Trafficked

by Kim Purcell

  Maggie opened the refrigerator. It was packed with food. Hannah wondered why Lillian needed to pick up dinner with all this food in the house.

  “Do you always eat this late?” Hannah asked.

  Maggie began digging past the soda cans. “Only in the summer.”

  “No candy,” Hannah reminded her.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “I know.”

  Five minutes later, Hannah didn’t know how it had happened, but she’d already broken the first rule. She and Maggie were eating coconut-flavored sirok bars: sweet, frozen brinza cheese covered with chocolate. She’d suggested other options—salami, cheese, yogurt, apples, oranges—and all had been rejected. Maggie only wanted the sirok bar, which wasn’t exactly candy but was close enough.

  “You don’t eat it like that,” Maggie said in Russian. She switched back and forth between English and Russian as if they were just two different pairs of shoes.

  “Like what?” Hannah asked, licking her lips self-consciously.

  “You don’t bite ice cream,” Maggie said in Russian. “You lick it or you suck it.”

  “That doesn’t seem very polite,” Hannah answered, thinking how she’d always been taught not to put food into her mouth and take it out.

  “In America, it’s polite.” Maggie switched to English. “You look weird.”

  Hannah frowned. All the rules, even table manners, contradicted what she’d been taught. She didn’t want to seem weird. She knew that word—it meant you were different, in a bad way.

  A bang outside made Hannah stop chewing. Was that a car door?

  The front door opened. “Hello!” Lillian called.

  They were home!

  Hannah panicked. She grabbed Maggie’s sirok bar and tossed it in the garbage along with her own. Lillian’s soft slippers padded down the hall. Hannah looked at Maggie, and her heart thumped. Maggie’s entire mouth was covered in chocolate.

  Chapter Six

  Lillian strode into the kitchen and jerked to a stop. Her hazel eyes fixed on Maggie, who gave her a guilty smile with her chocolate-covered lips.

  “What are you eating?” she asked.

  “A sirok bar.” Maggie pointed at Hannah. “She gave it to me.”

  “You know better than that, Maggie.” Lillian glanced over at Hannah, annoyed. “Dessert is for after dinner.”

  Hannah stood up to explain. “I tried—”

  Sergey came into the kitchen carrying two plastic bags of food. The smell of rotisserie chicken wafted from them, making Hannah’s mouth water. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Michael squeezed through his legs, stretched his arms out like a superhero, and let out a screech as he flew around the kitchen. Sergey and Lillian shared a smile, but then Lillian waved in Hannah’s direction, still angry.

  “She fed Maggie a sirok bar before dinner,” Lillian said.

  “Ooh,” Sergey said, sarcastically. “That’s a first.”

  Michael stopped. “I want sirok,” he said, looking up.

  Maggie gulped down the rest of the sirok bar that was in her mouth.

  “Did you finish it?” Lillian asked.

  Maggie shook her head slowly. Oh no, Hannah thought, sick to her stomach. She felt like Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment, waiting for her crime to be discovered.

  Lillian tried to look around Maggie, expecting it to be hidden behind her, and held her hand out. “Give me the rest.”

  “I don’t have it.” Maggie’s eyes widened in fear, which made Hannah’s heart start to beat faster.

  “Where is it?” Lillian asked.

  “In the garbage.” Maggie pointed at Hannah. “She threw it there when you came in.”

  Lillian opened the garbage can and looked down. Her face turned red. She pulled out one of the unfinished bars and shook it. “Is this what you do in Moldova?” she asked, her voice shaking with rage. “You waste good food?”

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah stammered, digging her nails into the sides of her jeans. “Maggie wouldn’t eat anything else.”

  Sergey cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it?” Lillian turned to him and barked, “Paavo warned us about her, but you insisted.”

  Who was Paavo?

  “Come on, Lily.” Sergey rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “She’s a good girl.” He spoke firmly, with conviction, as if he’d known her for more than a few hours.

  Lillian shrugged his hand away. “She’s already lied!”

  “It’s not really—” Sergey began.

  “Hiding something so you don’t get in trouble is lying. You, more than anyone, should know that,” Lillian said, glaring at him.

  It took only the smallest gesture, just a half shrug with one shoulder, but it was like a lit match to a rag covered in gasoline.

  “Goddamn it, Sergey!” Lillian flung the sirok bar across the room toward his head. He ducked. Maggie flinched.

  The bar hit the wall behind the kitchen table and slid down, making a long brown streak on the white paint before it dropped onto the floor. Lillian stared at it, as if she’d surprised even herself.

  Michael laughed. Everyone else was still.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah whispered.

  Lillian turned to her. “You are not going to teach my children to lie.”

  “I won’t. Really. I’m sorry.” This was terrible. She was just about the most honest person she knew. Just a few months ago, she’d found a wallet lying on the ground with the equivalent of forty American dollars in it, and she’d returned it, even though everyone said she was crazy. Katya said that anyone with that much money in their wallet had tons more and she should give it to her babushka, maybe pay some bills. Hannah had flushed with embarrassment, sure that Katya somehow knew that they hadn’t paid the electric bill for two months. Since her uncle Vladi had gone missing, they didn’t have enough money, and the power had been turned off in their apartment. They’d had to use candles for the last month and put ice in the refrigerator to keep the food cold. And still she’d given back the wallet.

  “I want bar!” Michael yelled, stamping his feet.

  Lillian bent down and picked him up, gently smoothing his curly blond hair back away from his face. “Dinner first.”

  “Bar now!” He flailed and tossed his head back.

  “No!” she barked, and put him back on the ground. Michael started thrashing and screaming on the floor.

  Lillian opened a drawer, slid out a washcloth, and wet it under the faucet. Then, she took careful steps across the room, around the flailing boy, and slowly wiped the dirty wall in little circles. Michael stopped to watch along with the rest of them, whimpering so they wouldn’t forget about him. Sergey rested his hand on Maggie’s back. When it was clean, Lillian walked back to the sink, rinsed off the cloth, and hung it in the cupboard below.

  Maggie stalked out of the room, looking annoyed, and Sergey began opening the containers filled with potatoes, roasted chicken, and what looked to Hannah like a broccoli and pasta salad, though perhaps she was wrong. That was an awfully strange combination of foods.

  “You need to set the table,” Lillian said to her, pointing at the cupboards. Her voice was calmer now, as if nothing had happened. “The dishes are in there. You can find the utensils in the large drawer.”

  Hannah stood up fast. The sudden motion made all the blood rush to her feet, and for a moment, she couldn’t see anything but black. Her body wobbled. She reached out to grab the glass kitchen table. Her vision came back before anybody noticed. She’d never been awake this long in her whole life.

  She carried the dishes to the kitchen table. Michael was still moaning and whimpering on the floor, but everyone was still ignoring him, so she did the same.

  “Not that
one,” Lillian barked. “Through the door.”

  There was another room off the kitchen. Hannah opened a sliding wood door and gazed at a beautiful maple dining room table, brand new with no stains or scratches.

  Lillian came up behind her with a white tablecloth, which she stretched across the table. “I’ll show you where to find everything tomorrow,” Lillian said. “I don’t want my table to be ruined.”

  Hannah set the table as Katya had taught her, hoping that she remembered it right. After it looked ready, she stepped back and admired the gleaming, matching perfection. Lillian came up beside her in the doorway, holding Michael on her hip. His cheeks were shiny with tears, but he was smiling because he was eating a sirok bar.

  Lillian looked displeased. Hannah followed her gaze to the table, wondering what she’d done wrong. Katya had taught her the Western way to set a table before she’d left, but maybe she’d left something out.

  “Elena, I see you didn’t understand me.”

  This definitely wasn’t the time to correct her about the name. “I’m sorry?”

  Lillian continued, “You’ll be sitting in the kitchen.”

  Hannah’s words stuck in her throat like a hard piece of old celery. She could feel tears tugging at her eyes, and finally, she managed to speak. “Of course.” She rushed to remove her utensils and her plate, and turned to get out of the room before she burst into tears like a fool.

  Lillian was still standing in the doorway. She touched Hannah softly on the shoulder, as if she felt sorry. “We need our private family time. I hope you understand.”

  Hannah had imagined helping this mother throughout the day and thought she’d be included in all family activities. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d be just a nanny, nothing more, not part of this family, not part of any family. That wasn’t how the agent, Olga, had put it.

  “I’m sorry I threw out the bars,” Hannah rushed. “I don’t—that’s not normal for me.”

  Lillian nodded briefly. “It’s fine.” Michael renewed his escape efforts, wiggling and kicking, and Lillian stepped to the side to put him in his high chair.

  Hannah hurried into the kitchen, where she eased her plate, glass, fork, and knife down onto the table, trying not to make a sound on the glass. Since she couldn’t seem to stop making mistakes, she stood by the table and waited until they told her what to do.

  “Sit,” Sergey said.

  She sat. He took her plate from the table and she worried that once again she’d made a mistake. Maybe they didn’t think she should eat tonight? Then he filled the plate with a large serving of the pasta salad and a leg from the chicken and put it back down in front of her.

  “You’re too thin,” he said. “Eat.”

  It was unbelievable that he’d served her. Men didn’t serve food, and certainly not to their employees. On top of that, he’d given her the leg. In Moldova, dark chicken meat was what everyone preferred, and young people never got it. She’d have to write Babulya and tell her about it. The chicken leg alone would reassure her that she was with a good family.

  Sergey headed into the dining room, carrying the pasta salad and chicken. The door slid shut behind him.

  The smell of the food was making Hannah’s stomach growl. She reached for her fork and was about to take a bite of the chicken when the doorbell rang.

  “Who’s that?” Lillian asked.

  A chair scraped on the hardwood floor. “Paavo,” Sergey said, opening the dining room door. “He wants to see her.” He looked at Hannah, his brow creasing, and then strode through the kitchen and down the hall to the front door.

  She put her fork down. It was like they’d bought a new TV and their friend was coming to see it, except that she was the TV.

  She pushed her chair back and stood up so she could look this person in the eye.

  Chapter seven

  The man was a hippopotamus. Sergey had seemed large before, but he looked small compared to this man, whose neck was as thick as one of Hannah’s thighs. The man was wearing billowing gray dress pants and a black shirt, unbuttoned to the third button, revealing black chest hairs on sickly white skin. He had on white socks, no slippers, and smelled of French cologne, sweet cigars, and a yeasty body odor.

  His little black eyes examined her.

  “So, you’re the girl,” he said in a brusque dialect—not Ukrainian but not Russian either. Siberian?

  “I guess,” she said with a shrug, trying to pretend she didn’t care.

  “This is my friend Paavo,” said Sergey. “He introduced us to your agent and helped us with the documents.”

  “Which agent?” Her voice squeaked, but neither man seemed to notice.

  Paavo leaned against the counter and looked her up and down. She gave him her cold stare, the same one she gave to any man who couldn’t keep his eyes or his hands to himself.

  “Elena.” He said her fake name like a statement, as if it was permanent, not temporary. She wondered if the fake name had been his idea. He poked a fat finger toward her. “You better work your knuckles off, girl. The Platonovs are good people. You’re lucky to be with them.”

  He reminded her of the bad agent, the way he pointed at her. His nails were just as long. She looked away, trying not to cringe. She’d left the bad agent behind when she’d gotten on the plane to America, but he was following her still.

  “I will work hard,” she said, making the promise to Lillian and Sergey, not their creepy friend.

  “Maggie, how are you doing?” Paavo boomed.

  Maggie was peeking out of the dining room. Her face was shy, maybe even scared.

  “I brought you something.” He rummaged around in the roomy front pocket of his large pants and pulled out a wrapped lollipop.

  “Thank you.” Maggie took it, then stepped backward fast, leaning into her mother, who rested her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Hannah wondered if Lillian felt protective of Maggie around Paavo.

  “Are you staying for dinner?” Lillian asked. Hannah studied her face to see if she wanted him to stay. It was blank, not overly inviting.

  He glanced toward Hannah’s plate like he was going to take it. “No,” he said at last. “Rena is waiting.”

  The phone rang and Lillian hurried into the living room to answer it. Maggie returned to the dining room, sucking her lollipop. Paavo stood by the counter and Sergey offered him a beer from the refrigerator, which he accepted. From the dining room, Michael started screaming, and Sergey yelled for him to be quiet. Hannah stayed by the kitchen table, uncertain whether she should help Michael or stay out of the dining room altogether.

  Paavo murmured to Sergey in a voice too low for Lillian to hear from the living room, but loud enough for Hannah’s ears. “When I saw the picture,” he said, “I couldn’t believe you wanted her. But now I see, you don’t disappoint me.”

  Hannah was confused. Paavo was implying that Sergey had requested her specifically, before Olga had found her for him. But she didn’t know Sergey. She’d never seen him before in her life.

  “Come on.” Sergey laughed it off. “She’s here to clean our house and take care of the children, so Lillian can study.”

  Paavo gazed at her. “The pretty girls never work as hard.”

  “She’ll be fine.” Sergey gave Hannah a tight smile.

  Thank God she hadn’t ended up with Paavo. He was speaking about her as though she were a piece of juicy meat that he’d like to wrap his tongue around.

  “What did Lillian say?” Paavo asked.

  “Lillian’s a beautiful woman. She can handle it.”

  “You’ll hear about it later,” Paavo said.

  Michael screamed again from the dining room. “Candy!”

  Hannah took this opportunity to hurry out of the kitchen. In the dining room, Maggie was waving he
r lollipop right in front of Michael, taunting him.

  “Maggie!” Hannah said sharply. “Give him a lick.”

  Maggie glanced at her, as if considering saying no, but then she reached the lollipop out and let him lick. Michael reached forward and grabbed the stick away.

  “Hey!” Maggie said, reaching for it.

  Hannah let Michael suck on the lollipop for a moment. “That’s enough,” she said, prying it out of his hands. “Maggie, you can have it after dinner, like your mother says. Eat your chicken.”

  Hannah stared at Maggie’s food, her stomach rolling about. She spooned some more salad onto Michael’s plate, intentionally spilling some on the table, which she shoved into her mouth. Maggie watched her but didn’t say anything.

  Lillian came into the kitchen, having finished her call. “Are you certain you don’t want a little food?” Hannah heard her ask Paavo. “A snack?”

  “If I don’t go,” Paavo laughed, “Rena will kill me.”

  Lillian and Sergey laughed a little too forcefully at that, which made Hannah curious about this Rena. She was glad Paavo was leaving. He reminded her too much of the bad agent. Her foot started to twitch under the table, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

  As they said good-bye at the front door, Paavo’s voice boomed loud and clear down the hall, as if he wanted Hannah to hear, “Make sure you get her documents. Don’t let her rip you off like Alexei’s girl. And Lily, you lay down the rules. Be tough at the start or she’ll walk all over you.”

  Hannah listened to the quiet creak of their slippers on the wood as Sergey and Lillian walked back down the hall toward the kitchen, and she discreetly let her hands drift down to the bottom of her button-up shirt, making sure the pouch with her documents was safely hidden.