Free No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story by James Nathaniel Miller II Page B

shut her eyelids. Warm tears were building underneath them. Oh, God, what’s happening to me? A night so horrible. A night so wonderful . Please don’t let him be the kind of man who will ask to stay the night, but please don’t let him leave.
    They were silent and motionless for a moment. Then Cody's jaw stiffened. “I’ve said too much. I need to get back to the hotel.” He stood and put on his cap. “If you’ll give me your street address, I’ll send you back this shirt.”
    Brandi's heart fell. She had enticed him into lowering his shield — the one that had hidden his secret pain. Had she intruded too far? Oh, God, I pray he won’t resent me for it.
    She wiped her tears with her hands. “I’m so honored that you trusted me, Cody. Please don't feel uncomfortable with me. I didn't mean…Um, will I ever see you again?”
    He glanced downward once more at the bruises, burns, and scrapes on her shins and ankles. Her feet were friction-burned with ugly abrasions, and her soft hands trembled again. Sasha’s last words filled his thoughts — “She shouldn’t be alone right now, you know. Next time, they’ll have guns.”
    He stepped a few paces to the window and looked down at the street with a lumbering sigh. “I’ve never seen evil like what I saw in that country. It can turn you into a monster. I thought I had left all that behind.”
    Brandi shuffled to the kitchen to get a fresh towel. She moistened it with cool water and then walked back to him and blotted the perspiration from his brow and behind his neck.
    Cody shook his head. “I've tried to get rid of the hate, but tonight, seeing those guys degrading you, terrorizing you, it all came back. I've become just like the enemy I despise — filled with rage, anger.”
    Brandi gathered herself. “Before you go, I need to tell you who I am and what I saw tonight.” She tenderly took his shoulders and turned him around, then looked into his eyes. “It’s important.”
    He downed the rest of his water bottle and leaned against the wall next to the window. "Important? How's that?"
    Brandi’s tongue was like a dehydrated sponge. Fools rush in, and she was afraid to say another word but couldn’t stop herself. She struggled down three swallows of water.
    “First, come sit with me over here." She took his hand and led him to an antique chaise lounge chair.
    "Okay, I'm listening,” he said. “What's the big mystery?"

Fast Lane to the Hotel
    They sat down on the chaise lounge.
    "This chair is eighteenth century French baroque. My father’s family four generations back were slaves near New Orleans during the Civil War. One night, five Union soldiers came onto the plantation for the purpose of stealing, killing and raping.”
    “Slaves? Your ancestors?”
    “That's right.” She wasn’t surprised by his puzzled expression. With Brandi’s light complexion and blue eyes, her ethnicity was never apparent.
    “Daddy’s great-great-great-grandfather helped fight off the attackers and saved the plantation owner and his wife. When the war was over, the plantation was in ruin, but the owner gave my father’s ancestors this piece of furniture. It has been in the family ever since.”
    “Impressive." He paused and looked into her blue eyes. "So what's the right question for me to ask?"
    “No questions. Just listen. My ancestors on my mother’s side of the family had escaped to Canada before the war. They eventually settled in Pennsylvania in 1901. So that brings me to what I want to tell you. I’ll probably cry. But you should hear this even if I never see you again.”
    She gathered a deep breath. “When my mother was just sixteen —”
    Suddenly, terror seized Brandi’s face. She jumped out of her skin, electrified by a loud boom outside on the street. The lights in her apartment blinked and then went dark. She latched onto Cody’s injured arm like a hawk clutching prey.
    “Was that an explosion?” A moment later, they heard another loud pop like