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“That’s none of your business,” I said coldly, calmly. “Our life is our own. It’s not your place to call the police or—”
“Ah, see that’s where you’re wrong.” John Wilson held up his hand. “It is my place if I believe you’re at risk, parents are missing you, or if you’re up to no good. We’ve dealt with a few runaways while operating this farm, and most of them we send directly home to parents who are sick with worry and only have love and honourable intentions for their children. Other times, we…” He looked at his wife, trailing off.
“Other times, you what?” Adrenaline filled my veins, already hearing horror stories of eating children for lunch or selling them like I’d been sold.
Such filth shouted loudly in my head, so I wasn’t ready for him to say, “We give them a safe place to rest and figure out what they want to do. We don’t pressure them to go home and we don’t call the police with the understanding that there are no secrets between us.”
He leaned forward, planting his large hands on the table. “I’ve been around a while, Ren, so I know a kid that’s been abused versus one that has been loved. Winter is a slow time of year for a farm, but I’m willing to offer you employment, if you want it, and a place to stay with the only proviso that you tell me the truth.”
I froze. “You’re offering me a job?” A cough punctuated the end of my question, bending me over with wracking convulsions.
John Wilson waited until I’d stopped coughing before chuckling. “When you’re better, yes, I’m offering you a job. For now, your only task is to get better.”
I shook my head. “I-I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” I searched his face for an ulterior motive. I begged my instincts to strip back any falsehoods and help me see the fine print of such a deal.
No one could be that generous…surely?
“I’m doing this because a while ago, my eldest boy ran away thanks to a fight we had. He was missing for three years. We all believed he was dead and mourned every day from lack of news and guilt for failing him. I should never have lost my temper. He was just a kid—your age or thereabouts. It was my fault.”
Patricia Wilson reached out and patted her husband’s hairy hand. “It wasn’t just your fault, John. Adam was as much to blame.”
He smiled at his wife and shrugged at me. “Anyway, the good news is one day, a few years ago, we received a phone call from a family two counties over. They said they’d found our son sleeping behind their local supermarket. He was pretty beaten up, but when they’d tried to call the police, he’d hobbled away on a broken leg to avoid the mess between us. Instead of tying him down and calling the authorities, they took him in, cared for him, and believed him when he said he’d run from an abusive home and didn’t want the police to send him back.”
Pain shadowed the old farmer’s eyes, a wince smarting even now. “Obviously, he lied to them, but they gave him shelter and offered him no judgment or expectation. They helped him find a job, earn some money, and mature enough to see that our fight was stupid and idiotic and not worth the estrangement anymore. Finally, my son told them the truth; that he wasn’t from an abusive family, bore the brunt of their disappointment that he’d lied, let them call us with the news, and came back home.”
Cassie picked up where her father left off. “What my dad is trying to say is now he has a debt to repay the kindness of the family who took Adam in. Without them, he would probably be dead. Instead, he’s at university and about to graduate as a lawyer.”
John Wilson nodded. “I’ve always felt humbled that complete strangers gave me back my son. If you need a place to stay, money to earn, and time to do whatever you need to do, then I want to give you that.” He held up his finger. “Under one condition.”
My thoughts raced, trying to unravel the story he’d just told and doing my best to sniff out the truth, but his gaze was clear and honest, earnest and fair unlike the evil that lived in others.
“What condition?” I asked around another cough, even though I knew what it was. Honesty. Truth I didn’t know if I could share.
Della scooted closer, resting her head on my arm in sympathy.
John Wilson smiled at Della’s move to touch me, understanding what anyone who wasn’t blind could see—that our bond was tight and true. That we looked out for each other. That she cared for me as much as I cared for her.
He said, “That you tell me the truth about who you are and why you’re ru
“So…” He crossed his arms, looking me up and down. “What’s it going to be?”
I swallowed past the razor blades in my throat and looked at Della.
She shook her head, a whine falling from her lips. “Forest…please, Ren?”
It killed me that I couldn’t give her what she’d fallen so in love with, but I also refused to kill her by giving her what she’d fallen in love with.
I didn’t want to stay either.
But winter was our nemesis.
The moment the snow melted, we’d leave.
For now…this was our best option.
Sitting straighter, I locked eyes with John Wilson and gave him a blended version of truth and lie. I lied because I didn’t separate Della from my own tale. We’d already said we were blooded brother and sister and not just two kids who’d found solace in each other. I intended to keep that secret for however long we stayed here.
And I told the truth because her tale was now my tale, and I wouldn’t hide behind false veneers. I wasn’t afraid of showing the ugly truth that went on behind closed doors.
I coughed, swallowed, and said, “We ran from a farm that buys children for cheap labour. I have a brand just like their cattle. I lost a finger due to their strictness. I ran before they could do such things to my sister, before they could sell us for cheap, or before they put us in the offal pit where other livestock go once they’ve died. There is nothing for us in our past, and I won’t allow anyone, anyone, to jeopardize our future.”
It was my turn to switch my tone from respectful to threatening, fighting off yet more coughs. “I know hard work, and I’m not afraid of it. I’m strong. I’m skilled. I will obey and do what is required, but I won’t do it for you. I’ll do it for my sister, and as long as she is treated kindly, then I will be forever in your debt. But if there comes a moment when she’s not, I won’t hesitate to do what is necessary. Do you understand, Mr. Wilson? Don’t see a kid who’s sick. See a man who is prepared to do whatever it takes to protect what he loves.”
John Wilson held my stare then slowly nodded. “I see a man who reminds me of myself. I understand.”
Della pushed her forehead against my shoulder, knowing she’d lost the battle, and I’d condemned our next few months to be with strangers and not our chosen sanctuary of aloneness.
My gaze left John Wilson’s and settled on his daughter, Cassie.