by Hannah Ross
"How long have you known?"
"Long enough to make my heart nearly burst with the weight of it all."
"Were you… I mean to say, were you one of the women who were told that they…"
Tracy's lips curled into a faint, melancholic smile. "No. I'm a valuable, trusted government worker. I'd probably get an A+ status if I chose to apply for a Reproductive Permit. But I never married. Somehow, it just didn't work out. I guess I was always too absorbed in my career…until it was too late for me."
A key turned in the lock, startling both of them. Kate's face registered surprise when she saw Tracy. Visitors were rare in the Hurst household, where the space was usually cramped and often cluttered.
Rebecca smiled. "Hi, honey. You're back early today."
"I'm going back to campus in a little while. I only dropped by to pick up a book I forgot."
"Kate, this is Dr. Locke," Rebecca said, satisfying her daughter's curiosity.
Tracy rose to shake hands, then said, "Well, I had better get going." She took a piece of paper from the stash near the phone and hastily scribbled a number. "You can reach me here. I hope we'll meet again soon."
"I'll be looking forward to it."
As she closed the door behind her, Rebecca heard, "Mom. I've met Dr. Locke before."
She turned and read questions and confusion on her daughter's face. "Oh? It didn't look as if she remembered you."
"She came to the school a few times as a guest lecturer in Public Health class. She probably didn't remember my face. I usually sit at the back."
Why did she have to forget her book today of all days? "Were they interesting lectures?"
"I'd say so, yes. She's an intelligent woman with a lot of experience in the field. But what was she doing here?"
"Oh, I'm interviewing her for an article I'm working on."
Rebecca knew she was a lousy liar and was not surprised Kate's face wore the same skeptical expression she often showed her children when they were young and offered feeble excuses as to why they had not done their homework or cleaned their room.
"Come on, Mom. You never interview people at home."
"Dr. Locke happened to be around."
To cover her unease, Kate dropped into the kitchen chair where Tracy sat earlier and ran her finger over the handle of the half-empty teacup. "From a few things Dr. Locke said in her lectures, I understood her point of view sometimes deviates from the official stance on certain…certain topics you're interested in, too."
"What are you trying to say?"
Kate rose, her disquiet gone, and said, "Be careful, Mom. That's all."
It hit Rebecca full-force how her daughter was all grown up, a person in her own right. So tall and graceful now. So pretty even with that haircut. She sighed. Time passes so quickly. A pang of regret made her look away for a moment. It seems like only yesterday the children were little and always wanted something. How did I ever get any work done or meet a deadline? Please be quiet, Mommy is trying to write. How many hundreds of times did I say that? Now all I have is time, more than I can fill, and so many voids where meaningful things once were.
She called after Kate, who was on the way to her room. "There are a few leftover pieces of lasagna in the fridge if you're hungry."
"Perhaps later Mom. I'm in a hurry right now." A minute later, she emerged from the room, book in hand, and hurried out the door.
Rebecca walked to the window in time to see Kate cross the street and, seconds later, turn the corner. She stood there for a long time, watching the traffic and the people hurrying along before she glanced back at the telephone.
I should call Tracy now. There are so many things I want to ask her, discuss with her. But Daniel will be home soon. I don't want him to know about her, get involved. We're prying into an ugly secret and just knowing about it could cost us our careers. More. "Huh." Why aren't I afraid? Because I have to know? Have to get at the truth and bring it out? I do. I owe it to myself and to people like Natalie and Mrs. Stocking, to everyone who knows and is afraid to speak up.
She bowed her head.
And I owe it to Benjamin.
The next morning, after Daniel went into the office and Kate to her classes, Rebecca dialed Tracy's number. She hoped to arrange for another meeting, but Tracy sounded harassed, urgent.
"I can't talk now, Rebecca. There are some arrangements I must make right away. I'll get back to you… perhaps tomorrow, alright?"
They never spoke again. That night, while watching the news, Rebecca was horrified to hear an impassive newsreader telling of "…a terrible accident on road 405. A pickup truck hit the private vehicle of Dr. Tracy Locke, a renowned researcher and valued member of the Public Health Office. Dr. Locke's colleagues are stunned and grieved to hear of this unexpected tragedy, the circumstances of which are being investigated as we speak."
Rebecca sat stiff and upright in her armchair, unable to move. A large photograph of Dr. Locke filled the screen. She looked professional, unsmiling, but very elegant in a dark-grey pantsuit and pearly-white blouse.
"Terrible." Daniel shook his head, but he was detached, unaware of the effect this announcement had on his wife. "That road takes a completely disproportional yearly death toll. I don't know why nobody's doing a damn thing about it."
Still, it was nothing personal to him. The name of Tracy Locke would soon be forgotten. He reclined comfortably in his seat, sipping his evening tea. Kate, on the other hand, threw her mother an anxious look.
"You know it was no accident, Mom," she said quietly, once her father went to bed and the two of them were left alone in the kitchen. Rebecca just stared, feeling too much to protest. "I don't know exactly what you and Dr. Locke had in common, but the fact is, two days after she visited you she was killed."
"I called her this morning. She didn't say much, but she sounded… anxious."
"Locke knew something, didn't she? Something that made her a threat to someone important. So she was removed. And I'm afraid…" She paused and took a deep breath. "I'm afraid, Mom, that you might be going the same way."
How did it happen that the roles were reversed? Why did she suddenly feel like Kate was the mother and she the child? She did not know, but she went ahead and said: "Tracy Locke was doing some…private research on the Zero Growth policy."
Something shifted in Kate's face. She no longer looked brisk and efficient. She seemed softer, sadder, more mature. "I had a hunch it would be something like that."
"Dr. Locke told me something important and I believe she was going to say even more. I think she didn't want to talk in front of you. I figured we'd meet again, but…"
Kate's lower lip quivered. She took her mother's hand and whispered, "I don't think I ever told you how much I loved him."
Rebecca only stared, unable to speak.
"Benjamin," Kate said, voicing the name she and her older brother had not uttered in almost twelve years. "He was everything that was sweet and innocent. I could cuddle him for hours, remember? I loved the smell of his hair when it was freshly washed. I loved how he'd grab one of my fingers with his tiny hand. He was so soft, so beautiful. I was too young to understand why we couldn't tell anybody about him. And then there was that horrible day when we woke and he was gone, just gone, and you looked dead on your feet and told us in this terrible hollow voice that other people would take care of Benjamin from now on. I asked whether we'd ever see him again, remember? You said you didn't know, but I knew it meant no. I could see it in your face. And for years after that, I lived in fear that perhaps, if Jordan and I weren't good, you'd decide to give one of us away too."
A painful jolt coursed through her as tears prickled the corners of Rebecca's eyes until she could hold back no longer. For the first time in her life, she was crying in front of her daughter.
"I'm sorry," she said, choking off a sob. "I'm so, so sorry honey. Your father argued that it would be easier for you to understand if we just told you that Benjamin had died. But I…I couldn't b
ring myself to do it."
Kate gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Once, when you weren't home, Dad sat Jordan and me on the sofa and gave us a talk. He said you are going through a difficult time, but that you would be alright, and that you'd recover sooner if we don't mention Benjamin again. Did you know that?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"So we never talked about him again, even just between us. And in time, things almost went back to normal. But I could see you had changed. There used to be a light in your eyes, a sparkle, but it left together with Benjamin. You were never happy again. And though we went on as usual, there were all those questions I couldn't let go of. There was nobody to ask, so the only thing left was to grow up and start figuring things out by myself. And once I did, once I was old enough to understand why you had Benjamin in secret, and why you were forced to give him up, I've never felt sorrier for anyone in my life."
Blinded by tears, Rebecca was too choked up to speak. She groped for the stack of napkins on the kitchen table and dabbed at her eyes and cheeks. "I don't deserve to be pitied," she finally said. "I'm a coward. I should have held on to him, no matter what. I regretted what I did the moment it was done. I even applied for an adoption permit, you know? I figured we could get Benjamin out of the orphanage by adopting him. But we were denied a permit. We had two healthy children, we were told. There was no reason whatsoever for us to adopt a Class B child."
Kate shook her head. "I don't know what to say, Mom."
"Wait here," Rebecca said as she rose and went to the bedroom, where Daniel was already snoring peacefully. From a bottom drawer in the closet she retrieved her treasure chest, a small wooden box containing all the items Mrs. Stocking smuggled out for her during the years. There were several photographs of Benjamin, a pair of his baby shoes, some first samples of his childish, uneven writing, and Mrs. Stocking's letters about his progress.
"The matron of the orphanage is a kind-hearted woman," Rebecca said, taking out the small stack of photographs. "She let me know how Benjamin was doing, and told me where to come so I could get a glimpse of him once in a while. It's over now, though. Benjamin grew too old for school. He was…sent on."
Kate took one of the photographs, taken about five years ago. It showed a small, thin boy working on a simple carpentry project, making a shelf or perhaps a bird feeder. It seemed as though he was not aware he was being photographed. Kate looked back at her mother. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears.
"We've already lost so much, Mom," she whispered. "We can't afford to lose you too. You see what happened to Dr. Locke. There are powerful people up there, people who are no match for you. They won't hesitate to get rid of you if they suspect you're digging too deep. And we need you. I need you. Please…please promise me that you won't put yourself in danger, that as hard as it is, you'll let this go. Promise me, Mom."
9
________________
____________
________
Time passed. Seasons rushed forward, year following year. There was a lot of camping outside the city in spring and summer and early fall, a lot of hunting, fishing, and gathering and storing food for the cold season. Later in the fall, they would return to the crumbling city to prepare for the winter. The Grey Eagles repaired and improved the building, making it warmer, safer, and sounder, more like a real home. They scavenged the abandoned stores for canned and dried food, warm clothes and shoes, blankets and fuel, though the latter was getting scarce, and they were forced to rely more and more on wood burners. Things got lean at times, but working as a team, the group survived and grew.
The young couples produced more children. Gabby and Mac now had four, two boys and two girls. Whenever someone in the group, and often in other groups gave birth, Gabby served as midwife. She had helped Edeline, who now had a boy and a girl, and also Jen, who had some difficulty birthing Michael's daughter, Marleen. Thankfully things worked out and Marleen was now a robust two-year-old.
"You have both talent and experience, Gabby," Elisa said with appreciation one rainy autumn evening, while they sat together in front of the fire. Elisa was sorting through some bunches of dried herbs and Gabby was darning an old pair of Mac's pants. "I think you should invest more in learning, though."
"Learning?" Gabby, sounding surprised, lifted her head from her sewing. "You mean, like out of books?"
"Of course," Elisa nodded. "I've collected all sorts of books, you know. I can lend you some on anatomy and biology – and there are also medical guides made for doctors and nurses. It will help you with your work."
Gabby shook her head. "I'm not much of a reader, Elisa. I do have this stack of tattered paperbacks I keep next to my bed, but other than that…"
"But this is different." Elisa tucked a strand of her golden hair behind one ear as her eyes sparkled with conviction. "It's about knowledge that might help you, one day, save someone's life. We have no doctor around here, Gabby. We've been lucky with no serious illnesses in all this time, and the babies born healthy. But other groups have been less fortunate."
"Yes," Gabby's voice wavered. "I've never lost a mother, but the babies… It happened twice in other camps. The baby just didn't make it."
She fell silent as Elisa nodded. She remembered it well. There was nothing Gabby could have done, and nobody blamed her. On the contrary, she helped grieving mothers by attending to and comforting them. But she was so shattered by the losses she took to her bed, vowing never to attend a birth again. Only Mac's gentle persistence and the group's combined assurances of there being nobody better suited, made her step up to the task again.
"Then there was that poor guy who lost a hand through infection. Now, if we had a doctor…"
"But I'm no doctor, Elisa. I could never be one, even if I read all the books in the world."
"Of course. Still, we must make do with what we have, and something is better than nothing. With more knowledge, and with all the stuff we got from pharmacies, you could be, well, almost like a nurse. Think about it."
"I will. I promise."
Gabby kept threading her needle through fabric while the fire crackled and a pot of stew bubbled on it, spreading comforting smells. Edeline got up to stir it, and a cloud of vapor rose above the lid.
"Anybody seen Ron and Lauren?" she asked.
Gabby snorted. "I think I haven't seen them for at least a week. They spend all their time outside. Who would have thought?"
Normally shy Ron had been persistent in courting Lauren, and for the past three months the two had been going steady.
"I think we should start making some sort of…ceremony for couples who are serious about each other," said Edeline.
"Like a wedding?" Gabby asked. "I always wished Mac and I had one, you know. Like in the novels." Her eyes misted with romantic possibility. "There are even some wedding dresses in downtown stores."
"You and Mac don't need a ceremony," Elisa said. "You've been together for ages. You have four children."
Gabby sighed. "I know. But Mac is so…so reserved most of the time. And when he does speak, it's always to the point. Well, you know him. 'The roast turkey is really good, Gabby. I've put new tiles on the floor in our sleeping space, Gabby.' He's a good, loving man, and he's really great with the children. Last month when Jill had a cold, he stayed next to her bed for hours, reading to her and entertaining her until she felt better. But sometimes…just sometimes, you know, I wish he'd do or say something to make me feel really special." She offered an apologetic smile.
Edeline opened her mouth to respond, but her words were lost in a stampede of children's feet. Gabby's children, seven-year-old Darren and five-year-old Jill came running, followed by Edeline's son Ryan.
"Can we go out and play, Mom?" asked Darren, the oldest of the bunch.
"Supper's almost ready," said Gabby.
"Oh, come on, Mom. We won't be long."
"Is someone keeping an eye on the baby, then?" Gabby fixed her son with a beady stare.
"Shaun
a is watching all the little ones."
"Well, that's very nice of Shauna, but I asked you to watch her. Last time she rummaged through all the drawers in my sewing cabinet. It's really hard to get anything done that way."
"Oh, Mo-om," whined Jill.
"Shauna said it's no trouble. We'll come back and eat real soon. Bye, Mom!" Darren grabbed his sister's hand, gave Ryan a nudge, and the trio stormed out.
"Leslie will soon catch up with that gang," said Edeline, putting an arm around her toddler who, for the time being, was content to sit near her mother.
"It's a good thing Darren took to reading lately," remarked Gabby. "It keeps him occupied and quiet for at least part of the day. I'm so grateful Mac took it upon himself to teach him. I don't think I would have had the patience."
"Speaking of our men," said Jen, who walked over to the group with Marleen in her arms. "I wish I knew they'd be back soon. Then we would wait with supper. Anybody know where they went today?" She bent and let her plump, red-cheeked toddler sit next to Leslie.
Everyone was silent until, Elisa reluctantly admitted, "I think they went to the West side."
Worried glances were exchanged. She did not need to elaborate. Everybody knew the West district was the home of the Fat Bears.
"At this rate, we won't have anything to wear for the winter." Michael Fox frowned as they walked. "We'll soon be doing what Mac suggested, curing hides."
"Nothing wrong with that," Mac said. "I have a pair of deerskin pants I made myself which are real comfy. And the pelt from that puma who was unfortunate enough to think I'm dinner? It makes for a great cloak."
Michael waved his hand in dismissal. "Yeah, yeah. I mean, who wouldn't want to spend weeks making a single item of clothing when you can just go downtown and find something in one of the stores?"
Andy, Ron and a few of the others chuckled. Mac appeared unfazed.
"There's nothing like what you make with your own hands. And besides, when you have less, you appreciate it more. There's less upkeep involved, too. Gabby has been complaining of the work it takes to haul all our clothes down to the river and wash them every week."