The Unremembered Girl: A Novel

by Eliza Maxwell

  “You think I’m bluffing?” Mama’s eyebrows shot up, and her arms crossed in front of her. “Go ahead, call my bluff. See what happens.”

  The couple’s eyes were locked upon one another, and Henry couldn’t help thinking of something Mama had told him often: “When you see a fight in front of you, son, there’s one thing you need to ask yourself. Is this the hill I want to die on today? Most of the time, the answer to that is no, probably not. But every once in a while, the answer will be yes. Because it matters that much. Learn to tell the difference and you’ll be just fine.”

  His mother had chosen her hill.

  “As much as I hate to interrupt, Mama, there’s something I think you need to see,” Henry said quietly. “Outside,” he added with a nod of his head toward the door.

  His mother took a good long look at his expression, then nodded. “Okay, then,” she said, the fire in her face banking somewhat. “Show me.”

  Alice moved back a few steps, and Henry gestured for his mother to step through the front door. Out of curiosity, Del and Livingston brought up the rear.

  They didn’t have to go far. As the five of them stepped onto the porch with Mama in the lead, the strange girl was headed back in their direction, done now with the chicken coop. Mama stopped at the edge of the steps, and the rest of them fanned out behind her.

  Henry couldn’t see his mother’s face when the girl stopped short of walking up the steps, but he could see the darker places on the girl’s dirty clothing where blood had soaked in, and he could see the white and brown feathers clinging to her in clumps.

  With her eyes lowered, she held out the dead bird with one hand, an offering to Mama.

  “Chicken,” the girl said in a voice so low that Henry could barely make out the words. “For your dinner,” she added.

  Unable to contain his curiosity, Henry took a step forward and glanced over to gauge his mother’s reaction to that.

  Mama’s face was decidedly calm, though her eyes had gone wider than normal, and she blinked several times as she took in the scene.

  “Well, um,” his mother said, then cleared her throat. “Thank you, dear.”

  She straightened her back and moved down the steps, meeting the girl at the bottom. The stranger held the denuded carcass out for her, which Mama accepted with an impressive amount of grace.

  “Thank you,” she said to the girl again. “It’s a little . . . well, a little fresher than what I had in the fridge, but this will do just fine,” she added with an encouraging smile, while the girl looked down at the ground.

  Henry’s mother turned back toward her family, who were gaping at the pair of them.

  The girl raised her head for just a moment, her eyes seeking out Henry. When he met her gaze, he felt an uncomfortable pull and the remembered sensation of the girl’s hands on his throat.

  He broke the unwanted connection and looked back at his mother. The girl’s eyes dropped to the ground again, but not before the thought flitted across Henry’s mind that the world was spinning beneath them, out of his control, and the best he could hope for was to cling tightly to the surface.

  “Well, what are you all gawping at?” Mama asked, pulling Henry back to the practicalities of the present. His mother put a gentle hand on the girl’s arm and guided her toward the front door. “Where do you think the other stuff comes from? The chicken fairy?” His mother shook her head at them all, standing speechless as they passed. “Honestly, people.”

  Henry met Alice’s eyes, which were wide and questioning, reflective of the weirdness of the situation. He could only shrug, turning his hands palm up, as if to say, What do we do now?

  For his part, Del was looking distinctly out of his depth. But Livingston was the one who found his voice first, speechlessness not being a state he was overly familiar with.

  “Caroline!” he called to his wife’s retreating figure. He followed her with a fresh determination on his face. The rest of them had little choice but to trail along in their wake. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into you, woman, but if you think for a minute that this is okay, then you have another think coming. I absolutely will not allow—”

  Henry saw his mother turn to face her husband from the doorway into the kitchen, and the look on her face brought them all up short, including Livingston.

  “Test me, Livingston,” she said quietly. “I dare you.”

  He took a step back and peered at his wife like he was looking for some sign of the amiable, gentle woman he’d married. But she wasn’t there. Not today.

  He sputtered. He hemmed and hawed. He opened his mouth to make sounds into words several times but couldn’t manage it. All the while, Mama stared him down, waiting for Livingston to stop flopping like a fish on the deck and accept his fate.

  “That . . . that unholy creature will have to accept Jesus as her savior before she can stay in my—”

  Livingston broke off when his wife tilted her head and crossed her arms, looking at that very moment as if she were capable of breathing fire into his face.

  “In our home,” he backtracked carefully. “She’s got to be baptized, Caroline. Can’t you give me that, at least? Please?”

  Henry had never heard Livingston plead with anyone before. He thought it might be a brand-new experience for the man, and for a moment, he thought his mother might be inclined to tell him where he could shove his request.

  But he saw her soften, then glance over her shoulder into the kitchen at the girl. When she looked back at Livingston, her eyes were kinder.

  “All right, then. After dinner,” she said with a nod. Livingston gave a sigh of relief that deflated him, though whether it was at the idea of cleansing the girl’s soul in the spirit of the Lord, or simply because he felt he’d managed to save some face, Henry couldn’t guess.

  “A bit of a rinse in the river wouldn’t hurt anyway,” Mama added. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a chicken to deal with. Go do something useful.”

  Livingston nodded. It was settled, then.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Caroline had tried to explain to the girl about this thing called baptism, but she didn’t understand it. Something about giving her soul to the mercy of God.

  That sounded fine. God could have it if it meant she could stay here, within this place of warmth she’d stumbled into. Her soul hadn’t been much use to her so far, and she didn’t think she’d miss it.

  The grass rustled under her feet as they walked, Caroline’s husband several steps in front of them, striding with a purpose. Where they were headed to, she didn’t know and didn’t care. Caroline was talking to her, and she was trying to listen, but her thoughts kept darting out of her reach, finding Henry instead. He was a mystery to her, as so much of this place was. When they’d eaten their dinner, she’d moved to sit in the same corner she’d sat in before, but he’d placed a hand on her arm and guided her to a chair at the table.

  He hadn’t smiled, hadn’t spoken, but she felt his eyes on her during the meal and tried to come to terms with the uncomfortable sensation of being seen. The other man, the one they called Del, had leaned forward and fired questions at her that made her shrink back in her chair, until Caroline had insisted that was enough.

  But Henry had only watched, his silence somehow louder than the barrage of questions that made her wish he hadn’t insisted she sit there, on display.

  “What’s your name, girl?” Caroline’s husband had demanded to know. Caroline had given him a firm shake of the head, but he pressed on. “Have to know for the baptism, don’t I?”

  The girl’s shoulders had slumped lower still as she cast a glance at the only person in the room she believed to be on her side.

  Caroline gave a sad sigh, coupled with a small smile of encouragement in her direction. “We’re working on that, Livingston,” she told him, though her gaze was still on the girl. “A little patience wouldn’t go amiss.”

  He’d blustered on after that, but the girl looked down at the plate of
food in front of her and allowed Caroline to field any further questions.

  But now, with evening beginning to cascade down around them, Caroline had questions of her own.

  “Is there a name you like, dear?” she asked.

  The girl bit her lower lip, then said in a low voice, so Caroline had to lean in to hear her, “Don’t know any names that don’t already belong to someone.”

  Caroline nodded. “Fair enough,” she said, gazing off into the distance. Henry hadn’t joined them. Del and his wife either.

  “Hmm,” she said. “My grandmother’s name was Maude.” She gave a small chuckle. “Lovely woman, but my goodness, what an awful name. Maude. Sounds like something you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe.

  “No,” Caroline continued. “Something pretty, I think. I get the feeling you haven’t had much pretty in your life, have you?”

  The girl held herself tighter, her throat thick with the truth of just how much ugly she’d known.

  Caroline’s keen eyes missed very little.

  “Her sister’s name was Eve. My great-aunt. Evangeline, actually, but everyone called her Eve.” Caroline shook her head. “Can’t imagine what their mother was thinking, calling one daughter Maude and the other Evangeline. Asking for trouble, in my opinion. And truth be told, they had no use for one another, sisters or not. Maybe that was the root of the problem.”

  Caroline seemed content to ramble on without expecting the girl to fill in the gaps, and the tension in her shoulders eased a bit with that realization.

  They’d come to the edge of a river, north of where the girl had hidden in the woods. The world was different here. Beautiful, yes, but different. Where the marsh was enclosed, a bubble of a world that knew all her secrets and taunted her with them, the river was wide and arrogant. It didn’t care about her secrets. It didn’t care about anything.

  “Eve,” Caroline said, tilting her head and trying it out. “I think it suits you.”

  The girl saw the question in the older woman’s face.

  “Eve?” she whispered, hardly daring to meet Caroline’s eyes. She stiffened when the other woman reached out and took the girl’s hand in her own.

  “Only if you want, dear.”

  Breath held close, not daring to let it out, the girl gave a nod. She’d never wanted anything more.

  Caroline’s smile was gentle as she patted the girl’s hand, so grimy and stained between her own, which were cool as old coins worn smooth with age.

  “Eve it is, then.”

  There was a splash from the direction of the river. The two women turned to see Livingston wading into the water, forcing it to part and flow around him. Up to his waist, he turned and gave an impatient wave of his arm.

  “Come on, then, girl. Ain’t got all day,” he called.

  With a shake of her head, the girl resisted. “Not girl. Not anymore,” she said shakily.

  Caroline gave her a wide smile.

  “Her name is Evangeline, Livingston. You can call her Eve,” she told him over the sounds of the river and the cicadas.

  “Eve, is it?” he called back. “Well, isn’t that just fine and dandy. Pardon me, then, and thank you very much, Eve, but we’ve got the Lord’s work to be getting on with. Come on, now.” He placed his hands on his hips and scowled up at her.

  She glanced at Caroline, who gave her a quick hug and a small nod.

  “Go on, love. You’ll be fine.”

  She hesitated. But in the end, it seemed a small token to give in return for the look on Caroline’s face. She stood a little straighter and walked toward Livingston.

  Gingerly, Eve made her way down the path to the river. She looked back over her shoulder at Caroline, who smiled and nodded encouragingly, but she couldn’t help but wish that Henry had chosen to join them. She couldn’t shake him from her mind.

  “Come on, girl,” Livingston barked.

  She whipped around and looked him in the eye.

  “Eve,” she said, with her head and shoulders held high.

  “Ah, got a bit of spirit in there, after all, do you?” He gave her a smirk that had no kindness in it.

  The dark water pulled at her, lapping her body, as she stood face-to-face with the loud man who thought of her as no one. But she wasn’t no one anymore. She was Evangeline.

  “Are you willing to trust your everlasting soul into the keeping of Jesus Christ, in atonement for your sins, and beg his forgiveness in exchange for the promise of eternal life?”

  The words were loud, spit into her face with a fervor that made her pull back.

  A gleam came into Livingston’s eyes, seeing her reluctance, and it spurred him to throw more words at her like a hunter with a spear, searching for weak spots.

  “Well?” he demanded. “Are you willing to forsake Satan and his evil works and ways, girl? Are you?”

  She inhaled deeply, and with a sense of purpose that had little to do with God and everything to do with proving this little man wrong, she spoke in a clear, concise voice, “Yes. I am.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her prideful stance, but she wasn’t done.

  “And my name is not girl. It’s Evangeline.”

  A flush crept up Livingston’s neck, and his hands curled at his sides, but she wouldn’t back down.

  “Well, then, Evangeline,” he said softly, stressing each of the syllables of the name with mocking precision, “I now baptize you—”

  His hands came at her like whips as he reached out and grabbed her by the arms, pushing her down into the dark, rolling waters.

  The world around her was gone, and she was surrounded by nothing but the sound of water rushing into her nose and mouth, the bubbles rising up. The face of Livingston wavered above her through the water. She heard nothing, knew nothing, except for those hands holding her beneath the surface of the water.

  With a cry that was borne away by the river, she fought against him, struggling to break his hold and free herself. The river had made its way into her lungs, sucked in by her panic. Livingston’s grip grew tighter, digging into her arms, and his voice grew louder, but it was muffled and distorted. She couldn’t hear his fevered words, nor the cries from Caroline to let her up.

  She could hear nothing but her own death, creeping toward her, cutting her off from a life she’d barely begun to glimpse. A life she realized that she wanted desperately to live.

  With all the strength she had in her to give, Eve broke away from the hands holding her. She was free.

  But in her struggle and confusion, she lost her way. Death was coming closer now. There had been times in her life she’d begged for him, pleaded for him to take her, but she found she’d changed her mind. She was no longer a girl with no name and no will to live.

  But Death didn’t care. He was coming, and the river was carrying her to meet him.

  The world grew dim.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  With a grimace, Henry placed the garbage bag containing Mathilda’s remains into the trash bin next to the house, turning over the conversation he’d had with his brother while they’d cleaned up the chicken coop.

  “The problem isn’t just whether Caroline wants to play Mother Teresa with this girl. It’s bigger than that,” Del had said.

  “How so?” Henry asked.

  “Well, for one thing, Dad’s not far off when it comes to those people at the shack. We do have suspicions of criminal activity over there.”

  Henry shook his head and dumped the mess at the business end of the shovel he was holding into the garbage bag that Del held open for him.

  “Then, for God’s sake, why don’t you do something about it?”

  Del shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not that easy. We don’t have anything concrete, and you can’t just go arresting people based off of rumors and suspicions, no matter what Dad might think.”

  “So what are you saying?” Henry asked, jabbing the end of the shovel into the ground and leaning against the handle.

&
nbsp; “I’m saying, if Caroline’s going to keep this girl around, you need to watch your back. Because whatever those people are doing, they’ll be back.”

  “Do you really think she hurt somebody?” Henry asked. He knew what he thought, but he wanted to hear Del’s opinion.

  Del looked over toward the house. Alice was walking down the steps, heading in their direction.

  “I think it’s never a good idea to underestimate a woman, Henry. Even under the best of circumstances.” He twisted a knot into the top of the trash bag and handed it to Henry. “Just keep your eyes open, okay? Until we know what we’re dealing with.”

  Del and Alice had gone home, but his brother’s warnings stayed behind, and Henry couldn’t keep his thoughts from circling around the girl. She pulled at him.

  Giving in, he slammed the lid on the garbage can and headed toward the river.

  When he came to the line of trees that bordered the water, standing tall and proud, he hesitated. Rubbing a hand over his face, he was on the verge of turning back when his mother’s shouts broke through his indecision.

  Running down the path to the river, he had only a split second to take in the scene in front of him. Livingston was standing midstream, and Mama was starting to wade in, yelling at her husband, “Let her up, Livingston!”

  But Livingston was standing, his hands empty. Henry’s eyes followed the path of the river, searching, looking for the dark place that would indicate where the girl must be.

  At first he couldn’t see her. His eyes scanned back and forth, and then, there she was, rushing downriver, caught in the flow of the water.

  “No, Mama!” Henry shouted as he ran toward the girl. “Stay back!” The undertow could be vicious.

  “Henry, go!” his mother shouted, but it was unnecessary. He was already making his way south to the side of the river, running through the brush and brambles, over downed logs, to try and get in front of the girl, hoping like hell he could get there in time.

  There was no easy path to the water here—the banks rose sharply on either side of where Livingston and the girl had been—and Henry had no choice but to take a running leap from the drop-off at the edge. His legs and arms whirled as he flew through the air.