Page 48 of Rockland

“Since when?”

“Maybe for about a month now. I don’t know… since Rockland left?”

Silence settles over the car. I stare out the windshield. He’s turning onto Fifth Street. Headed for the tarmac where the jet will no doubt be waiting for us.

When John speaks again, his normal condescending tone has cooled. Almost tenderly, he says, “I’m happy to take you there, Tess. I know how much he means to you.”

I look down at my hands, picking at my cuticles. I haven’t bothered to do my nails since he went away. “You don’t have to do this, you know, John. I’d be fine on my own.”

“I know you would, honey. You’re as tough as a tiger. But this will be more pleasant. I can’t really picture Miss Tess Bachman flying commercial, squeezed between two overweight, sweaty men.”

“I was going to fly first class, at least.”

“I know, but even that probably wouldn’t be up to your standards. There’s a lot of people at the airport. And you’d have to go through security. They would go through your bags. Make you take off your shoes, walk you through a full body metal detector, maybe even have to pat you down⁠—”

Anxiety rises in my chest, tightening my throat. “Stop—you’re right. This is much better.”

I give John a glance. He’s a sweet man. Kind to do this for me. I say, “Thanks, John.”

“You’re welcome, Tess. And just so you know, next time you’re trying to go AWOL, maybe don’t buy plane tickets on your credit card. The Brotherhood has those things flagged.”

“What else do you guys flag?” I should have known.

“I can’t tell you our secrets. Besides, after this trip, I don’t think you’ll be on your own too much time.”

His words light a fire of hope in my heart. Has Rockland mentioned something to John? Maybe that he misses me? I can’t ask so instead I manage the words, “Does he know I’m coming?”

“No. I left that part a surprise. I assumed by the travel arrangements you made, you wanted to surprise him, and so though I couldn’t let you fulfill all your wishes to go on this mission by yourself, I wanted you to at least have that. To do it your way and show up unannounced.” He shoots me a smile.

I smile back and say, “Thanks. I sure hoped I packed all the right things.” We arrive at our tiny airport and the jet comes into view. Nerves dance in my stomach, threatening to make me ill.

“I’m sure the Parish will have everything you need.” John pulls the car into a parking spot. We get out. I hear the rumble of engines. Watch as he pulls my enormous suitcase out of the trunk. An attendant hurries over to take it from him. John grabs his own bag—a small duffle—and closes the trunk.

I look curiously at his carryon. “Is that all you’re bringing? Don’t we need… supplies?”

He looks at me curiously, “What exactly has Rockland told you about the Parish?”

“Not much. I guess he wasn’t supposed to. I’ve just assumed that since it’s so remote and they live such a simple life, we’d need the kind of stuff I’ve packed.”

He side-eyes my outfit. “Ah, now the safari Barbie getup is making sense.”

I look down at my clothes, cursing my khaki. I say, “Well, what’s it like there?”

An amused look dances on his face. “I’ll let it be a surprise. Just like you.”

I don’t have time to overthink the Parish, or John’s words. I’m standing at the bottom of the stairs of the plane, and they want me to board. The attendant who’s stored our bags holds his hand out to me, smiling warmly. “Miss Bachman.”

I give him my hand, climb aboard the jet. It’s a luxury aircraft, all soft tan leather, plush carpeting, crystal glasses of champagne awaiting us. I slip into my seat and sigh with relief. This is so much better than the debacle John had described of flying commercial.

In my old life I was too poor to travel anywhere, let alone buy an airplane ticket. Then I became a Bachman and was suddenly too rich to fly the usual way. It’s amazing how fast you get used to luxury. How quickly you become accustomed to comfort. Forgetting how desperate you once were, wondering when your mom was going to pay the light bill.

I just hope there’s enough of the old, broke, scrappy Tess to make it through this little wilderness retreat. I take a sip of champagne, the bubbles tickling my tongue. John says, “Relax and try to get some sleep. It’s about a nine-hour flight. Then we’ll have a boat ride over to the Parish.” He reaches into his breast pocket, producing a little white pill. “Here. A gift from Mary. She knows how keyed up you get and said you’d need this. She took this last time she and I visited the Parish and she said she slept like a baby the whole way and woke up rested.”

I take the pill from him and swallow it down with the last of my drink. “Mary’s been to the Parish? When? Why? Have any other Beauties been?”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. Just rest.”

The unanswered questions threaten to raise the anxiety I already feel about flying. Stirring my mind, making me restless and unable to sleep. But as soon as we leave the tarmac, that magic pill begins to calm me. A smile stretches across my face and I drift off to sleep.