Again, we’re lined up and led back to our tiny cells for seven more days alone.

  My throat tightens with each step closer to the metal door. I’m not sure I can do another seven days alone. Panic settles at the bottom of my gut, a desperation I don’t recognize.

  The years spread out before me, and I’m not sure if I can continue this way. I don’t know if I can do this again and again, over and over for the rest of my life.

  When I return to my cell, another book is waiting on my concrete slab. It's a book of poems by Alexander Pushkin.

  May love yet show her smile of valediction… I toss the volume aside and pick up my notebook.

  31

  Hana

  “Oh, I love this one.” Blake hesitates, holding a piece of tissue paper over the black and white portrait of Pepper and Teal in Shirley’s.

  We’re five days away from the show, and she’s helping me pack the new pictures I want to include in it. I sent thumbnails to Jill, and we agreed on five additional images.

  “I was thinking about memory, and it’s the first memory they’ll have together. I think it goes well in the series with the girls.”

  My sister’s head tilts to the side. “I’m not sure if it’s because I know the story, but it’s like I can feel the tension.”

  Teal’s smile is hesitant, and Pepper’s eyes are curious. She has no idea she’s sitting across from her father as they cautiously get to know each other.

  “He’s the only tense one. Pepper is clueless.”

  “He still hasn’t told her?” She arches an eyebrow at me.

  “It’s only been a few weeks, and they’re not together all the time.”

  “It’s been long enough.” She carefully places the tissue over the front of the sheet. “I'll have Hutch invite him to dinner when he gets back in town. It’s time to get that ball rolling.” She stops at another portrait, laying her hand on her heart. “I need a copy of this to frame.”

  It’s a candid shot of Blake sitting on her fiancé’s lap on his front porch swing. Her head is leaning against his, and his lips are pressed to the base of her neck.

  Developing this image hurt so bad. Scar would always lean down and kiss my neck, smell my hair. Tears were in my eyes as I enlarged it, settling on a glowing sepia for the filter. Standing here now, my barely closed wounds tear open again.

  Jill insisted it be in the show. The emotion is so strong.

  “Your love is beautiful to see.” I do my best to shake off my pain. “And to think, you always said you hated him.”

  “I was young–and I’d never seen him naked.” Blake quips, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leaning her head against mine. “You are so talented. I can’t get over how you capture emotions.”

  “I have great subjects.” Giving her a squeeze, I push back on my pain, sliding a tissue in place and stacking an image of Uncle Hugh on top of the print. “The Elder Statesman.”

  It’s a shot of our uncle standing on his porch in his linen suit and gray Stetson, holding his cane, and it captures him in all his formal elegance looking out over his property.

  “It’s perfect.” She slides a tissue over it and we roll the prints carefully before sliding them in the sturdy cardboard tube.

  Setting it to the side, she takes both my hands in hers. “How are you feeling?”

  Blinking up at her, I answer honestly. “I feel safe, and I feel miserable.”

  Pulling me in, we hug. “I wish there was something I could do. Hutch is determined, but I feel so helpless.”

  “When does he get back from Chicago?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Her brows furrow, and she steps back. “He’s on his way to Minsk.”

  My heart jumps, and I pull my hands out of hers. “I want to go with him. I need to be there. If he’s able to see him, I want to see him.”

  “I guess that’s why he didn’t tell you. Scar’s in solitary confinement in a maximum security prison. No one can see him.”

  Clenching my jaw, I try not to be angry at Hutch. I know he’s doing all he can to help us. “It doesn’t matter. He should have told me.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t want to distract you from your show.”

  “Screw the show!” I throw up my hands. “Does he really think it’s more important to me?”

  She puts her arm around me again. “I know it’s not. I’m sorry.”

  “If he can’t see him, what will he do in Minsk?”

  “He said he hopes to meet with senior officials or a diplomat–I’m not really sure how it works, but he’s going to talk to them and try to work out an exchange.”

  “What does that mean? What kind of exchange?”

  “Like if there’s somebody in jail here, in the US, who they want, they can exchange them for Scar.”

  Crossing my arms, I consider this option. “He can do that?”

  “Marcus Merritt said it’s more complicated, since Scar confessed to the murder and the victim has family who claims to want justice.”

  “A family of criminals! It’s freakin Russian mafia, for God’s sake.”

  “Yes, and Scar is an American citizen. He helped the military in eastern Europe, and the man he killed was an established criminal.”

  “So he’s going to ask if they want somebody to trade, then what?”

  She exhales heavily. “Then they go to the President.”

  “Of the United States?” My eyebrows shoot up, and she nods.

  Leaning heavily against my worktable, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It feels like a monumental task, at the same time, we’ve met ambassadors and diplomats at my mother’s gala events. We know senators…

  “It’s like something out of a spy novel.” My voice is quiet, and I look to my sister to judge her response.

  “Apparently it happens all the time.”

  “It does?”

  “Well, not all the time, but it happens. Remember that news reporter who got her sister out of North Korea?” She lifts the cardboard tube and reaches for my hand. “We have to stay positive. Hope for the best.”

  “Hang on–we forgot one.” The final addition to my show is a self-portrait I took last week.

  I’m sitting in a window seat with a daisy in my hand, plucking the petals as I recite my twisted version of the game in my head.

  I used a tripod and waited until the sunlight filtered through the window to create a halo around my blonde hair. With a little manipulation, I was able to appear glowing, remembering my love.

  It’s the perfect finale piece. The ultimate representation of Memory, the love I will never forget.

  I hold a sheet of tissue as I explain. “In the original French version of the game, it’s not about whether or not he loves you, but how much. Un peu, a little or à la folie, to madness.”

  Blake’s voice is soft. “He loves you a la mort.”

  Lifting my chin, I give her a sad smile. “And I’ll love him until I die.”

  “Holy cow!” Pepper yells from the passenger side of my golf cart. “We’re only going to be gone three days!”

  Carmen struggles to roll a suitcase as big as a steamer trunk down the short driveway from her mother’s house to where we’re waiting. “Shut up! I didn’t know what to pack. It’s my first time visiting New York.”

  “Looks like you need to–”

  “Pepper Winston!” Carmen stops walking and points a finger. “If you say one word about tidying up or sparking joy, I swear to God!”

  Pepper crosses her arms and falls back against the seat.

  I hop out of the cart and jog around to help her lift her massive load. “As long as you didn’t exceed the weight limit. Uncle Hugh said fifty pounds each.”

  Carmen’s shoulders fall. “I think I exceeded the weight limit.”

  Hesitating, I glance from her to the cart. “We’ll see what happens. I’m probably underweight, since I still have a lot of stuff at the apartment.”

  My bestie gives me a squeeze and a squeal. “I’m so excited! I can’t believe I’m finally going to The Big Apple for a super prestigious art premiere for my bestie!”

  “Just don’t call it The Big Apple. Only tourists and journalists say that.”

  Pepper nods like she’s an authority. “It’s like calling San Francisco Frisco.’”

  Carmen scrubs her finger in Pepper’s hair. “Like you know anything.”

  “I know not to call it The Big Apple like some kind of dork.”

  “Is your dad flying with us or is he going to meet us there?” Carmen shifts around on the backseat bench then freezes when she realizes what she said.

  My eyes are wide, and I’m pretty sure my heart stopped. “You mean my mom?” I say loudly, but my voice is too high and wobbly.

  Pepper doesn’t move, her lips are parted as she blinks several times. Slowly her face turns to mine, and her brow scrunches.

  “Yes! Your mom!” Carmen cries. “I’ve been all mixed up all day trying to get Rashmi set up to run the store while I’m away and everything packed. What did I say?”

  “You said my dad.” Pepper’s voice is eerily calm for the bomb we just dropped.

  My bottom lip disappears beneath my teeth, and the only noise is the crunch of tires on gravel as we glide up to the front entrance of Uncle Hugh’s mansion.

  I bypass the waiting limo and park in his five-car garage, then I shift in my seat to face my little friend. “Say something, Pep.”

  She blinks twice. “Teal Masters is my dad?”

  “I’m sorry!” Carmen puts both hands over her face. “This is why you should never tell me secrets. He wanted to tell you himself, and now I’ve ruined it.”

  Studying Pepper’s expression, I can’t tell what she’s thinking. “He only found out a month or so ago, and he wanted to meet you.”

  “Why hasn’t he told me yet?” Her brow scrunches harder. “Is he trying to decide if he likes me or something?”

  “NO!” Carmen and I both shout at once, and Pepper jumps in her seat.

  “I’m sorry.” Scooting forward, I wrap my arms around her. “No–it’s just the opposite. He’s been so nervous you’d be mad at him for not being around or you wouldn’t like him. I think he wanted to plan something special, but it’s all been so crazy these last few weeks.”

  “That’s why he’s moving here.” Carmen reaches across the seat to rub her arm. “He really wants to be a part of your life.”

  My voice is quiet, and I release her, looking into her big brown eyes. “If you want that.”

  “Your dad should be saying all of this.” Carmen drops her chin. “I really screwed up everything. I’m sorry.”

  We wait, watching as Pepper’s expression goes from stunned to settled. “We won’t tell him.”

  Carmen’s eyes flicker from Pepper to me. “I’m okay with that.”

  “If he's planning something special, I want to see what he does.” Pepper nods, like the decision is made. “I can go on acting like I don’t know, and it’ll be our secret. Like a surprise birthday party or something.”

  “Okay…” I tilt my head to the side, trying to meet her eyes. “And you're okay with this?”

  She shrugs. “I think so. I always wanted to know my dad. What does Uncle Hutch think?”

  My chest squeezes, and I press my lips into a smile. “He’s been a little worried about how you’ll respond. We all have. We don’t want you to feel ambushed.”

  “I don’t.” Hopping out of the golf cart, she hesitates before picking up her duffel. “If Uncle Hutch is okay with him, then I’ll be okay with him.”

  She starts for the house, but I hurry to catch up with her, leaving Carmen grunting and struggling with her monster-bag.

  “But do you like Teal?” She’s walking fast in a way that makes me worry.

  We reach the waiting limo, and Pepper puts her bag in the back before Uncle Hugh’s driver can help her. My things are already inside, and Carmen is flapping like a goose, trying to roll her suitcase on the gravel.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she yells sarcastically.

  My uncle’s chauffeur trots over to help her, and I take Pepper’s hand, going around to climb in the backseat. Blake flew ahead of us to the city to be there when Hutch returned from his international flight, which has me even more anxious to get to New York.

  “He’s nice, but he’s not like Uncle Hutch.”

  “What do you mean?” I sit across from her on the black leather seat.

  “He’s always asking what I think about things and worrying if I’m having fun. Uncle Hutch never does that.”

  Swallowing a laugh, I nod. “I think Teal was trying to find out what you like. The way you’d do with a new friend.”

  “Do you like him?”

  “I do. He seems like a really nice man, and I think he’ll work very hard to be a good dad.”

  “What’d I miss?” Carmen crawls in the limo. Her hair’s a mess, and a sheen of sweat is on her forehead.

  “Here.” I pull out a body wipe. “We got it all sorted. You try not to spill any more beans.”

  “Are there any left? No,” she groans, holding up her hands. “If there are, don’t tell me!”

  It’s late when we finally arrive at the Andover. Rusty is delighted to meet the Hamiltown additions, in particular Pepper, who he immediately takes under his wing.

  “I’ve never been in an elevator like this.” She smiles up at him, watching as he holds the door open while Carmen struggles with her bag.

  “I can call a bellhop if you need assistance, Miss,” he says to her, but Carmen declines.

  “I don’t have any tip money!”

  Rusty lifts his chin, then motions to the panel. “Your floor is twenty-seven. Right there.”

  Pepper presses the button and smiles up at him. “I bet you see a lot of stuff. Lots of hot gossip?”

  “An elevator operator never tells.” He looks to the top right corner, but a smile hints at his wrinkled lips.

  Hutch is in the kitchen with Blake and Mama when we enter the apartment.

  “My room is the last door on the left,” I tell Pepper and Carmen before I go to where he’s standing.

  Pepper beats me to her uncle. She might be twelve, but she still jumps into a hug. It makes me wonder what she’s really thinking about the Teal situation. I know Hutch is worried about her, but maybe she’s worried about Hutch? I’d like to tell her it’s all going to work out fine, but we’re keeping that accidental revelation under wraps.

  Also, I want to know what’s happening with Scar.

  “Of course, we have to invite Belinda and Cheryl.” Mama is going down her guest list for the wedding. “The Hawthornes and the Bartholomews should also be invited.”

  “I hardly even know those people,” Blake argues.

  “They attend the gala every year, and they always make huge donations.”

  “We’re trying to keep it an intimate affair.”

  My eyes are wide as I look from the two of them to Hutch, who is typing something on his phone. Reaching out, I touch his forearm, motioning for him to follow me into the living room.

  Pepper is helping Carmen wrangle her suitcase to my bedroom, and I wring my fingers as I wait. “Any luck?”

  He’s been gone five days, first meeting Marcus in Chicago then going to Europe.

  “They’re going to let me know.”

  “That’s it?” My shoulders drop, and mist heats my eyes. “You went all that way, and they’re going to let you know?”

  Hutch’s deep voice is solemn. “It’s not what I wanted to hear either, but it’s a start. I made contact, and he’s on their radar.”

  Rubbing my hand over my forehead, I swallow the knot twisting my throat. “Were you able to find out how he’s doing? Is he well?”

  “He’s being transferred to a labor camp about three hundred miles east of Moscow.”

  “A labor camp?” My heart sinks. “That sounds awful!”

  Hutch nods, his expression dark. “He’s been in solitary confinement since he got there, so it could be good. At least he’ll be around people.”

  “Criminals!” I’m doing my best not to attract the attention of my mother, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back the tears.

  Hutch puts a warm hand on my shoulder. “I know this is painful. I hate it, too, but we’re making progress.”

  Nodding, I wipe my eyes. Can I face another day without him?

  “I always thought he’d be with me at my show. It won’t be the same.”

  I’m pulled into a warm hug, and a tear escapes, falling to my cheek. A moment later, I feel another pair of arms joining Hutch’s around me.

  “Hang in there, sis.” Blake has my back, like always.

  “Me too!” Pepper’s voice rings out, and we all chuckle as she wiggles in at my waist, hugging me.

  “Heck, I want some of that!” Carmen hugs Blake’s back.

  “I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I hope it’s nothing serious,” my mother calls from the kitchen.

  It still hurts, but this time, I’m not cowering in the darkness alone. I’ve got a crowd of people surrounding me, holding me up, keeping me strong.

  It’s not just serious, it’s marvelous.

  32

  Scar

  Her eyes are like the deep ocean, inky blue, holding secret treasures… I write the words, and I sketch an oval shape the way I remember her face. I’m no artist, but I’m getting better at capturing her likeness.

  Long, soft curls I can wrap around my fingers, full lips curling into the best smile. The sound of her voice is the only thing I can’t capture on paper. I would call her for no reason just to hear her speak.

  “Time to go.” The sharp voice snaps my attention before the door slides open on my cell.

  The order came yesterday. I'm being moved to a labor camp a half-day’s drive from here, somewhere farther east, closer to the wastelands of Siberia, reinforcing my forgotten status. It’s a nagging, dry ache in my chest.