Page 61 of Mistaken

And as much as she hated to admit such a thing to herself, she couldn’t help experiencing just the slightest twinge of pity for him right then. He’d never had anything close to a normal life. Unlike the regular djinn, he didn’t have a family. He’d never known anything except hiding away from everyone and everything. Although he hadn’t gone into a lot of detail — and although it was still a little hard for Sarah to grasp that the djinn thought of God as a real person Who had had real effects on their lives — it sounded clear enough to her that Abdul had come along after the elders but before the djinn or humanity, and God had suffered him to live rather than cast him aside and start over.

It was kind of a lot to deal with, even for an immortal being with near-godlike powers.

No wonder he hadn’t seen anything wrong with wiping humankind off the map.

That wasn’t entirely correct, though, was it? When Abdul told her what he had done, he had tried to explain why it had been necessary. She didn’t agree with him, not one single bit, but if he’d truly thought he had nothing to apologize for, then she doubted he would have wasted any time on explanations.

“I am not asking you to forget,” he said. Although she knew it would have been easier for him to look away, he didn’t. No, he kept his gaze fixed on her as he went on, “I am not asking you to understand. I only realized I did not want to keep hiding such a terrible truth from you.”

What in the world was she supposed to say to that? She’d never had anyone speak to her in such a raw tone, his half-ruined face pleading with her to understand.

In that moment, she realized how much of her life had been spent in shallow interactions — talking about school, talking about work, dancing on top of the surface with absolutely no mention of all the things moving around in the undercurrent. Life might have been more raw and more challenging since the world changed nearly five years ago, but she still didn’t think she’d ever had a true heart-to-heart conversation with anyone in Los Alamos.

Not even with Carson, who was supposed to be her boyfriend.

No, especially not Carson.

And when her father was dying, he’d said he was sorry about leaving her alone, but he’d never talked about his fear and his pain, wanting only to wear a brave face to the end.

For all Sarah knew, he’d been glad the end was coming swiftly, since that meant he might finally be reunited with the wife he’d lost so many years before.

This…this right here…this was the most naked interaction she’d ever shared with another living being.

“But I want to understand,” she whispered, knowing somehow that she couldn’t allow this moment to slip by, that she had to find the strength to meet Abdul’s honesty with her own. “Because I don’t. At least…I don’t understand how you could do such a terrible thing but still play the piano for me. Encourage me. Take me riding, talk to me about birds and wildflowers and cooking. How you could be…kind.”

His hand, which had been resting on the tabletop, moved toward her and paused. Without realizing what she was doing, Sarah lifted her own hand from where it rested in her lap and placed it next to his.

In the next moment, his fingers had wrapped around hers, strong, warm, but without applying too much pressure, as if to let her know she could withdraw her touch whenever she wished.

“I had never spoken with a human before,” he said, and his voice was also not much more than a whisper, low…pleading. “I had no experience of humans, save the knowledge of what they were doing to this world. When I heard you sing, that day when you came to Ghost Ranch, it was as though I realized for the first time that humanity could be capable of great beauty, even as I also realized that once we had encountered one another, I could not allow you to return to your kind. Later on….” The words trailed off as he wrestled with what he needed to say next, those amber-brown eyes fixed on hers. “Later on, I knew I enjoyed having you here. You brought light into my world that I did not even know I was missing. As the days wore on, I began to realize how terrible my crimes truly were. But even I, with all these supposed gifts I have been granted, cannot undo what has been done. I cannot change the past. The only thing I could possibly do to atone for the great mistake I had made was to be kind to you.”

Now at last his fingers tightened, and she could see the way his throat moved as he swallowed.

Sarah knew there was no way her own mind could ever encompass the weight of guilt he must be carrying. It would be easy enough to pull her hand from his and tell him no amount of kindness would ever compensate for the pain and grief he had inflicted on those who had survived the loss of their loved ones…or on all the people who had died, even if their suffering had turned out to be brief, with most unaware of what was even happening to them.

Yes, she supposed it would be easy to meet his obvious pain with cruelty.

But what would be the point in continuing that cycle?

Leaving him to bear his burden alone wouldn’t bring those people back, or return the world to what it once had been.

“I won’t say it’s okay,” she said after a long pause, during which she’d done her best to decide on the most fitting way to respond to his words. Abdul’s eyes half-closed, and she could almost feel the way his body tensed, bracing itself for the words he thought must come next. “Because it’s not. But I can’t deny that you’ve been kind to me. At first, I was chafing to get out of here. As time passed, though, I realized I enjoyed being with you at Ghost Ranch much more than I’d ever enjoyed living in Los Alamos, even though I know I should be grateful to everyone there for the way they’ve kept us survivors safe.”

She stopped there, and she forced herself to meet his gaze. Maybe all this was crazy, but at the same time, the crazy thing would be to ignore the truth that had been staring her in the face for the past couple of days, even if she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.

A sort of wild hope flickered in his eyes. The Sarah she’d been before she came here might not have recognized it for what it was, but the pressure of his fingers on hers told her the truth.

“I enjoyed being here because of you, Abdul, because of the time we spent together. It’s because — ”

She had to break off there so she could take a breath. Without it, she might not have had the courage to keep going.

“It’s because I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Chapter18

If it were notthat he did not sleep and therefore did not dream, Abdul would have said he surely must be dreaming now.

Had Sarah Wolfe truly just confessed that she had fallen in love with him, even after knowing the worst of his crimes?