All Fall Down

by Megan Hart

  “No!” Happy’s cry was so agonizing it turned the heads of several of the mothers sitting on the next bench over. “No!”

  “Happy. Hush.” Sunny’s command slipped from Liesel’s lips and a pang of guilt stung her at how easily manipulated he was, but he did go quiet. “Happy, I promise you, nothing bad will happen to you here. It’s a playground, it’s a special place for kids to play. It’s… You’ll have fun. Okay?”

  Peace pointed at the swings. “Wanna do that.”

  “You can. Go ahead.”

  With a significantly triumphant look at her brother, Peace skipped off toward the swings. Liesel scooped Bliss out of the sand to keep her from shoving more grit into her mouth, then turned to Happy. He’d gone white-faced and sweating, and Liesel pulled out a bottle of water from the diaper bag. She pressed it into his hand.

  “Happy. Drink this.”

  He did, so automatically it was disturbing to watch. Liesel’s heart hurt for him in that moment, more than any other since the first time she’d opened the door and found them on her doorstep.

  She stroked his sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead. “I know this is scary, sweetie.”

  Happy’s eyes were glued on Peace, who’d managed to get her little butt into one of the rubber swings but hadn’t managed to figure out how to get herself to move. “She should come back here.”

  “It’s really going to be all right. Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, he did. Liesel pulled him closer, not quite onto her lap. Bliss let out a squeak of protest that caught Happy’s attention, and he kissed the baby’s head. Liesel put her arm around him, felt the trembling in his small shoulders.

  “Why are you afraid?” She didn’t expect an answer. The kid was four, it was ridiculous to think he’d be able to articulate his fears when he might not even understand them.

  Happy looked at her with wide eyes. Christopher’s eyes. “They’ll take us away.”

  “Who? The other kids?”

  He shook his head and jerked his chin toward the other mothers, who’d turned back to their conversation. Liesel sighed, uncertain of what to say. She gently squeezed Happy’s hip.

  “They won’t. Those are other mommies. They’re here with their kids, just like I’m here with you and Peace and Bliss. They’re not here to take away anyone but the kids they brought with them.”

  “Peace!” Happy shrieked and broke away.

  A well-meaning mother had settled her son into the swing beside Peace, and now was taking alternative turns pushing each of them. She caught Peace’s swing and pulled it back, up high, then let go. Peace screamed as she swung forward. Liesel couldn’t tell if it was in terror or joy, but either way, Happy was running as fast as he could toward her.

  “Happy! Wait!”

  Too late. He’d thrown himself toward his sister, right in the path of the oncoming swing. It missed him, but barely, and the other mother was quick enough to grab Peace on the backswing and keep her from moving forward again. By the time Liesel got there, her arms aching from clutching Bliss, Happy had put his arms around his sister to stand off with the woman he thought was trying to hurt her.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Liesel said. “He thought you were trying to…”

  Ah, shit. What could she say? The expression on the other mother’s face was clearly judgmental, verging on disdain.

  “I was just pushing her.”

  The unspoken criticism, that Liesel’s “son” needed to take a chill pill both rankled and embarrassed her. “I know. I’m sorry. He was just worried about his sister.”

  The other mother nodded with a small, tight smile and helped her son get off the swing. She spoke over her shoulder as she led him away. “No problem. Kids get crazy ideas sometimes.”

  “Yeah. Thanks, sorry again.” Liesel knelt to force Happy to look at her. “Hush.”

  He did, though his eyes were still wide, lips still trembling. He blinked rapidly. Still no tears. Totally unnatural. Liesel sighed.

  “Happy, you’re fine. Peace is fine. Bliss is fine. I’m fine.”

  He nodded slowly. “That lady was going to push Peace off.”

  “No, honey, she was just pushing her on the swing. That’s what you’re supposed to do. Want me to show you?”

  “Yes!” Peace cried.

  But Happy shook his head. Liesel sighed again. Bliss was making cranky noises and squirming, rubbing at her eyes like she was tired again.

  Liesel pulled Happy close enough for a hug and kissed his temple. He surprised her by putting his arms around her, holding almost too tight. She heard the sharp whistle of his breath in her ear.

  “Maybe another time,” Liesel said. “We can come back another time.”

  Chapter 27

  “Sunny, Sunny, Sunshine.” Josiah’s broad, white smile is impossible not to return. He’s wearing a white shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jeans are worn, the hems ragged. His wheat-colored hair is too long, falling just past his shoulders, and he wears a beard even though most of the other men don’t. “How are you doing?”

  Sunny gestures at the stack of pamphlets she’s been bundling and rubber-banding together. The ink has smeared on her fingers, turning them black. She has five hundred to sell, an impossible number, but since yesterday she didn’t sell her hundred and the day before that she didn’t sell her hundred either, John Second says she has to do extra or face the consequences. She’s already facing them. Rationed dinner. Being made to stand for hours, hands linked behind her head, until the world spins and knocks her over. Not the silent room.

  Not yet.

  “Getting ready,” she says.

  “Not what are you doing. How.” Josiah looks over the stacks on the table, touches one to flip the edges of the pamphlets with his fingertip. “My brother expects a lot from you.”

  He and Sunny are alone in Papa’s library. John Second had brought in the box of pamphlets and told everyone to portion theirs out. The van will be leaving in an hour. Then they’ll drive another hour to find places to canvass. Sunny’s the only one who didn’t finish in a few minutes, but she’d had to leave the room several times to go to the toilet. She thought she was going to be sick, but since today breakfast had been only a couple pieces of dry toast, she’d had nothing to bring up. She’s eaten next to nothing over the past few months. Her stomach constantly feels raw and rumbly, but her clothes are a little too tight around the middle no matter what she does.

  “That’s too many for you though, no matter how pretty your smile is.” Josiah’s smile tempts her into another. “And you look…tired.”

  Under his scrutiny, Sunny wants to shrink. John Second looks at her with flat snake eyes, but Josiah’s gaze is always much warmer. It makes her cheeks hot. He’s looking at her that way now, something curious in his eyes.

  “My brother…does he…” Josiah shakes his head with a frown, but stops himself.

  Does he what? she wonders. Does he know she hates selling literature? Does he know she snuck a jar of peanut butter from the kitchen last week, that it’s hidden under her bed in case she’s ever hungry again? Does John Second know of the other things Sunny’s done but hasn’t made a report on?

  John Second comes through the doorway and gives his brother a sideways, sneering look. “Sunshine. Let’s go.”

  “I’m almost ready.”

  “We’re waiting for you.”

  Sunny stands and gathers her bundles of pamphlets. Papa’s words. The Story of the First Father and His One True Wife. The Story of the Two True Sons. Living in the Light. She’s read them all so many times but could never repeat them aloud, because every time the new boxes come out of the print shop in the big barn, the words have changed. Sometimes a little, sometimes a whole lot. No
body’s supposed to notice, but Sunny always does.

  “It’s too cold out there for her, brother.” Josiah moves in front of John Second when he tries to grab Sunny by the arm. “Look at the kid, she’s about ready to keel over from exhaustion.”

  “Sunny’s job is to bring the light to seekers. That’s her job.” John Second spits his words like they taste bitter, even as he grins. “Papa put me in charge of the task distribution. Brother.”

  “You have enough kids out there working the streets, don’t you? How many do you need, anyway? If you’re not careful you’ll have the police down on us again—” Josiah deals with the blemished all the time, making sure the paperwork is filled out that tells them the family children don’t need their schools, their vaccinations, their hospitals. If he says the police might come, he knows what he’s talking about.

  John Second doesn’t care. Sunny is a prize between them, something to be fought over. All she wants to do is curl up and take a nap in warm blankets, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t make a sound. Draws no attention to herself; this is their battle, not hers.

  “She goes.” John Second yanks her arm.

  Papa has always called Josiah The Miracle because of how many years had passed between the births of his sons. He’s nearly fifteen years younger than his brother, which makes him only ten years older than Sunny, but just now he doesn’t seem younger at all. John Second’s the one acting like a child pouting over a toy he’s been denied.

  Josiah puts his hand on Sunny’s shoulder, but doesn’t pull her. “Take another look at her, brother. Take a good, long look.”

  “Sunny, you come with me now.”

  “Look at her,” Josiah says again. “Take responsibility for what you’ve done, John.”

  Sunny puts her hands on the smooth, round bump of her belly and understands, suddenly, what she ought to have figured out a long time ago. Someone should have, anyway. Mama should have known, should have told her.

  “You can’t send her out there on the streets like that, John. You want to bring the authorities down on us? She’s what, fifteen years old?” Josiah squeezes Sunny’s shoulder gently to tug her back a step, then another, from his brother. “She needs to stay here, not be out where people can see her like this.”

  Sunny’s fingers twitch and she lets her hands fall to her sides. Josiah talks like she should be ashamed of carrying John Second’s baby. John Second’s eyes narrow. He looks her up and down.

  “We don’t want the police here.”

  “No,” says Josiah. “Of course not.”

  “Sunny. You’re off street duty. You can start in the nursery.” John Second barks this before turning on his heel to leave them in the library.

  Sunny can’t believe her luck. She turns to Josiah, unable to stop herself from grinning. “Thank you! I hated it! I hated it so much!”

  “You should never do what you hate. You should love everything you do.” Josiah looks troubled.

  Sunny meant selling literature. She thinks Josiah means the games John Second has been playing with her since she was much younger. She thinks Josiah means the baby in her belly—but she could never hate a baby. Not her baby.

  “Whatever task you’re set, you should find some way to love it,” Josiah continues. “I’m sorry, Sunshine, you should never have been forced to…do anything.”

  Josiah’s lived in the family longer than Sunny has. How can he not understand it’s impossible to love everything they’re forced to do? Yet those are the words that stick with her in the long weeks after Papa dies and the family breaks apart.

  Whatever task you’re set, find some way to love it.

  Sunny wondered if Josiah’s words applied to standing with a face of stone so the person in front of her wouldn’t know how much she wanted to scream.

  “It is her.” The fat woman said this to her equally obese friend, the pair of them in denim shorts that showed off too much of their thighs and rear ends. She lowered her voice, but just enough to make it seem as if she didn’t want Sunny to know she was talking about her, when it was clear to anyone with a brain cell to spare that there was no way Sunny wouldn’t be able to hear. “That survivor.”

  “I read on the internet they made blood sacrifices there,” said her friend without trying to be quiet at all.

  Sunny had been clearing away the table next to theirs. Paper napkins, plates, mugs still half-full of coffee. The blemished made so much waste. Papa might’ve been very wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about that. She turned so she wouldn’t have to look at them.

  It didn’t stop them. They kept up their overloud whispers, louder and louder, in fact, until it would’ve been impossible for them to believe she couldn’t hear them. Maybe they thought she was deaf. Or stupid.

  “I can hear you,” Sunny said finally, flatly, stopping next to their table with her hands full of other people’s garbage. She tipped it into the can next to the counter and turned back to face both gape-mouthed women. “You should stop talking about me. Gossip is worse than speaking with a liar’s tongue. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  The first woman had blond hair with black roots, and along with her immodest clothes, she wore too much lipstick. Her eyebrows were skinny caterpillars that rose high as her eyes got wide. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “You didn’t mean it when you said you heard my family killed goats to appease Satan?”

  “I…” The woman’s cheeks colored. “No, I guess not.”

  “Then you spoke with a liar’s tongue?” Sunny persisted. Her face felt hot, her jaws tight, teeth clenched. She moved closer, sad to discover how much she enjoyed the way they shrank from her. “For shame!”

  Her friend piped up, “Well, did you?”

  Sunny looked at her. “We had goats and chickens and two cows.” She paused at that, wondering what had happened to the animals. “But we didn’t believe in Satan. So no, we didn’t sacrifice animals to appease him.” Another pause. “Why, do you?”

  Both women gasped audibly.

  “You need Jesus!” cried the blonde.

  Sunny’d heard that before, from many people who’d passed up buying her pamphlets. “I don’t believe in Jesus, either. Maybe you need something other than Jesus, have you thought of that? I mean, if you’re so unhappy with your own selves you have to speak poorly of other people.”

  The words tumbled out of her, tasting like freedom. She’d gotten in trouble so many times for speaking her mind. Right now, she didn’t care.

  When Wendy called her back into the office, though, Sunny hung her head and spoke before Wendy could even begin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been rude to your customers.”

  “Those old biddies?” Wendy had a loud, hoarse laugh. “Nah, believe me, I’ve heard it all from them myself. You’d think anyone so uptight about what other people do in bed wouldn’t want to buy muffins from us, but hey, their money spends just like anyone else’s.”

  She meant because she and Amy were partners. Romantic partners, not just business partners. Sunny chewed the inside of her cheek, not sure what to say. She’d never known women could be with women that way, or men with men, until leaving Sanctuary.

  “I did want to talk to you about your work, though.”

  Sunny’s stomach fell. She’d been doing her best, trying to keep up with everything they wanted her to do, but she wasn’t surprised it wasn’t good enough.

  “Amy and I think you’ve been doing a great job here, and we’d like to give you some more responsibility. How would you feel about opening the shop a couple mornings a week?”

  Sunny blinked rapidly, trying to focus on what Wendy had just said. “You want me to…open?”

  “Yep. Of course, we’d give you a raise. Train you. All that good stuff. What do you say
? You want to talk to your dad and stepmom first?”

  “I… Yes, sure. I mean yes, I’d love to!” Sunny’s grin felt a little twisty-turny on her lips, but in a good way. “Yes, I’ll have to talk to them, make sure Liesel can help with the kids, but yes, Wendy. That would be great.”

  “Good. Let me know tomorrow, okay? And…Sunny, I know it’s been tough adjusting.” Wendy looked at her carefully. “I knew your dad and your mom in high school, did you know that?”

  “You did?” Sunny let her tongue stroke the bitten spot, tasting a tinge of blood. “Oh.”

  “Yep. Your mom, she was a nice girl. Fun. She had a great sense of humor. You—”

  “Look like her,” Sunny said. “I know.”

  Wendy nodded. “But I see a lot of your dad in you, too. But what I was going to say was, you have her sense of right and wrong.”

  Sunny thought about that. “I do?”

  “Yep. Your mom was one of those do-gooders, even back then. Belonged to the debate team, always picked the topics about equality and stuff. She was big on equal rights for women, minorities, everyone.” Wendy hesitated and looked at Sunny, taking in her clothes, her hair. “She was a real feminist back in the day. Not so much later, I guess.”

  Sunny wasn’t sure what a feminist was, but she knew about equal rights. “We’re all equal in the Maker’s eyes, that’s what…um, that was what I was taught. It’s what you choose to do with your life that sets you above or below anyone else.”

  Wendy looked thoughtful. “We were all really sorry to hear about your mom.”

  “She had cancer,” Sunny said without thinking. “She’d have died anyway.”

  Wendy’s mouth twisted. “I’m still sorry. It must be pretty hard for you.”

  Sunny’d used up all her words and could only shrug. Everything was hard, and she knew she should try to love it anyway. “Should I get back to work?”

  Wendy gave her a curious look, but then nodded. “Sure. You go on ahead. Don’t let them bother you.”