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Lady in a red scarf. Man with a red tie. Woman in a purple dress.
The black solid-metal gates open. I draw a deep breath, taking step after step toward my new life outside these gates. One that I have to expose to the public. I have to let them in the dark space in my head that makes my limbs shake when I enter it. I’ve never felt so vulnerable or flayed open. This feels like salt being poured on an open wound.
But I can do it. I’ve come this far.
Beatrice and Mila each slip their hand in both of mine and squeeze. And the guys stand behind us. A line of security people flank our sides and walk out first.
“Thank you,” I whisper to both, keeping my head held high as we walk toward a small podium. I pause when I take in the scene.
Holy smokes.
There are rows of chairs, filled to the max with reporters, but that’s not it. Police, with machine guns, stand at attention behind the rows of chairs. Their focus is on the crowd of at least a hundred people, cheering and waving signs behind the roped off area.
Nobody warned me about this. I squint to read some signs. Most say Welcome Home. When David goes up to speak, it reminds me that I’m next. My eyes jump from person to person looking for my marks.
Red tie.
Purple dress.
Where is the red scarf? A woman waving her hands up and down catches my attention in the back field, but I quickly return to searching for the damn red scarf. My eyes freeze on a man with black hair in the front of the crowd, standing right by a police officer. His lips tug to a smirk when our eyes meet for a moment. A familiar face, even though the rest of him looks different. I force my eyes to keep moving, not wanting to stay focused on the one man the entire country is searching for.
My dad.
The crowd silences when David steps aside, the only sounds around are flashes and clicks of cameras. I drop my chin, steadying my breaths. Why is he here? Why would he risk his life? For you. My inner voice answers. He’s here to make sure you’re okay. I give myself a minute before looking back up. By the time I step up to the podium, he’s gone.
But it’s okay. His presence gave me a renewed sense of strength that I can do this. He didn’t raise a weak woman and I won’t start being one now.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Aspen Foley,” I say, leaning toward the mic. My voice travels and it reminds me of when we would use a bullhorn to get the foreigners back to the boat. “You know me as Gabriella Malone. I was kidnapped when I was one and taken to live in Tahiti. The man who kidnapped me was good to me and he raised me like his own daughter.”
I blink the tears away and swallow. I was afraid that would be a slap in the face to David, but April and David both agreed if I didn’t address it, there would be rumors that horrible things happened to me. As I continue talking, my voice shakes with emotion, but I stay on track so I can get this over with as quick as possible. As I speak my last words, I focus on the crowd further out and smile. “Thank you for your love and support. This is all so overwhelming…” I hold my hand over my heart, the beat slams against my palm. The crowd’s cheers fill the clear open air. I turn my gaze to the reporters, “… and please bear with me while I find myself in this unfamiliar world.”
As soon as they realize I’m done talking, they throw a melee of questions at me. My eyes can’t focus enough on one question to hear what in the world they’re asking. I frantically glance over at April. David, who is standing beside her, sends me a warm smile and steps up to my side, wrapping his arm around me.
“Listen guys, you’re not helping,” he says into the mic. “If you want her to stay up here and answer questions, you need to chill.”
This makes the reporters chuckle. They still throw the questions at me, but in a slightly calmer manner. When I see the guy in the red tie, I point at him. He walks up to the front and someone hands him a mic.
“Hi, I’m Fred Garza with the LA Times. My question is, do you wish to be called Aspen or Gabriella?”
My shoulders relax that he’s keeping to script. “Aspen.”
“Aspen it is. My second question, you never mentioned the name of the man who kidnapped you and raised you.”
I swallow. “Rudy Foley.”
“But that’s not his actual name,” he adds. “Is it?”
David must feel my body freeze, so he leans over to the mic. “Fred, you had your two questions.” Fred nods, still grinning, like he knows he did something wrong but doesn’t care. Although, he retreats to his seat.
But if it wasn’t him, it’ll be the next question. Before picking the next person, I clear my throat to shut everyone up. “He was only Rudy Foley to me, other than dad. I don’t know him as any other man, so I can’t answer that question.”
The questions come like a brick wall again, except this time, it’s slightly less jarring. I find the lady in the purple dress. Her question gets a little deeper. She wants to know how I’m doing with my new family.
“To say I feel like I’m the black sheep, is an understatement,” I joke. “I might look like them, but I definitely don’t sound like them.” The crowd laughs and my humor helps me relax a little. “Truthfully, it’s going better than expected.” I glance over to Beatrice and the love radiating in her eyes blankets me. She smiles through her tears and I return the sentiment. Every moment I’m with her brings us closer.
After more questions, I’m getting the hang of it. Several questions are the same, just asked differently. Until they ask the question, that has nothing to do with the family or being kidnapped.
“Are you with Ryker Dallas?”
