Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
We followed her through the terminal to where she told us our bags would be. My head whirled as I took in all the sights and sounds around me, the people pulling suitcases on wheels behind them, the little carts buzzing softly over the carpeted floor. I gripped Zakai’s hand, once again anchored by his presence though he looked just as overwhelmed as me.
MaryBeth Williamson chatted constantly as we walked, and I caught enough words to understand that my uncle would be waiting outside in his car after we retrieved the luggage that Cody Rutland had given us, containing several outfits for both Zakai and myself, outfits that wouldn’t set us apart the way the clothes we’d once worn on Sundara did.
“There we are then,” Marybeth Williamson said, lifting my suitcase easily off what she called a conveyer and setting it on the floor next to Zakai’s. Zakai picked them both up and we followed Marybeth Williamson out of the wide sliding door into the chilly night air where she waved her hand and then we watched as a small white car pulled up in front of where we stood, a man stepping out. Zakai set our suitcases down and I gripped him once again, fear bubbling inside my chest.
The handsome, brown-haired man smiled, but his smile was nervous as he approached slowly, his gaze stuck on me. “Karys?” he asked.
I nodded, pressing closer to Zakai. The man’s smile widened and he let out a breath. “I’m Brax.” He glanced at MaryBeth Williamson and then back at me. “Uh, your uncle.”
“Hello,” I squeaked.
“I’m MaryBeth Williamson.” The social worker stuck her hand out and Braxton shook it. “Well, Zakai, ready?”
I shook my head, letting go of his hand and gripping his arm. No, no. I wasn’t ready to be separated from Zakai, not yet. This was all happening too fast, too soon. I didn’t understand this place, or know these strange people with the awkward smiles and shifting eyes. I needed Zakai. “No,” I said desperately, shaking my head again. “No, not tonight. Not yet. Can’t we stay together just tonight?”
“I’m sorry, Karys,” Marybeth Williamson said. “But the man who runs the residence where Zakai is staying is waiting up for him.”
“Karys,” Zakai said, turning to me and bringing his hands to my face. “It’s okay, little star. I have your address, and your uncle’s phone number. Remember Cody taught us how to use the phone? I know where you are and how to find you.”
“And,” Marybeth Williamson cut in, “your uncle has the address and phone number of the place Zakai will be staying. You can get in touch with him whenever you want.”
I didn’t look at her or my uncle, but I felt their eyes on me. My gaze held tight to Zakai and only him. Tears tracked down my cheeks and Zakai wiped them away with his thumbs. “Please don’t cry,” he said, such sorrow in his own eyes. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Every night of my life that I remembered had been spent next to Zakai, wrapped in his arms. He was my only safety in this new wide world. “I can’t,” I choked. No,no,no.
“You can,” he said. “You’re strong, Karys. Stronger than you know. Do this for me.” No, I wasn’t. How could he believe I was strong, when it was his strength that had always protected me?
I heard my uncle clear his throat. I planted my face in Zakai’s chest and he pulled me close, but after a moment, I lifted my head, standing straight, and giving Zakai the only smile I could muster. “I love you,” I said.
“I love you too.” And then he let go of me, picking up his suitcase and following the social worker toward the sidewalk, disappearing into the crowd of bustling travelers. My heart beat hollowly. I felt numb. Numb and scared and alone.
“Ah, just follow me,” I heard my uncle say and when I turned his way, he was stepping toward the small white car. He held the door open for me and I got inside. He seemed to know that I needed time to gather myself and I was grateful for the silence, as he pulled out of the airport and onto the highway.
“God, you look nothing like him,” Braxton said after a moment, followed by a short laugh. “You must resemble your mother.
“I don’t know her,” I murmured.
“Well,” he said, “I brought pictures of your dad.” He reached over and opened the compartment in front of my knees. When I didn’t move, he closed it. “But, well, I can show you those later.”
Him. “My father.”
“Yes. Beaux. He was great. A great older brother. We all miss him. Our mother is still alive too, but she’s elderly and unfortunately was recently diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She lives in Tennessee which is, um, where we grew up. Maybe we can try to visit this summer, you know, if she doesn’t decline too much . . .” He paused. “Wow, I’m talking a lot, huh?”