I’m surprised you would, considering how much trouble I’ve put you through this year.” Deflect. Distract.
“It hasn’t been dull, that’s for certain,” she says.
“Well, I’ll give your proposal serious thought. I’ll let you know if I decide to change programs.”
“I strongly urge you to do so,” she says. I’m struck again by the strange route this conversation has taken. I’ve never seen her so committed to an opinion. Even when I brought her the heads of more than a hundred of her students on a silver platter, blackmailing her into helping a bunch of Ukrainian strays, she didn’t show this much personal investment. She’s always kind but distant, like an observer or witness, not a player. She knows something about NWI that I don’t. Something she’s decided not to tell me, despite her concern.
“Thank you for taking an interest in me, Sister.”
“Always,” she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
W hen Dani picks me up at seven the next morning, she doesn’t say much. I guess I should be grateful that she agreed to take me to see my dad at all. We didn’t leave things well on Thursday, and she was working yesterday, so Angela took me to school and Murphy drove me back to the Ramirezes’. I haven’t seen Dani since she was epically pissed at me and I lied to her about texting Mike.
Now that my initial irritation at her attitude has passed, I can see that going to the Ballou was perhaps not the most responsible thing for me to do. Plus, I’m going to have to fess up today that I didn’t text Mike, if she hasn’t guessed already. She’s not an idiot, and I’m not looking forward to that conversation.
Par for the course, I owe her an apology. The last time I was in this boat, I’d made a similarly poor decision in the personal safety department. I’m sensing a theme. I’m sure she is, too. And after what happened with Sam, I’m doubting my ability to keep friends. An hour-long drive to Ransom Correctional Facility seems a good time to amend that.
“Look,” I say as we exit onto I-57 and reach minute five of stony silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I should have listened to you.”
Dani blows out a breath she’d been holding. “I cannot believe you actually apologized.”
“Shocking, I know,” I say, smiling.
She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, I am sorry, too. I should not have lost my temper. But I—” She clenches her jaw and tightens her grip on the wheel. “When I imagine bad things happening to you, permanent things…It just cannot happen. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but it isn’t easy for me. It doesn’t come naturally, working with people, even after all these months. I’m going to screw up.”
“I realize that, and I try to adjust, but some things are nonnegotiable.”
I nod. “I’ll work harder at it. Though why you stick around is the real mystery.” I mean it as a joke, but she doesn’t laugh.
“If you are the patron saint of lost girls, then I am your crusader. My fate is linked to yours until one of us is martyred. But I prefer that does not happen soon.”
I am floored by her response. It’s one thing for the Ukrainian trafficking survivors to believe I’m an avenging angel. It’s entirely another for Dani to believe it. I’m strangely reluctant to disabuse her of the notion, though. I’d trade a lot to keep her good opinion of me—just not her life.
“I’m not a saint, Dani. I’m a thief. You know that. And neither of us is dying over this.”
Her smile holds a tinge of regret. “If you are a saint, milaya, you may even be able to pull off that miracle. Just remember when the time comes to stand behind me.”
I’m trapped again in a breathless moment as her gaze captures mine. Her eyes flick back to the road almost immediately, but the contact, for all its brevity, liquefies my insides. What I thought I knew to be true has gone fuzzy around the edges. I
“It hasn’t been dull, that’s for certain,” she says.
“Well, I’ll give your proposal serious thought. I’ll let you know if I decide to change programs.”
“I strongly urge you to do so,” she says. I’m struck again by the strange route this conversation has taken. I’ve never seen her so committed to an opinion. Even when I brought her the heads of more than a hundred of her students on a silver platter, blackmailing her into helping a bunch of Ukrainian strays, she didn’t show this much personal investment. She’s always kind but distant, like an observer or witness, not a player. She knows something about NWI that I don’t. Something she’s decided not to tell me, despite her concern.
“Thank you for taking an interest in me, Sister.”
“Always,” she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
W hen Dani picks me up at seven the next morning, she doesn’t say much. I guess I should be grateful that she agreed to take me to see my dad at all. We didn’t leave things well on Thursday, and she was working yesterday, so Angela took me to school and Murphy drove me back to the Ramirezes’. I haven’t seen Dani since she was epically pissed at me and I lied to her about texting Mike.
Now that my initial irritation at her attitude has passed, I can see that going to the Ballou was perhaps not the most responsible thing for me to do. Plus, I’m going to have to fess up today that I didn’t text Mike, if she hasn’t guessed already. She’s not an idiot, and I’m not looking forward to that conversation.
Par for the course, I owe her an apology. The last time I was in this boat, I’d made a similarly poor decision in the personal safety department. I’m sensing a theme. I’m sure she is, too. And after what happened with Sam, I’m doubting my ability to keep friends. An hour-long drive to Ransom Correctional Facility seems a good time to amend that.
“Look,” I say as we exit onto I-57 and reach minute five of stony silence. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I should have listened to you.”
Dani blows out a breath she’d been holding. “I cannot believe you actually apologized.”
“Shocking, I know,” I say, smiling.
She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, I am sorry, too. I should not have lost my temper. But I—” She clenches her jaw and tightens her grip on the wheel. “When I imagine bad things happening to you, permanent things…It just cannot happen. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but it isn’t easy for me. It doesn’t come naturally, working with people, even after all these months. I’m going to screw up.”
“I realize that, and I try to adjust, but some things are nonnegotiable.”
I nod. “I’ll work harder at it. Though why you stick around is the real mystery.” I mean it as a joke, but she doesn’t laugh.
“If you are the patron saint of lost girls, then I am your crusader. My fate is linked to yours until one of us is martyred. But I prefer that does not happen soon.”
I am floored by her response. It’s one thing for the Ukrainian trafficking survivors to believe I’m an avenging angel. It’s entirely another for Dani to believe it. I’m strangely reluctant to disabuse her of the notion, though. I’d trade a lot to keep her good opinion of me—just not her life.
“I’m not a saint, Dani. I’m a thief. You know that. And neither of us is dying over this.”
Her smile holds a tinge of regret. “If you are a saint, milaya, you may even be able to pull off that miracle. Just remember when the time comes to stand behind me.”
I’m trapped again in a breathless moment as her gaze captures mine. Her eyes flick back to the road almost immediately, but the contact, for all its brevity, liquefies my insides. What I thought I knew to be true has gone fuzzy around the edges. I
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