Page 6 of His Witness To Love
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Rachel has spoken of you. Thank you for saving our granddaughter.”
“Please, ma’am, I could have done more; no thanks necessary. If only I had gotten there sooner," Mack said demurely.
“The way I see it, no matter what happens, she’s with us now, and she’s alive; wounds will heal. Besides, I find it hard to hold a grudge against you when the child herself lives in gratitude. You’ve done your best; that is all we could have asked of you. Now, come downstairs for something to eat,” the old woman smiled kindly.
Mack did his best to keep himself together.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Downstairs, Rachel sat across from her grandfather, each of them with a mug in hand. A conversation jumped from mug to mug, stopping only when Mack walked in with her grandmother, whose name he had just learned was Lidia.
“There now, you’re all done; I believe we need to have a talk, too,” Rachel's grandfather said through his mug, never breaking eye contact with his granddaughter.
“Come now, dear, the poor boy isn’t running away. Let him at least have a chance to change his clothes.”
“I suppose so; your room is the second one from your left after the stairs; you’ll have the room next to Brianna’s.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me, Sonny, thank Rachel. Little June bug here is always fussing about the two of you.”
“Stop it, grandpa. Don’t worry about it too much, Mack. As I said, it's all alright,” Rachel murmured through her mug; she was not enjoying being put on the spot.
***
Brie woke up with wool still on her head; she couldn't remember where she was or how she had gotten there. Flashes of moans, groans, and muffled screams drifted across her mind, and she pulled her covers to her chin, realizing she had pushed remembering a little too far back. She could remember leaving late in the afternoon, the peaceful car ride where she must have undoubtedly fallen asleep. She remembered gripping onto a top. His top. She had been carried, and it seems Mack had been the one to carry her for quite a bit, too. Her face grew red from embarrassment, and her mind settled. She could hear voices downstairs, and she remembered it all.
Rachel’s grandparents had agreed to let their home serve as a safe house for their granddaughter and Brie, and the assigned guard, Mack; they were expected to stay indefinitely.
She hurriedly put on some more clothes and made her way to the voices coming from downstairs.
“Ah yes! There you are, my dear,” the old man’s voice boomed across the room.
His wife got up to help her to the table.
“Really, ma’am, I'm fine. There’s nothing wrong.”
“Nonsense, even then, I’d like to help you. Go on, on with you.”
Brie got to the table and exchanged a few pleasantries with the old couple. Mack seemed content to watch it all unfold. The old man’s initial ice seemed to have melted off; they were even on a first-name basis now. It was refreshing to watch Brie be socarefree, so taken in by mundane discussion. Not constantly stuck in some power struggle between some ultimate good and evil. He wished her a simple life, well, a simpler life.
The afternoon was quickly spent, and soon enough, the sunwas out of sight. Mack found himself making rounds with Rachel’s grandfather.
“Call me Robert, son, forget about the initial gruff testing, you know? You’re alright; you seem like a good man,” is how the exchange had gone.
It was a single sliding gate on a metal rut lowered into the ground. Locks were checked, and the gate itself was eased shut. Robert checked for snakes or any signs of them.
“The tall grass is brittle around these parts; winders tend to make a subtle path through the little fields we have.”
The path showed no signs of being moved through, so they made their way back inside.
Mack opted to sit outside for a few more minutes to clear his head.
The night sky was nearly starless, and the wind was still. Mack stared off and tried to breathe away the fear he had begun to feel. A growing sense of paranoia. The last few hours had been magical, but he had no idea when the next one of them could be in danger.
His mind kept wandering to the texts both he and Brie had gotten. It bothered him that he couldn’t place at least one suspect to it all. His mind repeatedly conjured up Kamal in front of him. A leering condescending grin plastered on his face. That tattoo, that blasted tattoo. He reserved the rest of his moments outside for Dave and his brother. Choosing grief over rage, he looked up to count the stars, if any could be found.
