Ashwood

by Cynthia Kraack

  Raising the towel to my shoulders sent sharp zingers throughout my upper body and generated a wave of fatigue. “If you could dry my back and hair, that would be good,” I said surprised that my voice continued wobbly.

  I let my shoulders round as Nurse Kim grabbed a towel and patted my back with gentle hands. She took a brush from my dresser top and drew it through my hair.

  “The hair cut is very good,” she said. “Shame you could not show it off for at least one day. Not many woman pleasures on these estates.” She smiled and slowly winked. “I’m pretty good with hair dryer and brush.”

  Her hands moved through my hair, flashbacks to evening relaxation sessions during Bureau training when we were paired with another student and warmed oils. The uncomfortable sensations changing into something else at the hands of another woman under direction of a sensual-voiced instructor. Required relaxations sessions with assigned partners. Complex feelings as bodies responded without emotional connection. I shifted slightly, yawned.

  “I can’t get too comfortable until I visit Ladd. His concussion has me concerned.”

  “Don’t worry. People are taking care of him. He’ll have big lips for a few days and stiffness. He tells everyone about how brave you are and how Director David saved everyone’s lives. You’re a hero. And you need to be in bed.”

  With my hair dry, Nurse Kim helped me into a camisole top then bound my ribs tightly as Terrell suggested. Her hands moved my breasts above the binding gently, lips puckered, not unlike Phoebe’s. She said nothing as she helped me into pajamas and administered a pain medication from Terrell. Moving like an old person, I made it to my sleeping room and eased to my bed.

  “Thank you for being so helpful tonight.” My vulnerability painted her actions kinder, even her usual stiff stance appeared quirky instead of rigid.

  “Sleep, Matron. The crows will be around you tomorrow.”

  Odd words to offer someone who needed rest. I listened as she walked through my quarters, no longer scurrying as she made her way in a series of steps without rhythm suggesting a meandering, possibly snooping, path to the door. Holding back even the slightest groan, I sat myself up in bed, swung my feet to the floor and waited to hear the door click shut before making my own slow walk to secure the lock.

  Although nothing looked out of place in my sitting room, I moved a few items for the mere pleasure of having the time to touch favorite things. A simple green glass ball on a marble stand caught soft light from the overhead lamps, drew me to pick it up and sit down in the quiet place holding what my mother called her “dreamer” when I was a child. Staring into the glass, I remembered how, then, I would see fairies and flowers, snowflakes and babies, men on horses, and girls running across fields in its depth.

  During early Bureau training, we all lined up in the evening for tea or warm milk and individual small cups of meds doled out according to physicians’ orders. Red cylindrical vitamins, blue birth control pills, oval white Xanax, round pink antidepressants for many. Colors and numbers in each small paper cup changed as we adjusted to our situation. We moved like zombies through the first months, spirits chemically maintained at a steady level of flatness. Those days I carried my mother’s dreamer in a small velvet sack in my book bag. Others fingered beads, toted worn stuffed animals, carried a picture of their old lives. The Bureau’s goal of building a world of shared respect worked better as a slogan than an actual life where many of us wandered lost without love.

  “Matron Anne.”

  Mother’s dreamer nearly slipped from my hands as the voice sounded in my ear. Purely out of habit I had inserted my earpiece as I left the bedroom. Certainly no one expected more of me tonight.

  “Matron Anne, please respond. We have a request from Senior Executive Director Jensen requiring your response.”

  Had the tiny man walked into my quarters, he might have fallen to floor with the green glass ball embedded in his forehead. Playing chicken with the coming ear-piercing sound, I counted before answering, thinking obscenities learned in close quarters with frustrated women.

  “Matron Anne here and in no mood to deal with that particular individual,” was what I said letting disrespect for his rank sound my official displeasure.

  “Senior Executive Director Jensen understands that the unfortunate happenings of the day may have caused you discomfort and wishes to show his empathy by treating Ashwood’s workers, staff and resident family to dinner catered by his chef and kitchen crew in your residence tomorrow evening.”

  Bureau rank encouraged Jensen’s sense of control over small players. Whatever Terrell had mixed to dull the pain of my ribs also dulled part of my brain, but not enough to roll over to this mini-monster. I reached toward the glass ball’s holder, Nurse Kim’s rib binding making any sideways motion impossible without physically turning my whole body. With effort, I placed the now smudgy ball back in place.

  “I was told this afternoon that no one from Giant Pines is to set foot within our walls.” I stopped for breath, remembered to be stingy as I inhaled. “Including Director Jensen.” I stopped again, inhaled deeper and felt some discomfort through the meds. “Have him send us cash, and we’ll cook dinner. Or, make that enough cash to take Ashwood out of the financial bind caused by his illegal draining of our production.”

  “Senior Executive Director Jensen is a an essential Bureau leader, Matron Anne. His kind offer should be accepted.”

  This would be a great time to have Tia’s ability to sling obscenities, but my training didn’t allow that kind of response. We’d play a respectful game of verbal volleyball, or I could choose to end the conversation.

  “His kind offer is not accepted. No one and nothing from Giant Pines enters Ashwood and no one and nothing from Ashwood heads toward Giant Pines. I have that assurance from Senior Executive Director Sandra Goetz if you need a second voice.”

  “Matron, I have no way to stop delivery of this kind gift.”

  “Well, we do. This conversation is over.”

  I switched my ear piece off and called Magda, Lao, and Terrell. “I need to see all of you in my quarters. As quickly as possible.”

  “Matron Anne, please respond.” My security screen filled with a Bureau female avatar, her electronically generated voice grating my pharmaceutically-altered body. I turned away from the screen, looked out the window into the dark winter night. “Matron Anne.”

  Speaking over my shoulder, I said, “I will speak to a real person with a real face and voice. Now. Or this conversation is over.” A dog-size shape moving across the yard. I’d have to tell Jack about possible coyotes on the estate, wondered how its freedom felt.

  “Matron Anne … Matron Anne …”

  The girly-whispery woman’s voice calling, calling, calling my name lured me to face the screen ready to spew. “What do you want?”

  Jensen looked out, into my private quarters, contaminating every surface as his eyes devoured the room. Nurse Kim’s first crow. I pulled my robe tight.

  “I want you.”

  “That’s your problem.” Furniture turned wavy, my stomach tightened. “I understood we have an agreement—you leave everyone connected to Ashwood alone and we stay quiet. Why are you risking that?”

  “I can show you.” His thin voice deepened with arousal.

  Absorbed in his own self pleasure, Jensen didn’t notice as I opened my door remotely to allow staff to join me. “You’ll pay for your sickness,” I said toward the pervert as Terrell entered carrying a small tray with food. “Go to hell, Jensen.”

  The screen darkened. We remained quiet for fifteen seconds. Terrell put the tray down on a table. Magda broke the silence with harsh Slavic words.

  “Adrenalin sure does override painkillers in some people,” Terrell said. “If Nurse Kim gave you what I concocted, you’d be out. You did take a blue and white powder blend?” His large hand covered my wrist before I saw him move. I jerked away. He stepped back, his eyes narrowed as if assessing a sad scene. “That man’s not g
onna come close to you. We’re the ones here, and you know we got you tight.”

  A cup of fragrant cherry blossom tea appeared near my hand. “He’s sending people here tomorrow to make us dinner.” Nausea joined vertigo even as I accepted the mug, savoring its solid, warm clay surface in a not-so-steady grip. “That’s why I called you here. We need to keep the estate boundaries safe.” No other words followed this sentence in my mind, no directions to Lao or questions for Magda. A baby cried, a woman moaned, the wind teased a window with the brush of tree branches. The cup fell, hot liquid cascading down a pajama-clad leg to pool in my slippered foot.

  I discovered sudden pain did not challenge vertigo. Pulling fabric from myself, trying to step from my slippers, I fought to stay upright in a room where chairs and tables moved.

  Magda’s signature scent of growing plants replaced cherry tea. The strength of her long arm surrounded my waist with a bracing hand supporting my shoulder. “Here, Matron. Let’s take care of your leg and change the pants.” I moved forward without her direction, slammed into a foot rest and still found no words.

  The men moved closer, and I wanted to point out that I wasn’t heavy enough to take down someone as sturdy at Magda. I leaned between Magda and Terrell. “You’re a strong woman, Ms. Matron, without a whole lot of medication history for me to work from when I put together that painkiller. You’re acting like the room’s moving.”

  “Spinning, Terrell. Everything’s spinning.”

  They walked me to my dressing room and for the second time in an hour, I sat semi-naked in front of others. Magda found dry clothes then searched for burn cream, talking all the time about a homeopathic lotion she’d prepare for the next treatment. From the shower area she brought my flip flops to replace wet slippers.

  “Bed or back to your sitting room?”

  Alone in darkness under covers appealed, but words didn’t form.

  “Anne, that isn’t a difficult question,” Magda said for the first time ignoring protocol. “Come on, lady, we need your leadership. Talk.”

  Closing my eyes, my mind cried “bed.” Opening my eyes—the walls moved, Magda looked like a sapling in a stiff breeze and the late afternoon cookies and tea rushed upwards in a small eruption.

  “Crap,” Magda exclaimed. “Terrell or Lao, I need a hand.”

  “Terrell will be back when he has antidote.” This time Lao explored my quarters, cleaning up the mess as Magda found more clean clothes. Dressed, I made my own way to the sink to swish water in my mouth and run a hand through my hair. Magda called it right—Ashwood needed a leader now.

  “Stay close,” I said, walking with hands touching walls toward the sitting room. “Just in case.”

  27

  We all carry secrets, wanting to believe that fading memories equate to healing. Then a perverted old man masturbates while saying my name, and the curtains reveal weakness in a carefully crafted quilt of self-protection. His title and success once again threatened to make me a victim. Only this time I couldn’t retreat and, maybe this time, the bad guy would pay.

  I walked on my own, right foot leading left foot, eyes focused on the swaying floor. Magda acting as my guide helped me land in a chair. Someone covered my shaking legs with a cover while the lights were dimmed. Magda, Lao, and Terrell stood to one side—the earth, the current, and the nourishment of Ashwood.

  “It’s your choice, Matron,” Terrell said. “Put up with the vertigo for a few hours and stay awake, or take the antidote and be asleep in about five minutes. You should eat something first, though.” He brought the food tray to my lap. “Found your voice?”

  I barely nodded. “The furniture’s still dancing, and my leg hurts like hell, but I think I turned the corner. I appreciate your help. And this food.”

  With almost nothing to eat that day, Terrell’s toasted sourdough bread, a dish of apple sauce and a cup of chicken broth said I was home. “Please sit down, this won’t take long. I hope you weren’t at dinner.”

  “We missed dessert,” Terrell shared. “So, the Jensen dude would like to make it possible that I don’t have to cook tomorrow night?”

  Lao appeared to analyze Terrell’s small joke before responding. “Giant Pines’ people won’t get past our gates,” he said. “Maybe you should tell your Bureau contact about the Executive Director’s inappropriate use of the communication system?”

  Focusing on their faces and words, I controlled the vertigo to a bearable level. “I’ve got plenty to do tonight, so let’s hold the antidote. Keep all our workers and laborers on alert about accepting packages or admitting people not on the clearance list. If anything looks wrong, they should contact one of you or me.”

  I sipped the chicken broth. “This is the best thing I’ve had all day.” I put the cup down so it wouldn’t twitch in my hands. “Two more questions before you go. Can we have a room ready by noon for our new teacher? He’s certainly coming at a critical time.”

  Heads nodded. Lao spoke. “Terrell shared the hiring information with me, and we had a room prepared this afternoon.”

  “Thanks for being proactive. I’d like to have dinner with the workers and Teacher Jason tomorrow in their dining area.” I took a longer drink of broth. “Sorry to be jumping to another subject. An important question: What’s Ashwood’s general morale right now?”

  Magda sat back in her chair. I noticed shadows under her eyes and realized her hair appeared unwashed. “We’re working flat out in all the green houses and stock buildings since you approved expenditures to rebuild. I’ve never seen so much done in so short a time. In fact, I’m beginning to be concerned about staffing for cultivation and harvest. Jack and I have kept workers and laborers very focused, so I don’t think there’s been time for worrying about what’s happening. Wouldn’t you agree, Lao?”

  “That’s accurate,” he added. “The security people I hired this afternoon are superior. We can boost our internal system needs with extra staff.”

  “I can talk about the residence workers,” Terrell said. “Call them what you will, these kids need more consistency. Don’t forget it’s only been six weeks since Matron and I stepped in. We got a new baby and nurse, the blizzard interrupted everything and the tutor left. Thankfully, Director Tia’s been locked in her offices. The big priority for this new teacher is to build some stability for our kids.” He paused, rubbed his eyes. “Personally I think Ladd could be a handful if I don’t find time for him.”

  “He tells Jack he’d like to be back with the livestock, but I think his attitude has improved a whole lot since we assigned him to the kitchen,” volunteered Magda.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow morning with our coffee,” I interjected. “How are all of you?”

  Lao shrugged, showing no change of expression. Magda frowned, as if wondering how to answer. Terrell smiled but reached up to rub the back of his neck before speaking.

  “Certainly not bored. A quiet week would do us good before the holidays. You planning on bringing in some massage therapy or a giant bottle of good scotch for our pre-holiday party? Lao volunteered to turn the basement laundry room into one of those Scandinavian saunas to sweat out our issues.” The two chuckled. “Nothing we can do about what’s happening except manage to the change. Just pace yourself, Matron.”

  “On that note, I think I should get some work done and let you get back to your dessert.”

  “You know there hasn’t been dessert on week nights,” Magda said. “We love that Terrell’s been able to add it to the weekend dinners.”

  “If I could find a way to make fish cakes sweet, I could change that,” Terrell teased as everyone groaned.

  “I’ll visit with the workers before bedtime and see what they would like to do to welcome Teacher Jason.” I handed my tray to Terrell. “Thanks, everyone, for your professionalism, and respect, and care.”

  Magda squeezed my shoulder before leaving. Terrell lifted a thumb. Lao bowed.

  For ninety minutes I worked. The vertigo eased. I walked through
the residence to say good night to the workers. Completed reports moved to their destinations, including screen captures of Senior Executive Director Jensen’s sexual invitation, expected financial impact of additional security for Ashwood, medical-related costs, and lost opportunity expenses of the management team. My regional Bureau coordinator, Sandra, and Auditor Milan would have bedtime reading.

  Ladd joined the other kids for a talk before bed. I regained some of the optimism I’d felt after interviewing Teacher Jason only twelve hours earlier. With the full worker group surrounding me, I found it possible to spontaneously smile and talk about the major questions of life, like how many math problems would the new teacher expect them to complete each day, and might there be field trips?

  Ashwood began its nightly cooling, encouraging all to the warmth of their beds before nine o’clock. The girls followed Lana, eager to hear another chapter from an old Harry Potter book. Terrell replaced Ladd in herding the boys for brushing teeth and washing up for bed. David appeared to take the first watch with Ladd, a gesture I appreciated.

  At night, Ashwood’s polished wood and dramatic furnishings could be spectacular as the moon’s pure blue light entered through tall windows. Dim ribbon lights lined the central halls. I’d walked these halls in the dark so many nights since my arrival that I knew where the cats slept, how late Terrell stayed up listening to music, and when Nurse Kim was most likely to be up with Phoebe for the late feeding.

  Light showed along the bottom of the nursery’s door. Impulsively I reached for the door’s handle. Having broken my pledge not to become involved with Phoebe, exactly what I had feared would happen had happened. I knew I wanted time in her life. Hearing more than one muffled voice, I knocked softly, then let myself in. In the drama developing around the nursery’s rocking chair, no one noticed my entrance.

  “… infant to Romania” I heard Nurse Kim say from near the bassinet. David sat in the rocker holding his daughter. His legs pushed the chair back and forth, back and forth. His body swayed in the same rhythm, a rhythm perhaps too sharp or intense to soothe Phoebe, whose eyes remained wide.