“They called him Jimmy Bean, cuz he was five foot nothing and barely one hundred pounds.”
Isobel claps, giggling into a pillow, while Violet and I look at each other, our eyes big and round.
“He was the size of a bean, but he told me he liked his girls big and round,” Tilly says, with her hands raised out to the sides. “And, what can I say, I like to give my man what he wants.”
We cheer and we shout, and Tilly tilts her head forward in a bow before sitting back down.
“Will you go back to Jimmy Bean?” Isobel says softly, and Tilly shrugs, the curves of her mouth sinking low.
“I don’t know. Who knows if I’ll ever see him again? Maybe he’ll be gone by the time I get back. Maybe this is the only thing I’ve got left of him, you know?” She pats her belly and shrugs. “I know I shouldn’t get too attached, but I’ve been calling this child Baby Bean from the start. Seems as good a name as any, don’t you think?”
We nod and smile, quiet for a moment, and for the first time, I wonder what I would name my own baby, assuming Lulabelle’s right and it’s a boy.
“The babies will be okay, right?” Isobel says with a soft, small voice, but no one responds, and when the music on the radio turns into a happy tune, Violet stands.
“Let’s dance,” she says with a big smile.
We move our bellies and our bodies to the beat, waving our hands in the air. I show them how Duncan taught me to dance, and when the song is done, Isobel shows us the way Ruwai people move, her hips swinging side to side, her hands gliding beside her.
“Sing, Isobel,” Tilly says when she’s seated back down on the chair.
“Tilly,” she whispers, her face turning red, like she’s too embarrassed or nervous.
“It’s my birthday,” Violet says, and when we all beg again, Isobel reluctantly moves to the stage.
I sit down on the couch next to Violet as Isobel drapes her long hair over her shoulder, her body still thin despite the roundness of her belly. When she opens her mouth, Isobel sings words in a language we don’t understand, but it’s almost like we can feel it, like whatever she’s saying is magic.
When she’s done, Tilly and I clap and holler, as Violet holds her hands to her chest. “Oh, Isobel,” she says. “That was really beautiful.”
Isobel smiles, lowering her chin, her face bright red. “I’m sorry, I don’t know Mainland songs. Only Ruwai songs, Violet.”
“What does the song mean?” Violet says.
“It is about a girl who can move through darkness with her light,” Isobel says, and Violet stands and squeezes Isobel tightly.
WHEN WE GET into bed, Violet lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Elimina, I think that’s the very best time I’ve ever had.”
She reaches out and when I put my hand in hers, I feel tiny flutters move across my belly. I close my eyes and think about the baby moving and growing inside me. I make a point of memorizing everything about tonight—how it sounds, how it smells, how it feels to really be happy.
24
TILLY IS SITTING AT THE TABLE WITH A LOAF OF BREAD and a slab of butter when I step into the kitchen one afternoon. Her legs are sprawled wide under the table, so I can see her feet and ankles, which are thick and swollen in ways that look terribly uncomfortable.
She’s been ordered to rest for the last month of her pregnancy out of concern for the health of the baby, so she takes short walks around the yard twice a day and focuses on chores where she can remain seated. Isobel says that Tilly hardly sleeps, which is evident in the puffy pockets under her eyes and the way the stairs creak when she makes her way down to the kitchen in the middle of the night.
“No bread. No sweets. No sugar whatsoever,” Miss Charlotte told Tilly before leaving to take Violet for a checkup.
“Tilly,” I say, pulling the plate toward me. “Miss Charlotte said no.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Elimina,” she says as she pulls the food back.
I sit down across the table, watching her butter the bread and chew each bite slowly, pausing each time like she’s not even hungry.
“Tilly, Doc Luca says you’re going to hurt yourself . . . and the baby if you don’t slow down.”
“I’m fine.”
“But the baby . . .”
“It’s the baby that I’m thinking about, Elimina.”
I shake my head as she takes another buttered slice in her hand and opens her mouth. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want them to take the baby,” she says.
I sit up tall, massaging my belly gently as Tilly sighs and leans closer to the table.
“I thought I could just have the baby, give it up and get back on Redemption track like they want. Keep moving forward, you know, for my family and everything. But every day, I feel a shaking from this baby that says, Don’t leave me here. Get out. I hear this baby begging. Please, please. Don’t leave me with them. It keeps me up at night.”
I nod, unsure whether to admit out loud what I’ve known since my first appointment when I heard the baby’s heartbeat: I don’t want to give this baby up either. Something in me feels the way Rosalind must have felt that night when she went into labor, when Duncan and Lulabelle came to deliver the last baby in the project. This baby belongs with me.
“Have you said anything to Doc Luca and Miss Charlotte?”
“They’re the last people I would tell,” Tilly says. “Sarah, the girl who was here just before you, she wanted to keep her baby. She wanted to go back to the Gutter, and she told Doc Luca and Miss Charlotte what she was thinking a few weeks before she was due, how much she wanted to go home.”
“What did they say?”
“They told her how great it was to see girls who love their babies, who want to be mothers. They told her they’d look into some options. But the next day when I woke up, she was gone. I went to look for her in town, and I saw her sitting in front of the clinic all dazed, waiting for a driver, surrounded by two Mainland Guards. She was a mess, and the baby was gone. I asked her what happened. I asked her where the baby went, whether it was a girl or a boy, and she just turned to me with glazed eyes and said, ‘Don’t tell them anything, Tilly.’ I didn’t really know what she meant when she said it. But I do now.”
I lean back and think about how we’re expected to give our babies up as soon as they arrive, how nothing we have is ours except our debt.
“Miss Charlotte tells us it’s for the best,” Tilly says. “She says the babies are in good hands. And I believed that at the start. I really did. I was ready to go back and work off my debt. But, Elimina, something inside is telling me otherwise. Like giving this baby up isn’t right.”
I gesture toward the plate, where only a few crumbs remain. “But how is this supposed to help, Tilly? You’re making yourself sick.”
She looks up at me, her eyes sad and determined. “They won’t take a sick baby. Or a sick mother. They only want us if we’re healthy. They’ll add a fine to my debt if I don’t deliver a baby for them, but we’ll be able to go home together. I don’t care about Redemption Freedom anymore, Elimina. I just want my own life with my baby.”
“And you think this can work?” I say.
“I come from a big family,” she says, closing her eyes as she massages her leg to keep it from cramping. “My momma was big when she had me and I’ve been big from the start. But I turned out healthy enough to get approved for academy track. I turned out alright. I’m just working with what I got.”
Tilly raises her empty glass, and I take it to the fridge, where I fill the glass with milk and rest it on the table.
“You heading back after this, Elimina?” she says, before taking a sip.
“There’s a couple up on the Hill who’ve offered to hire me. I’ve got a friend who’s already there. I’m thinking of seeing if they’ll allow me to bring the baby too. Kind of like Isobel.”
Tilly shakes her head, wiping milk off her lip with a napkin. “Isobel’s not going back to those Healer
s,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“You think they’re going to want her around, having everybody see that the baby looks a little too brown in the sun, a little too like that girl who cleans up the Healers’ house? That woman is not going to want Isobel around after she’s been with her husband and is the real mother of that baby. They’re probably on some trip right now, hiding the fact that Lady Ann isn’t pregnant. They’re going to pass that baby off as theirs, as a Mainlander. I’ll bet you anything, Elimina. I’ll bet you that’s why they hired her from the very beginning.”
I stare at Tilly, shaking my head because I don’t want to believe her. “They wouldn’t do that. Isobel’s just a kid. She was twelve when they took her in. She’s got no one.”
“Which is exactly why they did it and why it’s so damn cruel,” Tilly says. “They raised her to trust and believe them. Then they used her, and they’re going to toss her out like she’s trash.”
I place my hands on my belly, where the baby is flipping around like a bird in a cage.
“And if your baby is healthy, Elimina, your headmaster will send that baby wherever he wants, hiring you out to whoever will pay the most. Maybe that’s the Hill and maybe it’s not. But you and Isobel, you have no idea what’s ahead. And no control over it either. I’m not going to let them do that to me.”
Tilly reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it tightly. “What you got to think about now—what I started to think about after I saw Sarah—is whether Redemption Freedom is going to feel good if you lose everything to get it, whether you’ll want to be at the Hill knowing your baby is lost somewhere, being raised at some academy or working for some Mainlander.”
I swallow hard, staring down at the table, thinking about Rosalind in that alley, about growing up alone, having no one who looked like me, no one who could tell me who I was or where I was from.
“I’m tired of being without my family,” Tilly says. “I’m tired of doing everything they tell me.”
I think of all the women who gave their babies up for the project—babies who died when they were apart from them—and I wonder what they would tell me to do if they were here, what Rosalind would say to me. I lower my head, and I hear a sound that’s so clear it’s hard to believe it’s not Tilly, a voice that’s so loud and distinct, it frightens me. Run.
I stare up at Tilly, who’s watching me strangely, like she can tell that I’m stirred. “I . . . I gotta go, Tilly,” I say, pushing my body up from the table and heading for the stairs.
When I step out of the kitchen, I see Isobel in the shadows, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Isobel, did you . . . how long have you been there?” I say.
“Do you think it is true, what Tilly said?” she whispers.
I bite my lip, unable to give her an answer, and she runs down the hall that leads to the backyard, letting the door slam behind her.
25
ISOBEL OPENS THE DOOR TO OUR ROOM ON A NIGHT WHEN the house is hot and stiff from a heat wave that makes sleeping more uncomfortable than usual.
“Tilly’s water broke,” she whispers, her face red and puffy. “I don’t know what to do. She’s in so much pain.”
Violet and I move quickly, following Isobel quietly across the hall and crowding around Tilly’s bed. She’s lying on her side, her skin shiny with sweat, her chest rising and falling so quickly it’s clear why Isobel’s scared.
“Help me,” Tilly whispers, clutching a pillow tightly.
I get down on my knees and hold one of her hands. “I’m here, Tilly. It’s okay.”
“Do you think they’ll shoot me if I’m running the other way, if I’m heading for the Gutter?” she says.
“Tilly,” I say, and she closes her eyes and nods, like she already knows she’s in no shape to go anywhere.
For the last week, Tilly has been in pain and constantly uncomfortable. Her knees and her back have been so sore that she hardly leaves her bed, begging us to bring her extra food, which she hides all over the room and eats without Miss Charlotte knowing, apologizing to Isobel whenever she can.
“I didn’t mean it, Isobel. I’m sure the Allisters are nice people. I’m sure they’ll take you back,” she told her.
But what made Isobel so sad, and what had aged the young girl somehow, was the fact that what Tilly said is probably true. And there is nothing Isobel can do about it.
“I gotta go,” Tilly says, suddenly trying to sit up, but when a rush of pain hits, Tilly stiffens and squints, biting down hard on the pillow.
She squeezes my hand and when the pain finally fades, she relaxes a little. Isobel places her hand on Tilly’s leg and starts weeping, and Tilly cries too.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” I say.
But when the door to the bedroom opens, and Miss Charlotte is standing there, Tilly drops her head back in frustration. Her only hope now is that the baby is too sick to go to an academy, but healthy enough to make it to the Gutter.
DOC LUCA ARRIVES with his medical kit, checking on Tilly while I cool her face with a cloth. I see the concern on his face, how he frowns with his lips pressed tightly together, and I can tell by the way Tilly holds my hand a little bit tighter that she sees it too.
“It’s going to be fine, Tilly. Everything will be fine,” I whisper, hoping it’s true.
“Is . . . everything set, Charlotte?” Doc Luca says as Miss Charlotte enters the room, squeezing past Violet and Isobel and waving a paper fan.
“Everything’s set,” she says. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Good. We need to move now,” he says, taking one of the towels from the pile we stacked on Isobel’s bed and wiping the sweat from his head.
“Miss Charlotte, can you clear the room, please,” he says as Tilly twists and moans.
“But I want them here,” Tilly says.
“Doc Luca needs room to work, Matilda,” Miss Charlotte says. “The three of you can go wait outside.”
“But, Miss Charlotte, it’s not even light out,” I say.
“It will be light in due time, Elimina,” she says, standing in the hall with her hands on her waist. “Just stay on the porch. The Mainland Guards will be watching you.”
A PAIR OF Mainland Guard vans are parked in front of the house as a thin strip of orange light cracks along the horizon. Four guards are standing on the edge of the driveway watching us closely, just like Miss Charlotte promised. Violet leans against a post while Isobel and I sit on one of the benches. From the open windows, we can hear Tilly moan and sob, like she’s in agony.
“That’s it, Matilda. That’s it. I know it hurts, but you’re doing great,” Doc Luca says.
When Tilly shrieks louder, like the pain is getting worse, Isobel looks over at me and grabs my hand.
“I’m nervous,” she says.
I can’t tell if she’s worried about Tilly or if she’s worried about suffering through all of this herself in a few weeks when her baby is expected to arrive. I squeeze her hand to encourage her as a sleek gray car pulls into the driveway, driven by a Mainland woman with black hair that’s white at the temples.
One of the guards moves toward the car, and she rolls down the window and smiles.
“You delivering?” he says, and the woman nods.
“How soon until the baby comes?” she says.
“If her shouting is any indication, it shouldn’t be too much longer,” the guard says with a nod toward the window where Tilly lets out a sharp scream. “But who knows. Sounds like it’s a tricky one.”
“Well, I’m used to waiting,” the woman says, adjusting the bassinet that’s resting on the front seat and pulling out a book as the guard steps away from the car.
Tilly’s contractions grow longer and closer together, and I can tell from the screams and the shrieks and the coaching of Doc Luca that she’s exhausted.
“Come on, Tilly. Come on. That’s it. That’s a girl,” Doc Luca says. “Just a little bit more.”
“I can’t. I can’t,” Tilly says.
“Push, Matilda. Push!” Miss Charlotte shouts, and Tilly groans loud and hard until we hear a baby crying.
“Good job, good job,” Miss Charlotte says. “It’s a beautiful, healthy little girl.”
“She’s healthy?” Tilly says, her voice full of disappointment as Doc Luca and Miss Charlotte move about and make plans. “Can I hold her?”
Two of the guards head toward the house, talking casually as Miss Charlotte mumbles a response that’s too quiet to be heard.
“No. You’re not leaving,” Tilly shouts. “I want to hold my baby.”
“Tilly, you need to calm down,” Doc Luca says. “You just had a baby.”
Something crashes to the floor, and when we hear a scream, this time from Miss Charlotte, the two guards run quickly, push through the front door and stomp up the stairs.
“Tilly,” Doc Luca says, his voice filled with warning.
“Give me my baby. Right now,” she says as the third guard stands in front of us with a gun.
“You three, on the grass,” he yells, nodding in the direction he wants us to go while the fourth guard stands near the gray car.
“Put it down, Tilly,” Doc Luca shouts.
“Put it down!” yells one of the upstairs guards.
“Tilly, you’re bleeding. Please, put the knife down,” Miss Charlotte says.
“Oh, Tilly,” Isobel whispers, pressing her hand against her mouth.
“Give her back!” Tilly yells, and the baby cries louder.
“You’re scaring the baby,” Miss Charlotte says.
“You’re scaring her!”
“Tilly, we just need to clean her up,” Doc Luca says, calm and slow. “Just let Miss Charlotte through, and we’ll clean the baby off for you. Go ahead, Char. Go on.”
“Miss Charlotte!” Tilly begs. “Please. Please bring her back.”
“She’ll be back, Tilly. She’ll be back,” Doc Luca says. “Let me have a look at that hand.”
We listen to Miss Charlotte move down the stairs, followed by one of the guards. Miss Charlotte sings gently with a voice that ripples in the air, and for a while, that’s the only thing we hear. But when the baby cries again, piercing and loud, Tilly’s panic returns.
Gutter Child Page 19