Sold Into Freedom - 15. Chapter 15

Samantha Coleson returned to Windy Island with Andrew the day after she’d gone to her superiors to determine the best next steps. Her boss, Sy Fortescue, had joined her for their discussion with the writer. Together, they related in no uncertain terms how fortunate and how stupid he'd been.

⸛

Fortescue had sat back in his chair, pursed his lips, and tented his fingers. "And you never thought it may be prudent to bring us in when you decided to purchase this young man?" The supervisor dropped his pose and leaned forward. His tone intensified when he spoke again. "Or better yet, from the beginning of it all?"

Andrew groaned inwardly. "I suppose that’s the point. Getting him out was my only concern. His safety—"

"—was at risk because of your actions. I don’t suppose I need to say that these men could have done a lot more to you and your family. You led them to your home, for God’s sake, MacCabe! They could have come armed. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

"Yes." Andrew slumped. "Look, Mr. Fortescue, I know. We’ve been over it several times. I get the message. I was an ass, okay? Should I apologize again?" Andrew ran his hands over his face. "It would have been the smart thing to call Sam, um, Ms. Coleson right away. But that ship has sailed. Matthew needs help and papers from the States. Can you help him with that?"

"He needs support, you realize that?" Fortescue stared pointedly at the author.

"I know. Once I know what his plans are, stay here or go back to the USA, I can do more."

"Fine." Fortescue rose and tapped on Samantha Coleson’s desk with his forefinger. "Yes, we’ll help with the papers. Samantha will make it happen. Do as she tells you, please, Mr. MacCabe. No more rogue heroics." The section leader walked to the door, where he paused before leaving. "Sam, I will need that report today."

"Yes, Sy. I’ll prepare it right away. I’ll take care of it."

"Excellent." The door closed with a small bang as Fortescue pulled shut behind him.

Andrew turned his gaze to Samantha. "I’m sorry."

She smiled. "I know. He’s right, but I understand. I’m going to write this up and prepare for tomorrow. I’ve arranged transport over to Stornoway first thing in the morning. Please do not tell anyone about this, Andrew. If this gets messed up, he won’t let it go. Is that clear?"

"As glass, Sam. I will be at my parent’s tonight."

"Great. I’ll pick you up there at nine." Coleson got to her feet. "And even though they know all the rest, do not tell them about anything we discussed today." She glared at him as he nodded. In a higher-pitched voice, she asked, "So, why are you spending the night with us tonight, dear?"

Andrew stared at the agent momentarily, considering his next words as realization hit. "You know. I think it’s for the best that I don't stay with my parents. I’ll get a room at a hotel. Just a moment, and I’ll book it from here and let you know." Andrew pulled his phone from his pocket. "I’ll spend the night with my notebook, telly, and sleeping. I may order room service."

Samantha chuckled. "Much better idea."

Andrew quickly booked a local hotel and supplied the agent with the details. "I’ll be ready and downstairs by eight-fifty-five tomorrow morning. I’ll grab an Uber to the hotel now. I will not leave my room until the morning."

"Excellent. It’s better this way." They walked together to the main doors. Samantha stopped when they got there and pointed to Andrew's hand. "What’s your Uber’s license?"

Andrew held out his phone, and the agent glanced down. "Okay. I'll see you into it."

"There’s no need. I mean, you can see the address I’m going to."

"Yep, I can, but the boss will ask if I put you in there, and I prefer not to lie to him." Sam grinned. "There she is."

Andrew pushed the glass door open, and they walked outside. When the Uber stopped, he waved at the driver and pulled open the rear door. "See you tomorrow, Ms. Coleson." He slid onto the back seat.

Sam held the door and bent down slightly. "I will see you tomorrow at nine, Mr. MacCabe. Have a good night."

Once the door shut, Andrew smiled and greeted the driver: "Hi. The Moxy on Princes Street, please."

"Afternoon, sir. Right away."

During the ride, Andy called his parents to explain his change of plan. After swiping to end the call, he thought, "Mum isn't very happy with me. It can't be helped."

Andrew sat back and closed his eyes for the short ride to the hotel. He wondered how Matthew was doing.

Meanwhile, Doreen hung up the phone in the hall and entered the front room.

Robert looked up from his chair and the crossword puzzle. He was always calm and collected, contrasting with Doreen's fiery nature. "Who was that, my love?" he asked.

"Your son," Doreen replied as she settled on the sofa.

Robert lowered the folded newspaper onto his lap. "What did he want?"

"To say he won't be staying over with us. He's taken a hotel room. Then tomorrow he and some government person will go over to deal with the lad."

Robert got to his feet and sat next to his wife. "You're upset."

"Yes, all of this upsets me. It has since you told me about it." Andrew's mother trembled as she crossed her arms. "I'm especially upset that he came over here on some foolish errand, knowing the weather was changeable, and left poor Maeve to handle that boy on her own!"

Robert nodded. "He's probably avoiding us for now. It was disappointing. I told him so."

"Disappointing! These people are monsters. They could have killed someone." Doreen frowned and continued, "And you…you encouraged him."

Robert stiffened. "That's unfair. It was done when I became involved. I just tried to mitigate the situation. I didn't give him a stamp of approval."

Doreen sighed. "I know, love. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so angry."

"It's understandable. Andy's a smart person but he has made some poor choices. I hope he's learned something this time." Robert kissed his wife. "Let's get out of here. Come on. Let's drive over and see Esme and Derrick. We can stop and buy some baby things on the way. What do you think?"

"That's a good idea. Let me freshen up. Will you call them and let them know we're coming? We can order in or go out for dinner." Doreen's voice softened as she agreed with Robert's plan. She rose and left the room.

"All right, M'eudail. I'll give them a call now." Robert picked up the phone and dialed. "Andy's lucky he stayed away. I'd have some things to say to that boy."

⸛

In his bedroom, Matthew picked up the journal from amongst a pile of things that Andrew and his father had purchased. They bought them so I’d have something to do. He flipped open the book he held and read the note left by its creator.

"Want to draw? Get a sharp pencil and start. Don't erase; begin again. Drawing is mastered by persistence and practice. Draw what you see, and never quit trying.

This is your private place to learn your new skill and record your thoughts and feelings. We all need that."

Matthew read it over several times. I can’t draw. He smiled and blinked at the note. My private place. He nodded. Okay. I’ll grab a couple of pencils and take a walk. See what mess I can make in this.

As he entered the kitchen, Maeve smiled at him. "Are you all right, Matthew?"

He returned the warmth with a smile of his own. "Yes. I thought I’d just take a short walk. If it’s okay?"

"Aye, it’s lovely out, of course it’s okay. The wind isn’t howling at the moment either, for a change."

Matthew laid the journal and pencils on the table in the mud room and pulled on his jacket. "Guess that’s how this place got its name." His smile broadened.

"Aye, you’d be right about that." Maeve noticed the book and pencils but didn’t remark on them. "Enjoy your wander around. I’ll make us a pot of tea and a bite to eat once you’re back."

"Okay. Thanks." He pulled open the door. "See you in a bit."

"Yes. See you later on." Maeve resisted the urge to caution Matthew. He doesn’t need me to tell him to watch his step. He doesn’t want to be treated like a child.

Closing the door, Matthew headed down to the dock. Drawing something like a boat or a dock will be easier. Maybe. He snickered and shook his head. You’re an idiot, Matty.

The budding artist sat on one of the steps leading down to the dock proper. A small row boat lay overturned, lashed down with thick rope.

That looks like an excellent place to start. It can't escape, at least. Smiling, Matt pulled a pencil from his pocket, opened the book to the first blank page, and divided it into halves.

I’ll start with the boat for now. If I can draw a boat, I can do the rest later.

Matthew sat for an hour, experimenting in his journal. He was pleased with his efforts as he felt he was improving with each new attempt.

I guess I’d better get back for lunch. Maeve will wonder what’s happened to me. I could use a watch or something. Matt closed his book and got to his feet. He winced a little as his leg muscles complained. I was sitting too long. He stretched and turned around, going back up the wooden stairs and along the worn track to the house.

He paused at the door. Should I knock? No. No, Maeve would say not to be silly. He tucked the notebook under his arm and turned the handle.

"Only me, Maeve." Matt took off his jacket and hung it up.

"Perfect timing. Lunch is leftover soup, a sandwich, and cake." Maeve called from the kitchen.

Cake! Matthew grinned as he entered the kitchen. "Sounds great to me." He walked into the kitchen and placed his notebook on the table. "Can I help?"

"No, sit yourself down. Grab a sandwich." Maeve placed a steaming bowl of vegetable soup at each of their places. "Get that down you." The housekeeper then sat down. She took a sandwich from the plate. "Andrew rang while you were out."

"Did he? Is everything okay?" Matthew bit into the cheese and pickle sandwich. After swallowing, he said, "Wow, what is on that?"

"Y’ve never had cheese and Branston pickle?"

"No. That’s amazing. I like it." The young man grinned.

"It’s a poor upbringing you’ve had." Maeve smiled and shook her head. "Lacking."

Matthew laughed. "Aye." He laughed even harder.

Chuckling, the kind woman said, "Eat your lunch."

"Yes, ma’am."

The pair finished eating in companionable silence. Maeve then poured tea and served them a slice of chocolate cake.

Matthew flipped the slice onto its side and ate the cake first. "You said Andrew called. Is everything okay?"

"Aye. He’ll be back later and is bringing some government woman with him. She wants to meet and talk to you." Maeve glanced up and saw the stricken look on Matt’s face. "Don’t worry. She’s coming to help, not hurt you. He’s told them exactly what’s happened and how you came to be here. We all want you to be all right, lad."

"Yeah, I know. When are they gonna get here?"

"They should be landing at Stornoway soon. So, in the next hour and a half, I’d say."

"Okay." Matthew finished the creamy, thick layer of icing.

Maeve watched and smiled. "I don’t know how you can eat it like that. I like both the cake and the icing."

"I'm still a kid at heart, I guess." Matthew grinned and collected the dishes, which he carried to the sink. "I'll do these, Maeve."

"No, you won’t, but thank you. You’ll put me out of a job!"

Matt leaned on the counter and watched the sudsy water rise in the sink. "Andrew would never do that."

"No. But you should go shower and change so you can meet this woman when they get here."

"There’s enough time. I—"

"Nay! Go on and do as you’re told, lad." Maeve got up and shooed him out. "Get gone."

"Okay." Matthew’s face softened. "Thanks. Lunch was really good."

"I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now, go on and clean up. I’ll get this place spic and span and set up for tea."

Matthew grinned at her again, turned, and went to his room.

He’s a sweet lad. For all he’s been through, a piece of cake can make him feel like a kid again. Tsk. Don’t you get attached now. The housekeeper smiled to herself. It's too late for that. Maeve ran the water into the sink. She added the dishes and soap. Leaving the dishes to soak, she wet and wrung out the dishcloth. She then took it to wipe off the table. As she cleaned, she saw the notebook. Ah, he’s left it down here. She stared at it. You shouldn’t, Maeve.

I'll take a quick peek. The housekeeper dropped the cloth into the sink and carefully dried her hands. She stopped for a moment and listened. Water's running; he'll be in the shower. She sat down, pulled the notebook to her, and opened it.

⸛

Matthew sat on his bed after his shower. He considered what Maeve had told him. A government agent? I hope there’s not going to be any trouble. The young man got to his feet. He opened and resecured the thick white cotton towel around his waist. He paced. I want to go. Just get away from all of this shit. But where?

He stopped and stared out the window at the few wind-blown trees. After several moments, he took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He whispered aloud, "You know where." Yes, I know. But how? I have nothing, no money, no nothing.

He gazed at the few books and the clothes in the open closet. Lifting his arm, he pointed and said, "Only this stuff. Only this that was chosen for me by the man who fucking bought me."

Shit. Blinking didn’t stop the tears. I’m sorry. What am I saying? He did it because he wanted to help.

Matthew sat down and dropped his head in his hands. I don't want to go back home. Mom will be pissed off more than worried. I'll phone her. I don't want to go there. Not now.

He’d just pulled on a soft grey sweatshirt when there was a knock on his door. Maeve’s voice came through it.

"Matthew, my love, Andrew and the government woman are here. They’d like to talk to you, please." There was a short pause, and the voice became softer as it said, "She seems nice. She said she's only here to help you. I believe her, Matt. Come on down, they are waiting in his office, all right?"

After breathing again, Matt nodded. "I’ll be down shortly. I’m just getting dressed. Thanks, Maeve."

Matthew paced. The air he tried to breathe felt thick, and his heart pounded. Matt could feel his body reacting to the stress he felt. He tried to control his breathing to focus, but it was a struggle.

⸛ 

Downstairs, Andrew did not sit at his desk, choosing instead to seat everyone in the four U-framed, tufted armchairs upholstered in marine blue linen, which sat in the corner on the left. Andy preferred this seating arrangement for meetings, such as the less formal one that was about to take place.

Samantha had unburdened the leather portfolio she'd brought with her. Several piles of various documents were laid neatly on the glass coffee table. Joining the papers were two identical gold pens.

"There. All they need is his signature."

Andrew shifted in his seat. "What else does he need to do?"

The conversation stopped when a knock came, and the door opened. Matthew walked in and closed the door carefully behind him.

"Sorry. I'm late, I just needed to—"

Andrew was on his feet and led Matt over. "It’s fine. We’ve only just sat down." He patted the nervous young man on the back. "This is Samantha Coleson. She’s going to talk to you a little bit and let you know what will happen next. Okay?"

Does it matter if it’s not okay? Matthew sat down in the chair to the right of the government representative. "Okay. Hello, Ms. Coleson."

"Hi. Do you prefer Matthew or Matt?" Samantha smiled.

"Matt’s fine."

"Great. Okay, then Matt. Let’s get down to business. First, you’re no one’s prisoner, but you have no papers. So, we’re going to help you. I’ve got a few things for you to sign, and then tomorrow, I’m going to take you to the U.S. Embassy in London. I've spoken to the Consulate here in Edinburgh and they feel it will be more efficient to have you go there directly to get the documents and services you need."

"All right." Matthew glanced at Andrew. "Does that mean I have to leave here?"

Andrew replied, "No, I don’t think so, Matt. I mean, the plan was for you to go home. We assumed that's what you'd want, but if you don’t feel ready—"

"I don’t want to go back home. Not yet." Matt got to his feet and walked to the window behind Andrew's desk.

Samantha glared at Andrew and whispered, "What does that mean? He wants to stay here?"

Andrew shrugged. "I’m not sure. I’ll talk to him." The writer got up and joined Matt at the window.

"Hey, whatever you want to do is okay. You need papers so you can prove who you are. That's what this is all about." Andrew stood next to Matthew and gazed out the window. "It fascinates me, too—this place and its weather. I often wonder what holds me here."

"It is beautiful." Matt paused and turned to the writer. "It is, and you’re a good guy. I like Maeve a lot."

"But? That’s what’s coming, right?"

"Yeah." Matt turned away to look out the window. "I can’t stay here."

A swift current of disappointment ran through Andrew. He shook it off. What were you expecting, Andy? That this guy would fall in love with you? That he would be your happily ever after? He looked at Matthew. "That's fine. This, rescue or whatever you want to call it, is just that. Nothing else. You can go home; of course, you should."

"I’m not going home." Matthew’s jaw worked. His heart pounded. "There’s something I need to do. Somewhere I need to be." Someone I need to find. Is he even there?

"Whatever you need. I was only supposed to rescue you, not …."

Matthew's head swiveled, and he locked eyes with the writer. "Not what?"

Andrew’s lips twisted from grimace to grin. "Not important. Listen, you do what you need to do, Matt. That’s what’s important now."

"Yeah. I know what I need to do." There were only rumours—tendrils of truth. Matthew’s shoulders slumped. "Only I don’t know how." I have to try.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"I need to call my mother, I guess. See if she can lend me some money."

"That’s what you need?" Andrew reached out and rested a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. "I can give you money."

Matt’s eyes widened. "No. I can’t take it."

"Listen, it’s money I made from the book. It felt wrong to spend it on myself. You can have some of that. There’s a lot of it there." Andrew blinked, and a wisp of a smile appeared. "Would twenty-five thousand be enough to get you where you want to go? Once you have your I.D., we can open an account and move the money."

Matthew stared out the window and then at Andrew. The idea he could make his hopes a reality shone before him. "You’d do that for me?"

"Yes. It’s how I want to use that money. To do some good, for you and other victims."

Matt's eyes filled, and he turned away to wipe them. He whispered, "Thank you, Andrew."

"It's all good." Andrew's smile was radiant, but inside, he ached. "Right. Well, let's get this show on the road, shall we? You have documents to sign, and we need to get things organized and get down to London."

The two men returned to the waiting agent and sat down. Matthew picked up one of the gold pens. He signed the first of many pages, following Samantha’s slim finger to the first line.

Andrew watched the pen move over the paper. His façade of support and happiness felt like it would crack should anyone speak to him directly at that moment.

Maeve, who had been listening from the hall, bowed her head and silently closed the door.

Back in the kitchen, the housekeeper prepared refreshments. She added sliced, buttered scones to a plate and put it on the tray. Then she poured water over the tea in the pot and covered it with her favourite red and blue cosy.

Then Maeve sat down to wait for the tea to brew properly. Her eyes were drawn to the window. He's a wonderful young man. I'd be happy for him to stay with us—with me. She sighed. But he needs to go. Turkey, his notebook said. It's a long way to travel on your own to a land like that, so different from ours and after you've suffered so much. But he needs to find his own future. I only hope that the one he’s looking for feels the same.

After another sigh, Maeve stood. Moving to the counter, she hefted the laden tray and carried it to Andrew’s office. After her tap was acknowledged, she opened the door, entered it, and closed it behind her.

 

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