“No, not very. Feels like longer.”
“How did you meet?”
“It’s a long story.”
“And now you’re going to have a baby?”
“How did you know?”
Gemma cocked her head to one side and let a sad smile fall across her lips. “Aishe. A pregnant woman moves differently. Holds herself more carefully. Even subconsciously protecting the unborn.”
“I suppose so. I haven’t told Sam yet.”
“And he hasn’t guessed?”
“We’ve been sort of busy with other things.”
“When will you tell him?”
“After we get the kids back, I guess. I knew he’d be worried about me coming on this mission.”
“As am I.”
“I’ll be alright. Really. You know, there are people who can fill the spaces you never knew were empty. Sam was that for me. I just have to make sure the time is right when I tell him.”
“I’m happy for you, Aishe. Truly, I am.” Gemma took Sophie’s hand in hers, allowing herself a moment only to feel all of her feelings. Envy that another woman was having a child, Sam’s child. Joy that there would be a tiny piece of Sam and Aishe left in the world. Fear of what would happen to her friend if the Corsairs found out. Too many things to fully process in so short a time, she took only a glimpse of her inner heart as if she were seeing herself from a great height, only getting a general idea of what was there.
She took a deep breath, pulling herself in before the first tear fell. “Right, then. No signal yet. It’s time to go.”
Sophie and Gemma entered the lumber mill only lit from what little sun came through the smoke-streaked windows. They’d found no sign of Sam or anyone as they approached the building. No soldiers standing guard. No one on the inside. The lack of force was eerie to them, the silent void that fell over the earth before a storm.
There was a large main room with conveyor belts along the walls. Stacks of unused lumber had been left years ago. A creeping, gloomy decay settled over everything within their immediate sight. Decades of grit and cinders lay over slabs of bark and piles of sawdust, and a smell of rotting wood hung limply under the burnt air.
Heat was coming at them in suffocating waves from the large brick incinerator on the right side of the building, a large circular oven as big as the cabin if it had stood on its side. They could see drag marks through the sawdust leading toward the incinerator, and the smell was unmistakable. Sophie felt her stomach hitting her throat, the nausea rising at the thought that they were too late. Covering her mouth tightly with one hand, she physically held down her choking sobs. But in the silence of a gathering breath, she heard it. Someone else was crying. More than one person. Children.
“Foxglove, listen,” she whispered, grasping for her captain’s hand.
“I hear it. Where are they?”
Sophie looked frantically around. “Back there!” Behind some stacks of lumber, she could see the tops of cages. She and Gemma ran to them to find at least a dozen children huddled together, dirty faces streaked with tears. Sophie excitedly scanned the faces for Ethan while Gemma looked for something to break the one lock that held them in. A series of cages had been strung together almost like a tunnel, barely tall enough for the tallest child to stand, and with only one door that would let them out.
“Stand back.” Foxglove swung a large piece of wood, easily breaking the rusted lock.
“Ethan!” Sophie cried, still not seeing him among the crying children.
“Sophie? I’m back here.” At the far end of the row of cages she saw him, sitting in a corner with someone in his lap. She crawled quickly to him, the other children filing out around her at Gemma’s gentle command.
She was next to him in a second, sitting on the sticky floor, not allowing her mind to venture to what would make it so. Her hands were on his face. “Oh, sweetie, what have they done to you?” She had him in her arms, finally feeling complete again.
“Sophie, Sophie, look,” he was saying through sobs. What was he trying to show her? Words were tumbling out of their mouths, both trying to speak and listen at the same time.
“What is it?”
“Sophie, this is my mother. She’s been shot. She needs help.”
For the first time, Sophie looked down and noticed it was a woman lying in Ethan’s lap. There was blood coming through a hole in the shoulder of her tattered shirt. Her eyes were starting to flutter open. “Laurie?!”
“Sophie, is that you?” the woman whispered.
“Ethan, this is my sister, Laurie. She’s your mother? How can that . . .”
“Aishe! It’s time to go! Come on. We have to hurry before the guards get back to the station.”
Sophie’s head was spinning. “Laurie, can you walk?”
“I can try.” Laurie raised herself enough to half-crawl and be half-dragged out of the cages by Sophie and Ethan. They rested for a moment on the side of the bars.
Ethan rushed through what he knew. “The soldiers picked her up in the woods, Sophie. Some colonel told them to bring her here with us. Then he ordered them to throw deer into the incinerator. What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure, Ethan. All I am sure of is that we’re getting you out of here. Laurie, let me look at your shoulder.”
“Not here, Soph. It’s been too long since I was shot. The fabric is deep into the wound. I’m gonna need a doctor.”
“Alright. Alright, we’re going to get you to a doctor. I swear.” Sophie kissed the top of her sister’s head.
Two shots pierced the air from outside the building. Rifle shots. Within seconds, Sam was in the doorway.
“Sophie! Ge . . . Foxglove!”
“Sam, we’re back here.”
Sam made his way through the throng of sobbing children to find Sophie, Gemma, and Ethan all huddled around a woman on the floor. “We’ve got to get out of here. Quick! Two squads are headed this way, one from the north, and one from the south. I just shot their scouts. They’ll be here in minutes. If we head straight east to the Border, we may just miss them. We’ve got to make a run for it.”
“Right. Sam, you help Aishe with her sister. I’ll herd the kids to the Border.” Gemma was back in control.
Gemma and the children moved quickly among the trees, their fear quickening their feet. Sophie and Sam struggled along with Laurie between them, Ethan bringing up the rear. He wouldn’t let his mother or Sophie out of his sight.
Only yards away from the mill, Laurie stopped walking.
“What is it?” Sophie asked.
“Soph, I’m not going to be able to make it with y’all.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll carry you.”
“Mother, come on. Please!” Ethan begged, tugging at her clothes.
“Ethan, honey. I think the little kids need your help. Can you run on and help them?”
“I won’t leave you!”
“Come here.” Standing on her own feet, she held her son in her arms, arms that hadn’t held him since he was half his height. “I want you to know that I love you, and I’m so proud of the young man you’ve become. I need you to be brave and go with Sophie and Sam.”
“I won’t leave you like I did before. It was all my fault. I’m sorry, Mother. I’m so sorry.” Ethan buried his face in his mother’s chest, his tears blending with her blood.
“Nothing has been your fault, my boy. I’m so happy I got to see you again. Now, I need you to go. Do this for me. Please, my love. Sam, take him.”
Sam looked to Sophie to see what she wanted him to do. He could tell by Laurie’s pallor and breathing that she wasn’t going to make it. He’d been close enough to death in his life to recognize it now. But was it right to leave her?
“Go on, Sam. I’ll be there in a minute,” Sophie whispered.
He gently pulled Ethan into his arms and carried the boy to catch up with Gemma and the other children.
Laurie was leaning on her sister’s arm for stability. “I�
�m slowing you down, Sophie. I’ve got enough strength in me to lead the Corsairs in the opposite direction. With any luck, they’ll follow my trail and not yours. And if they catch sight of me, we look enough alike that they won’t know it’s not you they’re chasing until it’s too late.”
“I can’t let you do this, Laurie. I agree with Ethan. I can’t leave you like I did before.”
“We’re running out of time. As long as they’re looking for me, maybe they won’t be hurting anyone else. I’m finished anyway, Soph. You know that. My life hasn’t meant much of anything up until now. At least let my death mean something.”
Looking into her sister’s eyes, Sophie saw so many things she couldn’t explain or even have words for. She saw herself in the facial expressions, the crinkle of the eyes. She saw their mother in the warmth mixed with fierce determination. And now for the first time, she saw Ethan, his kindness and strength, but also his fear. She saw all the moments he hadn’t been able to share with his mother and would never share. Seeing Laurie’s pale skin, losing color and life before her eyes, Sophie felt the weight of motherhood shifting from her sister’s shoulders to her own, and she welcomed the burden. She didn’t have to tell Laurie that she would take care of Ethan as her own. Laurie would know just how well cared for Ethan would always be with Sophie.
Sophie held her sister one last time. “I love you, Laurie.”
“I love you. Now go.”
Without looking back, Sophie ran to catch up with the others.
Following the river, Sophie’s breathing quickened as she neared the waterfall. They’d gone farther north than they should have. It would take longer to get back to the guard station now. Branches, twigs, and underbrush slapped at her legs and tripped her up as she pushed to speed up her pace. She could see Sam, Foxglove, and the children pausing for a drink at the head of the falls, the quick rush of water pulsing in her ears.
“Sam, Foxglove, time to go. A couple of Corsairs broke off from the group. I think they saw me. I doubled back and around a couple of times, but they can’t be far behind.”
Gemma didn’t hesitate but rounded the children up and began running again for the Border. Sam waited for Sophie.
“I’m not coming with you right now, Sam.”
“Don’t talk crazy. Come on, let’s go.”
“They saw me, Sam. So even if we get away now, they won’t give up until they find me. You, Ethan, and the other kids won’t ever be safe.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“No, I’ve got to make them think I’m dead.”
“Don’t do this.”
“You saved me once. Ethan, too. Now let me do this. Take the children. Take care of them. I’ll come to you when I can.”
“It’s not bravery to sacrifice yourself for nothing. Sometimes bravery is knowing when to live to fight another day.”
“Bravery is fighting for the greater good despite the odds and despite fear. I am terrified, but when are you going to realize that you are the greater good? You’re my greater good.”
“I need you to come back!”
Sophie held and kissed him for as long as she dared. She stood listening to his steps through the forest grow quieter, all the while her breathing and heartbeat grew louder. And still she waited, listening to the sound of Corsairs on horseback grow closer. She had to wait for them to see her before she could make the plunge. She peered over the edge of the waterfall, at least fifty feet to the swirling pool below, and felt herself start to hyperventilate. The waterfall was spraying water into her face.
Horses plunged through trees and underbrush. She heard the commotion stop and turned to face her pursuers. With one graceful leap, she abandoned the ground under her feet and was over the cliff, falling with the water. Her breathing stopped, and all went silent with the release.
22
LEFT BEHIND
O nce they’d gone back across the Border, with still no guards at the station, Gemma stopped under a stand of trees, letting all of the children and Sam catch up with her. Dusk was descending, light draining from the sky, leaving an empty yet encroaching darkness behind. It was becoming harder to see, even as their eyes adjusted to the dimming light.
Sam was sweating despite the chill in the air. He worried how they were going to get all of the children home without being caught by Corsairs for being out after curfew. The group was large and conspicuous, and no matter how many times he and Gemma had begged the children to stay quiet, there were still one or two whimpering to themselves. Ethan, on the other hand, had not said a word since they left Laurie outside the mill. Sam kept having to look for him to make sure he was still with the group.
“Why have we stopped, Gemma?”
“Let the children rest a minute.” She wiped her forehead. Sam could see what this day had taken out of her. Not much had happened as they had planned or hoped.
“We’re losing the light. Look, while I’m thinking about it, I need to tell you something about Kyle.”
Gemma sighed heavily with exasperation. “Oh, for the love of . . . please don’t start all of that again, Sam.”
“No, this is important. You need to listen to me.”
“No, you need to listen. Sam, I’m going back for Sophie.”
“Like hell you are!”
“Calm down. You’ll upset the kids. Come over here.” Gemma pulled him away out of earshot of the children.
“I’m her husband. I should go,” he pushed on.
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go. You won’t be thinking clearly, Sam. You’ll make risky choices and get both of you killed.”
“I have to do this for her. I promised to protect her.”
“If she wanted you to protect her, she wouldn’t have jumped off that cliff!”
“I don’t care. I’m going. You take the kids back.”
“And what about Ethan? What would he do if he lost you and Sophie and his mother all in one day? You have to let me do this for you, Sam. You have more to lose here than you think. Let someone save you for once. I’m just trying to live the code too. Until you can stand on your own. Right?”
She was right. He knew it, and he didn’t want to know it. He felt useless, weak, as if he couldn’t live up to some version of manhood in his head. Kyle had always called him a coward. Maybe he was right. Sam tried to hold onto what Sophie had said about courage. Had it only been that morning? It felt like at least a week had passed since then. Courage is giving yourself to another human being. Courage is believing in and hoping for the future. Sitting on the edge of the bed, her skin so pale in the morning light. Her hand on her . . .
Her hand on her belly. Pale skin. Nausea every morning. Courage is giving yourself to another human being. It couldn’t be. Sam wrestled with his feelings, vacillating between elation and terror.
“Gemma, what do you mean by saying I have more to lose than I think?”
“Just that you’d be fighting for your family . . . it would make it harder to be objective. You know what I mean,” Gemma stammered through her words.
“Tell me the truth. Is Sophie pregnant?”
“Sam, this is not the time to have this conversation . . .”
“Tell me!”
The words came out before she could stop them or think of the consequences. “Yes, she is. She told me just before we went into the mill.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Look around, Sam. There hasn’t really been a good time for that kind of revelation lately.”
“Did she think I wouldn’t be happy about it?”
“I’m sure she was trying to deal with her own feelings about it first. This child is illegal. And we’ve been racking up the crimes against the government today. It’s only a matter of time until we’re all caught. She’s terrified about the world your child will be born into and whether or not any of us will survive.”
“And she’s been trying to handle it all on her own . . .” Sam’s face fell into his hands.
&n
bsp; “Focus, Sam. Stay on mission. Get the kids back to the cabin, let me go after Sophie.”
Taking a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, “I still say it should be me.”
“And what if she’s hurt or had a miscarriage, would you know how to help her? Because I would. Sometimes it takes a woman to help a woman. Alright? Now, let me do this. We’re running out of time.” Gemma placed her hand on his arm, the first time she’d allowed herself to touch him since the day he’d returned from the work camp. Sam hated her logic, her complete objectiveness about everything. But he let her go all the same.
* * * * *
Jesse found Sam sitting at the table in the cabin. The same old wooden table where she had sat waiting for Zack after she had come to the cabin with her children and Aabirah that first horrific night that changed all their lives. It had been several days since his return. Days since he’d brought all of the children back to their grateful parents, not one child lost or left behind. And days since they had last seen Sophie or Gemma. Ethan had not yet spoken a word, and Sam just paced around the cabin and outside along the stream. Always looking, always waiting, the tension and anxiety working dark circles under his eyes and lines into his gaunt cheeks. Jesse wondered if he’d even slept since that day.
Zack didn’t know how to help Sam through this. “Because you’ve lived through it yourself,” Jesse had pleaded. “My God, Zack, the boy’s in pain!”
“Exactly,” he had responded. “That’s why I know there’s nothing I can say that will help.” He told her to give it time, but she knew from her own experiences with loss and grief this could not continue. He would worry himself into an early grave. And she worried Ethan would stay shut away inside himself if they couldn’t draw him out enough to process his grief over losing his mother a second time.
Standing at the sink and watching Sam over the bar, she tried to busy her hands with the dishes, while his hands continually ran through his rumpled hair, pulling at it as if he could rip out the memories of the trauma he’d lived through.
“Sam, can I make you some tea, son?”
A Light From the Ashes Page 42