CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I DON’T AGREE TO BRING Michael Realm to the Adjustment office, and not just because I have no idea how to get ahold of him. I asked Marie why she needed him, and her simple response was “information.”
She claimed it was for his benefit, but I don’t trust her. Besides, other than showing up unannounced at the Adjustment office, I have no idea how to reach Marie. When I brought that up, she told me that Realm will know where to find her.
Yeah, well, I’m not going to let anyone I know near Marie again, but I can at least warn Realm that she’s looking for him. And whatever this procedure is . . . I’ll decide that later. We might not even get that far.
It’s strange to watch Marie with Nicole, the tenderness between them even though Marie has done unforgivable things to her. I doubt I could ever feel that level of forgiveness. I guess I’ll find out.
Nicole gets Marie a cup of water from the sink in the treatment room and hands it to her. The doctor takes a small sip, noting that Nicole overmedicated her with the serum.
“I figured it would take an extra dose to cut through your bullshit,” Nicole says, and rolls the stool over so she can sit in front of her. I stand in the back of the room, next to Deacon, unsure where to go.
“You okay?” Deacon asks quietly, looking sideways at me.
“Definitely not,” I reply. He nods like he understands and leans against the wall, watching Nicole and Marie. He’s like Realm in that way, observant. Seeing things the rest of us don’t.
I check the time on my phone. Nathan has been gone for an hour. I text him and ask if he’s had any luck finding Melody. I don’t dare tell him about the madness happening here—not over text.
Not yet. Did Marie say anything about her? he asks.
Not really, no. When will you be back?
Do you need me now?
Soonish? I reply. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay here. My hands are visibly shaking, even though I’m oddly calm about not really being Tatum Masterson. I’m not ready to accept it, not without talking to my grandparents.
The time to be quiet is over. I’ll demand they explain everything to me. I have all the pieces now.
See you in fifteen, Nathan writes back. I thank him and put my phone away.
Across the room, Nicole takes Marie’s hand, and the two women smile at each other. Deacon kicks his sneaker on the floor, keeping his eyes lowered. He doesn’t seem to be as forgiving as Nicole.
“Married, huh?” Nicole asks Marie.
Marie laughs. “Young love. I’m sure you understand.”
Nicole nods that she does. “You never mentioned him,” she says.
“It never seemed appropriate. He worked with me and your father for a short time, but found it . . . distasteful. I haven’t seen Luther since the day I left him.”
“But you knew where he’d be,” Nicole says, tilting her head.
“We kept in contact for a while. I wondered if I’d need his help eventually,” Marie says. “Turns out, I do.”
“Will he help you?” Deacon asks. “Or did you ruin his life too?”
“I ruin everybody’s life,” Marie responds.
Nicole watches her but doesn’t argue. She takes her hand from Marie’s. “And my father?” Nicole asks. “Did you love him?”
“With all my heart,” Marie says simply.
Nicole sniffles, and her lip begins to tremble. And there, with Marie—the woman who stole her life—Nicole breaks down and lets Marie hold her. And together, they cry for Dr. Tom McKee.
• • •
“You sure you don’t want a ride?” Deacon asks as we walk out into the lobby of the Adjustment office.
“No, I have a ride coming,” I say. “But thank you.”
Marie is still in the back office as Nicole follows us out. The air is fresh, but storm clouds have rolled in, ready to pour down on us at any second.
Nicole smiles at me, the kind of smile that says Well, we’re in some shit together, huh? I appreciate when she pulls me into a hug.
“I’m a counselor,” Nicole says quietly, giving me a squeeze before letting go. “And I understand what you’re feeling, so if you need me . . .” She holds out a business card, and I take it.
“Thanks,” I say, tucking it into my back pocket. “Where are the two of you headed now?” I ask.
“First to Washington to get our friend Aaron,” she says. “He was a closer. I imagine he’ll want to have a word, or several, with Marie. And then we’ll track down this Luther Williamson—see if he’s still fond of his ex-wife.”
“I wish we were going to find Reed Castle,” Nicole adds quietly, glancing back at Deacon. “All of us together again.” Deacon wilts at the name and says he wishes they were too.
“Castle?” I repeat, looking at both of them. “There’s a counselor at Dr. Warren’s office with that name.”
“No,” Deacon says sadly. “Our friend Reed died years ago, at the start of the epidemic. He was one of the first.”
“Oh,” I say, furrowing my brow. “Not to sound insensitive, but . . . you might want to double-check that. I’m not sure we should trust anything at face value anymore.”
Nicole smiles that she will, but there’s grief there that I don’t think she wants to reaffirm. Deacon comes to put his arm over Nicole’s shoulders, kissing the side of her head.
“Look, we’ve got to go,” Nicole says to me. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
Just as she asks, my Jeep pulls into the strip mall parking lot, bumping the curb. Nathan is a terrible driver. I can hear the radio playing too loudly, and he immediately turns it down when he parks in front of me. He smiles apologetically and climbs out, studying Nicole and Deacon.
Nicole tells me she’ll be in touch, and I watch them leave. When they’re gone, Nathan comes to stand next to me.
“I didn’t find Melody,” he says, disappointed. “Did I miss anything here?” He turns to me, and suddenly—as if my emotions were waiting for him—the devastation and severity of what Marie told me hits.
“I’m not Tatum Masterson,” I choke out, and then Nathan catches me as I nearly collapse in tears.
• • •
Nathan is pale, sitting silently in the front seat.
We’re parked in my driveway, and he stares down at his lap, unable or unwilling to speak. I told him everything Marie has done, both to me and her “closers.” I told him her plan to figure out a cure using me and that The Program wants to stop us. But with every new detail, he asked, “But they’re not really your grandparents?” as if that thought is too sickening for him to accept.
“What are you going to say to them?” Nathan asks, his voice raspy.
I texted my grandparents before we left the office and asked them to meet me at the house. When they asked why, I told them it was too involved to explain in a text.
“I’ll just ask them,” I tell Nathan. “They can’t lie anymore. I already know.” My shock has worn off slightly; crying it out actually helped me get a handle on what I was feeling. It helped me focus.
“Do you want me there?” Nathan asks, finally looking over at me. For a moment, he studies me, as if I’ve somehow changed from an hour ago. But then his bottom lip pouts, hurt on my behalf, and I reach over and put my hand on his cheek.
“I’ll be okay,” I promise him. “At least now I know the truth, right?”
“I guess.” He turns and my hand falls away. “I still think I should come with you,” he says.
“Thank you, but I have to do this on my own. And my grandparents need to come to terms with it. This is their grief. It’s time we’re all honest with each other.”
“Damn, Tatum,” Nathan says. “Foster would be so proud of you.” We both laugh, and before I can ask, Nathan says he already talked to him—avoiding Foster showing up at the Adjustment office in a fit of protective rage.
“You’ll call me right after?” Nathan asks.
“Of course.”
He presses his lips into a smile, and then together we get out of the Jeep. He goes one way across the lawn toward his house, and I go the other way toward mine.