Sophie felt the tears collecting in a painful lump in her throat. Her composure began to crack like the frozen lake in a spring thaw. Possible scenarios started to play in the back of her mind, including ways to steal the necessary medicine.
“What’s going on here, Johnson? Why are you taking so long with this one citizen?” The voice grated against Sophie’s ears as she saw Griffyth approaching. She hadn’t known that he had been transferred to work for the Council of Doctors.
“The child is clearly ill, Mr. Credell. But her identification card has been lost,” Joshua tried to cover for Sophie, hoping there would be some way to get her the medicine.
“Lost?” Griffyth questioned. “How very irresponsible. Well, then, there should be a corresponding card in the records office, shouldn’t there?” Sophie thought she perceived a slight grin on his face.
“No, sir. Mr. Johnson misspoke. The child has no identification card. Her father disappeared before all of the appropriate blood tests could be taken.”
She tried to keep the disdain out of her voice as she said the word “father.”
“I’m appealing to your mercy to give her much-needed medication. After all, her parents’ mistakes should not require her to suffer.” Sophie’s eyes, swimming in unshed tears, silently pleaded with this man she had known, yet not known to do one fatherly thing.
“And yet, that is the way the world works. We all suffer for the sins of our fathers and mothers. Your daughter is undocumented, so in the eyes of the leaders of the state, she does not exist. Besides, she could be a plant by a member of the Watch sent to entrap us, for all we know.”
“She’s four years old! Let the doctors check her and you’ll see she’s truly ill.”
“We cannot spare the resources. In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway. Undocumented, illegal conception outside the law. She does not exist within this state. Now, leave the premises before she infects everyone and I have you arrested.”
Sophie thought she knew Griffyth, thought she knew what he would and would not do. She never thought he would knowingly put his own child in this kind of danger, especially after trying to see her only yesterday. She wondered at his cruelty and hoped he was just putting on an act for the benefit of anyone within earshot. Maybe, since he knew she was sick, he would try to sneak medicine to Bridget later. Sophie could only hope. She sat down slowly on the edge of the fountain which had long been dry, visibly trying to hold herself up against what seemed like impossible odds, the flow of her own strength slowing to a stop until she felt as dry as the fountain and thought she would crumble along with it. The panic in her heart moved up and began to constrict her throat. Her breathing was labored. She couldn’t do this now. She couldn’t fall apart. She had to come up with a plan to help her daughter. If only she could get a handle on her thoughts. She tried to cobble together pieces of a plan, but several sleepless nights paired with her worry created a poor space for thinking clearly.
Seeing the blanket fall around the woman’s feet, he rushed to pick it up for her. Confused, Sophie looked at him as if she were looking at an extinct creature. She was unprepared to have a conversation with another person, much less a kind one. The rushing in her ears silenced, and she began to hear and see the world around her again. She quickly wiped the tears from her face. “Do I know you?” she asked, not unkindly. She wondered if she were truly capable of processing the world around her where strangers were suddenly being helpful, a most uncommon occurrence.
“No, I just arrived in your town. I overheard what happened about the medicine. Is there nothing they can do?”
“Nothing they will do. My daughter is undocumented, illegal. I imagine they will be sending the soldiers to take me away before long.”
“Is her father gone?”
Sophie peered toward the Government Office. “Yes.”
Sam felt as though this woman needed a friend, but he knew he’d asked too many personal questions already. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m sorry. I’ll just go back to my booth now.”
“What is your trade?” Sophie asked as she got up and started walking with Sam toward his booth.
“I take photographs.”
“Truly? May I see?”
“Here, these are just a few I brought with me. I have more in my own village.”
“It is a wonder to see life frozen like this, as if it could never change from that moment. Like it will exist forever in just that way.”
“Exactly.”
Bridget began to stir and wake up. Sophie sat down on a nearby tree stump to examine her daughter’s condition, kissing her forehead.
“Would you like a photograph of your little girl?”
“I have nothing to trade you for it.”
“I think a smile would be just about the right price.” Sam picked up his camera, capturing mother and daughter in his sights. Sophie held Bridget on her lap, waiting for Sam to let her know when to smile. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against her daughter’s flushed cheek. Sam’s camera quietly caught just the moment of pure love encircling mother and daughter. No one could ever tell them that it didn’t exist.
“I’ll bring you a copy when I come back this way in a couple of weeks,” Sam said quietly, hating to interrupt such a tender moment.
“Was that it? Are we done?”
“That’s it.”
“Thank you. I don’t even know your name.”
“Sam.”
“Sam, I’m Sophie. I’ll meet you here in a couple of weeks.” She touched his arm gently before turning to walk out of town, her head held a little higher.
* * * * *
“We did good work today, didn’t we, Sam?” Ethan asked as he and Sam walked the path out of Boswell. The trail was paved by many footprints, melting the snow where so many people had walked. Ethan enjoyed helping Sam trade at the booth. He enjoyed learning how to use the camera, and Sam had even let him take a few of the photographs himself.
“We did, son.”
“I want to help you and Zacharias develop the film. Will you teach me?”
“Sure I will. I don’t think we’ll be making it back to Jesse’s Hollow tonight, though. It’s already starting to get dark.” Sam knew they were too far from the woods to find a good camping spot but saw something up ahead that warmed his heart in the chill evening. “Looks like there’s a farmhouse up ahead. Maybe they’ll let us sleep in their barn. We’ll have to go up to the house and ask.” Sam didn’t relish the thought of spending another cold night out in the open.
“That’s different than how my group would have done things,” Ethan mused. “They would have just waited ’til the lights were out, then snuck in the barn.”
“Not the safest or the most honorable plan, is it? Didn’t your group live by the code?”
“I didn’t know anything about the code until there was one boy, Toby, who taught it to me. He tried to get the rest of the group to do things that way, but they were kind of wild. They liked to just do what they wanted and preferred as little contact with citizens as possible. They didn’t help people like the code says. They only stuck together because they were all strong or smart about different things, so they thought the others could help them. But any chance to take advantage, they took. I wasn’t with them for very long. It’s probably why they left me in the woods. I wasn’t useful to them anymore.”
That was the most Sam had heard Ethan talk about his time in the woods. He felt he was beginning to earn the boy’s trust. He whistled to himself as they walked up the drive to the farmhouse, then knocked firmly on the door. Sam heard footsteps coming downstairs, then standing in the doorway in front of him, there she was. Sophie. Her shocked expression matched his own.
“Well, what are you doing here? You couldn’t have my photograph already.”
“No. I uh, I mean . . . Is this your house?” Sam stuttered.
“It is.” Sophie smiled.
“I didn’t know. I mean, we were walking back home and saw your lig
hts on. We won’t be able to make it back to Jesse’s Hollow tonight, and I was going to ask the farmer if we could sleep in the barn overnight.”
“Well, I’m the farmer, but I couldn’t possibly let you sleep in the barn.”
“I understand, we’ll just be on our . . .”
“No, I mean it’s too cold outside. You should come in and sleep by my fire downstairs.”
“We couldn’t intrude, especially with your daughter sick.”
“I’ve tucked her in for the night upstairs. You wouldn’t be intruding. Honestly, I would appreciate the company. Please, come in out of the cold.”
Sam looked down at Ethan, who smiled up at him with a little pleading in his eyes.
“Alright, then. If it’s not too much trouble.”
Ethan and Sam knocked off the snow from their boots on the front porch and slowly entered the warm interior, warm from the fire in the front room but also warm from the beeswax candles throughout the house, the paintings that hung on the walls of sunset landscapes, and the smell of chicken soup that welcomed them.
“You can set your things down anywhere. Would you like some soup?”
“No, thank you,” Sam refused. “We had some deer jerky on the road, we can’t . . .”
Sophie stopped him with a look. She cocked her head to the side, and a smile entered her tired eyes. Sam knew she wanted to feed them, and it would be rude to refuse.
“Sure, that’d be great,” he corrected.
“Perfect. You can wash up at the sink.”
Throughout dinner, Sam continued to marvel at this strange creature who seemed capable of breaking down any barriers of shyness or lack of acquaintance not just with him, but with Ethan as well. The boy warmed to her immediately, as if he’d always known her. In between her trips upstairs to check on Bridget, Sam listened as she effortlessly coaxed stories out of the boy from his childhood on the road and even offered her own stories to show him how much she understood. Like many people around Sam and Sophie’s age, she too had lived for a time out in the woods after her parents were taken. She hadn’t had the benefit of a group, but she and her sister had foraged for themselves until being adopted by caring parents in the Romany village. Sam and Sophie discovered they’d often been within just a few miles of each other during their times in the forest. Sam was amazed by the fact that they’d never met before.
Seeing Ethan’s head starting to droop over his bowl, Sophie reached over and ruffled his hair. “You look sleepy, honey. We should probably get you to bed,” she said before even Sam had noticed his tiredness.
“Nah, I’m alright,” he protested. “I can help clean up.”
“Nonsense. A growing boy needs his rest. I’ve laid your bedroll in front of the fire, so you should be nice and cozy. Good night,” she said as she walked him to his bed.
Ethan stopped suddenly, and with no warning turned and hugged Sophie around her waist. She hugged him back easily, as if it was an everyday occurrence for her to win the heart of a child.
Sam and Sophie stayed up for a little longer, cleaning up the kitchen and talking. Neither seemed to want to end the conversation.
“Ethan is a fine boy. You must be proud of him,” she whispered, handing Sam a glass to dry.
“You know, I’m just getting to know him. I’ve only been back home from the lumber camp for about a month. I found him in the woods as I was traveling back. But I was happy to adopt him. He’s what I would have imagined my own son to be like. What will you do about medicine for your daughter?”
“I’ve sent a message to some friends who may be able to help,” Sophie replied, thinking that the Watch was her last chance to get help for her daughter. In the meantime, she would just continue to take care of her the best way she knew how.
“I hope they can. Oh, that reminds me. I have something for your daughter. I saw it in the market today and had figured on bringing it to you in a couple of weeks, but I guess now’s as good a time.”
Sam pulled a small rag doll with yellow yarn hair out of his pack and handed it to Sophie, who seemed to pause before taking it. “That’s very kind of you,” she replied. “What made you think of it?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes kids just need something to carry around with them. It seems to ground them in a way, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. Adults too, sometimes.” Sophie smiled, feeling suddenly shy. “I’ll bring this up to her. Thanks again, Sam. Good night.”
As she walked upstairs, Sam puzzled over this woman, so caring and giving but somehow reluctant to accept a gift. He felt intrigued and grateful for the chance to get to know her. As he lay down on his bedroll next to the sleeping Ethan, he heard a lullaby from upstairs. Sophie’s voice wafted through the house, warm and sweet like the smell of baking cookies. He thought he recognized from far away the song she sang, “So when my thoughts begin to stray, I know you’re not far away. I’ll see you always near me, or so it seems. For you will always be here somewhere in my dreams.” He tried to shake up his brain and travel back to remember where he’d heard it but couldn’t quite place it. He fell asleep to her soothing voice and dreamed of a red-headed girl running through the trees.
6
GUILTY BY ASSOCIATION
O n the far edge of Jesse’s Hollow, several miles away from the town square, there stood a sagging gray house in the middle of a field. Its roof had caved in under the weight of snow from a hundred winters. Windows like black eyes squinted at anyone who came near. No path led to or from this forgotten residence. It rose up out of an over-growing field as if it too had been planted there and left to go to seed. When the citizens of Jesse’s Hollow were settling in the town they found abandoned, this house was already too old and derelict to be inhabited. The fence had been torn down before anyone could remember. No trees sheltered this abode, every minor storm taking a shingle or a pane of glass until it looked like a carcass picked clean by scavengers.
Kyle often found himself sitting on the leaning porch steps when he needed to think. On this particular day, the snow had somewhat melted around the steps, exposing the dead grass beneath. He pulled at the flattened blades of grass. The dampness in his hands reminded him of the cold around him. He didn’t know how long he’d sat there. Gemma would be worried, but he couldn’t go home yet. Things had seemed simple enough before she started asking about children. Go to work, try to help people, be a good husband.
Although it was painful to leave his comrades in the Corsairs—especially Mark—when Kyle came back after being released, he thought he could have just taken up where he left off with his friends, with Gemma. But too many years had passed. She had always been Sam’s girl, but Sam was gone. It seemed only natural that she would turn to him to help her forget Sam. It all should have been so simple. But nothing was ever simple. They were both so changed from the people they had been. Other lives and loves had crossed into theirs, muddying the waters. Now she wanted children. A child would only complicate matters uselessly, but she wouldn’t give up the subject and brought it up every few months. He was running out of things to say in response.
Things were too uncertain. The Corsairs were preparing for a war. He knew the signs. They would be sending more horses, troops, and guns. Kyle couldn’t remember when he’d started referring to the Corsairs as they rather than we. They had been his brothers, his family. Mark and the others were the sole people he could depend on. Until his discharge. But all things change. Nothing was certain. There was always a job to do. Always a mission. For now his mission and his purpose was Gemma. Did that mean he had to give her everything she wanted? Children would only get in the way. He stared absently at the red berries on the bush in front of the shack. The only color on the frozen land, they looked inviting, though he knew they were poison.
Kyle looks down at his feet. The boots the leaders gave him look and feel too big for him. But they say he’ll grow into them. He wishes the Corsairs had taken Sam with him, so he’d at least have someone he knew. Sam is lucky
he got away. He couldn’t handle the training. Kyle knows that. Better for him to stay with Gemma.
Kyle is shorter than some of the rest of the recruits standing next to him. They all stare straight ahead, the sun behind them, waiting for the leader to tell them what to do. Their shadows in the snow are jagged fence posts. He looks closely at his shadow, his arms, torso, and legs lengthened almost comically. His shadow seems to grow before him. Now it’s wider than the rest. Now longer. It seems to fill all the empty space in the snow, a black shadow growing like a hole that will swallow him up. But it’s not a hole, and it’s not even his shadow. General Simeon Drape stands behind him. The man’s great hands on Kyle’s shoulders startle him.
A month passes. The tests and training are rigorous. Cruel. But Kyle is strong. He stands with his fists up, his nose bloodied. The boy in front of him is reeling from the last punch Kyle delivered. Spatters of blood pepper the snow like fallen holly berries. Kyle turns to Simeon, looking for permission to stop. He wipes the tears from his face. They will not have the satisfaction of seeing him cry.
“Don’t test my patience, boy. You know your duty. Finish him. You could become one of the greatest officers in the Corsairs. But I warn you, do not cross me.”
“Father.”
“Do it. Make me proud I chose you as my son.”
A crow caws from a branch, startling Kyle. He delivers a left cross, and the boy is on the ground. The fight was never fair. The other boy is much smaller than Kyle, but he hasn’t kept up with his chores. The others have chosen him as a punching bag, and even the officers stage these fights once a week to toughen him up.
Kyle stands at attention, awaiting his next order. General Drape approaches slowly. Every step is measured. He delivers a swift slap to Kyle’s cheek, but Kyle doesn’t flinch.
“Never make me repeat an order.”
The slap is followed by an embrace. Then the two stand at attention facing each other. Kyle’s eyes focus on the medals on his father’s blue uniform. He has to focus on anything to keep the tears back.
A Light From the Ashes Page 10