea to hide flat beneath
the vines, as they’d be able to see anyone approaching between the
plants long before she and John could ever be seen themselves.
Amandine said she’d learned of the advantage as a small child when
looking for somewhere to hide from her nanny. He felt lucky to have
found someone so familiar with the terrain.

“John, no more avoiding,” Amandine said. Her
question broke the silence that had grown without warning. “Who are
those men?”

John propped himself onto his elbows.
“Avoiding?” he said. “I’m not avoiding. I thought you didn’t want
to talk about it.”

“Well, I don’t,” she admitted, “but I still
want to know.”

“They came for me,” he said.

“Yes. Why?”

“They think I stole something from them.”

“Did you steal?”

“No.”

“Can you not say that to them?”

“No. There’s a loaded gun in their hands by
the time they get within two hundred feet of me.”

Amandine nodded. “Why are you in France?” she
asked bluntly.

“That question is a bit more
complicated.”

“Do you not have time to explain?”

“I was kidnapped,” he lied. “A man brought me
here to frame me and make those men think I stole something from
them. Now, I’m stuck here with no passport, money, or phone. And I
don’t speak French, as you already know. It’s a terrible
situation.” John didn’t like lying to Amandine, but explaining
everything wasn’t much of an option. This way was easier, he
thought, and the lie wasn’t hurting anyone.

“Framed?” she asked, drawing a rectangle in
the air with her fingers.

“Pretend,” John explained. “He wanted to make
it look like I stole it.”

“Okay,” she said. “But, I still don’t
understand.”

“I know,” John said. “Honestly, neither do
I.”

She looked at him with concern. “What are
you
going to do?”

“I’ll be fine,” he answered. “What are you
going to do? I mean, after everything that happened. It’s terrible.
I’m sorry about your family.” His next question was more timid.
“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she replied, “and I do feel sad. Very
sad.” She looked distantly toward the horizon, speaking to the
darkness instead of John. “It is always a shock to lose someone
whom you love. My family and I spent much time together. But what
you must remember is that all of those moments we shared had
already passed before what happened today. I still have them in my
memory, and now, all that is different is that I will have no more
of those moments with them in the future.”

Amandine sat up and stretched her back. She
moved her eyes to John’s. “It is sad I will spend no more time with
them now, but is that something to cry for? Misery comes only from
expecting. But, what if you expected nothing? A bird would be sad
if she woke up tomorrow and found that she could no longer fly, but
would you weep in the morning from the same? No, because you never
expected to fly.

“That is how I try to live, without
expecting. I try to appreciate moments as they happen, not just
when they’ve gone. And if they do go, then that is life.” She
chuckled to herself. “
C’est la vie
. There is something
beautiful about the short-lived things. If you expect them to stay
forever, you take something beautiful from them.”

A thick cloud passed across the moon,
cloaking Amandine in darkness. She stopped speaking as if she’d
actually disappeared. John took the moment to digest the girl’s
earlier words. He couldn’t grasp their full meaning, but at that
instant, he understood that Amandine’s capacity for dealing with
life and loss surpassed his own. Whether that capacity came from
wisdom or callousness, he couldn’t tell.

The cloud broke apart, and Amandine returned.
“I
am
frightened, though,” she said, turning her body toward
John. “How long do you think we must stay here before things are
safe?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“You said they’ve come after you before
today?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do then?”

“I waited and hid, just like we’re doing now.
Once I was in a boat. This is much more relaxing.”

“You do not call the police?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated. I’m sorry. I wish I could
explain.”

“It’s okay.”

“Listen,” he said, “when I leave, they’ll
leave with me. And I’ll leave tonight. Late tonight. Then you’ll
never see them again.”

“You do not have to go.”

“I do.”

“Where is your family?”

“Florida, in the United States,” John
answered. His eyes followed a short breeze as it weaved through the
girl’s thick, chestnut curls. They bounced and tussled as it
travelled them.

“I know where Florida is,” Amandine said. “Do
you live with them?”

“It’s just me and my mother. We live on a
small island full of old people. I’m the youngest person there by
at least thirty years.”

“Oh,” she said. “So there is no one else in
your life but your mother?”

“I have a really good friend who lives on the
mainland. She’s about thirty minutes from where I live,” he
answered.

“A girlfriend?” she teased.

“No,” John said, “but I do have one of those,
or at least, I did until recently. She didn’t understand the
situation I’m in and broke up with me.”

“It sounds like no one understands this
situation you’re in,” Amandine said through a laugh.

“Tell me about it,” he said, stretching his
arms and legs as if making a snow angel in the grass.

“I’m sorry she broke up with you,” she said
reassuringly. “How long were you together?”

“Twenty-five days, though the last three are
something she might disagree with if you asked her the same
question. Let’s call it twenty-two,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else.”

“I don’t know about that. She was my
first.”

“Your first what?”

“Girlfriend,” John said, wondering to what
else she thought he could have been referring. “Embarrassing,
right? I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I’m just surprised. It’s not embarrassing,
though. I haven’t had what you would call a ‘boyfriend’ either,”
she said. “You wouldn’t think it, but boys I meet want to start
dating so seriously. They want to bind you to them; like we are
supposed to get married someday soon and tell our kids how great it
was that we found each other at such a young age.” She shrugged.
“What is the point of it anyway?”

John laughed. “Yeah, maybe. But you never
know when you’ll find the right one, so you may as well start
looking early, right?”

“So, if you disagree with me, why did you
wait so long to get a girlfriend?” she asked.

“Well, it isn’t like I was sitting around
rejecting girls until I was sixteen. Molly, that’s her name by the
way, was just my first opportunity,” he explained. “Like I said, I
grew up homeschooled on an island inhabited by senior citizens. It
was hard to find a friend my age, let alone a date. My mom finally
let me enroll in public school for the first time earlier this
year.”

Amandine looked at him sympathetically. “I
know what you mean. I was homeschooled here. I don’t get much
opportunity to leave the estate,” she said. “Was Molly special to
you?”

“I think so,” John said honestly, “but it’s
hard to tell.”

Amandine laughed at the confession. “How hard
is it to tell? She either was or was not.”

“Well, I’m definitely upset about it,” he
said. “But then again, I’ve always had a thing for ‘firsts.’ So
maybe that’s it.”

“Firsts?”

“Yeah,” John answered. He rolled onto his
side to face her and she did the same toward him. A cool breeze
shook the vines on either side of them, surrounding their
conversation with the soft sound of stirring leaves.

“I feel like there’s just so much that I’ve
never had a chance to do. Most of my life has been spent in front
of a computer screen. That’s even where I met Ronika, my one
friend. It’s only a coincidence we lived so close in real life.
People say the internet is a window to the world, sure, but that’s
just it. It’s a window. I’ve spent most of my life looking at
things, never able to touch or take them. I’ve read about things,
and I’ve seen videos about them, but I’ve never actually done them.
So, every time I get to experience something new, I try to take
note of it, really enjoy it, since ... ” John trailed off. He was
going to finish his sentence with,
I don’t know if I’ll ever get
to do it again
, but instead, stopped and thought about the
words Amandine had spoken to him just minutes ago. Maybe he did
understand her.

John looked at Amandine’s face, bordered in
moonlight. Thick tendrils of her dark brown hair sailed softly in
the wind against her cheeks. She was smiling at him, doe-eyed and
contented. It was then that John knew he could have told her
everything when she’d asked. He could have explained the watch and
his adventures, and she would probably still be lying there, her
face inches away from his, lying on her side in the cool thin
grass, not judging him, smiling the same smile he was enjoying
now.

John thought of the men chasing him and how,
even then, in that perfect moment, they could appear to end
everything. Yet, to even his own surprise, he let the thought of
them slide cleanly past him and kept his focus on the beautiful
French girl in the yellow sundress whose gentle breaths he could
feel against his face between the gusting breeze.

“John,” Amandine said quietly. Her hand
floated to his and grabbed his wrist where the watch was stuck to
him. The cool grip of her fingers depressed the small knob on the
watch’s side.

Was this what it was supposed to have been
like with Molly?
he wondered.

John suddenly realized that Amandine was
speaking to him. Something had escaped her lips after his name, but
he couldn’t remember what it was. He hadn’t heard it. He stared
into her eyes, wondering what he should say when she leaned her
face close and brought her lips against his.

John embraced her as they kissed, and his
clutch sent both of them tumbling gently into the grass. They
rolled twice beneath the vines before stopping with Amandine on top
of him, staring down past his eyes into something beyond them. Her
long hair cascaded down from her head and tickled the sides of his
face as it swept lightly against his skin. He felt a drop of water
land on his cheek and noticed that it had fallen from one of
Amandine’s large brown eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “But this is one of those
times that we can’t expect again tomorrow. I won’t be sad when you
are gone, but I will remember you fondly, as long as I can.”