by Rena Olsen
My parents came to see me again, and watching them together was like magic. Two people in love, but as equals. Doug attended to Jane, made sure she was comfortable, but not for show. Jane did not look over her shoulder, waiting to see how Doug would react to a misstep. She was confident on her own, while still being connected to Doug. I can’t stop comparing their relationship to mine with Glen.
Connor knocks on the door and enters, but says nothing. He knows I’m ready. I sit up as he enters and struggle to my feet before he can cross the room to help me. He takes my elbow anyway and leads me toward the door.
“Are you okay, Clara?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I laugh. “I thought you wanted me to do this weeks ago.”
“Not if you’re not ready.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You are strong, Clara. You have nothing to prove.”
My head is already shaking before he finishes the sentence. “I do, though. To myself. It is time for me to stand up to Ma—to Mae Lawson.”
The look on Connor’s face is proud, and once again I am allowed into the visiting area without cuffs. “Will it look suspicious?” I ask. “Will she think there is something wrong?”
“No,” Jay jumps in. “You’ve been unshackled before. It might seem weird if we decided to start again.”
That makes sense. I take a deep breath as Jay opens the door, admitting me to the room. No one else is using the area today. There are extra recording devices set up around the room, and Mama has signed a document saying she understands that what she says and does will be recorded. This is not a change from her other visits, but she doesn’t know about the microphone I am wearing this time. Nor do I plan on telling her.
Mama stands as I enter, holding her arms out. I go into them and close my eyes, trying to imagine them as the comforting arms of my family. They feel cold and lifeless, and I am relieved when she releases me after a brief moment. Her hand goes to my stomach.
“You’re starting to show,” Mama says, eyes shining. “That’s my grandbaby in there.”
I force a smile. “Yes. On track and healthy, according to the doctor.” I move away and her hand falls back to her side. “How are you, Mae?”
Her smile is tense. “Not great, Clara.” She leans forward. Good. My microphone will pick her up that much clearer. “They’ve been asking me questions, acting like I should have known about everything.”
I frown. “But you did know. It was Papa’s business first.”
Mama swats my hand, hiding the gesture with her body. It does not hurt, but it’s a reminder of my place. “Quiet, you silly girl. Of course I know that. I trained you, didn’t I? But they aren’t supposed to know.” She pauses. “You haven’t said anything to them, have you?”
“Of course not.” I pretend to be offended by the question. “You trained me better than that.”
Mama doesn’t look convinced. “You know it is Glen’s wish that I stay out of this. Even if he ends up in prison, he wants me to live the rest of my days as a free woman.”
“What if it is between you and me?” I ask. I am going off script, but I’m curious. “If there was a choice between me going to prison and you, who do you think Glen would choose?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why would you ask such a question?” In her eyes, I see the truth. Glen would send his mother to prison if it meant I could be free. The guilt I have been trying to ignore lessens. I am doing this to earn my freedom. Mama has had years of freedom. I have not been free since before I can remember.
I pretend to be hurt. “I just don’t know if he cares anymore,” I say. “It has always been about protecting the Lawsons and the Lawson name, and you never really considered me one of you.”
“Of course we did!” Mama’s voice rises. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She lowers her volume again. “They have those listening devices all over this room, so keep your voice down.” She still speaks to me as if I am a child.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” I say, my voice contrite. “You’re right. I am being careful. It’s just spending so much time alone . . . I keep thinking back on things and wondering . . .”
Mama’s eyes soften, but I see her fists clench. “What do you wonder, child?”
“What . . . what would have happened to me? If Glen didn’t love me? If the client didn’t want me?”
“That was never going to happen. If you and Glen had not been together, you would still be living happily with the client we chose for you. He would have treated you well.”
“What would I have done?”
An exasperated sigh tells me that Mama is already tired of my questions. I must be smart. “You know what you would have done. What I trained you for. You would have been his confidante. You would have lived in luxury, gone on exotic vacations, and fulfilled the role his wife could not. If Glen had not been in the picture, you would have been trained fully to succeed in your role.”
Pursing my lips, I act hesitant. “And . . . what about the other girls? Like . . . like Macy?”
Mama’s face clears. “This is what you’ve been thinking about? All this time and you still think about that girl?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Despite knowing this is supposed to be an act, I am desperate to know more about what happened to Macy. I did not realize how much I still thought of her until Mama said it. She is always there, living in the back of my mind.
Mama’s face contorts into an expression of derision. “Clara, I know you loved her, but Macy was never special. Not like you. She died of a dirty disease and was put with all the other girls.”
“If I wanted to say good-bye . . . if I ever got out of here . . . could you tell me where?”
“Clara . . .”
“Please, Mama.” I reach across the table and clutch her hand.
She falters. “I’ll take you when you’re out.”
I squeeze her hand tighter. “In case it’s a long time, Mama, please, just . . .” I allow a tear to escape and Mama’s posture slumps. I know I have won.
“There is a site, a few miles away from the old compound . . .” Mama continues, but I tune out. Connor will take down all the instructions. I cannot stop thinking about Macy, and all those like her, dying alone, being left to rot. It tears my heart in two, and I know I cannot handle being in the same room as this woman any longer. When she has finished, I lean over.
“Mama,” I gasp. “I don’t . . . I don’t feel well . . . Call the guard.”
She jumps up. “Help! Someone help her, please!” She rushes to my side of the table. “Oh, Clara, you can’t lose this one, too. There aren’t supposed to be any lasting effects.”
I look up at her. “What do you mean?”
She claps a hand over her mouth. Through her fingers she mutters, “The special tea . . . He said you weren’t ready.”
“Ready for what?” My ruse is forgotten for a moment as I focus on what Mama is saying.
“A baby is such a big responsibility. ‘Wait until she’s at least twenty-five, Mae,’ he told me. ‘Then maybe they’ll be ready.’ Even on his deathbed, he knew what was best, what he thought was best.” Mama talks as if I am not even there, bringing her hands to her lap and wringing her fingers together.
“Mama, please. What are you talking about?”
“The tea . . . the morning sickness tea. It . . .” She cannot continue, and buries her face in her hands.
The truth crashes over me, and I no longer need to feign illness. I lose what little I have eaten today all over the visitation room floor. Black spots dance in front of my eyes, and I focus on Connor’s voice as he helps me limp from the room.
“It’s fine, Clara. You’re going to be okay. You did great.” This last sentence as he deposits me back in my room. “I’m going to go fetch the doctor. You’ll be okay.”
I may never be oka
y again.
Then
We are folding laundry when there is a commotion in the front hall. “Keep going,” I say to the girls helping. I hurry toward the noise, picking out the sounds of men grunting and a child crying. I burst into the entryway just as Glen emerges from his study.
“What’s going on?” he asks, annoyed.
Joel is at the front of the group, as he always is. He moves aside and, from the back, one of the other men pushes a girl forward.
“Rose!” I gasp, moving toward her. Glen throws out an arm, stopping me. Rose is shaking, tears streaking her face. I want nothing more than to gather her close and take her away from these men, but I stop.
Rose is one of our newer girls. She has only been around for a few months, but she is older than the girls I usually get. Older girls are usually brought to one of the other branches, but Rose was timid enough that Glen saw the potential for a quick turnaround. He had hoped that years of training could be compressed for her. She was a test, to see if we could train the right kind of girl in less time.
She had acclimated well. A quick learner, she showed a lot of promise. She already had clients interested in her after our last tour. Now she looks nothing like the lady I have been cultivating. Her hair hangs in strings on either side of her face, interlaced with twigs and leaves. Her clothes are torn and dirty, as if she was caught in some trees. The realization hits me at the same time as Glen seems to understand.
“She ran.” It is not a question. With this presentation, there’s no mistaking what has happened. “How far did she get?”
“Almost to the road.” Joel is the one who responds. “She found a hole in the fence. It’s already being repaired.”
Glen nods. He walks forward until he is right in front of the trembling girl. Despite her fear, she stares up at him defiantly. “Why did you leave, child?” he asks, and he sounds so much like Papa G that it makes my skin crawl.
“I was going home.” Though Rose tries to keep her voice level, a tremor at the end gives her away.
Glen clasps his hands behind his back and begins to pace in front of her, a solemn look on his face. “Are your accommodations not to your liking?” he asks, his tone conversational. “Is there anything we could have done to make your stay more pleasant?” He is mocking her. It is a new side of Glen. There is no warmth in his eyes when he looks at Rose, only calculating menace.
“I just want to go home,” Rose says, and the tears begin falling again.
Glen laughs. He laughs. “Oh, my dear girl. That will never happen.” He stops and turns to her, standing close, and grabs her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her face up. “It’s a shame you made this choice, Rose. You could have been happy here. Your future could have been bright, like the other girls Clara trains.” He turns to smile at me, but there is a chill in it that prevents me from returning it. “Instead, I’m afraid your introduction into your new life begins tonight.”
He releases her and steps back. Rose sobs, the fight gone from her body. Without warning, Glen winds up his arm and backhands Rose across the cheek. She screams. Another scream mixes with hers, and I realize it is mine. I rush forward, grabbing his arm as he raises it for a second hit. Glen turns to me, enraged, and the blow meant for Rose lands on my face instead. He shoves me into the wall.
“Miss Clara?” A small voice sounds from the hallway behind me. Livvy has come to see what the commotion is about. “We’re done with the folding.”
Glen is breathing hard. He swipes a hand across his mouth, where spittle has gathered at the corners. “Go take care of the girls, Clara, and then wait for me in my study.”
I hurry away, my hand covering the spot on my cheek that met the back of Glen’s hand. I take the girls to the library and begin them on some study materials.
“What happened, Miss Clara?” Livvy asks. She is always curious. It’s something I’ve been working on with her.
“Nothing for you to worry about, Livvy.”
“When will Rose be back?”
“Rose will not be coming back, girls.” Though Glen has not said as much, I know what he meant by starting her new life. His brothel has been very successful, one of the most successful aspects of his business. That is where the girls Rose’s age end up. I wish she had been the exception. Another failed experiment.
“Did a client come for her already?” Jealousy laces Livvy’s tone. She is twelve and has looked up to Rose since she arrived. She is eager to please and looks forward to having a client of her own. She understands her place and what an honor it will be. It is for this reason that I cannot punish her for her curiosity this time.
I lie to my daughters. A necessary part of helping them feel secure. “Yes, she will be with her client tonight.”
Maggie, who came at the same time as Rose, but is much younger, sticks out her bottom lip. “But who will read to me at night?”
“Passion can do that. She’s a great reader.”
Maggie frowns. “Passion is scary.”
A little. But she loves her younger sisters.
“We didn’t even get to say good-bye.” Livvy again.
“Tell you what, girls. Tomorrow we will have the good-bye ceremony for Rose, even though she cannot be with us. And I will take all your cards and gifts and make sure she gets them, okay?”
“Can we work on them now?” Maggie wants to know.
“Of course.” I smile at them as they become excited. Livvy finds the craft box in the corner and they dive in, eager to create the best good-bye cards they can manage.
“Clara.” I turn to find Glen lounging in the doorway. “You were supposed to meet me in my office.”
“I’m sorry, Glen. The girls had questions, and I thought it would take you longer to . . .” I trail off. In fact, I am not sure what Glen was going to do with Rose before bringing her to her new assignment.
“Joel is taking care of her while we talk. I will go over with her later to get her settled in.”
I nod.
“Where is Passion?”
“She was in the garden. Why?”
“I need her to take care of the girls for a while.”
My stomach clenches. Whatever Glen has planned will not be quick. He has not lost the cruel mask he wore while dealing with Rose, and I am frightened. “I’ll get her.” I slip past him and call for Passion out the back door. She cleans up and goes to help the girls with their projects. “Cook will have dinner in an hour,” I tell her. “And you know how bedtime routines run.”
Passion takes all my orders without question. She is my sidekick, the one I know I can count on. She takes over when I am . . . indisposed. And never asks for an explanation. I think Glen has not found a client for her for that reason. I worry about what will happen to her as she gets even older, but for now I am grateful that she is here.
When I knock on the door of the study and enter, Glen is standing in front of the window, staring out at the mountains, arms crossed over his chest. When he turns around, the cold fury in his eyes stops me in my tracks. “Lock the door, Clara.”
Now
Charlotte shifts next to me, and her hands clasp and unclasp in an anxious rhythm. I glance in her direction, and she gives me a small, nervous smile. I want to reach out and squeeze her hands, give her some sort of reassurance, but I am not sure where our relationship stands yet. She has agreed to attend the group with me today, which is a good step, but I wonder as I watch her fidget whether it’s too much, too soon. Talking with Jane helped, but I still fear hearing what Charlotte’s life has been because of me.
That is why we’re here today. Heather suggested that I invite my sister to sit in, maybe talk about what life was like after I was taken. She suggested having the support of the group might help me feel more comfortable sharing some more of the things I went through as well. I do not want my family to know how I spent my year
s away from them, but even Dr. Mulligan agrees that we need to be open. I see her point, but the habit of secret-keeping is proving a difficult one to break.
I have been to the group a couple of times since Pam’s outburst and have shared meeting my family. It is nice to have these other women along on my journey, and I have discovered that they really are rooting for me. Pam has not been back, though Heather assures me that she was not kicked out, but has chosen to undergo more individual treatment before returning to the group. I hope she does. She needs, and deserves, the support as much as I do.
When it seems we are all settled, Heather gets the ball rolling. There is no one new today, and I feel a surge of strength as I look around the circle. One hand rests on the mound under my shirt. Charlotte and Jane brought me some maternity clothes last week, and I have been allowed to wear them instead of the clothes I was issued when I arrived.
“As we discussed last time, Clara has brought a guest to our meeting today.” Heather nods at Charlotte, who gives a little wave. “Sometimes we will ask family to sit in and maybe talk a bit about the other side of things. Charlotte has agreed to talk about her life after Clara was taken. First, though, I want to go around and just give a small bit of information about your story. Obviously we don’t have enough time to go into everyone’s, but I think it will help Charlotte feel more comfortable sharing about her life if she knows a little about yours.”
Tori starts, and even though I have heard each story before, I feel a stab of emotion with each retelling. The girls only speak for a couple minutes apiece, but I can tell their words are affecting Charlotte as well. This time I do reach over and squeeze her hands. She gives me a shaky smile, and then it is her turn.