by Megan Hart
“I just thought…you must be a great fighter…or a good hider,” she said in a low voice as she walked. “And when you said you found the storehouse with all that stuff in it…I thought you just must be very clever. And brave. I…I just never thought much about it, Tobin. I didn’t think of how long it took you to get here or anything.”
“Because Reb Ephraim and the council told you what you needed to know, right?”
“They always do,” Elanna said, finally standing still. “Don’t they?”
“There’s a world out there you’ve never heard about. It’s huge. There’s more to the world than just New York City, or the Tribe. More beyond even than the Park and the Savages, Elanna. California might have fallen off the edge of the world like you were taught, I don’t know. But if it did, it was an edge much, much farther away than you could imagine. There are other people living in this world, maybe even more than two thousand. There are places you’ve never heard of. Places I’ve never heard of. The stories that Reb Ephraim’s told you all…some of them just aren’t true. Do you believe me?
She crossed over to him and sat. “I believe you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
A brief puff of breeze brought the fresh scent of her to him, and Tobin’s heart double thumped. Suddenly, he didn’
t care any more about her past. Pulling her toward him, he pressed his mouth against hers. All that mattered was the future.
−17-
She couldn’t stop smiling. She’d been kissed what? A thousand times maybe? More than that? But none of those kisses had ever stayed on her lips like Tobin’s had. She wanted to laugh out loud, and she didn’t really know why.
Something had passed between them among the rubble and the weeds. She didn’t quite know what it was, but it had turned her entire world upside down. She didn’t know if her stomach churned from excitement or terror. Maybe both.
“I’m leaving tonight,” he said.
Her stomach twisted again, but this time she recognized the feeling as disappointment. She didn’t want him to go. She couldn’t bear for him to go. Not now, when his kisses had held the promise of something for which she’d yearned but never dared dream.
“Do…do you have to?” The words came out sounding weak and silly, and she hated them. Her heart had leaped at his words, her dream of finding a place to go where she could live as a woman renewed. Yet now, when the chance arose before her, she feared taking it.
“After what I told you, do you have to ask?”
She thought of the years of lies. The stories. The things she had always, in some deep corner of her mind, suspected were not true but had never questioned.
“The Tribe is my family,” she said helplessly. She turned back to him, feeling the tears hot in her eyes but not willing to brush them away. Ashamed not because what she said was true, but because she’d already thought of running away but had never found the courage. She had a reason, though. “My babies are here, Toby.”
He looked startled. “Nobody’s ever called me that before.”
“If you don’t like it --”
“I do.”
She thought, hoped, that he might kiss her again, but instead he merely smoothed the hair away from her forehead.
“I have to go,” he said. “I don’t expect you to go with me.”
That set her teeth on edge, and her mouth turned down in a frown so tight it hurt. “You don’t?”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
He shook his head. Nervously he rubbed his hands together, cracking the knuckles until she thought she might scream.
She wouldn’t ask him why. She wouldn’t let the words come out of her mouth. She’d bite her tongue until it squirted blood before she’d open herself up to hurt again.
“Why not?” she asked anyway, powerless to stop the question.
“This is my journey, my quest.” Tobin bent and put his face in his hands, rubbing his cheeks and then running his hands through his dark hair again and again until it stood wildly on end. “My danger. I don’t know what’s out there, Elanna. I don’t know if I’ll find anything at all, much less what I’m looking for. I can’t ask you to give up the life you have here just to follow a stranger.”
“I didn’t think,” Elanna replied stiffly, “that we were strangers anymore.”
He sighed, and when he looked up at her she was alarmed to see that red rimmed his eyes. He looked haggard. The scruff of a beard she hadn’t paid attention to before stood out on his cheeks.
“You have so much here,” he said. “You don’t even know. Everyone’s talking about how much better it will be when the gatherers bring back the goods from the warehouse, and that’s probably true. But the Tribe is living pretty good. You have things here I’ve never even seen. Candy. Food. Clothes. Lanterns.” He laughed hollowly. “Indoor plumbing, for god’s sake. Compared to how I lived in Maine…in some ways this is like a paradise.”
“Then why leave?”
“Because it’s only like a paradise.” Tobin touched her hair again, her cheek. “I can’t stay here and be silent about the truth I know. It’s fine to want to stay somewhere, but to be told lies to prevent you from even wanting to leave, or being afraid of leaving, I can’t stomach that.”
“You said you wanted children,” Elanna said, hating the desperation in her voice. “I can give you children, Toby!”
He held her face in his hands. “But you can’t give me you.”
Hopemothers did not marry, nor did they keep themselves only for one man. It was a truth she’d railed against but couldn’t imagine differently. She put her hands on her belly, where she kept the secret she’d be unable to keep much longer.
“Then take me with you,” she said quietly. “I’ll go.”
He smiled at her condescendingly, and she frowned again. “I need to travel quickly. I need to go a long way.”
“And what? You’re afraid I’ll hold you back?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what?” she demanded.
“Elanna.” Tobin sighed. “You have no idea what it’s like beyond the city. You’ll have to walk a lot. Scrounge for food. There won’t be any privileges like you’re used to. You have to be tough.”
She shoved herself away from him and stood. Her fists clenched so she wouldn’t give in to the urge to throttle him. She bit her lip for a moment until she was certain she could talk without screaming.
“I’ve given birth thirteen times. I’ve labored for three days in a row, without pain relief, with nothing but a piece of leather to chew on to stop myself from passing out, Tobin. I’ve had babies torn out of me because they couldn’t get out on their own. I think I’m pretty tough.”
His face grew white at her speech, and he swallowed heavily. “Think of what you’d be leaving behind.”
She thought about it. Babies she carried in her womb and nurtured, only to have them taken from her before they could even call her mama. Men who touched her body but didn’t even think about her heart. Privileges and honors that did nothing to combat a life of loneliness. And despair so deep, so keen that she had once thought about taking her own life. She thought too of the secret she carried in her womb, the one even Reb Ephraim didn’t know about.
“Isn’t that my choice to make?
”
-18-
Chedva caught up with them just inside the main doors. “It’s almost time for the banquet! They’re serving veal.”
“Veal?” Tobin asked. Where did they keep the cows?
“A real treat,” Elanna said. “The Reb and the Beit Din must really be pulling out all the stops for you.”
“For me?”
“The banquet is to honor you, silly,” Chedva said. “There’ll be veal, and challah, and matzoh ball soup….” She clapped a hand to her mouth and hiccupped.
“You look a little green,” Tobin told her. “Do you feel all right?”
Chedva grinned and wiggled, though her normally rosy cheeks were still
pale. “I feel terrible, but I’m fantastic!”
Tobin didn’t have a clue what she meant, but Elanna must have. With a cry of delight, she hugged the other girl.
“Mazel tov, Chedva! At last! I’m so happy for you!”
Chedva grinned shyly, rubbing her stomach. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” Elanna told her and gave her another squeeze. “When does the baby come?”
Chedva beamed. “Not until the start of January, I think.”
Baby? Chedva was a hopemother too? Tobin looked at the short, plump girl. She looked even shorter and fatter standing next to Elanna. As he looked at them closely, though, he noticed something he never had before.
When Chedva moved away through the ever-present crowd, he mentioned what he’d seen. “You two look alike.”
Elanna looked surprised. “You think so?”
He’d thought she might be offended at his comparison. “Yeah. You have the same eyes. The same shape of the face, except Chedva’s is fatter.”
“Fuller,” Elanna corrected absently. She stroked her cheek, looking after the other girl. “I never thought about it, but I guess it does make sense. The same woman birthed us both.”
“You mean you have the same mother,” Tobin said.
She looked at him, a faint smile on her face. “No, Tobin. We had different mothers. The same woman birthed both of us, but she wasn’t our mother. Just as I’m not the mother of any of my babies.”
For the first time he really understood her role in the Tribe, and why she wanted to leave with him. “But you two are sisters.”
She shook her head. “No. My parents didn’t raise any other children. But I think Chedva had a brother.”
“What happened to your parents?”
She made a gesture with her hands that could have meant anything. “My mother died a number of years ago. I believe my father remarried since then.”
“You don’t know?”
She blinked. “Once I became a hopemother, Tobin, I didn’t live with them anymore. It’s been a long time since I was part of their family.”
“You mean they just send you away?” he cried, aghast.
She shrugged. “Nobody ever really goes away.”
“I’m glad I’m leaving,” he muttered, taking her hand. “Your people have a lot of crazy ideas.”
She frowned, looking around. “Shh. Someone might hear you.”
She didn’t contradict him, he noticed. More and more people were streaming toward the dining hall. Tobin didn’t really feel like eating. His mind was on tonight and how’d they’d make their escape.
Elanna seemed to sense his thoughts. She leaned in to brush a kiss along his cheek. “I have to go get some things ready. You go on ahead.”
He tried to protest, but she shushed him again. “Go. We aren’t going to sit together, anyway. I’m sure the Reb has you up at the Beit Din’s table, since he’s going to announce you as a gatherer.”
“I don’t want to be one any more,” Tobin said.
“Well, don’t tell him that. Go. I’ll see you later.”
He didn’t have time to kiss her again, or even to ask her how he’d find her. Him, a gatherer? It was an honor he didn’t want. Tobin joined the crowd and went into the dining hall.
He wouldn’t have thought the large room could hold more than a few hundred people. Now every table had extra chairs, stools and benches squeezed around it, and extra tables had been maneuvered into every spare space. Not enough to seat two thousand people, but enough to seat many of them.
The lanterns fixed into niches along the walls glowed brighter than he’d ever seen them, and hundreds of burning candles on every table supplemented the light. Fine linens, dishes and silverware were at every place; though few of them matched, the effect was nice. The large head table on its raised dais on the room’s far end, normally set with food and beverage during regular meal times, now held place settings as well. One for each of the three members of the Beit Din and eleven more. Ten, Tobin guessed, for the top ranking gatherers, and one more. For him.
His skin itched uncomfortably under the coarse shirt he wore. Not for the first time, he longed for the soft shirt and pants he’d found at the warehouse. The clothes the old man from the storeroom had provided were the right size, but they didn’t feel half as nice.
Now, scratching at his neck and tugging at his collar, he stood awkwardly in the main doorway. The room was filling quickly. Delicious smells wafted through the air, making his stomach rumble.
“Tobin, up here,” the woman from the Beit Din said, tugging his elbow.
He couldn’t remember her name. Cosmetics covered her puffy face. Since so few of the women in the Tribe used any sort of makeup, the effect was doubly ludicrous.
“I don’t need to sit up there,” Tobin protested, knowing it was useless. The woman propelled him with surprising strength past the other tables and up to the dais.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, clucking her tongue. “You’re the man of honor tonight.”
Looking around the room at the excited faces, and the way the Tribe members pointed and whispered as he passed, he felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t their fault he had plans that didn’t include their welfare. To them he was some sort of hero.
“I don’t want to be a hero,” Tobin said aloud as the woman pushed him up onto the dais.
She stopped to chuckle before nudging him to the end of the table. “You can’t help what you are. Nobody can.”
Livna. That was her name. He let her force him into a chair, the last one at the long table. He didn’t care that he wasn’t in the middle, even though he was supposed to be the man of honor.
One by one the places at the table filled. Beaming, Reb Ephraim waved at Tobin. Tobin raised his hand in return. He nodded at Ari and exchanged a scowl with Luz. Asaph, to no great surprise, was not seated at the head table.
The large room droned with conversation. Livna kept up a steady stream of observations and gossip, not hesitating to point out whom she was mentioning with her fork or her knife. To his relief, Tobin found that a simple grunt sufficed as a response. Livna just liked to talk. She didn’t like to listen.
“Mmmm. Salad,” she murmured as several of the younger tribe members, the teeners, served plates of lettuce and onions. “Nothing better than fresh salad.”
Knowing it might be the last decent food he’d have for a long time, Tobin enjoyed the meal. Leaving the Tribe meant leaving comforts he’d only just begun to appreciate.
He would have liked to be sitting with Elanna. He scanned the room, nodding and grunting in reply to Livna’s commentary, but he didn’t see her. He saw Chedva and several of the men he shared a room with. He saw a young woman chasing after a frisky toddler who tripped and fell, bursting into tears. But no Elanna.
After the salad came bread, fresh and hot from the oven, and tiny vials of olive oil with garlic cloves swimming inside. He nearly moaned aloud as the flavors burst open on his tongue. Food like this was paradise. Tobin tried to chew slowly, to prolong the bliss. Even the sight of Livna picking apart the loaf they shared with her fingernails couldn’t deter him.
“Oy! White bread! Baruch Ha-Shem, where’d they find the flour? And matzoh ball soup!” Livna cried, wiggling against him in an ecstasy he found a little embarrassing. Olive oil glistened on her lips and dripped down her chin. “We haven’t had that in years! Years, Tobin!”
The woman was nearly crying, her artificially thickened eyelashes clumping with tears. She grabbed him by the shoulders, leaning close so he could smell the garlic on her breath. Guilt stabbed him again at Livna’s obvious gratitude.
He shoved it away again to concentrate on the soup. Yellow broth, steaming, with fat dumplings floating in it. Salty. He slurped it up, sorry he didn’t have more room in his stomach.
Voices grew louder, more boisterous with each course. Some people called out toasts, many of them praising Tobin and what he would bring them. Reb Ephraim gave a brie
f speech about giving thanks for the bounty before them. Children laughed and cried, and people ate noisily. None of it changed his mind about leaving, but the guilt worsened.
“Here it comes!” Livna said, elbowing him in the side. She grinned. “Veal. What a treat!”
Meat in Eastport had been scarcer than hen’s teeth. They’d slaughtered chickens when they became too old to lay and sometimes a goat or a kid. Once, he’d had a strip of beef jerky brought by a peddler. It was a treat for his birthday, and Old Ma had traded an entire bolt of cloth for the tiny shreds of meat. Sometimes they had potted meat, but it was never very good. Fish was plenty, but not meat.