Hiding Places

by Shannon Heuston

  Instead of being part of the welcoming committee, Maggie was back at the house with Helmut, for which I was profoundly grateful. The sound of thunder reminded him of the guns and bombs that had fallen around the town where he’d hidden. Even though he’d gotten much better about hiding, I had no doubt he was currently ensconced in a hidey hole. At least he wasn’t alone. That put my mind at ease.

  I received an e-mail regarding the candidates’ identities just yesterday. The government held off making a decision about which candidates would go where until the very last minute. There were other camps scattering throughout the United States, but their locations were classified. That information was given only on a need to know basis, and I didn’t need to know.

  A Mexican woman and her son, Maria Hernandez and Eduardo, had failed to return to their home country when their visa expired. She had been living with her sister, a legal alien. She had two smaller children, so-called anchor babies born in the United States, and therefore citizens. She was desperate to keep her family intact, and was willing to do anything asked of her.

  An Afghani businessman, Samor Abdalla, and his family, wife Parisa, nineteen year old son Ahmad, and seventeen year old daughter, Sahar, were next on the list. The Abdallas had fled to the United States, and like the Hernandez family, their visa lapsed. Samor was adamant he could not return. A Taliban informant, there was almost certainly a price on his head. The Abdallas faced certain death if forced to return to Afghanistan.

  The last candidate, Roman Handler, was a Korean man in his thirties who had been adopted and brought to the United States back in the nineties, before such children were automatically granted citizenship. His adoptive parents had abused him, kicking him out at the age of sixteen. He lived a life of petty crime, before meeting his wife and becoming a family man. His criminal background made him ripe for deportation, but he’d lived in the United States all his life, had zero ties to Korea, and didn’t even speak the language.

  I forwarded the email with the candidates’ descriptions to the counselors, expecting them to have the material on hand today. I was surprised to discover that none of the three counselors assigned to greet the candidates had bothered to check their e-mail. Since I didn’t trust any of them in my office alone, I had to rush over to print out three copies.

  As we waited, I observed my employees through narrowed eyes. I had strived to hire a cross section of American society. Ariana was a stereotypical sorority girl, with her bleached blonde hair and high-pitched giggle. Her grades were lackluster, hovering around a C average, the typical Baylor student who planned to collect their degree and get married. That was fine. I wasn’t seeking intelligence, I wanted ordinary.

  Moose had been a terrific find. In season, he was a wildly popular center for the Baylor Bears Hockey Team. Burly and handsome, with creamy white skin, a shock of black hair, and almond shaped blue eyes, I had been shocked by his grades. They were excellent. He was on track to graduate summa cum laude next June. During his interview, Moose confided that he was remaining on campus for the summer because his mother had remarried.

  “For the fourth time,” he explained. “I don’t feel like going home and spending the summer getting acquainted with yet another guy trying to play Dad. I’m through. Not living at home anymore. He’s my mother’s new husband, not my stepfather.”

  Will was a teacher returning to get his master’s degree, American pie handsome with his freckles and dimpled grin.

  Seeking diversity, I selected a lithe, light skinned black woman named Lucinda Darwin. Even though she was classically beautiful with her high cheekbones, Moose and Will hadn’t given her more than a passing glance. It was the twenty-first century, but a girl that could easily model was being ignored by a couple of horny college boys, just because her skin was the color of coffee with cream.

  Maggie was the fifth of the group, and she was hanging on by a thread. I was forcing her into this, and I felt profoundly guilty about it. She was a sensitive creature. She sensed something sinister was afoot.

  I sighed. If I really cared about Maggie, I would release her. I could easily replace her.

  I thought of Thursday night, when we’d had a barbecue at the house of the college president, to thank everyone for their help in securing extra federal funds for the year. A huge assortment of food had been laid out on the lawn, way too much for our small group. Dr. Heinrich was there, and the president’s wife, an eccentric woman with snow white hair who wore kimonos. The president himself was not in attendance, off at some conference, or so his wife claimed. I suspected he was washing his hands of the project, like Pontius Pilate.

  I planned to sit with Maggie, knowing no one would guess the true nature of our relationship in this particular context. I was a mentor with my student, nothing more.

  As I mulled over the assortment of salads, I spied Will leading Maggie to a shady spot beneath the trees. My hands trembled so much I nearly dropped my plate.

  I wasn’t the only one dismayed. Ariana was staring after them with her mouth hanging open. With a toss of her head, she plopped her paper plate down next to Moose.

  I turned to observe Lucinda looking at the two couples on the lawn uncertainly. She’d been excluded. “Come sit with Dr. Heinrich and I,” I urged, leading the way to a picnic table.

  It could not have been fun for Lucinda, listening to us discuss the fall curriculum. I felt sorry for her. Beneath the trees, Maggie was talking animatedly, her hands straying up to twist her curls. I knew the signs of flirting when I saw them. I sighed. I felt like an old spider watching a young fly who’d escaped my web.

  “How’s the food?” I asked Lucinda. This was a pointless question. It was the same food served in the dining hall and Student Union.

  “Good,” Lucinda replied. She glanced over at the other four counselors. “Everyone’s paired up but me,” she said wistfully. “It’s an old story. I should be used to it by now.”

  “College men are shallow,” I said, then realized it probably sounded like I was calling the girl ugly. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. You’re a gorgeous girl, absolutely breathtaking.” I stabbed a lettuce leaf. “Seriously. You could model.”

  The awkward silence that ensued reminded me why I never talked to people. The girl probably thought I was hitting on her, I realized with horror.

  Even worse, I couldn’t say for sure that I wasn’t.

  “I get what you’re saying,” Lucinda stated, toying with her macaroni salad. “They’re not interested in me because I’m black.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the reason,” the president’s wife put in, aghast.

  “Are you interested in them?” Dr. Heinrich asked. “Don’t you want a more mature man?” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows to convey his meaning.

  Poor Lucinda. I felt disgusted. I’d been worried that Lucinda might interpret my compliment as a come-on and here was Dr. Heinrich hitting on her without shame. Pervert.

  The girl laughed nervously.

  Just when you were probably thinking it couldn’t get any worse, I thought.

  An old creaky school bus painted white lurched onto campus. “Here they come,” I announced. “And not a moment too soon, sky’s about to open up.”

  It started to spit rain as the bus pulled in front of the dorm to expel its cargo. The seven exhausted looking candidates tumbled out, bleary-eyed and lethargic, drugged on a supply of diesel fumes. They dragged their luggage behind them.

  They lined up at the curb, holding tight to their bags, taking in the sprawling campus with wide eyes, radiating fear. I could practically smell it. Had the Jews been like this, tumbling off the cattle cars transporting them to their deaths?

  No, I decided. This was different. Baylor University was a beautiful campus in high summer, and here there would be no screams or beatings, no starvation or sudden deaths or selections.

  Will seized the reigns, resuming an authoritarian stance with legs spread and arms crossed, expression stern. Ariana hovered b
ehind him. Lucinda was smiling uncertainly.

  “Welcome to Baylor,” I said, in my loudest instructor’s voice. “I am Dr. Ursula Reiter, your director.” I pointed to each counselor in turn as I introduced them. “This is Will, Ariana, and Lucinda. You must obey them without question. An order from them is an order from me, and you can consider both direct orders from the United States government.”

  An Asian man who had to be Roman raised his hand. “Ma’am, most of them don’t speak English too well,” he volunteered.

  The teenage girl whose face was nearly obscured by her head covering said, “I understand English, and so does Ahmad, my brother. We can translate for our parents.”

  “Did anyone say you can talk?” Will asked.

  It was raining in earnest now. I should shepherd the group inside, but instead I watched, transfixed.

  The candidates looked stricken. It was beginning to pour. If they stood out here any longer, everything would get soaked.

  “I was just trying to help,” Roman said. It was clear he required no Americanization. He spoke with an easy confidence and sense of entitlement that was distinctly American.

  Will didn’t break eye contact with him as he said, “Ariana, Lucinda, bring everyone inside except for the girl and this joker.”

  Neither Ariana or Lucinda glanced at me as they gathered their charges and ushered them inside. Very interesting.

  The remaining members of the Afghani family reluctantly started inside, but right outside the door the older woman turned and ran back to her daughter, throwing her arms around the girl.

  “Go inside,” Will ordered.

  Despite not knowing any English, the woman got the message. She shook her head emphatically and pressed her face against her daughter’s head.

  “Fine,” Will said with an eye roll. “Well then. Because you both mouthed off, we’re all gonna stand here in the pouring rain for fifteen minutes. I don’t care if all your stuff gets wet. Next time keep your mouth shut.” He turned to me. “Go on inside, Dr. Reiter, I’ll take care of this. No need for all of us to get soaked.”

  I nodded my thanks, then briskly walked into the dorm. Just as I stepped inside, the sky cracked open with a roar and water poured down from the heavens. I paused to watch from the doorway. The mother was still hugging her daughter, and Roman had turned his face to the sky, a silent gesture of defiance. Their clothing was plastered to their skin.

  It was impossible to tell for sure, but I think the mother was weeping.

  Very interesting, I thought. Will’s behavior was even more authoritarian than I’d expected. I knew this was a test. He was trying to see what I would let him get away with. Anything, as it happened.

  I headed upstairs to the floor where the candidates were being housed.

  Each inmate was assigned their own room. I’d toyed with the idea of pairing up the families, but ultimately decided against it. Isolation would be best. The less they could lean on each other, the better.

  The doors of the seven chosen rooms were wide open along the corridor. I could hear water running in the communal bathroom, which reminded me that the three candidates standing outside hadn’t used a toilet in hours. It had to be miserable standing out there with water sluicing over their heads, making their need to urinate desperate.

  Oh well. They’ll survive.

  I went from room to room, supervising as the candidates unpacked their bags. Unlike most college students, they were denied the luxuries of televisions, laptops, and smartphones. They were forbidden. They were welcome to watch the puffy screen television chained to the wall of the lounge in the evenings.

  Will arrived, driving his prisoners before him. The expressions on the faces of the mother and daughter nearly broke my heart. They were faces resigned to suffering. The father, Samir, looked stern and unyielding. Who knew what their lives were like beneath such a man. After all, he’d hurried inside without a backwards glance. They were just discarded luggage.

  As Parisa and Sahar approached, he rebuked them in their own tongue. Parisa, his wife, hung her head in shame. Sahar just looked vacant.

  “They must speak English if they want to stay,” Will said.

  I placed a hand on his arm. “Let’s give them some time to settle in before we bring that up. We’ll start the reeducation in earnest tomorrow.” I gave him a cold smile.

  After the transgressors were permitted to use the bathroom, I decided to go home, leaving the counselors in charge. Based on what I’d seen so far, I couldn’t wait to spy on them from the web cams stashed all over the communal areas.

  “Lights out at nine,” I reminded them in parting.

  The sky was lightening. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. The storm had passed. Far off on the horizon, I could see the sun shining. As I watched, a rainbow streaked across the sky. My breath caught. So beautiful. One of the bonuses of Northern New York, gorgeous rainbows, something I’d never seen in the city.

  There was a spring in my step as I bore down on my SUV. I was eager to see what the cameras would show tonight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Maggie

  It had been a long day. Helmut was agitated by the unsettled weather.

  “I don’t like it when it rains like this,” he sighed. “It reminds me of the camp. Every day was a rainy day there. An endless succession of rainy days.”

  I was also restless, pacing around the house. Ursula had surprised me when she let me have the first weekend off. I was a bit distressed about it. I would have preferred to meet the candidates on the first day, when we were all awkward strangers.

  Will was crestfallen when I informed him I was going home for the weekend. “All the way to Westchester?” he asked. “On the bus? Won’t that take hours and hours?”

  Damn. He knew full well I didn’t have a car, so how would I play this off? “We have a house in the Lake George area, so it’s not that long of a ride.” Liar.

  The only bus out of Baylor in the summer left at eight fifteen in the morning, but I trusted Will wouldn’t know that. Why would he know the bus schedule when he had a car? I let him believe I was catching the bus after training on Friday.

  “When will you be back?” he asked, deflated. I felt guilty about lying. Why couldn’t I just tell him I was helping with Dr. Reiter’s father?

  Because I knew Ursula wouldn’t like it. That was why.

  “Not until late Sunday night,” I replied.

  “How about I pick you up? I’m sure I’ll be able to get away for a few minutes, and it’ll save you having to walk.”

  Shit. Now what? I hadn’t anticipated this. I wasn’t used to people wanting to do things for me. It felt nice, but it was inconvenient.

  Should I go stand in the parking lot of the depot with my bag, pretending the bus just dropped me off?

  “Don’t bother, Dr. Reiter will drive me back to campus,” I said. “She always does.”

  “She does?” Will wrinkled his nose. “That’s nice of her, I guess.”

  I sighed with relief.

  We had gone out to lunch twice more since our date. Ariana always tagged along, chattering nonstop, her hand clamped possessively on Will’s upper arm. I wasn’t sure I liked Will until I saw her blood red fingernails wrapped around his bicep. That sight never failed to elicit a surge of jealousy.

  We had kissed some more, too. The last time, Will slid his hand down the top of my sundress, skillfully maneuvering it into my bra. I was shocked by the answering electric tingle, causing my nipples to become instantly erect.

  I’d felt indifferent about sex before, but now I wondered what a penis would feel like inside me. Of course, I’d been penetrated before, by Ursula’s fingers, but this would feel different. At least that’s what I thought. How much bigger was it? Would it hurt?

  I could find out, whenever I wanted. That knowledge made me smile.

  Ursula was anxious and preoccupied when I arrived Friday night. She barely acknowledged me, instead holing up in her office, leaving Helmu
t and I to dine alone. I tried not to take it personally.

  After Helmut went to bed, I sat on the sun porch, reading a book on my Kindle, trying to enjoy the cool breeze. But I couldn’t concentrate. I felt jumpy.

  It was that stupid program. And Will. And Ursula. Instead of acting jealous, she was ignoring me. She kept assuring me that she didn’t want to break up, but her actions said otherwise.

  I retired around eleven, pausing outside Ursula’s office on my way upstairs. The door was still shut, the slice of yellow light beneath the only sign of life. I decided against knocking and went up to bed.

  Ursula had already left by the time I woke on Saturday. She was making last minute arrangements for the arrival of the candidates.

  As I watched a movie with Helmut in his sitting room, my phone vibrated with a text. I snatched it up. It was Will.

  It’s so boring here without you. He illustrated his pain with a frowny face.

  It’s not exactly a barrelful of laughs here either I typed back.

  Yeah. I didn’t get the impression that you were that crazy about your folks.

  I stared at the words. Was he just whining? Or did my story not ring true?

  It’s my father’s birthday, I wrote back.

  I put the phone down. I had just painted myself into another corner. What excuse would I use to go home two weeks from now? Another birthday? A death in the family? If only we had the same weekend off. Will probably would have gone home himself, leaving me with less explaining to do.

  I had an awful sinking feeling that I was not going to be able to spend weekends at the Reiter household, as Ursula had promised.

  It’s only for six weeks, I reminded myself. I would survive.

  The real worry was Ursula’s sudden preoccupation with something that was not me. Ursula’s eyes used to grow as big as saucers whenever I shed my clothes, making me feel like Venus posing on the half shell. Now she barely looked at me. Instead, she was constantly on her laptop or going over her notes.