Nameless

by Marni MacRae

  “I will follow you anywhere, Eve. You’re not alone.”

  I pull from him his heat. I try to fill him with every bit of good I had felt only moments ago, try to imbue love into my grasp, but I know it must only feel like desperation or fear and so I let go. I step away and nod to Lee.

  “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  We drive forever. For every mile we gain I realize it was a mile I ran. I count the posts as we pass, wondering how many in total it took for me to forget. Thirty-eight. At thirty-eight miles, we turn off the highway, Nick and I following Lee, Doctor Eston following us.

  He had been there, in the drive parked behind Lee’s police car. Of course Lee called him. After the barbeque, it’s no wonder. I know that the doctor is there for support. To sedate me or to help if I melt down again. But I resent a little bit that I had no control. I have no control, and whatever happens, I am being watched like a child at the edge of a cliff.

  We haven’t spoken, Nick and I. As we wind through the edge of the day with the sun setting in the trees, down roads into hills that only provide rarely used dirt tracks for travel, I wonder what he is thinking. But I don’t try to guess. My mind is too full of my own thoughts to distract with much else.

  Eight miles more. I guess. Ticking away moments and trees as markers. After what seems like a drawn out eternity, finally, Lee slows ahead. His taillights flash as he brakes, then his car turns off the dirt track into what once was a driveway. The weeds and grass have overtaken it now. Even in early spring it is hard to find, more than a decade of non-use has allowed small trees to grow, tangled with years of old weeds and vines.

  The car ahead of us rolls slowly, plowing through the living barrier, and Nick’s truck follows, crushing the growth beneath our tires. The trees on either side of the track are thick. They haven’t seen an axe in generations. The shadows consume the rolling forest floor, and I can’t see deeper than ten to twenty feet with the sun too low to pierce the gloom.

  Suddenly the foliage opens up and the trees end. We drive slowly into a clearing, as the unused driveway crests a slight rise. Lee’s car stops, and red light briefly illuminates Nick’s face in the dim cab. He stops the truck and turns off the engine. We don’t move. Or speak. Lee approaches my door, and suddenly Nick turns to me, gesturing through the window to his brother to wait.

  “Eve. Before you go. Before we go out there. I have to tell you…I need you to know…”

  His eyes are full of pain, and I feel my chest tighten. I hate that he is here because of me, but I can’t imagine a minute without him. I can’t get out of this truck if he is not beside me. He takes a breath and reaches up to brush a lock of hair from my face.

  “I love you.” His voice is low and gruff. I hear his heart in the words, and I melt. Releasing my seat belt, I scramble across the seat, climbing into his lap and wrapping me around him. My hands tangle in the curls at his neck, and I press my face against his shoulder, inhaling his scent, drawing strength from the warm sun that radiates from him.

  “I love you.” My mouth is at his ear, so he will hear me. My throat is so tight I only manage a whisper, but his arms constrict around me and we say nothing more. Three words cover it all.

  Long minutes later we relax and release our grips. I slide from his lap, and Nick takes my hand, opening the truck door, and stepping out.

  “It’s all right.” He turns to me, sitting now in front of the steering wheel. “You’re stronger than you know, Eve.”

  He lifts me down to the ground, and I turn to face Lee.

  “It’s this way.” He jerks his head toward the clearing that lies below the crest we sit upon. Slowly, Lee walks around his car and I follow.

  We are standing on a rise overlooking a home. Old and ramshackle, it looks as though it will fall over with a good push. There is a barn and some animal stalls, a pasture where trees have been cleared out and a large garden. My eyes rest there, taking in the fence surrounding the expansive plot. It looks sturdy. Not the imposing brick wall of Elizabeth’s garden, but it will keep the deer out.

  I hear a voice say it. “Are you sure, papa?” My voice. Young and happy.

  “Yes, little chicken. No more deer to eat your peas.”

  Little chicken. It’s what Richard had said. I remember his grasp as I fell, his voice in my ear. “You're Arthur’s little chicken.”

  And very simply as I stand on the small hill, I remember. Everything.

  It is not a flood of memories. It is not a glimpse or a surprise. It just is. Without fanfare or even a twinge, my mind simply clicks into place and I am me again. The last two weeks a chapter to add to the whole.

  “Eve.”

  Nick’s hand runs over my shoulder, and I look up at his beautiful face. The sun sets now through the trees, washing us in orange and gold. It feels bittersweet. Something so heavenly shining gently on a place where such pain was dealt.

  “My name isn’t Eve.”

  Lee has been watching me, Doctor Eston, too, all three men’s eyes full of concern, but only Nick speaks. His voice quiet in the evening air.

  “What is your name?”

  I look down on the house, the dread of returning a physical weight in my heart.

  “She called me Alice.”

  Turning to Lee, I ask the one thing I need to know. “Is she dead?”

  He hesitates, glancing at Nick and then the doctor, but then Lee faces me, squaring his shoulders. “Yes. She was found this morning.”

  “Good.” I nod in relief and begin walking slowly down the hill.

  Chapter 29

  I watch as she walks down the hill toward the shack. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know what to refer to her as. “She called me Alice.” It was a statement filled with resentment and distaste. I feel the doctor’s hand on my arm and turn to him.

  “Let her work through it, son. Let her tell you what she needs.” He releases me and follows Eve/Alice toward the home.

  “What did she mean ‘is she dead?’” Lee has started after the doc and I keep pace with him.

  “The sheriff’s office got a call this morning from a neighbor. They came out here to check out a lead and discovered a body. The local coroner identified it as an older woman. The officers found some pictures that matched the one we gave them, so they called me. I came out this afternoon.”

  We were approaching the front door and slowed as we realized Eve/Alice was standing in front of it, not attempting to enter. Lee joined her and cleared his throat.

  “The body was removed. You can go in if you want.” He laid an encouraging hand on her arm and then stepped back.

  She turned to me. “I only want one thing from here. Will you help me?”

  I practically flew to her side. Lee stepping out of the way as I strode to her. Her eyes are Eve’s. Her voice, her mannerisms. Watching her change, up on the rise, seeing her eyes clear and full of memories, and hearing her say ‘My name isn’t Eve’ had crushed me, but this is the woman I love. By any name I will love her, no matter her past or her pain. I am relieved to see that she is there, the same person, just with more history now.

  “Of course. Tell me what you need.”

  “It’s this way.” She reaches forward and unlatches the door, pushing it inwards.

  She doesn’t dawdle or look around, and I have a hard time keeping up as I can’t keep my eyes from exploring. This is the place she came from.

  The door opens into the main room. Small and without flourish. There are two wingback chairs next to a wood stove and a small upright piano in the corner that has seen better days. Beyond the front room is a kitchen. A basic square space with home-made shelves, no cupboards, and a basin sink.

  A wood cook stove sits near a window that is almost completely blackened with soot. The floors are old planks from the turn of the century, worn and scarred from years of boots and washings. But Eve walks across them, toward a door at a back hall. she stops and turns a lock on the outside. A deadbolt, old and ruste
d. Then a thick chain lock above that, and finally, she lifts a hasp near the top of the door releasing the final barrier.

  I hear Doc and Lee enter the front room behind me but don’t turn to look. Why the locks? Why so many? What the hell is kept in there?

  Eve pushes the door open, stepping into the room, and I follow.

  My heart breaks then, a million pieces scattering in my chest.

  She was kept in here.

  Against one wall is a small twin bed with a threadbare pink quilt. The window in the far wall has been boarded over from the outside, little slivers of light slipping through the cracks from the dusk falling outside. The room is small, very small, and feels like a cell. There is a dresser beside the bed and nothing else in the room.

  But the walls capture my attention and keep it. Drawings cover them. Some on paper, some on the walls themselves. Pictures of an older man in different scenes, one leaning against a fence rail, one sitting in a chair by a fire smoking a pipe, others just portraits. There are landscapes and sketches of animals, mostly farm animals that I can see, but some of birds or deer. And then there are the pictures of Eve. Dozens of them, some rough-sketched with a young hand when she was a girl, and then the detail increasing, improving over the years as she drew herself. All with long hair. Most with a sad expression, like she was lost or empty. Only the younger ones depicted her smiling.

  “It’s here.” Eve is standing near the bed, pointing under it. She scoots the small frame to the side, and I hurry to help.

  “Father left when I was twelve”—her voice is almost secretive, as if someone might overhear— “but before he did, he made this for me.”

  She reaches down and pokes her finger into a board with a knothole.

  “He said I could keep my secrets here, and she wouldn’t find them. For thirteen years, I did. And she didn’t.”

  She pulls up on the board to reveal a hidden compartment below. It is large, almost large enough to fit a small child.

  “And he gave me these.” Eve reaches into the space and pulls out a heavy book. An encyclopedia. Old and well worn, she runs her small fingers over the hard cover lovingly. “They saved me,” she says. “They fed me when she starved me. They kept me sane and kept me here.” The last bit was an admission. As if she felt guilty for loving a book. “I didn’t want to leave them when I ran, but…”

  She trails off and looks around the room at the pictures, and I see that her face is wet. Her voice has been steady and her shoulders straight, but she is hurting and I want to leave. Take her from this prison cell, ask a million questions when she is ready, but this is torture, for her and me.

  I look into the space and begin pulling out books, one after another. The collection of encyclopedias is heavy, but I will fill my truck if that’s what it takes to get her to leave this place.

  * * *

  “Do you want anything else?” I ask over my shoulder as I hand a large stack to Lee. He and Doc have been toting the books up the hill. I didn’t want to leave Eve alone so I had stacked them all on the porch. I dropped one with the first load, it’s old binding weak and cracked, the pages beginning to yellow. Out of curiosity I had picked it up and checked for the copyright date. 1962. The books were over fifty years old. The information long outdated, making them practically useless for what they were originally intended. But they mean something to Eve so I handle the tomes gently, careful not to drop any more of them.

  I return to the room to find she is not there and turn to look down the hall as a floorboard squeaks. A small door stands open in the hall to reveal a bathroom. Eve is standing there, a picture of the old man in one hand and long strands of hair in the other. She is looking in the mirror at herself and then down at the dark hair that drapes from her hand. I don’t interrupt or say anything. I just wait, watching as her eyes adjust to who she sees. Reconciling a past image with the present.

  “I will come back one day,” she whispers, dropping the clump of hair to the floor. She turns to me, and there is a steely look in her eye. “I will return and burn it all down.”

  It is a statement that mirrors how I feel. This place crawls on me. The energy, the history that I can only presume, makes me want to scrub myself clean.

  ‘I’ll bring the match.”

  Eve smiles then, a grim upturning of her lips, but I can see that she is stronger now. I’m not afraid that she may scream or melt down. Her mind has sorted through what it needed to. In her time as my Eve, her subconscious dealt with the blow it was dealt and went to work behind the scenes, strengthening its owner’s mettle.

  “Let’s go, Nick.”

  “Absolutely.”

  As we step out the front door, Eve takes my hand and I feel a bit of hope. She has a story to tell. I know she will share with me what led to her flight, but there is no husband, no longer a captor, and no reason for her to ever come back here. We can go forward together. And she loves me. That thought has me squeezing her hand and lengthening my stride to leave this hollow hell behind.

  * * *

  Elizabeth’s main room is full. Word had spread like wildfire, and those close to Eve rushed to the estate to wait for her. I know they are not here to gossip or hear a story. To a person, as I look around, I know these people care. They are here to support her, to rally for her, and I am touched and proud to see so many faces there. In just over a week, this young woman has brought people together. She has touched them enough to make a difference, and I know they would fight for her if it came to it. She has a way of getting into a person’s heart.

  The ride back to Brighton Valley had been as quiet as when we left it. The dark road ahead illuminated by my headlights became almost hypnotic, the yellow lines flashing by one after another. When I turned to look at Eve, I found her head back, eyes closed. I sensed she wasn’t sleeping, but I let her be. She had some sorting to do. Time enough to talk later.

  As Eve enters the room, everyone falls silent, no clamoring or questions, but also no embraces or condolences. No one really knows what to do or say. Even Elizabeth is quiet, watching Eve with sad, but hopeful eyes. I can relate to that.

  Eve stands at the entrance to the large room and looks from one face to the next. Anabel and Laurel, Tuck, Elizabeth, and someone had called Dr. Leesing. Doc joins Elizabeth on a settee, and Lee wanders over to Anabel. Still, no one speaks or approaches. And then Ezra enters from the kitchen.

  “Miss Eve.” He glances at the faces in the room and at once dismisses them. “How are you? Would you like some tea? I can ask everyone to go home or escort you to the carriage house.”

  He gives a pointed look around the room.

  “It has been a long day for you.”

  Reaching out he lays a hand on her hair, his fingers brushing down to her shoulders, his eyes full of concern and compassion. And Eve breaks. She rushes into his arms, and Ezra clasps her to him. The older man lets her cry against his vest making soothing sounds as he runs his hand down her hair again.

  “Ah, there now, little miss.”

  He hums a bit, low in his throat, and I watch as Eve’s small shoulders rise and fall with her breaths as she calms and the sobs quiet.

  Looking at the old man’s face, so filled with a gentleness and caring for Eve, his aged hands holding her as if he would catch her if she fell, I find that I love him. I have misjudged the old butler, and it took this wonderful woman to show me his true nature. I will be indebted to him forever for this one moment he has given to Eve when she needed it most.

  Slowly, she pulls away, wiping at her face but keeping one hand on Ezra’s arm. She looks up into his eyes and sniffs.

  “You are like him, you know.”

  I see another tear track down her cheek, and it is all I can do to not reach out and dry it.

  “Like my father, Arthur. You are very much like him.” She steps back and gives him a weak smile. “I suppose that is why I gravitated toward you. Why I enjoy you so much. You are both good men.”

  “Miss.” I can see Ezr
a’s throat working as he tries to speak.

  “I believe Ezra may be right.” Elizabeth’s voice sounds regretful, but her face is strained as she looks at Eve. “Perhaps we should give Eve her space— “

  “No,” Eve cuts in. She takes a breath and squeezes Ezra’s arm before letting go. “Perhaps I will have a cup of tea. There is much to be said, and I doubt once I say it I will ever want to say it again. So, please stay, all of you.”

  She glances around the room and then walks to a large cushioned chair by the empty fireplace. “I will tell you my story if you want to hear it.”

  Murmurs of agreement and bobbing heads filled the room, but still no one speaks or asks a question. It feels almost surreal. Not like a funeral where people openly mourn, recalling memories of the one passed. Or an injury in a hospital where everyone discusses options, or the accident or sickness. This is something unknown, foreign, and quite confusing. Where do you begin?

  I pull a chair from a window table and place it near Eve, settling myself beside her just as Ezra returns with a cup of tea. Eve thanks him, wrapping her fingers around the cup and takes in a deep sigh.

  Ezra still stands near her, and I rise to give him my seat. He looks surprised but doesn’t hesitate to sit near his girl. I simply drag over another chair and place it on the other side of her. Now the stage is set, the audience rapt, and Eve sips her tea.

  * * *

  “I was raised there. Where you took me today.” Eve looks at Lee and then down at the steam slowly drifting from her mug.

  “I don’t know when we arrived, but I must have been young. I have no memories of another place. When I was young, I can remember joy. Arthur taught me to plant and to garden. We grew our own food and raised animals. I would collect the eggs from the chickens, and he taught me to milk the cow and the goat. The animals were my friends.”

  She smiles gently, her eyes soft, remembering a youth long past.