Hope for the Best

by Vanessa Lafleur

A real smile spread across her face. She’d never been on a picnic before. This would be more fun than she thought.

  For hours, they ate and talked. The president told stories about his dad who had been the creator of the first two Oak Creek–like campuses. Sadly, both of his parents died three years earlier when the fever swept through. At that time his older brother took over, and then one year ago put him in charge of developing Oak Creek for production and support purposes. He only saw his brother twice a year but talked about him the way a child talks about his favorite superhero.

  When Lareina thought about the plan Louise had shared with her, she felt a twinge of guilt knowing the humiliation she had set in motion for President Whitley. It would all occur right in front of his brother.

  Trying to distract herself, she glanced around the backyard. A garden shed sat back against the outside wall that shielded the president’s yard from the rest of the world. About twenty feet away, a tree from the outside reached its branches into the isolated world of Oak Creek. It would be easy to climb from the shed to the wall and into the tree. Her thoughts were interrupted by the president taking her hand.

  Feeling peace there on a soft picnic blanket next to someone who cared about her, she imagined what a future with the president would look like. Being married to someone who loved her, living in a mansion, maybe having children, and never running from anything ever again held a stronger appeal than she expected. The thought brought a smile to her face and the president, leaning against a tree, noticed.

  “We’ll make this a tradition,” he suggested, squeezing her hand. “We’ll have picnics on abnormally warm November days and remember our first and all the wonderful years since.”

  A warm, sweet feeling of hope started in her chest and surged through her body. Her head rested on his shoulder. Never had she known what love felt like, but perhaps it wasn’t a feeling at all. Perhaps it was a promise between two people. No person had ever promised to protect and take care of her for the rest of her life.

  As they talked, the sun set, releasing the expected November chill. President Whitley placed his jacket around her shoulders and insisted on walking her back to her building. Arm in arm, they strolled down the sidewalk under buzzing lights mounted on iron poles. All of Oak Creek seemed transformed by the change in weather. For the first time, it shimmered with new hope.

  Before they reached the front of her building, the president stopped and held her hands in his. “Will you join me tomorrow for lunch?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  He leaned in closer. “I’ll be there by eleven thirty.”

  Leaning toward him, she whispered, “I’m looking forward to it already.”

  The space between them vanished and their lips met in a quick kiss.

  Heart racing, Lareina bounced up the stairs to her room and fell back onto her bed.

  Louise, who had been sitting at her desk writing, turned around. “How was your date?”

  “We had a picnic and I’ve never done that before.” She hesitated, unsure if she should share anything personal with her roommate, but needed to talk to someone. Telling Nick about her relationship with Whitley was something she wanted to avoid indefinitely if possible. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. “I feel safe when he’s taking care of me and I’m not sure if I’ll ever find that again in my life.”

  Louise crossed the room and sat down next to her. “Yes, you will. You’ll find someone far better than a ruthless leader like Whitley and instead of playing a game you’ll have something real.”

  “But I think I already felt something real.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve been pretending for so long, what if I don’t even know the difference?”

  “You’ll know.” Louise returned to her desk.

  Lareina felt dizzy and her head ached. She didn’t understand her excitement for lunch the next day. Perhaps she had let herself get carried away with a fantasy. Perhaps she felt something real for this man who claimed to be in love with her. Confused and not quite over her cold, she decided to skip visiting Nick for another night. Instead, she fell asleep dreaming of a life as Rochelle Whitley.

  Chapter 26

  Seconds ticked by slowly and hours refused to elapse on the library’s clock. Lareina spent the morning returning stacks of books to shelves. Little bursts of dust rose into the air, spinning in squares of sunlight. Silence filled the library and President Whitley filled her thoughts. Though she knew she had to go, she couldn’t help but daydream about this other future. What would life be like at Oak Creek? The president’s house would be warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Meals would be served three times per day every day. She would have clean clothes, medical care, leisure time to read, and a safe hideout from Galloway. Everything she could possibly wish for. Stretching her arm over her head, she pushed a book onto the top shelf. Her future, like that book, was right there at the tip of her fingers. It felt warm, soft, comfortable.

  At lunchtime, as usual, the president showed up right on time to walk her back to his house. Unseasonably warm sunshine wrapped around her shoulders and danced across her face. They held hands, birds sang in the trees, windows glinted in the sun, and the sky stretched in all directions, endlessly blue.

  When they arrived at the house, two men in security uniforms waited in the lobby. They stood at attention when the door opened. One removed his hat and raked a hand through his hair. The other clenched and unclenched his hands but kept his eyes on the floor.

  “We’re sorry to bother you, Mr. President, sir,” the first said with his hat still clutched in his hand, “but we really need a few minutes of your time for advice on an issue.” The men seemed to lean backward, as if gravity pulled them away from their boss.

  President Whitley smiled the wide grin that Lareina had become accustomed to. “Of course,” he replied. “One moment.”

  He led her to a chair in front of the fireplace. “Make yourself comfortable. This will only take a minute.”

  Whitley directed the men to his office down the hall. For a dozen seconds she sat, listened to the silence, contemplated the reflection of blue sky on clear glass. Why had those guards been so nervous? What advice did they seek? Curiosity won. Cautiously, she stood, walked to the hallway, looked around, and found herself alone. Tiptoeing, she crept down the hall to Whitley’s office and stood, with her back to the wall, outside his closed door.

  She had to strain to hear the timid voice through the thick barrier. “ . . . men have developed a cough and refuse to work until they receive medical attention.”

  “We won’t stop work for anything,” responded a gruff voice. The president? She had never heard him speak in that tone before. “I want the underground living quarters done before next winter.”

  “But, sir, if the men won’t work, what are we supposed to do?”

  Holding her breath, she waited for his answer.

  “If they don’t want to work, fine. But no food to any man who doesn’t earn it. If you have protests after that, use whatever means necessary to put an end to it.” Pause. “Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  “And if you want to take any more of my valuable time, you better have a real problem.”

  “Of course, sir, it won’t happen again.”

  At the sound of chairs scraping against the floor, she darted down the hallway and back to her chair by the fireplace. As she landed on the spongy cushion, heart pounding, a door groaned open, and low voices disrupted the hallway’s silence before footsteps echoed in the lobby. They joked about the weather in friendly tones that didn’t match the dialogue of their meeting. Before they left, President Whitley led the two men over to the fireplace and introduced them in a light, cordial manner. Lareina smiled, shook their hands, and pretended to believe she would interact with them for years to come.

  “What was that all about?” she asked as the security guards seemed to run out the door.

  Whitley shrugged, took her hand, and shook
his head. “Work issues—nothing to worry about.”

  “Lunch is ready, sir,” announced a woman from the doorway.

  During lunch, Lareina’s heart sank through her chest while she choked down food she didn’t taste. She focused on maintaining her fake joviality and selling the lies she’d practiced. Whatever brief delusion she had of a comfortable life married to the president vanished. She could never be at peace knowing that her husband inflicted misery on others, and she couldn’t spend the rest of her life pretending to be oblivious of his cruelty. She had to steal the barracks master key and stick to the plan she’d formed with Louise to free Nick, and to escape. That meant, first, continuing to convince the president she loved him and wanted nothing more than to marry him in order to gain access to keys and information. Next, she had to play her part at the engagement dinner: smile, dance, then vanish into the darkness. She slid food around on her plate, but the president seemed too preoccupied to notice.

  “I’m thinking about starting a school,” he told her as they walked back to the library. “We can’t keep this place going without children. I’m even going to begin recruiting some young families. What do you think?”

  She forced a smile. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  “I’m so glad you think so. It’s been on my mind all day.” They stopped in front of the library and the president took both of her hands in his. “Unfortunately, I have to leave later this afternoon for business outside of Oak Creek, but I’ll see you for lunch on Wednesday.”

  “That’s four days away. I’m going to miss you.” She tried to sound disappointed instead of relieved.

  President Whitley smiled then kissed her. Lareina didn’t feel light, but light-headed; instead of a warm fluttering in her chest, she felt a stabbing chill. She focused her attention on being Rochelle Aumont as she smiled at the president and slid her hand slowly out of his before returning to work.

  One overheard conversation had caused Oak Creek to lose all traces of the shimmering brilliance it had held earlier. The afternoon sun appeared dim, and cracks in the side of the library were more pronounced. Any dreams of a new life shattered like thin ice beneath a five-hundred-pound weight.

  As the afternoon passed, her worries turned to Nick. Some of the men have developed a cough. Was that the extent of the danger, or were they reducing the seriousness of the situation due to Whitley’s mood? Was Nick safe? Once again, the clock’s hands moved achingly slow as they made their rounds.

  Cool evening air and lack of wind brought a wispy fog that thickened into a wall by the time Lareina slipped through the bathroom window. Oak Creek became an unfamiliar place with only the ghostly outlines of buildings visible. Her feet followed the sidewalk until each familiar turn led her to the screen of evergreen trees.

  One foot in front of the other, she made her way to the barracks. The fog and President Whitley’s absence from Oak Creek gave her a sense of security and confidence that she could avoid the type of close call she’d encountered on her last visit to Nick. In an attempt to appease her guilt for delaying her return, she had stuffed her jacket with every scrap of food from her tray plus Louise’s unwanted leftovers.

  “Nick,” she whispered through the bars. “Nick, are you awake?”

  From some of the windows above she heard a deep, raspy cough, then the same sound echoed from within Nick’s cell. He appeared slowly, rising bit by bit, on the other side of the bars.

  “Hey.” His voice wavered, but he managed a half smile. “I was worried maybe you got in some kind of trouble and they had you locked up somewhere.”

  Throat muscles tightening, her body understood that something felt wrong before her head could decipher the exact problem. “Nothing like that. I just had to get some rest.”

  “I think I caught your cold.” Nick coughed that agonizing, chest-rattling hack. “Some of the others haven’t been feeling well either.”

  His hand brushed hers as he reached out to grip the bars. It felt hot, too hot to match the chilly night. He started to speak again, but dropped his head below the window and coughed for almost a full minute.

  “That sounds like something worse than a cold.” A dull ache crept across the front of her skull. Feeling powerless, she rubbed the back of her hand in circles against her forehead to ward off a coming headache.

  Nick rested his cheek against the two middle bars so she couldn’t see his eyes. Lifting a shaking hand toward his face, she stopped, then gently pressed it against his forehead. Touching his skin felt like touching the sidewalk on a hot summer day.

  “It doesn’t matter. They won’t let us see a doctor, and if we don’t work we don’t eat.” He spoke the words as if simply discussing the weather.

  “I brought you food.” The words tripped over her tongue, vanishing into the fog. Reaching into her pockets, she handed Nick the stolen supper one item at a time. “You can rest and I’ll make sure you have enough to eat.”

  “There would be other consequences when I don’t die of starvation. It would be worse to sit here shivering all day anyway.”

  “You just need a day to rest,” she protested. “Then you’ll feel better.”

  He tried to stifle his cough, but another fit shook his body. “Being sick isn’t an excuse here. This isn’t third grade.” Shaky sarcasm filled in for fading bravado.

  “You need medicine,” Lareina said more to herself than Nick.

  “Did you even hear anything I just said?”

  She remembered perfectly well what the president told the guards in their meeting. Maybe she could steal medicine, but what kind? She didn’t know if Nick had the fever, or something worse, and her mind scrambled for a shred of an idea. If Aaron would cooperate, this would be easy, but he had been lulled into complacency by the regular meals and a chance to fulfill his dream. She hadn’t seen him since getting her stitches out, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t willing to risk those things for anyone, not even his friends.

  Discouraged, she leaned her head against the bar next to Nick’s face. A tear tickled her cheek as it followed the outline of her nose and plunged off her chin. She watched it shatter on the back of her hand, and then the idea came.

  “You have to kiss me,” she exclaimed in a whisper.

  “What?” Nick pulled his face away from the window. “Have you completely lost it, or am I starting to hear things?”

  Under different circumstances, she would have laughed. “Based on your reaction, I think you heard correctly.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “First of all, why? Second, I don’t want you to catch this—”

  “Yes, you do,” she interrupted. “If I get sick, I can go to the doctor and get medicine and bring it to you. It must be contagious if so many people are coughing.” Excitement clambered through her voice and expanded with each word.

  Nick shivered. “What if it’s the fever? What if there’s no medicine?”

  She swallowed hard, trying not to show any fear as she remembered the man in Austin, dying alone on his front yard. The reality of death had attached to her that day, but hadn’t she been afraid of getting sick even before? She avoided people, tried not to bump into them, and held her breath if she heard anyone cough.

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” she told him in a steady voice. Taking a deep breath, she leaned her face as far through the bars as she could.

  “Can’t we just drink out of the same bottle or something?” Nick suggested.

  “Do you have a bottle?” she asked, the bars pressing against her face from each side. She looked ridiculous enough to make him smile.

  “No, I guess not.”

  “This’ll work the best anyway. Come on, don’t be afraid,” she teased. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  She raised her eyebrows, eyes still closed. “I don’t bel—”

  Nick’s lips pressed against hers. The muffled coughing, dripping water, cold, and darkness swirled, blended, disappeared, returned again.
When Nick stepped back, he looked down at the windowsill, and Lareina studied her knuckles turning white from her tight grip on the bars. Minutes passed, filled only with the trickle of water through gutters and silent fog that curled around trees and crept through the hazy darkness in search of a clear space to obscure.

  “You should probably . . . get back before . . . they notice you’re . . . missing,” Nick said, clearing his throat after every few words.

  “You’re right. I hope you feel better. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

  Nick successfully held back a cough. “I’ll be here.”

  Blind in the fog, she relied on her feet to carry her back to her building. For a moment when their lips met, she had been somewhere warm and safe. She tried to hold onto it, but the further she walked from Nick, the faster the warmth faded. Moisture collected on her cheeks as a few stubborn tears mixed with misty air.

  The silent raising of a window. Tiptoeing through vacant hallways. A muffled clicking shut of a door. She arrived safely in her room, left her shoes on the rug, hung her coat on the hook, and got into bed.

  “You were gone a long time. How’s Nick?” Louise’s groggy voice asked from across the room.

  “He’s getting sick.” Her voice shook as she cocooned herself in blankets.

  “Nothing serious, I hope?”

  When she closed her eyes, Nick’s pale face haunted her. When she opened them, nothing but the outlines of a dark room that never should have become so familiar.

  “I don’t know. I kissed him . . . to find out.”

  “You don’t think he has the fever?” Louise’s voice was much more alert.

  Still shivering, Lareina pulled the comforter up to her chin, but she knew she wasn’t cold.

  “I hope not. I want to get him medicine.”

  “Oh, Rochelle, please tell me that wasn’t your first kiss?” Louise’s question, for a brief second, undermined the seriousness of the situation. Lareina closed her eyes and let herself believe they were just two teenage girls talking about boys.

  “No, that would be when I kissed the president so he would believe our engagement was real.”