“If Brax is going to be an atheist now, I wish he’d be one of those fun ones.”
She didn’t answer me at first. Then she sniffed and spoke into my lap. “I’ve never heard of any fun atheists.”
“Me neither. But I bet there are some.” I thought a moment. “Or maybe a Unitarian? Don’t they believe in aliens?”
“Prentiss Puckett, you say the craziest things!” Flora sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “What do you know about aliens. Or Unitarians?”
“Nothing,” I smiled. “How are you feeling these days?”
“Tired. I’m always tired.” Then she laid her head back on my lap. “It seemed like I was getting a little better when you got hurt—when you were gone? But now I’m feeling more and more tired again.”
I leaned down and gave her a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I’m going to do my best to get us out real soon, but you just rest. If anything’s too hard, I’ll do it. Okay?”
She nodded and closed her eyes in my lap. I went back to combing her hair with my fingers as she drifted to sleep. Tonight I’d get us back on track.
Chapter 15
The remainder of the day went as usual, minus my recent trips to the creek every afternoon. I had to admit, as the heat rose to stifling and the air stopped moving, I longed for a dive into icy water and then a stretch out on a blanket in the sunshine. I missed our afternoon escapes, as he called them. It would probably be too cold to swim after dark, without the sun to rewarm our bodies. I wondered what made natural springs so naturally bone-chilling.
Gallatin was finishing up the milking when I arrived after dinner, and all that was left was the churning.
“You started without me,” I said, looking around the barn.
He smiled. “I didn’t want us to waste our time here when we could be relaxing. You know it’s a full moon tonight?”
“No.” I took a handle and started to pump. “I usually need the calendar for stuff like that.”
“When I was out west, the full moon was so big sometimes... it was gorgeous.”
“I bet.” I focused on the paddle and on my mission. I wouldn’t let his friendliness distract me from my goals this time.
He studied my face and didn’t speak again. The only sound was the soft thump of the paddles against the wooden churns until at last we were done and Oma appeared to take the fruits of our labor to the kitchen.
“I guess that’s it for tonight,” Gallatin said too loudly, making a big show of us saying good-night.
“Right,” I answered in the same tone. “See you tomorrow, then.”
Oma didn’t even look up as she gathered the supplies and went out the side door. The moment it clicked shut, he caught my hand and pulled me through the other side entrance and out into the night.
“Just follow me. I’ve got everything waiting for us.”
He took my hand, and I carefully ran after him in the black night, picking my way through the darkness, trying not to trip over any tree roots or stray branches. We were slipping through the fence and then running up the hill in no time. Once we’d made it over the top, I slowed to a walk and caught my breath. We only had to stroll down now.
“It goes so much faster now that you’re well,” he said, slowing down with me. “How’s the hip anyway?”
I shrugged. “Just a little ache if I sleep on it wrong or step too hard.”
“Good.” He smiled and reached for my hand, but I moved it away.
“Sorry,” he said. “Habit.”
“We don’t need to do that now that I’m better.”
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Look, there it is.”
The pond’s surface was black in the night, but the full moon cast silver shimmers across every ripple. In the open place where we would lie under the sun, a giant orange moon was rising.
“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, looking up.
The noise of cicadas was loud, and deep in the woods it was almost solid black. But here everything seemed magical—black, white, and silver instead of the usual Technicolor-green. We went over to the fallen tree and sat, looking at the water, and for a little while we were silent, listening to the sounds of the night. I hated to break it. Actually, I hated sitting here next to him as if the last week hadn’t happened and we were strangers again. Or worse. If everything had been different tonight, he’d probably reach over and kiss me. I’d probably let him.
Instead, I started my interrogation. “So what were you doing this afternoon for Cato?” I kept my voice casual, but I was determined to get answers this time.
“Hang on, I brought something for us.”
As usual, he avoided my question by distracting me. Or redirecting the conversation. I watched him go to the backpack, unzip it, and dig around. When he returned, he was holding a short, narrow bottle that looked like a flask.
“I found it in the locker where the pain killers were,” he said, taking a sip. Then he held it out to me. “Rye whiskey. Not bad either.”
“No thanks,” I said.
“What? The girls in Arizona always got excited about stuff like this.”
“My dad’s an alcoholic. It kind of kills the fun for me.”
Even in this light, I could see his brow crease. Then he sat up and for a moment he paused. Then he reached back and pitched the bottle hard. I couldn’t see it as it flew deep into the woods, but moments later I heard the glass shatter.
“It seems I keep saying the wrong thing to you,” he said.
I seized the opportunity. “There’s something you can say to me now.”
“Yes?”
“What were you doing for Cato this afternoon?”
His shoulders dropped and he looked away again. “Why are you asking me this? I don’t want to bring all of that here.”
“I need to know, Gallatin.”
He sighed and looked down at his hand. “I was helping her speak to my grandfather.”
“Your grandfather?” That didn’t sound like anything I could use. “What is he? Some sort of king? A Czar or something?”
“No. He’s what we call a Guard.” He still wasn’t looking at me.
“Why would she need your help to speak to him?”
“He moves around a lot.”
“And?”
“And I help her locate him.”
I thought about this for a moment. “Like on a map? With GPS?”
He sighed heavily, and turned to me. “It’s not anything you need to be concerned with, and soon it won’t matter anyway.”
“Okay. Then tell me this.”
He only looked at me.
“Are you a priest or something?”
“What?” he laughed. “Where in the world would you get that idea?”
“Ovett said that about you choosing to be celibate.”
“Oh.” He looked down, and based on his tone, if I could see him, I’d see his face turning red. “No.”
“Then why would he say something like that about you?”
He didn’t answer me right away. Instead he stood and walked toward the pool. “Would you dance with me, Prentiss?”
“What? No. I mean, I don’t dance.”
“I don’t either, but I’d like to tonight. Here. With you.”
The way he said that last part, if he could see me, he’d see my cheeks turning pink.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I answered.
“Why not?”
“We talked about this last time.”
He nodded. “Jackson.”
“I’m sort of in a committed relationship.”
“But if we’re just dancing, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like...”
“No, but I think, if the situation were reversed, if it were him, I wouldn’t like it.”
Gallatin walked back and sat on the fallen tree beside me. “Why wouldn’t you like it? Would it mean something to you?”
He tried to take my hand, but I slid it away. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“Which one?”
“The one about you being a priest.”
He chuckled again. “I am not a priest.”
“So what are you? Why would you decide to be celibate so young?”
“Why would you decide to get married so young?”
“You keep doing that! Every time I ask you something, you turn it away onto something else.”
He sighed. “Okay. After my grandfather dies, I’ll take his place. As a Guard.”
“And Guards don’t marry? But how does that work? He’s your grandfather.”
“Sometimes it’s best if we don’t marry. In times of turmoil or increased danger. Loved ones can be used against us.”
“Like since you’ve invaded our country?”
“It’s not like that, Prentiss. There’s a lot you don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
“I want you to dance with me. Please? Just once.”
I let out a frustrated groan and stood up, striding back around the pool to the moonlit spot. It was the way back to the camp, but he was quickly at my side, catching my hand.
“I won’t let it mean anything, I promise.”
“How can you say something like that?”
“Here.” He stepped closer and slid his hands around my waist, pulling me to him.
I didn’t fight. I let him hold me in an embrace, and after a few sways, I even lifted my hands to his shoulders. But I was too short. My face was pressed into his chest.
“Hang on,” he said, looking around.
Then he led me to the hillside by the pool. There was a little ledge where some rocks jutted out over the side forming a lip. He helped me step up on them, and at that height, my chin met his shoulder. I could see his face better, and the moonlight reflected the smile in his amber eyes.
“Much better,” he said, sliding his arm around my waist again and starting to sway.
I couldn’t really move or I’d fall off the ledge, but I didn’t want to face him this way. I leaned my head forward so my chin was on his shoulder and we merely swayed back and forth. My eyes closed and I felt myself relax in his arms. Then I noticed he was humming a tune I almost recognized.
“What’s that?” I whispered.
“Harvest moon,” he said softly in my ear.
His lips tickled my skin. We were a breath away from a kiss, and I turned my face into his neck. His arm tightened around my waist, and I wanted to cry. I wanted to kiss him. Instead, I straightened up. I couldn’t step away from where I was perched on the rocks, and my back was to the hillside. All I could do was look into his face. He looked back at me, and we stood there caught in a moment of longing and regret.
“I need to go,” I said through the thickness in my throat. “I shouldn’t be here now. Like this.”
He reached up and slid a piece of my flyaway hair behind my ear. “I wish things were different.”
“Please help me down.”
He stepped back and gently lifted me to the ground then we started walking back toward the pack and the way to camp.
“Will you tell me something?” he said.
“Okay.”
“Why are you engaged? So young, I mean.”
I sighed and stopped walking. We were in our little circle of light, only now it was moonlight. “Remember that about my dad?”
“Being an alcoholic?”
I nodded and sat down. He did the same, taking my hand again. This time I didn’t pull away.
“My mamma died when I was about nine, and my daddy started drinking. First he only did it at night til he passed out. Then he started at lunch. Then lunch and night started meeting up, and he’d go all the way to bedtime, then past bedtime.”
Gallatin’s thumb stroked the top of my hand, and he looked down at our joined hands. “Alcoholism is a strange illness,” he said. “There’s always an emotional component.”
“Yeah, well, then Braxton found Jesus.”
“What does that mean?” he laughed. “Was Jesus lost?”
“It means my brother turned into a Jesus-freak. Big time. And he started preaching at Daddy every night. After a while, they’d start arguing. Then Daddy’d start punching him in the face.”
Gallatin’s hand tightened on mine. I looked up and his face was lined. He tried to pull me to him, but I caught his arm and pushed back.
“Don’t,” I said, wondering why my eyes were burning. I’d stopped crying over my stupid brother and my drunk daddy fighting years ago.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine you caught in the middle of something like that. And you were still so young?”
“I was about thirteen.”
“So this Jackson helped you?
“I’d sneak out and run to his house and spend the night.”
“He kept you safe.”
“I guess,” I said. “It was more like he was my safe place to run. My promise of something better. A better life.”
“I understand why you feel so strongly about him, then.”
“We were always together after that. I was his girl, and his daddy was going to give us the farm. It was my future. My dream.”
“Until now?”
“No, not until now. It’s still my dream. I’m going to find Jackson, and we’re...” I bit my lip. Who’s side was I on anyway? I was supposed to be getting information from him, and instead I was about to give away my whole plan.
“Come on,” I said, standing up. “We need to get back to camp.”
He stood with me and pulled the backpack onto his shoulder. We set out over the hills in silence. We’d been coming this way so often, I could find my way in the dark, and I made a mental note of that for when I returned.
At the fence Gallatin stopped and turned to me. “I’m sorry your life was like that. I’m sorry that soon...”
He stopped speaking, and my body tensed. I should want to know the rest of whatever he was about to say, but all I felt was sadness. I knew what he was about to say. Soon he’d be leaving.
“Hearing that story makes me wish I could have been the one to protect you,” he said.
“I don’t need your protection,” I sniffed. “I’m little, but I can take care of myself.”
“Everyone needs help. Sometimes.” He reached up and slid the hair back from his face exposing the scar on his cheek.
I didn’t know how to answer that. I still didn’t know how he’d gotten those scars, but more than that, I didn’t know who I wanted protecting me now.
I stepped through the fence. “I guess this is good-night,” I whispered.
“Sleep well, doctor.”
I shook my head and sneaked past the cabins across the dark yard and into the dormitory. Once inside I stood for several minutes with my face pressed against the doorjamb. I could still feel his finger tracing my cheek, and for just a moment, I imagined my head was still resting on his chest.
Why was this happening? I wasn’t this kind of person. Other girls got their feelings all mixed up over boys, but I didn’t. That question had been settled in my mind years ago, and yet here I was acting like a starry-eyed little twit. I was failing in my job to rescue us. Everyone was counting on me, and here I was useless, fighting this battle with myself. I had to get it together. I had to get myself back on track, for all of us.
I turned to face the dark room. Heavy breathing or the occasional snore was the only sound that met my ears. I went to my bunk, undressed, and crawled under the thin sheet. I hadn’t accomplished much, other than learning his grandfather was some leader and Gallatin was all set to take his place. That wasn’t really helpful. It was clear he was somehow politically important like his sister. I supposed that was why she was so anxious to have him here. But it wasn’t useful. I had to find out about the chips and when they were leaving. I had to get him to tell me their plans and what, if anything, was in those boxes.
I rolled onto my side and slid my knees up to my chest. His soft touch, the warmth in his eyes, his words at
the fence about protecting me, all these things rolled together into a lump in my chest. My eyes slid closed, and I remembered the feeling of his arms holding me, swaying in the moonlight, the hum of his voice. Everything about it was warm and wonderful and good. But I knew it was wrong.
Still, just as a secret for me, just for tonight, I allowed myself to drift to sleep thinking of a harvest moon somewhere in a different world. Somewhere where it would be okay to let myself relax in his arms. Where it would be okay to reach up and touch his face, to seal our dance with a kiss.
* * *
“Jackson”
Volume 4
Chapter 16
The next day, Gallatin was not in the barn for morning chores. I went to the back stall, but other than Bully running around his mother, the space was empty. I couldn’t neglect the milking, but I felt conflicted. Something new was twisting in my chest.
I missed him. I wanted to suggest a creek run after lunch so I could get back on track and ask about the microchips, about their schedule for leaving. But to be completely honest, I just wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice.
As it was, I’d have to work like we were back at the beginning, and I had nothing to look forward to but another day of labor. It was a good thing, I decided. It kept my focus on escape. My real escape that is, not forbidden trips to a hidden creek.
I sat on my stool and gripped the teats, filling my bucket and emptying it into the churn, then going back and doing it again. The tone sounded and we all filed into lunch. Hamsters on a wheel, zombies in a pen. I’d grown used to seeing the men looking drugged and passive, the women keeping their eyes down. Only the occasional glance to me, the one who’d promised to do something. The one who’d once been a leader, and who’d since become distracted sneaking off with a guy. Maybe that was another part of their plan.
Maybe they knew everyone was looking to me to help them, and Gallatin was their secret weapon to keep me under control. I stole a look at the guards watching over how much we ate, still fussing over us cleaning our plates like somebody’s grandma, and I refused to believe it was true. Everything in me rejected the idea of Gallatin pretending to care for me, of his using our trips to the creek to disarm me or keep an eye on me. He couldn’t have predicted the accident with the calf. Then a tiny fear crept in, the smallest shadow of doubt. How did I know he couldn’t? And where was he now?
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