The Helford Trials (Helford #3)

Chapter Eighteen

Caitie's trial was on a Thursday, and I wish she could have been there.

I wish she could have seen how much her memory was treated with silent respect, how everyone there knew what she had done and esteemed it so highly, seeing her bravery and treating her accordingly. I wish she could have been there to see the pity for a girl who had been brainwashed and misled from the very beginning, shaped to be the ultimate pawn in a cruel war. I wish she could have been there to see how no one blamed her for the way she was treated, a victim and a puppet at times, and how they regarded her courage and not her mistakes. She wouldn't have liked it—she wouldn't have wanted these people to believe she was a hero—but I would have wanted her to be here to see the sincerity, to begin to understand that she deserved it. If she was here, I would have showed her this, and I like to think it would have been the first step of her recovery.

But she wasn't here. She was buried six feet down in Cannes, and Valerie and I were the only people there who loved her enough to feel the bone-rattling relief of the pardon.

Caitie would have reacted similar to Meade, I was sure. She would not have liked it, and she would have wished that they had found her guilty just because she wouldn't have been able to process the thought of being innocent. She might have even testified to the truth of her own monstrousness. But she had done so much good, and she deserved this. Even if she wasn't there to see it.

This pardon helped to keep pure the memory of a girl who time and time again did bad things only because they were the only thing she could do. She was forgiven for being the best person she could be under the most horrible of circumstances, and I was thankful for that—even if I walked away from the trial feeling a little empty instead, the only thing that wasn't numb being the spot on my arm where Valerie was gripping, her nails digging into my skin.

And then, it was all over. Caitie Alastair was the last big trial. The nightmare was finally over.

Valerie and I could have gone out to celebrate, but we didn't. Instead, I followed her to the hotel and helped her pack her bag as she told me about her plans for traveling back to her and Caitie's hometown before she looked for a treatment center, filling the silence with her wistful hopes of being able to find herself in the midst of all of this chaos. I stood there and helped fold shirts, nodding and listening as she talked, and not letting myself realize how much I was going to miss her when she was gone.

Her bus was set to leave at seven o'clock that night, and we got there with thirty minutes to spare. We were able to locate her bus to Iowa with no problem, and it wasn't until then that she finally turned to me, chewing on her lip, clutching her ticket with one hand and the strap of her backpack the other.

"Well," she said with a small smile. "I guess this is it."

"I guess so," I replied, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

Her smile was amused but, mostly, it was peaceful. "I'll be okay. I just need some time to myself first, I think. How about you, Jonathon?"

"Me?" I demanded, and laughed. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

The downward curve of her lips told me she didn't think the same. She shifted her weight, rolling her shoulders. "I still feel bad about Meade leaving like he did. I should have known."

"You couldn't have," I pointed out, shaking my head. "He did what he had to do, the same as what you're doing now."

"And what are you doing after this?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows. "I've heard a lot of talk about other people and what they're going through, but not enough about what you're going to do now that it's all over."