by Ashlee Price
I hear a gasp from behind the red curtains on the stage.
Bingo.
I pretend to look in the playhouse. “Could the monster be here?”
I open the door. Another giggle erupts behind me.
I turn to the mountain of stuffed toys and pick up one, a pink winged kitten.
“Aha! Those kitty eyes don’t fool me,” I say to it. “You’re the giggling monster I heard just now, aren’t you?”
Another giggle.
“I knew it!” I poke the toy. “You’re the giggling monster!”
I shake the toy’s head.
“No? But you can tell me where the giggling monster is?”
I make the kitten nod and then press it to my ear.
I gasp. “No way. You’re saying the monster is inside the mountain?” I glance at the pile. “But I don’t see it. Can it be… invisible?”
The giggles grow louder.
I set down the toy. “There’s only one way to find out.”
I jump on the pile of stuffed toys and Hannah squeals as she tries to get out.
“Aha!” I look at her. “I found the giggling monster, and since she loves to giggle so much, I think I’m going to make her giggle some more.”
I try to grab her to tickle her, but she jumps out of reach with a louder squeal. Then she starts throwing stuffed toys at me.
“Ouch!” One of the toys hits my head. “Can anybody help me?”
Lizzie and Amber come out of hiding and join Hannah in throwing toys at me.
I frown. “Oh, is that how it is, huh? Well, you better get ready.”
I start picking up some of the toys. I throw one at Lizzie and all three girls run out of the room, squealing.
I run after them and catch up to them in the bedroom, where I wrap my arms around them and try to tickle them. They burst into laughter.
“Stop!” Amber shouts between bouts of laughter. “I surrender!”
I stop and let all three girls go. They lie down on the floor, gasping for air. I, too, catch my breath as I sit down.
Taking care of children sure is hard work.
Hannah lets out a yawn.
“Uh-oh.” I make a clicking sound with my tongue. “I think someone’s sleepy.”
“No, I’m not,” Hannah protests.
“Let me tell you a secret only we adults know.” I touch the tip of her nose. “When a kid says they’re not something, it always means they are.”
She rubs her eyes. “Well, I guess I am sleepy.”
“I knew it.” I glance at Amber and Lizzie. “Anyone else sleepy?”
Lizzie answers with a yawn of her own.
“Come on.” I stand up. “I’ll tuck you into bed. You know you all need your beauty sleep.”
I tuck Hannah under the covers first and plant a kiss on her forehead.
“Good night, Hannah.”
I tuck Lizzie next.
“What about you?” Lizzie asks me. “Aren’t you sleepy?”
“Not yet.” I pull the covers up to her chin.
“Why don’t grownups sleep as much as children do?”
“Because they have more important things to do,” I answer.
“Like?”
“Making the world a better place for children like you to grow up.”
She gives me a puzzled look.
I brush away her golden curls and kiss her forehead. “Good night, Lizzie dearest.”
Finally, I tuck Amber in. She looks up at me with wide brown eyes.
“How do grownups stay awake?”
I touch my chin and gaze up at the ceiling. “Come to think of it, I don’t know how we do it now that we don’t have coffee.”
“Coffee? What’s coffee?”
“Nothing.” I kiss the top of her head. “I guess we stay awake now by working or thinking too much, which you’re lucky you don’t have to do. Now, sleep.”
She turns on her side and closes her eyes.
I turn on the lamps and turn off the lights, then sit on the rocking chair and hum a lullaby. As I do, I smile.
If being with children gives me hope, watching them sleep fills me with peace as well as a tinge of envy. Children sleep well because they trust in tomorrow, because they have already forgotten today. I wish I could do the same.
As it is, I remember today and yesterday very well and I worry about what tomorrow will bring. After all, it’s been three days since I started working here and Michael still hasn’t come to see me.
I wonder what’s taking him so long. Is he alright?
As soon as the girls have started snoring softly, I leave the room as quietly as I can. I head back into the playroom and start tidying up the toys but stop as the ring on my finger catches my eye.
I still can’t believe Michael proposed to me. It feels like only yesterday that I met him at the outskirts of City Q.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
The city was still in its infancy then, and the Pioneers were hard at work establishing order and installing the new technology. Michael was a Pioneer in charge of food supply and rations, but he wasn’t dressed like one as he walked amid the crowd. Instead, he wore a navy blue shirt and black pants. Strands of his dark brown hair formed a thin veil above his eyes, which were just a shade of brown darker. His lean arms swayed as he walked in long strides, and when he smiled, his dimples showed.
I was fascinated, enthralled, attracted. My heart pounded in my chest, which was so tight I could barely breathe. I wanted to talk to him, to hug him, to ask him to go out with me. Instead, when he approached me, I spilled my soup on him. I told him afterwards that I did it on purpose just to find out if he was real. He let out the most wonderful peal of laughter, and it made me fall in love for the first time in all the twenty-six years of my existence.
It seems like a miracle that I made him fall in love with me, too.
And now we’re getting married?
Michael and I are getting married.
At least, that’s the plan. With each hour that passes without a word from him, with each day that goes by without seeing him, that plan grows less certain. The seeds of worry and fear sprout in my heart. Doubts swim in my head.
I shake them off as I continue picking the toys off the floor and putting them back in place. I must have faith in the man I love.
I must stay positive.
So I start to think of positive thoughts, like what I’ll wear for our wedding.
I suppose a Monique Lhuillier or an Oscar de la Renta is out of the question, but I’d like to wear an eggshell-white gown made of silk, maybe one with a sweetheart neckline. Maybe I can even sew it myself.
I hug one of the dolls to my chest and smile.
The last time I wore a gown—and it could hardly be called one—was at my prom. Now I’ll be wearing one for my wedding.
I place the doll back on the shelf. As I pass by the dresser, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and pause.
Blue eyes I can barely recognize stare back at me.
I run my fingers over my scar and frown.
I know I said I no longer mind my scar, but it’s a lie. It still bothers me sometimes, especially when I’m with Michael. I know he loves me and thinks I’m beautiful in spite of it, but when I’m with him, I can’t help but wish I was perfect. Maybe then I’d look worthy of him… feel worthy of him.
I shake my head and shake off my frown.
It doesn’t matter. Michael loves me, and after we’re married, whether that be tomorrow or the day after, we’ll always be together. And we’ll have a family of our own and we’ll be happy.
Nothing and no one, not even Belinda, will be able to come between us.
The thought fills me with satisfaction—joy, even—and impatience. I glance at the cuckoo clock on the wall.
I hope Michael comes soon.
“Grace?” A voice calls my attention.
I turn my head and see Isabelle, another nanny, standing at the doorway.
I stand up. “What is it?”
“You’re being summoned to the Science Lab,” Isabelle informs me.
My eyes grow wide and the corners of my lips turn up.
Michael.
~
“Michael will be here soon.”
Belinda leads me down one of the steel corridors of the Science Lab. She’s wearing her white lab coat, but my rubber boots make a dull sound on the metal compared to the clatter of her heels.
I frown. I was really looking forward to finally seeing Michael, so I’m disappointed that our romantic reunion has been postponed. The fact that I’m stuck with Belinda in the meantime makes my disappointment worse.
What are you supposed to say to someone who hates you? Does she still hate me? Well, she stared at me from head to toe earlier and raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t say anything.
Can it be that Michael has already told her about our marriage? Might he have convinced her to accept me? She definitely doesn’t seem hostile.
No. It can’t be that easy. I may not know Belinda, but I’ve dealt with other women like her. I know they won’t back down without a fight.
She must be planning something.
The thought sends a chill up my spine.
“I’m sorry, but where are we going?” I ask her as I slow down.
Belinda stops and turns to face me. “Why, to the place where you can prepare for your wedding, of course.”
I blink. Prepare for my wedding?
“You know… about the wedding?” I ask out loud.
“Of course. My son’s told me all about it.” She continues walking.
I follow her. “You… don’t mind?”
“Of course I do, dear. Nevertheless, Michael is my only son, and for that same reason, I want to see him happy. I don’t like his decision, but I won’t oppose it if it means seeing him happy.”
My eyebrows go up. “Really?”
Belinda glances over her shoulder at me. “Really, child, what did you think I was? A monster? Well, I assure you I’m not. I’m just a mother. That’s all.”
My jaw drops. I hear her loud and clear, but even as I play her words over and over in my head, I still can’t believe her.
She’s really letting Michael marry me?
“But you had me fired,” I remind her.
“I thought my son hadn’t made up his mind,” Belinda answers as she pauses to sign a sheet of paper that another person in a white coat has handed her. “But apparently, he has.”
She turns to me as that other person leaves.
“Besides, you’re not too bad. You’re quite talented at dressmaking, aren’t you?”
“I do my best,” I answer modestly.
She places her arm in mine as we continue walking. “And you’re fertile, aren’t you?”
“I… believe so.”
“Have you and my son had sex?” Belinda asks suddenly.
In my shock, I stop walking. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She lets go of my arm. “Have you and Michael engaged in sexual—?”
“I heard your question the first time,” I cut her off.
Belinda shrugs. “And the answer?”
I nod.
“Then you’ll be just fine.”
She walks on as if we didn’t just have the most awkward conversation possible between a mother and her would-be daughter-in-law. I walk behind her.
“Oh, just one thing.” She stops and turns around. “Just one minor thing, really.”
“Yes?” I lift my eyebrows.
“It’s that scar.” Belinda points at my face. “I’m afraid I can’t bear to look at it. It reminds me of… ghastly things.”
I touch it and look away.
“Thankfully, we have technology here that will get rid of it completely.”
She presses a button on the wall and a door slides open. She steps inside and gestures for me to follow her.
“Come on.”
Reluctantly, I step in. The doors close behind me.
Okay. What did I just walk into?
I look around and see something like a coffin in the middle of the room. Various equipment is attached to it and a screen hangs over it.
Not good.
Belinda taps the glass on the coffin. “All you have to do is lie down inside this and we can use our latest technology to get rid of that scar on your face. You’ll look brand new.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but…”
“Do you honestly think I’m going to do something terrible to you, dear?” Belinda interrupts. “If I did that, my son would hate me.”
That does make sense. Still…
“Don’t worry. You’re not the first to try this procedure. Others have. And it’s always been successful, not to mention completely painless.”
A shudder goes up my spine. Somehow, I don’t believe that last bit at all, not when I’ve just caught a glimpse of a needle that looks about three inches long.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Maybe I’ll wait for Michael.”
Belinda frowns. “Here I thought you’d want to surprise him. Imagine how amazed, how enthralled he’ll be when he sees you in all your beauty. Why, he’ll be even more in love with you.”
I pause as the image of Michael’s face with his eyes wide with wonder and admiration pops into my head. I have to admit I do want to see that look.
Belinda places her hands on my shoulders. “Think of it as your wedding gift to him, Grace. If you won’t do it for me or for yourself, do it for him. Though really, it’s a gift to us all.”
I run my fingers over my scar.
Why am I hesitating? Isn’t this what I’ve been wanting all along? Wasn’t I just wishing I could get rid of this scar?
I look at Belinda. “What do I have to do?”
She grins. “Like I said, you just have to change into a robe and then lie down inside the capsule. The machine will do the rest.”
“And it’s painless?” I ask.
“I promise,” Belinda assures me. “Plus it will only take an hour.”
“What if Michael arrives before the procedure is over?”
“I’ll tell him to wait,” she answers. “I’ll tell him you’re getting ready for your wedding, which isn’t a lie.”
“So, after this, we’ll get married right away?”
“Your wedding dress is already waiting.”
My eyebrows go up. Really?
I look at the capsule—I tell myself it’s a capsule, not a coffin—and take a deep breath.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Belinda nods. “Gordon, give my soon-to-be daughter-in-law a robe so she can have the procedure and get married.”
“Yes, ma’am,” a man with gray hair and glasses answers. He extends his arm towards me. “This way, please.”
I follow him to a stall in the corner of the room. Gordon opens the door and I go in; then he hands me a white robe.
“Please put this on.”
I close the door and change into the robe. I don’t know what it’s made of, but whatever the fabric is, it isn’t comfortable. I know I don’t have a choice, though.
My wedding dress better be more comfortable, not to mention more glamorous.
Once I’ve changed, I step out of the stall. Gordon is waiting for me, and as he appraises my appearance I pull the hem of the robe down my thighs a notch.
His gaze goes to my hand and he frowns. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take the ring off.”
“Oh.” I stare at the ring.
“I’ll keep it safe for you,” he offers as he stretches out his hand.
“Okay.”
I take it off and put it on his palm. My finger suddenly feels naked, but I comfort myself with the thought that I’ll be wearing a different one later.
A wedding ring.
“And that as well.” Gordon points to my neck.
My hands go to my necklace.
I’m even more hesitant to hand over my neck
lace. It’s the only relic I have left of my life before Rudy, the only souvenir I have of my parents. But I suppose I have to. Come to think of it, it’s not a surprising request. I remember having to remove my jewelry for X-ray exams. Maybe this machine works the same way.
“What’s the name of this machine I’m going under?” I ask as my fingers work on the clasp of my necklace.
“FCRM,” Gordon answers.
Okay.
I think about asking what that acronym means but let it go. Even if I did ask, there’s no guarantee I’d understand it. And it doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve already made up my mind to undergo this procedure.
I hand Gordon my necklace. “My parents gave this to me when I was a child, so promise me you’ll take good care of it and give it back to me as soon as the procedure is over.”
Gordon nods and gestures to the capsule.
I walk to it and lie down. Again, I try to pull down the hem of my robe, which is riding higher up my thighs now, but no one seems to be looking. They’re all looking at the screens and pressing keys. The glass door of the capsule closes and the small machines attached to it whir to life. Metal bands appear over my wrists and secure them in place.
A lump forms in my throat as my gut coils.
Did I make the right decision? Maybe I should have asked Michael first, after all. Maybe I shouldn’t have rushed.
It’s too late now, though.
The screen above me lights up and descends to hover above my face. I close my eyes against the glaring brightness and clench my shaking hands into fists.
God, I hope this works.
“What?” I suddenly hear Gordon’s raised voice—along with the alarm in it. “But that’s…”
“Do as I say,” I hear Belinda command.
What on earth is going on?
I force my eyelids open and glance to the side. As my eyes meet Gordon’s, he mouths a word.
Sorry.
Sorry? Why…?
My train of thought gets disrupted as a sharp pain pierces my nape. I open my mouth to let out a scream, but I don’t hear it. All I hear is the loud buzzing sound in my head before everything becomes silent and I feel nothing at all.
Nothing.
Chapter 4
Michael
“What do you mean, nothing?” I sweep the papers and paperweights off my desk, sending them flying and clattering to the floor, and then make a dent in the metal with my knuckles. “Surely there was something you could have done!”