by S. E. Rose
Monday starts with chaos. Two of the kids are sick and need to go to the doctor. The directora barks out orders to Yenny, Patricia, and me. I end up getting the other kids off to school while our cook, Yessica, mans the small kids. The other volunteer, Lucia, was supposed to be off this week, but she agreed to stay until Monday night. She is in the homework room with the younger kids. After the doctor’s appointments and lunch, the directora calls me into her office.
“I’m glad you were still here,” she says with a smile. “Today was a little crazy even for us.”
I laugh. “Yes, it was. I’m glad I could be here, too.”
“Are you sure you want to finish this week?” she asks.
I feel guilty, but I nod. “I have some other things I need to do here before I leave,” I explain.
She nods. “Well, it was worth a try,” she laughs and so do I.
Later in the day, Yenny pulls me aside and asks if I can help her sort some files that the directora wanted her to go through. She explains that they are old files and she doesn’t feel confident about throwing some out without someone else looking at them. I agree, and we make plans to go through some after the kids go to bed.
Fortunately, the rest of the day goes by without any major catastrophes. The kids get to bed early, and we give out medicine to the sick ones. I imagine a few more will be sick by the end of the week, but I hope they don’t pass it along to me since I’m just starting to feel better. I find myself washing my hands like crazy. After the kids are asleep, I meet Yenny in the kitchen. She has two coffees and a stack of files about two feet high sitting on the table. We start going through them. Eventually, we make it back to 1993. As we go through the files, I get into a rhythm. Then, I stop dead in my tracks as I read a document that has my mother’s name on it. I read it three times, making sure I understand it. The document says my mother was a runaway, that she was here under foster care guidance after neglect from her parents who were not financially stable. And then two days before my birth, she ran away. The witness line is signed, and I read the name over and over in disbelief. Father James.
Yenny looks up from her file and frowns, asking me what is wrong. I decide not to tell her. Instead, I ask why a priest would witness a runaway form. She explains that sometimes when they are short-staffed the nuns and priests will come out to assist, so it is likely that he was the staff person on that particular day. I nod and pretend like I am putting the paper in a stack I have on the floor to discard, but I discreetly push it aside. We continue to go through documents. I find a file on my brother and me and see that indeed Sister Rebecca and Sister Juanita brought us here. I ask Yenny if I can keep my file. She nods and puts a finger to her lips. I smile. I glance over at her and then slip the file on my mother into the folder with Nick and my documents.
It takes us nearly three hours to go through the piles and it is close to midnight when we finish. Yenny thanks me profusely and then I head to sleep, but I toss and turn as I contemplate what I have found.
In the morning, as I sip my coffee, I text Lance and tell him what I found. He agrees this is indeed puzzling. I go back through the dates in my head and wonder how early we were born. Did we arrive a few weeks early or a few days? I scan through my birth certificate and realize from my weight that we couldn’t have been that early, but we were probably not full term.
I spend the day buried in work. The kids have tests at school and I work with them to study.
I decide to text Nick who tells me his travel plans got pushed back a week because of a work project. I sigh and text him back. I guess I’ll stay in Ibague for at least a week or two. I text my mom because we haven’t been talking every day like we normally do. As soon as I hit send, I get a FaceTime request.
“Hey, honey,” she says as her face pops up on my screen.
“Hey, Mom.” I smile at her.
“You looked stressed?” she says. I walk away from the kids and sit alone on a chair in the back garden.
“Just a lot to process here,” I say.
“You haven’t even filled me in on the details,” she says, and I can tell her feelings are hurt.
“I promise I will, Mom. I’ve learned so much and it has been amazing to meet our biological grandparents,” I say with a big smile because it’s true. “I’m also finding out a lot about our biological mother.”
“Oh?” she prods.
“Yes, I’ll explain it all when I have more time,” I say, checking the time on my phone and realizing I should get going. Then Jack pops into the screen.
“Hi, Jack,” I say.
“Hey, love, how are you?” he asks.
“I’m good,” I answer, and he gives me the “I know that’s a lie” face. I burst out laughing.
“Actually, Jack, can I talk business with you for a moment?” I ask.
My mom’s face suddenly appears on the screen. “Lily, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mom, really. It’s not related to me. I just learned about some issues with the kids recently and Jack might have contacts I can talk to about it.” I try to sound blasé and reassuring.
“OK, but we need to talk more. I miss you. Be safe,” she says and leaves.
I see Jack look toward the door and I know he’s waiting for her to leave. “What’s up, Lil?”
“Do you have any contacts that would know about kidnapping in Colombia?” I ask. “Or about child sex traffickers or stuff like that?”
He frowns. “Lily, what’s this about?”
I sigh, knowing I have to hurry because someone could walk out at any moment. “I may have stumbled upon some evidence that leads me to believe there has been a child sex trafficking ring down here for some time and I want to report it to someone before I leave.”
He is still frowning. “Lily, please don’t dig anymore, OK? I will get you a name and set up a call for you to talk with someone once you are back in Bogota.”
“That’d be great,” I say, feeling slightly relieved. “Thanks, Jack.”
“You’re welcome,” he says and then before disconnecting he adds, “And remember, Lily, be careful. I don’t think my heart could survive another Scotland episode.” I nod, and we say goodbye.
By nightfall, I’m exhausted again, but I can’t sleep. I lie in bed with a million thoughts running through my brain.
Chapter 20
Lily’s Playlist: “Girl On Fire” by Alicia Keys
June 29th
I can’t sleep. It’s after midnight now, and I’m still lying in my bed. After giving up and going out on the back patio, I hear the noises out front. And then I see the child being carried out of the house.
I think of texting Lance, but I don’t think a buzz from my text will wake him. I manage to call him from the directora’s office, and I sit there waiting for him as he has instructed. I can still hear the voices out front. Then, I hear footsteps above me.
I hold my breath and sit on the floor behind the desk. The footsteps go back to the front of the house and down the stairs. I hear whispering in the front hall near the door to the office. The handle jiggles, and I sprint to the side door, hoping beyond hope that no one is in the back hallway. I quietly open it and peek around, seeing no one I turn and shut the door before tiptoeing toward the back stairwell. I’m about to step on the bottom step when I feel a rush of wind behind me and then pain. Something hits my head, and I fall to the ground. I’m vaguely aware that a man is standing over me and then…blackness.
My mind slowly comes out of the fog. I’m aware that I’m no longer lying on the floor of the orphanage. I keep myself still and try to sense my surroundings. It feels like a wood floor. I can feel the planks beneath me. They are wide, maybe five inches each, but they are undoubtedly wooden floorboards. I open my eyes slightly, and what I see takes the breath from my lungs.
Four sets of frightened eyes are looking at me. I open my eyes wider. I’m on the floor. I am not in the orphanage. I’m in a small room. There’s a window on the far side and a door on t
he other side. Besides that, there is only myself and three girls and one boy. They look between the ages of eleven and fifteen. I examine them as my eyes adjust to the light. One of them is a little girl, Maria Ana, who is twelve or thirteen. She’s been at the orphanage since I got there. She’s quiet, a little moody, and keeps to herself. She let me help her with homework once. I can see her eyes are filled with tears, tears of pure terror. The other kids are not from the orphanage. They look equally frightened. I look around again. It’s still dark outside. I can’t see any lights nearby. I can see the moon in the sky. The door looks heavy, made of solid wood. I can see light in the gap between the bottom of the door and floor. I listen, and I hear voices. They aren’t near us, maybe a few rooms away. They speak quietly, and I can’t make out any words.
I start to get up and realize my hands and feet are bound. I manage to scoot myself to the window and peer outside. We are on a mountainside. I can see Ibague in the distance, but it’s far from here, a good several hours hike by my estimate. I don’t see any roads or houses near us.
I sit down and look at the kids. We are all bound up with ropes and our mouths are covered with duct tape.
I close my eyes and try to calm myself. OK, Lily, what are you going to do? My cell phone!! I try to feel for it and a sickening feeling comes over me. My cell phone is no longer in my pocket. Shit! Well, now I’m really screwed.
I close my eyes and think again. I try to wedge my tongue between my lips to see if I can lick the tape and get it loose. No luck. My hands are behind my back. I have on no shoes. Wait, no shoes?! I laugh internally at this ironic twist. When I was a little girl, my brother used to call me monkey girl because I could do so many things with just my toes. I smile at the memory before I sit with my legs out straight in front of me and then bend my knees so that my feet are brought up toward me a little. I bend forward and inch my face to my feet slowly. The rope around my ankles is tight, but I manage to lean forward enough that my big toe can just barely graze my cheek. I keep doing it until the corner of tape peels back just a fraction. Then I take the sliver of tape between my big toe and second toe and start to pull. It hurts, but I get it off in a matter of seconds. I look around. OK, now if I can just get my hands in front. I look to the kids and ask them if they are alright. They nod. I tell them I’m going to get us out of there.
Then I hear footsteps. I freeze. The footsteps continue coming toward the room until I can see a shadow in the gap under the door. I quickly put the tape back over my mouth and crawl back to my spot. I motion for the kids to lie down, and we all pretend to be asleep as I hear the door being unlocked and opened. I open my eyes just a little and can make out a shadow projected to the far wall of the room. It’s a man. He’s tall, but not super tall. He’s shorter than Lance and a little taller than Nick. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to slow my breaths, so it appears that I am not awake. Then I hear a voice.
“Lily, get up,” the voice says. It is American, and this scares me for some reason. I don’t move.
“Get up!” the voice yells. I slowly get to my knees. I’m shaking now, and as I turn around I stare at the floor. The man yanks me by my elbow toward the hallway. He shuts and locks the door behind us, and then I’m being led down a hall. It’s dimly lit with one single light. I can hear a generator outside. I recognize it from home when we had a tornado that cut power to our neighborhood for three days. I remember our neighbors and my parents going and buying generators and running them constantly, so the refrigerators and single light bulbs could be powered. We are off the grid here, that I now understand for sure. The man drags me into a room on the left. I see two other men. They are Colombian. They are sitting at a table playing cards.
The man pushes me into a chair. I keep my vision on the ground, praying that he leaves the kids in the other room.
“Look at me,” he finally says, pushing my chin up with his hand. I try so hard not to look, but he lowers his head so that I have no choice.
I gasp, and tears of fear and horror fill my eyes. I’m staring into cold eyes, angry eyes, the eyes of someone who could easily snap my neck without a care. I’m staring into my father’s eyes.
“So, you know,” he states, letting my chin go. I don’t look down now. Instead, I stare at him, mesmerized by the man who gave me life, but stole it from my mother in one single act, or many acts over many months, I think to myself in disgust.
“I wondered if you would come looking someday,” he ponders more to himself than to me. “I wondered if I’d see you and if you’d look like your mother. You do, look so much like her.” He strokes my cheek with his hand. His eyes looking over me with desire and it makes me want to throw up, but I will myself not to, knowing I’d choke on my vomit with the tape over my mouth.
“Well, unfortunately, you know too much now, my dear,” he says as though he might regret what he has to do. “I’ve been watching you for a few weeks. As soon as I learned it was for sure you, I had to see for myself.” He pauses and places his hand on my arm. It’s dangerously close to my breast, and I try to stop myself from cringing. “I wondered if you’d figure it out. You’re a smart girl. Just like your mother. How’s my son? He didn’t come with you. I was surprised by that.”
He looks at me and smiles, only his smile isn’t kind or loving. I shudder. “Now be a good girl.” He reaches over and rips the tape off my mouth. Thankfully, because I’d loosened it before, it doesn’t hurt as bad, but it still stings.
“Now tell me, what do you know?” he asks, his head cocking to one side with general interest.
“Nothing, really. I don’t know anything. Please, let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone,” I whisper.
He laughs at this, a sinister, evil, low laugh. The fear swells in me. “Now, don’t lie to your papa.”
I swallow as he sits patiently waiting for me to speak, his legs crossed. He looks relaxed even.
“I know you are my father. I know my mother died giving birth to my brother and me. That’s it,” I say softly.
“And…,” he encourages me.
“And my mother was just a child,” I say to him. Somehow, I feel my bravery deep down and I look into his eyes as I say this.
“Yes, she was a young woman, a very beautiful, young woman, much like you,” he says. “Imagine my delight when I found out you were here and were the spitting image of her.”
He caresses my leg and I jerk it from his hand.
“Now, now, Lily, we mustn’t be rude,” he says, chiding me like a small child. “Let your father get a good look at you. Stand,” he instructs me, his voice commanding and booming in the small, empty room. I shakily get to my feet, which is difficult with my legs tied together. He runs his hand down the length of me.
“Yes, just like her,” he says. He studies me for a moment. “Except your ears and your feet, those are mine. And, of course, you are much lighter in color than most Colombian women and your hair much more red and yellow, also from me. I see your brother is just like me though.” He studies the phone, pressing the button so my screen illuminates and a photo of Nick and me at the beach this summer fills the darkness. A single tear slips down my cheek as I remember how much fun that day was. “Sit,” he commands me again. I do as I’m told.
He gets up and paces the room. “Well, we both know you know much more than you are letting on,” he says. “That means, you have left me with only two choices, which greatly saddens me.”
He pauses in front of me. “I either have to send you with the children—you’re still young enough to sell. Or I have to kill you.”
I grimace at the last statement. I internally pray to any god that Lance or someone will find me before it’s too late, but I can’t help the feeling of dread and hopelessness that overcomes me. I am too far; it is too late. There are no cell towers up on the mountain to ping off and show anyone where I went. I could clearly see that when he showed me the photo on my phone.
I close my eyes for a moment, waiting to hear if my father will s
entence me to death. Then, I hear him speak.
“It’s ironic, I’ll admit. I thought for sure I could make money off your mother at first, but she was just so sweet. I had to keep her for myself. When she disappeared, I never gave up looking for her.”
I gasp. I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “You found her,” I whisper barely audibly.
“Yes,” he says. “You are a smart girl, Lily. I found her, but she got away from me. She rolled out of the car. I couldn’t find her in the dark. I started checking hospitals and that is when I found you.”
“I know,” I whisper again.
“Ahhh, yes, Dr. Garcia,” he says with a smirk. “It’s unfortunate that his medicines failed him.”
I shudder. He killed the doctor. Another tear slips down my cheek.
“Oh, Lily, so innocent,” he murmurs against my cheek as he kisses it. “So beautiful, just like the flower.”
His touch is vile, and I try to stay calm. “So, what to do? What to do?” he ponders as he caresses my cheek.
“Perhaps, I will sleep on it. It’s never a good idea to make hasty decisions, now is it?” he says as he sits down across from me once more.
“What about the children?” I ask.
“They will be sold. Well, they are already sold. They will be transported out of the country shortly,” he says. “My associate will come get them. Business has been good lately. A bit of a lull last year, but we have a new associate now.”
My mind goes completely blank as I process what he has told me. Once again, the cogs in my brain begin to spin, and the pieces fall into place. I know in that instant that my face has lost all color. Dear God, he was working with Alexei! Tears now well in my eyes, and I cannot stop the sob that escapes me.
“Oh yes, you met my former business associate, didn’t you?” he says casually as though talking about his banker or accountant. “Alexei. I had learned that your adoptive mother was the reason for my business issues.” He pauses again. “Don’t worry, the irony of that was not lost on me, child. However, all is well that ends well. My new associate has taken over the European market as well as already having footholds in the Middle East, Asia, and Northern Africa. So, we have been quite busy lately. Although I think you will find that you have much in common with my new partner.”