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The next morning, I am woken up by the insistent buzzing of my cell phone. I blink the sleep out of my eyes and sit up. Bren’s gone and I’m lying alone under the blanket we brought with us in front of the window. Next to where we slept, I discover a note:
I’m out in the park with Grey. Bren
No I love you, but that’s normal, anything else would worry me.
I smile, but the cell phone’s buzzing abruptly reminds me that I forgot to call Ethan last night like I promised Jay. Damn! I leap to my feet—I can’t put him off any longer!
Chapter
Six
Of course, it’s Ethan! His photo stares at me like I’m America’s Most Wanted Person.
My heart beats faster as I prepare for his sermon.
“Hello?” I answer cautiously.
“Lou?” Ethan sounds breathless, he probably didn’t expect me to actually answer the call.
“No, this is Batman! Of course it’s me, Eth, who else would it be?” I ask, deliberately cheerful.
“Lou! Thank God! You’re alive!” It’s quiet for a while and I hear him take a couple of long, deep breaths. Then he says, “I’ve been picturing the most horrible things. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
If he’s that worried, I’m sure he’s too relieved to rip my head off. I walk back to the window with my phone and gaze out at the pink morning sky over Seattle. “Of course, I’m fine,” I say, still elated. “Why wouldn’t I be? What reason would Bren have for hurting me? He loves me…didn’t Jay tell you anything?” I ask, confused. “I’ve been texting him.”
“You’re crazy!” Ethan doesn’t even respond to my last question. I hear him snort and picture him pacing our kitchen. “Lou, you must come back immediately. That man is sick! Do you understand that? Disturbed! Dangerous!” Now his voice no longer sounds worried but instead swells. Sure, now that he knows I’m fine, he can vent his anger. Typical Ethan! I better stay calm so he can see how serious I am.
“I’m not coming back,” I say firmly. “Maybe after the summer and then only with Bren. I really do love him, Ethan. He’s a good man.”
Dead air. I glance at the display, thinking he hung up or the call was cut off, but then he starts cannoning against him and I hardly understand a word of what he is saying. I hear snippets like for fuck’s sake, Louisa, a criminal, a kidnapper of a minor, of a child!
Finally, he interrupts his endless monologue after working himself into a rage, barely able to breathe.
“Ethan, maybe we’ll talk more after you’ve calmed down.” I feel grown up and precocious, but I truly don’t want to argue with him. He knows what he needs to know: I’m fine and I’m spending the summer with Bren—and I’m not breaking up with him after that either! I subconsciously shake my head when he tries to start again. “There’s no point!”
“Lou, if you hang up now…”
“Call me when you’re calmer!” I interrupt, my words drowning out his. “Then I will be able to understand you better!” I quickly add. Maybe he should breathe into his hand or a bag first.
I hang up. Obviously, I know it’s cowardly, but now Ethan has time to digest the facts. There’s no point yelling like that. Maybe he thought it was a spontaneous decision, a sudden idea that I’d give up as soon as he yelled some sense into my head. What does Ethan know about love? After all, he’s never had a girlfriend. Maybe because he had to take care of us all even though we’ve been old enough to take care of ourselves for a few years now. And yet he lives his life as if he has taken a vow of chastity. How could he understand me?
When my phone buzzes again, I almost drop it, stunned. Should I answer it again? Ethan’s photo looks at me so intently. I think about everything that went through my mind at Walmart the other day. “Ethan?”
“Lou, I beg you, listen to me!”
“Okay.”
“This Brendan Connor is a criminal. He kidnapped you! He drugged you and put you in a box! You can’t love someone like that, Louisa. It isn’t real love. You are sick, too! You need urgent help!”
“I’m not sick, Ethan. I had almost a year to figure out that I love Bren! I’m hanging up now, see you after the summer! I love you, Eth!”
“Louisa Josephine Scriver, you…”
I end the call, turn the vibration setting off, and stuff the phone in my pocket. I’m not sick! How could he say something like that without knowing all the facts?
Uncomprehending, I flop down on the blanket and stare outside.
Of course, initially in the Yukon, even I believed my feelings for Bren were purely psychological. The victim falls in love with the perpetrator, who also happens to look stunning. What if Bren was a 50-year-old overweight Quasimodo? I certainly wouldn’t have fallen in love with him then, that’s for sure. Besides, I already liked Bren in the visitor center. The fact that he kidnapped me only makes our love, which couldn’t be stopped anyway, more complicated. Ethan will figure it out.
