Ashwood

by Cynthia Kraack

  “Only if you promise to brush it more when that’s done. My sisters and I would do this for each other at night. Cheaper than booze or drugs.”

  Under those easy words ran a current that made estate living difficult for many people—women and men. Magda was in a better position than many to have a relationship with a significant other if she chose, although meeting someone on Ashwood not part of her work crews might be limiting. For me, the residence was a nunnery of sorts.

  “Anne, was it easier to have a private life in a big city like Washington, D.C.?” Her tone signaled girlfriend talk. “Did you have a lover? You are a normal woman.”

  “That I am.” I snipped out charred ends above one burn then another while thinking about my response. “When I started training, I’d been widowed for a year and had also had lost my mother. I was depressed. Sex wasn’t a priority.”

  Tipping her head gently to one side, I brushed through her hair, looking for other small charred areas. “I volunteered for the surrogate programs about twelve months into Bureau academy and they required celibacy from the time I was chosen until the birth.” She rolled her head to the other side, a woman almost in a trance.

  “So, that’s the story of my non-sexual years.” We laughed like sisters, no tension remaining in the feel of my hands in her hair. “There were a significant number of lesbian relations in our group.”

  “And?” Her low voice held no invitation, just curiosity.

  “Not my thing. I love being physically close to someone like you, but not that way.”

  She shared a few stories about her private life as I pinned her hair above her wounds. By the time we finished, she was ready to be tucked into the leather chair under the blue blanket, and was nearly asleep by the time I put on my coat for the walk to the residence. Giant Pines’ transport no longer clogged our laborers’ entrance, emergency vehicles had left the lower gate. Patrol units blocked access to each drive or walk to Ashwood.

  While most estates exist like islands in their surrounding communities, the morning’s security action turned Ashwood into a fortress. Daily work continued in our barns and buildings. Not forgetting the laborer who earlier branded one of our prize calves, I knew Baylor’s people were examining the credentials and files of every individual working within Ashwood. The notorious inaccuracies of government data might cause some innocent person to lose their job, a risk I authorized.

  Adults and children were already gathered in the main dining room for a meal of Terrell’s amazing Italian soup and crusty bread. I set a place for myself. Agency personnel eating on the three season porch of the residence meant lots of soup days ahead to stretch food and financial resources. I made a note on my data pad to talk with Terrell about using up surplus frozen fish for their meals.

  With the same poise I noticed in her dealings with Sandra, Lana emerged as spokesperson for the children and turned conversation toward their concerns while adults still focused on condiments and passing the butter. Maybe she was one of those rare people who create calm in crisis. “Matron, what can you tell us about yesterday and today? Ladd’s told us about yesterday, and Cook and Agronomist Magda talked with us last night, but some of us are feeling scared.” Amber, sitting three places to my right, nodded. “And, we heard the new tutor will be here today.”

  “Well said, Lana.” I smiled at her. “You’ve been a good leader today. There’s a lot going on, which is why I joined you for lunch. Continue eating while I share what you need to know. Then we’ll talk about what it means, and I’ll answer questions. Ready? Everybody has a full bowl of soup and milk and bread to last for five minutes?”

  There were a few giggles among the older workers who understood I’d made a little joke about the boys sucking down food faster than vacuum cleaners. I pushed my dishes back to rest my arms on the table, aware again of a variety of aches.

  “Ladd and I are both moving slower today because of what happened at Giant Pines. You know Ladd was taken there without permission early yesterday. While we shouldn’t have to worry about strangers pushing any of us into a transport right outside our gates, it did happen.”

  Adults around the table ate while focusing on the discussion. Some children watched as they listened, others kept their heads down.

  “I think everyone has looked out the windows and seen all the police and security transports outside our gates and near the production buildings. They’re here to make sure we’re safe. Adults know all the security protocols—you are to take direction from myself, Cook Terrell, Engineer Lao, or Agronomist Magda through your worker leader exclusively. Understand?”

  Eating noises diminished.

  “We have the best protection available, so there is no need to worry. Residence workers, please stay in the residence unless an adult is with you. Outside workers, go about your chores as directed, don’t disturb the security people and listen to your leaders. We’ll have supervised play or exercise time outside.”

  “Are the officers really mean?” The question came from Amber, whose food remained untouched. No snickers or jostling followed her question. Twin Cities Regional Police cultivated a tough reputation in keeping the peace.

  Now that I knew about striped scars across her back and had read about a father incarcerated for multiple charges of aggravated assault, I could guess how important this question was for her. I remembered my own dread of a simple traffic stop in the early lean years, before we gave up our small car to pay the rent.

  Looking around the table, I knew many adults and children were in their own memories of encounters with law officials. Respecting those experiences, I attempted to move their focus back to why these officers walked Ashwood’s perimeter and away from fear of our protectors.

  “We will be feeding a crew of Twin Cities officers as well as state troopers on the three-season porch. Chief Engineer Lao and I met their managers this morning, and I promise there is nothing for any of us to fear from these people. They are just like the adults at this table. Many of them have kids of their own on estates, but that doesn’t mean they are here to become our friends. Serious faces and big voices are part of their work tools. If you feel frightened because of the way one of them speaks to you, tell an adult.”

  From the subtle noises of spoons once again dipping into a bowl and a big sneeze from a skinny boy that brought laughs from the adults, I knew we’d crossed dangerous emotional territory.

  “The other big news is that you’ll all be busy getting to know Teacher Jason later this afternoon. His title is Teacher because he is a very well-respected educator. Normally an estate wouldn’t be able to have such an experienced teacher live and work in residence, but Teacher Jason is interested in how to make estate schools better all over the country.” Workers squirmed, ready for movement. “I think he’ll make learning interesting for each of you. We’ll have dinner with him tonight.”

  “Is Baby Phoebe going to Rome with Director Tia?” Amber’s question surprised me and told me more of yesterday’s drama was already in the estate gossip network.

  “You’ll have to ask Teacher Jason the difference between Romania and Rome,” I started. “Director Tia may travel to Romania, but babies aren’t allowed outside the country until they are four months old, so Phoebe won’t be going anywhere soon.”

  The question changed my plans from spending a long afternoon with our new teacher, to focusing some of that time on the Regan family. “I’m proud of how each of you has carried on through the last few days. Now I better finish my soup and get back to my work—unless there are other questions?”

  Heads shook before bending over food, a normal group of kids and adults digesting lunch and information. Lana took a bag of candy from her work shirt pocket. “Cook Terrell said we all deserved a treat,” she said. “If you want a piece of candy, raise your hand.” Kids and adults who didn’t like candy didn’t grab a piece. Ashwood was back at a place where hunger had been satisfied by real food and some could pass on the candy.

  32
>
  DOE security agents stopped me twice on the walk to my office. I knew from the first day David showed me the offices that I would be working in a DOE-supported building where everything that happened could be observed in some analyst’s screening room. But now that I knew the sweet-faced analyst who often brought me coffee actually served as a body guard for David and Tia, the atmosphere felt different.

  With Ashwood under security, Lao set up Bureau-controlled monitoring capability for every communication device in my office. The DOE might listen in on conversations in my office, but the Bureau could monitor that DOE surveillance. I needed more painkillers to really think that circle through as I approached Tia’s office for a checkin.

  She leaned against a window, talking to someone from a Western European country. Her voice, authoritative and emotionally detached, suggested the conference concerned the Romanian disaster. Abruptly the conversation ended. Turning away from the window, from a view of pine trees surrounded by bright snow, of DOE patrols circling the building, she waved me inside.

  “Anne, you’ve had a busy morning,” she said. “Come in and close the door. We haven’t had the time to talk. You’ve been busy with this whole police state establishment, and I’m up to my eyeballs about Romania going dark.”

  Circles under her eyes stopped me from asking if she was okay. “I didn’t want to distract you, but did want to be sure you’re comfortable with the security?”

  “As long as they don’t make me jump through any hoops, I could care less.” She sighed and shrugged. “It’s twenty hundred hours right now in Bucharest. Everyone except the energy plant operators has gone home, creating a perfect time for me to call. The operators see the system issues much clearer—when they push a button, nothing happens. Temperatures aren’t changing when they should.” She smiled as if realizing I knew nothing about what she spoke. “Then I can understand the situation without the interference of bosses who are more worried about keeping good face and good jobs.”

  She pointed to one of the monitors in her office. “See that yellow line? That’s what keeps me here around the clock. That line needs to be lowered at least seven percent in the next hour or I’m on a charter flight to Romania. I need to talk with you before then.”

  This was Tia, brilliant scientist, showing her strength. Moving from the window to a grouping of chairs, she sat in one and signaled an invitation for me to sit near. All the crazy energy she had displayed in residence seemed tightly controlled, not a toe tapped or finger moved unnecessarily. She appeared in charge. The yellow line on the screen, representing a potential disaster half way around the globe, absorbed mind and soul.

  “I’ll be direct. Remember the day we met I predicted that David would fall for you? I was right about that. I think you find him attractive as well.” Her eyes demanded my attention if her words failed to focus me. Under her words I thought I heard David say my name at Giant Pines, invite me to lean on him this morning when Sandra began her betrayal. Feeling emotionally unprepared for this conversation, I returned her look with care.

  “I’ve never been one for this marriage thing. David deserves someone he can love, someone who would appreciate that kind of emotional responsibility.” Tia stopped. I stayed quiet. “You’re the type who can be affectionate with children. You seem to be the kind of person who might like to have a man or woman in an exclusive relationship. From how you speak, I think you even liked the marriage experience.”

  She leaned toward me as if rushing to finish our conversation. “David and I discovered soon after our civil ceremony that the only thing that really held us together was work and the possibility we could have a home on an estate. Now we work on different projects. I hate this country stuff and want to be done with the façade.”

  Pausing I saw her glance toward the yellow line monitor, bite her lower lip, then turn back to me. Her voice remained even. “I won’t do anything until after the boy arrives next summer because David deserves to have his kiddies for putting up with me. I’ve shared with him my plan to permanently relocate to one of the DOE European installations. I am much happier in Europe.”

  The conversation could go a number of directions, most of which I sensed could be uncomfortable for either of us. The analyst in me wanted to clarify when she had these discussions with David—before my arrival, before Phoebe’s arrival, or in the last twenty-four hours. And I wanted to know how David responded, if he felt hurt or betrayed. I wanted assurance that his black and blue cheek wasn’t a result of their talk.

  Being Tia, she did not leave room for my questions while completing her own agenda. She glanced toward the monitor, this time I also noted the yellow line’s slight movement upward. Reaching for her data pad, she made a note before speaking. “So, please, Matron, take David. At least for the companionship. And, if anything ever happens to me, I’d like to believe you two might tie the marital knot. You would be a good mother for the children. Much better than me.”

  “Tia, don’t give up so easily on being a parent. You have so much to offer Phoebe and your son.” Nothing fell out of my mouth about saving her marriage. We all saw too much to believe they could live together an entire life.

  “You should hope I’ve given them only the best of my genetics, or they’ll grow into miserable adults. Believe me.” She put up a hand. “That’s another thing David and I have discussed. And I’ll be sending him a recording to remind him that it is now up to him to be honest with you.”

  With those words, Tia stood and nodded her head toward me. “I’m late for a conference.” She pressed her own earpiece and began speaking in French, turned her back on me as she walked to her desk.

  I found it easier to think about how these five minutes were so unusual, rather than consider what Tia suggested. I knew a handful of people in government positions who found the right partner and legally registered a marriage. I knew an equal number of married Bureau employees who had long-term relationships outside of marriage. But I didn’t know how those individuals found their mates. Remembering how I told David the story about choosing a spouse from a small pool now made me cringe.

  Thank heavens the door to David’s office was closed with a “do not disturb” sign on its handle. I ignored my own desk, perhaps avoiding David, returning to the residence. Waiting for the new teacher felt safer than staying alone thinking about my feelings for David. With DOE personnel in the walkway, each step helped calm my emotions.

  I’m sure no one designing these estates stopped to consider how the full-throated giggle of a little girl could resonate in a central residence hall built of tile and wood. Like shredded metal, I found myself pulled toward the magnetic sound. A second giggle called me to hurry. Another child’s laugh pulled me faster than my stiff body wanted to move.

  There were many ways a matron could respond to the sight of the estate’s new teacher, in his wheelchair, being pushed by one of the residence’s workers down the central hall, entirely covered by coats and bags. Ladd, a huge grin on his bruised face, followed. I could clap my hands, demand everyone act with decorum. I could step into the hall and quiet the laughing children. I could move forward to introduce myself, enjoying the first sign of pure childish joy since my arrival at Ashwood. I could kiss Teacher’s head in appreciation for his kindness to our children.

  “Teacher Jason.” I hurried my steps to pull up next to his small entourage, the first full natural smile of the day on my face. “I was in a conference. Sorry I didn’t greet you at the door. You’ve met a few of your students.”

  “A magnificent residence, Matron Anne, although your description of security-reinforcement didn’t prepare me for the militia forces at the front gate.” We worked through the greeting protocol. When he straightened his back, I looked into golden-brown eyes changing from the silliness that unlocked my kids’ laughs to a more cautious state. “I hope my late arrival didn’t disturb your schedule. The driver had some difficulty with security check points.”

  “Of course not, Teacher Jaso
n. I’ll talk with Cook Terrell about preparing a lunch tray while you settle into your quarters. When you’re ready, one of the workers will show you the way to their gathering room. I’ll meet you there.” I touched his chair. “Welcome to Ashwood.”

  Additional adult laborers from town filled the kitchen preparation areas to keep our estate and the security forces fed. The room felt at least ten degrees warmer than the rest of the residence. Voices drifted in from the three-season porch as the French doors opened and closed. Terrell rested against a counter, a cup of coffee in one hand.

  “Wasn’t it suggested that you take it easy today, Ms. Matron, and give your system a chance to recover?” He chuckled, the sound as rich as his personal coffee brew. “Of course not. No one on an estate ever has time to really recover.” He smiled. “I haven’t met the man yet, but any adult who can make those kids laugh when they’re scared and tired is good in my book. What do you think?”

  “The same thing.” I actually felt some of the primary burden of caring for the children slide away. “I’ve been in residences where the workers act like children in their evening recreation time, but the places where they learn to have fun even while working are more comfortable.” I paused. “On behalf of the kids, thanks for all you do. Hopefully, Jason will take some of that burden off both us.” A worker drifted through the kitchen. “Sorry to add to your work, but could you have a lunch tray delivered to the gathering room?”

  Terrell shrugged. “No big deal. We have leftovers. The directors have their own food prep crew. Damn paranoid.”

  Moving closer I lowered my voice. “Why didn’t Oluf claim you this morning?”

  “Cause in the DOE nobody ever knows the whole picture, Ms. Matron. How did you not learn that yet?”

  “The DOE must have deep resources buckets.”

  “And drills to make them deeper. Anything else you need?”

  “One thing. Let’s use up the frozen fish in feeding our extra mouths.”