by Beaman, Sara
“Shhh,” Rina said soothingly. The girl rubbed her eyes, then drifted back to sleep against Rina’s shoulder. She was just a little thing, lighter in Rina’s arms than the backpack had been. Her mother was doing the right thing, sending her to Calliope. The Sisters of Mercy weren’t bad people, all things considered, but a whorehouse was no place to grow up.
Rina carried the girl home, finding her way easily down the familiar path by the pale light of the moon. There was a flickering light on the front stoop. Rina grinned when she realized it was a mason jar full of fireflies. Calliope must have collected them with the kids. It was good to be home again.
The girl moaned and stirred against Rina’s shoulder. “My head hurts,” she said.
“Look,” Rina said softly. “See the fireflies?”
“They’re pretty,” the girl said. “Where are we?”
“We’re home,” Rina said.
The house was dark and still. Rina considered waking Calliope, but decided against it. The reunion could wait until morning. She carried the girl into the kitchen and put her down on one of the wooden chairs. Pale moonlight filtered through the big window over the kitchen sink, casting gray shadows over the room.
Rina dipped a finger into the water jug to test the level and was pleased to find it three quarters full. Calliope must have sent the kids to the well. It was hard work lugging water back to the house, but the kids made a game of it, competing to see who could carry the most. The well water would be a welcome change from the boiled rainwater Rina had been drinking for days.
A quick check of the cupboards revealed a few apples, a bag of ground corn, and – best of all – two chicken legs, sealed in a plastic bag. Calliope must have slaughtered one of the chickens in expectation of Rina’s arrival. Rina felt a rush of gratitude toward her roommate.
Rina poured two cups of water and set one on the table in front of the girl.
“Is it tea?” the girl asked.
“It’s water,” Rina said. “It’ll make your headache go away.” She took a drink from her own cup.
The girl watched Rina swallow before taking a tentative sip. After that first small taste, she gulped down the rest quickly.
“Can I have more?” she asked.
Rina re-filled her cup and asked, “Do you want some chicken?”
“Yes, please,” the girl said.
After they finished the chicken legs, they each ate an apple. The food took the edge off Rina’s hunger, although she was far from full. She knew she’d wake up ravenous, but at least she would go to bed without a growling stomach.
She led the girl to the bedroom at the back of the house where Devon and Lucia were already sleeping. Calliope had fashioned them beds out of sleeping bags and padding made from rags. The result was funny looking, but warm and comfortable. Better than what a lot of people slept on. Rina made a mental note to ask Gretchen to keep her eyes peeled for another sleeping bag. The weather wasn’t too bad now, but once winter set in the girl would need a warm place to sleep.
“Are those your kids?” the girl asked.
“Shh. Don’t wake them,” Rina said, even though Devon and Lucia could sleep through just about anything.
“Sorry,” the girl whispered. “Are they yours?” she asked again.
“No,” Rina whispered back. “They live here with Calliope. She’s the one who’s going to take care of you.”
“Just until my momma comes to get me,” the girl said.
“Hush,” Rina told her. “You’ll wake them up.”
There was a little stack of blankets folded neatly in the closet. Two of them were torn and moth-eaten; Calliope was probably saving them for rags. Two others were threadbare, but intact, and the last was an old quilt, faded but still relatively thick. Rina managed to fashion it all into a little nest.
She felt a stab of annoyance that Calliope hadn’t bothered to make up a bed, and she forced herself to dismiss the ungracious thought. Calliope was busy enough with the kids and the school and all the chores Rina wasn’t around to help out with, now that she spent so much time riding the circuit. She was lucky Calliope hadn’t thrown her out months ago.
Gotta find a place of my own, Rina thought for at least the millionth time since Maddie had died. Calliope never complained, but Rina knew she wasn’t pulling her weight around the house. She tried to make up for it by being extra helpful whenever she was home, and she scrupulously shared her income – mostly food and clothing from Gretchen’s trading post. But she knew Calliope needed help around the house far more than she needed cheese and socks.
I’ll do better from now on, Rina promised herself. I’ll do more chores. I’ll start teaching classes at the school again. But she knew after a week or so she’d be itching to get back on the road.
She gave the pile of bedding a final pat and told the girl, “You can sleep here tonight. We’ll try to figure out something better tomorrow.”
“Where are my pajamas?” the girl asked.
“You can sleep in your clothes,” Rina said.
“Where are you sleeping?” the girl asked.
“In my room,” Rina said.
“Can I sleep with you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“This is where the kids sleep.”
“But I’m scared.”
“There’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Please?”
Rina sighed.
“Fine,” she said, knowing it was a mistake, but too tired to argue. “But it’s just for one night.”
“Thank you,” the girl said.
Rina led her down the hall and up the stairs. Calliope was lucky to have an intact second floor, although the leaky roof would need to be patched soon. Maybe if Rina sweet-talked Caleb and Javier into fixing the leaks Calliope would let her stay.
Or maybe you should start scouting empty houses, Rina told herself. The thought was depressing. The most desirable homes in Thorn Creek were already occupied; the empty ones were in disrepair. A group of people working together could fix one up, but Rina didn’t have anyone to help her. She’d end up living like that creepy girl Margotty: all alone in a cold and crumbling house with an overgrown front yard and some crappy scavenged furniture.
She shucked off her jeans, grimy from travel, and pulled off her sweater. She left her t-shirt and underwear on.
“Scoot over,” Rina said to the girl, who obediently shifted to one side.
“I like this bed,” the girl whispered.
“Don’t get too attached,” Rina said. “You’re moving downstairs tomorrow.”
****
Rina woke to a hand roughly shaking her shoulder. She gasped and rolled over, squinting at the figure that loomed above her in the dark room.
“Rina!” It was Trey’s voice. “Rina! Where’s the kid?” He was speaking in a hoarse, urgent whisper.
“What the hell?” Rina hissed. She pushed herself up on her elbows, mindful of the sleeping child beside her.
“Gretchen is pissed,” Trey said. “She wants the kid.”
The crack of a pistol cocking interrupted them. Calliope stood in the doorway, ghostly in her pale nightgown, her fine blond hair loose around her shoulders. The gun she was pointing at Trey glinted in the moonlight. The muzzle twitched, and Rina realized Calliope’s hands were shaking.
“Don’t move,” Calliope said. Her voice was shaking, too.
“Don’t shoot,” Trey said. “It’s just me.”
“Trey?” Calliope asked. She lowered the pistol. “Why are you sneaking into Rina’s room?”
“Gretchen sent him,” Rina said.
“Rina?” Calliope said. “I didn’t know you were back.”
The girl snuffled and rolled over. Calliope tensed at the movement and half raised the pistol.
“Easy,” Rina said. “It’s just the kid.” She put a hand on the girl’s back, soothing her back to sleep.
“What kid?” Calliope asked.
“Your kid,�
� Rina said. “The one we picked up from the Sisters of Mercy. They sent her to you, didn’t they?”
“No,” Calliope shook her head. “I have no idea who she is.”
“You weren’t expecting her?” Rina asked.
“No,” Calliope repeated, sounding annoyed.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Trey said. “The kid isn’t meant for Calliope. She’s supposed to go to Gretchen.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rina objected. “Why would the Sisters send a kid to Gretchen?”
“I don’t know,” Trey said. “All I know is Gretchen wants the kid. And I want to have a conversation without a gun in it,” he added looking at Calliope nervously.
“Sorry,” Calliope said. She uncocked the gun, gestured toward the stairs with her free hand and added, “Let’s go downstairs and sort this out.”
“There’s nothing to sort out,” Trey said. “I’m just supposed to deliver the package to Gretchen.”
Rina winced at the word package even though she’d been calling the girl the same thing just a few hours ago. But it was Calliope who said, “She isn’t a package. She’s a little girl. What’s her name?”
They both looked at Rina, who shrugged.
Calliope rolled her eyes and said, “Come on. I’ll put on a pot of chicory and you can explain what this is all about.”
Trey looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he followed Calliope downstairs. Rina grabbed her filthy jeans from the floor, pulled them on, and followed Trey out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
By the time she reached the kitchen, Calliope was already in full nurture-mode, spooning roasted ground chicory root into a pot of water and lighting the grill she kept on the back porch. She’d pulled a coat over her nightgown and shoved her feet into a pair of boots. Rina shivered and crossed her arms over her thin t-shirt, wishing she’d worn a sweater or at least pulled on her shoes. She stepped closer to the grill and warmed her hands over the flames.
“I don’t have time for this,” Trey protested. He scrubbed his hands through his straight, black hair in frustration.
“There’s always time for chicory,” Calliope said, unflappable as always. “We’re running low on fuel,” she added, gesturing toward the dried dung burning in the grill.
“If you let me take the kid you can have all the manure you want,” Trey said. “Rina doesn’t even have to help me muck out the stables.”
“Rina enjoys helping you,” Calliope said.
“No, I don’t,” Rina said. “If he wants to give us free manure, let him.”
“Don’t be silly,” Calliope said. “Of course you’ll help him.”
“Do we have to talk about this right now?” Trey asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“You’re the one who woke us up,” Rina pointed out.
“I only came here because Gretchen threw a fit and insisted I bring her the kid,” Trey said.
“Alright,” Calliope said, straining chicory into three mugs and passing them around. “Let’s talk about the child. Who is she? Where did she come from? And why is she here?”
“I told you,” Rina said, “we picked her up from the Sisters of Mercy. We assumed she was yours.”
“Don’t you think I would have told you if I was taking in another child?”
Rina shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. It’s your house.”
Calliope gave her a sharp look. “It’s your house, too,” she said. “What made you think the girl was meant for me? Did the Sisters tell you they were sending her here?”
“No,” Rina admitted.
“We didn’t even know about her until we got there,” Trey said. “We delivered the mail and then they said we could spend the night, since it would be hard to travel in the dark with a kid.”
“That was the first we heard of her,” Rina added.
“You didn’t think to ask why she was leaving or where she was going or even her name?” Calliope sounded exasperated.
“It was late,” Trey said, “We’d been riding all day.”
“What about the next morning?” Calliope asked. “Didn’t you even introduce yourselves to her before you left?”
“She was asleep,” Rina said.
Calliope raised one eyebrow. Even wearing a nightgown with a coat and an ugly pair of work boots, she managed to look intimidating. Maddie used to call it the Teacher Look.
“She slept through the entire trip?” Calliope asked.
“The Sisters gave her some … tea,” Trey said.
“You drugged a little girl with poppy tea?” Calliope’s tone was accusing.
“The Sisters did,” Rina said. Technically, the second dose of tea had come from the Sisters, too. "It’s a long trip,” she added defensively.
“And you thought it would be easier for her to sleep through it,” Calliope said, her voice loaded with disapproval. “Well first thing in the morning, we need to find out her name.”
“First thing in the morning she won’t be here,” Trey said. “Because I’m taking her to Gretchen now.”
“Absolutely not,” Calliope said. “She’s fast asleep. Gretchen can wait until morning.”
“Gretchen doesn’t want to wait,” Trey said. “She’s already pissed at us for getting back so late.”
“Why?” Rina asked.
“Because she expected us back earlier,” Trey said.
“No,” Rina said. “I mean, why does Gretchen want a kid?” As she spoke, a hard knot of dread twisted in her stomach. She’d never known Gretchen to deal with slavers, but people paid well for kids. Really well.
Judging by the grim look on Calliope’s face, she was thinking much the same thing. “We’ll find out tomorrow,” she said. Trey opened his mouth to protest, and Calliope repeated, “Tomorrow,” firmly, and Trey gave up.
“Fine,” he shrugged. “But don’t blame me if Gretchen shows up and raises hell.” He gulped the rest of his chicory and stomped out of the house.
Calliope winced as Trey slammed the door. “It’s a good thing Lucia and Devon aren’t light sleepers,” she said.
“What are you going to do when Gretchen shows up and demands that we give her the kid?” Rina asked.
“She won’t,” Calliope said. “Gretchen’s bark is worse than her bite. She’ll yell at Trey and then she’ll go to sleep.”
“What about tomorrow?” Rina persisted. “The girl isn’t ours.” She lowered her eyes and added softly, “And I can’t afford to make Gretchen mad.”
“Don’t borrow trouble,” Calliope said. “Gretchen Wallace didn’t build the most successful trading post in the Carolinas by making foolish decisions. She’s not likely to fire her best rider.”
“You don’t think she’s actually buying and selling –” Rina couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.
“I think it’s late and we should go back to sleep,” Calliope said. She frowned in confusion. “How come I heard Trey come in, but I didn’t hear you?” she asked.
“Trey is loud,” Rina said. “I was quiet.”
“I usually hear the bike,” Calliope said.
“Abigail ran out of gas,” Rina told her. “That’s why we were so late. Thanks for the chicken,” she added. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home in time for dinner.”
Calliope grimaced. “I wasn’t planning to slaughter any of the hens for another few weeks, but Michaela Sampson brought her air gun to school. I’ve told her parents a thousand times she needs to leave it at home.”
“Michaela Sampson shot a chicken?” Rina said, torn between horror and laughter.
“It isn’t funny,” Calliope said, but her mouth quirked and Rina knew she was barely suppressing a grin. “I made her wring its neck and then I taught the class how to scald and pluck a bird. So at least it was a good practical lesson. And Lucia and Devon were happy to have chicken instead of fish. I figured you should share in the bounty.”
Rina stared into her empty mug as she said, “Callie, I�
�m sorry I got you involved in this. Whatever it is.”
Calliope’s pale hair rippled as she shook her head. “Go to bed, Rina,” she said. “Get some rest.”
It was good advice. But Rina lay awake for a long time, listening to the quiet breathing of the little girl whose name she did not know.
****
“My name is Joy,” the girl told them the next morning. “Momma says that’s what I bring to everyone. Can I have some more milk?”
“You can have the rest of mine,” Lucia said. She seemed to think Joy was a living, breathing doll Rina had brought home just for her. “After breakfast, can I brush her hair?” Lucia asked Calliope.
“It’s up to Joy,” Calliope said.
Devon rolled his eyes. “You don’t even brush your own hair,” he told his sister.
“Yes I do!” Lucia protested. “Calliope, tell him not to be mean!”
“Devon, if you’re finished eating, why don’t you go wash your face?”
Rina leaned against the counter, enjoying the cheerful chaos of breakfast. Lucia and Devon had welcomed her home with great enthusiasm. Joy had been too busy meeting everyone to cry. And although she’d only slept for a few hours, Rina felt surprisingly refreshed.
But after breakfast was over, Rina’s sense of calm faded. Time to deal with Gretchen. She reluctantly said good-bye to Calliope and headed over to the trading post.
Calliope’s house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, backed up against what had once been a golf course. These days it was mostly used to pasture goats. David also let the horses graze there in nice weather. A few sections had been fenced off to grow animal feed for the lean winter months: corn mostly, but also some alfalfa and oats. It was hard to believe that only a generation ago few people raised their own livestock. It was even harder to believe that people had once used so much land just to play a game with sticks and a little ball.
The quickest path to the trading post was through the fields, so Rina tramped across the backyard into the meadow. Her feet crunched through a thin layer of frost that hadn’t yet burned off in the pale autumn sunlight. She could see the fog of her breath in the crisp morning air and she was glad she’d worn a scarf and jacket over her sweater.
“Rina!”
Her spine tingled at the sound of her name. Maybe if she just kept walking he’d think she hadn’t heard.