by Hannah Ross
"Do you… do you think she'll return to us on her own, once the elections are over and Connor wins?"
A smug little smile lifted the corners of Aunt Daphne's mouth. "We won't wait to find out, dear. We'll get to Priscilla as soon as we can, make sure she's safe, and bring her home."
42
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Friday, May 23
"Good going!" Raven said, seeing Priscilla firmly astride the flighty bucking mare. "You really do have a way with horses."
Priscilla couldn't help feeling gratified. Whatever ambivalent thoughts she once entertained about Raven and Ben and their past relationship, Raven was not someone to be ignored or disliked. She considered most everyone friends, and those who rebelled against such a notion were flattened by unceasing good-humor. Priscilla patted the horse's sweaty neck. "It's been a good day's work."
This version of Priscilla was very different from the insipid, greenhouse-cultivated Miss Dahl of the charity concerts and smiling family photographs on the front lawn of Silver Oaks, and even from the rebellious sixteen-year-old who walked away on the night of her sister's debut ball. She sported broken and chewed-off fingernails, blisters on her fingers that ruptured, healed, and turned into calluses, and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Thanks to her abandoning the wig, even her hair was messy and wild and full of dust. Her jeans were torn, her boots worn and scratched, and her heart leaped with the joy of freedom. Her insides wriggled with excitement as she noticed Ben's admiring stare.
"Looks like this girl wore you out," Raven said, advancing and patting the horse's muzzle. "But she's worth it, isn't she?"
"She's a sweetheart," Priscilla said.
"Hey," Dan Crow said. "Is that a car I hear in the distance?"
Priscilla stiffened and prepared to flee as they all turned to the ridge.
"Tom's not signaling," Raven said, "so it must be someone we know."
They all fell silent and listened as the vehicle approached the camp. Priscilla had an odd feeling of premonition. They weren't expecting any visitors with cars, unless Sidney and Elisa decided to drive over.
When the battered Land Rover came to a halt, all were surprised to see Kate step out. She smiled and waved at Priscilla as she walked over and gave Ben a hug.
Ben was both pleased and apprehensive to see his sister this far out from the Boundary and from their parents’ home. "Hey, Kate. What's up? Did something happen. Are Mom and Dad—"
"Dahl declared an emergency situation," she said, with a look of triumph. "His agents made some cobbled-up story about how we're under potential missile attack from overseas, or other such bullshit."
"What?" Priscilla seemed taken aback as she slid off the horse. "Why would he do that?"
"The elections, of course. That declaration created a legal loophole that enabled him to postpone Election Day. But people weren't as stupid as he evidently thought they were. They saw through it right away, and for two days, all of the central Urban Islands were aflame with riots."
"And that's a good thing?" Ben asked, sounding dubious.
"Of course! There was no way he could withstand that for long. There's still some rioting going on even though they cancelled the emergency. It won't help him, though. He's as good as lost the election."
Ben looked at Priscilla, beaming. "This is brilliant! I mean, not that it guarantees anything for the likes of us, but any rate Dahl deserves to be replaced."
"Yes," said Priscilla. "Yes, he does."
She sounded happy but her expression was solemn. Her shiny happy bubble of earlier was punctured. Without the goal of undermining her father's repeated occupation of the White Tower top chair, there was no longer any substantial reason for her to remain on the run. Sometime soon, I'll have to return to the Boundary, to Silver Oaks and that sheltered life, and say goodbye to blue skies and grassy plains, to burbling rivers and cascading waterfalls and freedom. And to Ben.
Kate appeared to be thinking along the same lines. "You and Ben can go back to the farm now. You'll be more comfortable there, and I doubt your father is very focused on finding you at the moment. He has other things on his mind. You'll be able to return home on your own terms."
Priscilla cast a longing look at the hide tents and cooking-fires of the camp, a little distance from the horses' training-ground. Talking and shouts and bubbling laughter of children carried in the air. She wasn't ready to say farewell to it all, but she could not think of an excuse to stay.
"Alright, then," said Ben. "But we can't go with you, Kate. We need to take the horses back."
She nodded. "I know. I'll be waiting for you at the farm."
"Won't you drive over to see Tony?"
"Too risky. I mean, I do hope he managed to cover up his tracks, but they won't let him go so easily. I hope he's safe."
Ben heard the twinge of anxiety in her voice, and suppressed a smile. "May I take it you aren't mad at him anymore?"
"I was not mad. I was…" Kate cast about for words. "I was justly disapproving and disappointed."
"Whatever." Ben laughed. "It looks like we'll be leaving sooner than we thought, anyway."
"Not before tomorrow, though, surely?" Raven said. "You won't be able to get far before dark if you start today."
"No, you're right. But tomorrow, Priscilla?"
"Yes," she said, combatting a tide of misery. "Thank you so much for everything, Raven."
43
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Monday, May 26
The ride back to the Hursts' farm took much longer than the journey to the Ravens' camp. Spring was in full force in all its undiluted glory. Ben and Priscilla often dismounted and led their horses at a walking-pace, soaking up the bird songs and flowers and golden sunlight filtered by green leaves. They unsaddled the horses and sat in shaded clearings sharing simple meals, or just holding hands and talking. When the sun set, they rolled out their sleeping bags and lay close, counting stars.
As delightful as it was to spend a few days that way, one unspoken truth loomed mercilessly before them – the road back to the farm was but the first leg of a journey that would take Priscilla away from the world of the wild children and back to her own. It cast a long shadow over what would otherwise have been a glorious, perfect time together.
Much too soon to suit either of them, they saw the snug little farmhouse with its surrounding gardens and orchards in the distance.
Ben shielded his eyes as he said, "We're nearly there. I see my folks' car in the driveway. And there's another car. But it isn't Kate's and it doesn't look like TIO."
As they approached, it became more and more obvious the other car was neither. It was a luxurious, cherry-red Jeep, its squeaky-clean sheen only accentuated by the film of dust enveloping its lower part.
"Looks fancy," Priscilla said, tensing up, "but not like a government car. Who could it be?"
Ben frowned. "Beats me. Do you want to stay back here for a while and watch? Or I can go investigate while you stay here behind these trees and keep a lookout. If you see anything suspicious, turn back and return to the Ravens. They'll take care of you."
Priscilla shook her head. "I'm pretty sure nobody who's looking for me would actually hurt me. What has to happen eventually might as well be now." If Father really lost his grip on his chair, and if Tony and the formula slipped out of his hands, all should be well.
Her words and thoughts did not diminish the leaden feeling in her stomach as she approached the farmhouse side by side with Ben, both of them leading their horses and walking slowly, as if unwilling to rush the moment of return.
As they drew near, they saw both of Ben's parents were outside, next to the vehicle, talking to a short fat woman wearing a suit with golden buttons and a funny feathered hat. Her fashionable attire looked very much out of place in this land of scattered farmhouses and crumbling ghost towns, and for a moment Priscilla couldn't believe her eyes.
The exclamation left her mouth as the truth registered in her brai
n. "Aunt Daphne!"
Daphne Van Wullen turned around and eyed her great-niece with a look of deep satisfaction. "There you are, Prissy. I knew we'd find you."
"But… But how?"
Daphne walked over and placed a hand on her arm, eyeing Priscilla's sun-kissed face and ragged appearance. "Well, it doesn't seem as though you've come to any harm, child. This will be a great comfort to your mother. She's been out of her mind with worry. All will be put to rights now, though. There's no way your father can win the election even if he publicizes your return. You and your mother and sister will no longer be required to dance to his fiddle. I know it couldn't have been easy for you, Prissy, but now it's time to go home."
It was reasonable. It was expected. It was more charitable than Priscilla dared hope for. But something made her heels dig into the ground, and before she knew it, words tumbled out of her mouth. "I don't want to go."
"What?" said Aunt Daphne, Rebecca, and Daniel at the same time.
Ben remained silent, but his glowing smile made Priscilla's heart flutter.
Daphne drew her aside, gently, but firmly. "What do you mean, you don't want to go, girl? This isn't a point of negotiation."
"I mean…" Priscilla struggled for words. "For a long time, I didn't even know there were people living beyond the Boundary. And when I did, I thought it was… I don't know… all burnt grass and polluted water and a great big desert as far as the eye can see. But there's peace here. And freedom to be who I choose to be. And there are people like the Hursts, who actually left the city to live here." She gestured toward Rebecca and Daniel, who were out of earshot but cast concerned looks in her direction. "They were kind to me. I liked staying with them. I can stay with them a while longer, can't I? Please, Aunt Daphne. It won't hurt anybody."
"Oh really?" The old lady raised her painted eyebrows. "What about your mother? Did you think of her?"
Her aunt followed her gaze as Priscilla looked aside at Ben. A gleam of understanding came into her eyes and something in her face softened. "It's this boy, isn't it? Well, that's to be expected at your age, Prissy. But you have to know it's unrealistic. You can't get involved with nobody knows whom. Remember who you are."
"You have no idea who I am," Priscilla said in a shaky voice as tears filled her eyes. "You don't know anything. I don't want to go back to Silver Oaks."
"You don't have to," Daphne said, surprising her.
The unexpected declaration made Priscilla stare. "I don't?"
"No, you don't. You can come and live with me. Your mother has been staying with me, and while I expect she will go back to your father eventually, you are welcome to stay. You can go to school – a good school with kids from proper families. Being privately tutored at Silver Oaks has its merits, but I do think you can benefit from a school. And Tilly has agreed to come and work for me part time."
"Tilly?" For the first time, Priscilla's eyes lit up.
Daphne smiled and nodded. "She discovered retirement isn't all it's cracked up to be. At Silver Oaks she was overworked, but doing nothing she was bored out of her mind. Coming to cook and supervise the household for me a couple of times a week will be just the happy medium. And I know you two will be thrilled to meet again."
Priscilla stared and was silent. I know this is the best bargain I can expect. I suppose I should be pleased. Father is losing his chair at the White Tower. I don't have to live at Silver Oaks anymore. And I can go to school and feel like a normal teenager for a change. And Tilly! I can be with Tilly again. She sighed. So why do I feel so terrible?
"Wait just a moment, Aunt Daphne. I'm going to say goodbye. Do you have a pen and a paper?"
She walked over to Ben, who stood leaning against an old apple tree, one of those they pruned together in happier days. "This is my aunt. She's come for me, and I… I have to go with her. If I don't, I'll have to go back and live with my father eventually, and I just can't face it. Living with Aunt Daphne has to be a hundred times better, but I…" She trailed off as her eyes misted.
"Of course." Ben nodded. "You must go. We never thought you could be on the run forever."
Priscilla bent her head, scrawled an address and phone number on a piece of paper, and thrust it into Ben's hand saying, "You can call me from Resurrection Town." When she looked up, though, she was mortified to see Ben shaking his head.
"Priscilla, I really think that I can't—"
"You can't or you don't want to?" Her eyes flashed in anger.
Something shifted in his face. His eyes met hers and held them as his callused fingers gripped her hand. Seconds ticked by until he was sure he saw what he hoped for. Then he smiled and said, "I want to, and I will."
His words planted a small, stubborn bubble of hope in her heart and she burst into tears as she came over to give Rebecca a hug. "Thank you," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "Thank you for everything."
"It was nothing, dear. Take good care of yourself, now. You did give Ben your phone number, yes? We'll try to keep in touch, though it might be a while."
Finally, the moment of parting arrived and Priscilla settled down next to her aunt in the back seat of the Jeep. "Are you ready to go, ma'am?" asked the driver.
"In a moment," she said. "Do you have your seat-belt on, Prissy?"
Priscilla didn't hear her. She was looking back and had eyes for nobody but Ben. With a raised hand and trembling fingers, she returned his gesture of farewell. Then she reached for her seat-belt, clicked it into place, and the engine revved up.
Swaying and bumping along the terrain, the jeep carried her away from the Hursts, and the farm, and Ben, and the life she grew to love in such a short time. She struggled not to cry.
Seeing her distress, Daphne patted her hand. "Be a good girl, Prissy, and everything will be fine. You'll see. Your mother will be exceedingly relieved to see you. And so will Stephy, though she has behaved like a real little cow lately, if I may say so."
Priscilla, who wasn't really listening, offered a mechanical, "Yes." She closed her eyes and for a few minutes, succumbed to the allure of hot tears seeping from under her eyelids. Then she wiped them away. I gave him my number. If he cares, he'll call. And if he doesn't, I don't want him to. Tears again threatened. But I do.
She willed herself to think only happy thoughts. Father's lost. I'm going to live with Aunt Daphne. I'll be going to a real school. I'll see Tilly again. A faint smile curled the corners of her lips.
And Ben will call.
* * *
The Jeep rolled slowly down the driveway to the front steps of Daphne Van Wullen's quaint Edwardian-style cottage.
"Here we are, Prissy," Daphne said, patting her niece's hand. But Priscilla wasn't listening. She stared ahead and saw the front door burst open. The slim, elegant form of a woman in a tailor-cut jacket and A-line knee-length skirt rushed forward, stumbling on her pointed heels, completely devoid of her usual cool and dignified manner.
"Mom," Priscilla whispered. The driver stopped the car and she got out. A moment later, she was engulfed by a pair of arms that clung with desperate strength as her mother sobbed on her shoulder.
"Priscilla," was all she could discern in the flow of choked exclamations. "Oh, Priscilla!"
Awkwardly, she patted her mother on the back. "I'm sorry, Mom."
Eleanor held her at arm's length, staring at her and shaking her head. "No, Prissy," she said with a watery smile. "It's me who's sorry. I always put other things first. I adapted myself, my very life, to your father's needs, and expected you and Steph to do the same. Stephanie conformed, but you could not. I should have realized that earlier."
"Come, come, Eleanor," Daphne said, coming over and patting her niece on the shoulder. "Let the girl breathe for a bit. We've had a long ride, and I don't know about Prissy, but I'm dying of thirst. Let's all head in and have a cup of tea."
With her mother's arm around her shoulders, and Aunt Daphne on her other side, Priscilla felt comforted, loved, and protected, but also a little suff
ocated. Still, she tried to make the best of it as the three of them went inside and sat down in the living room with its plump flower sofas and armchairs and a great many tasseled cushions. A pot of tea and three cups were soon brought in, along with a platter of caramel biscuits. Eleanor and Daphne picked up their cups and drank, quite at ease. There were no reproaches and no questions, and Priscilla realized the two must have talked it over beforehand and decided on a tactic for dealing with the obstinate daughter.
Well, if they won't ask questions, someone has to. She cleared her throat. "So… is the election campaign over? Or not? I don't really get it."
"You're not the only one, dear," Daphne assured her. "Your father made quite a mess out of the whole thing, though, to be fair, he was aided by my nephew. At any rate, the military order was lifted, and the elections will take place a week from tomorrow as originally scheduled. By now, nobody can doubt what will happen. Connor will be the next president."
"I hope he'll be better than Father," Priscilla muttered, stealing a look in the direction of her mother. Eleanor, however, was busy stirring a spoonful of sugar into her tea and appeared not to hear. "So what is Father going to do? After the elections, I mean?"
"Oh, your father is in no danger of finding himself unemployed," her aunt said. "Whether or not he sits in the White Tower, you can be sure he will continue to pull a lot of strings. And there are also the Van Wullen enterprises. I know Andrew needs help running some of them. It's a family business, and Alexander will be the very man."
"There are other things to do besides politics," Eleanor said. As mild and unfocused as this statement was, it still went in direct opposition to everything Priscilla absorbed during her life in Silver Oaks, and she stared at her mother in astonishment.