| EXCERPT
:
My
days must be spent readying this room I have claimed and so
I allow myself time to write only when I am too exhausted
for any further physical labor. Finding myself at that very
point, I shall begin again where I left off.
Not
even a fortnight went by between the time Jason left us and
the time he married Zanyia. I know because I received a decree
of divorce on the day of their marriage. It was a queer thing—to
be delivered a document stating, by the mere fact of its existence,
I was no longer married. I was fifteen when we married and
that was fourteen years ago. It was mind boggling to me.
The
girls and I drew up our lives around us. The tension at school
had grown intolerable and I could no longer bear Elisabeth
and Charlotte coming home in distress from taunts and cruelties
that should never have been allowed, so I began keeping them
home.
Elisabeth
will be thirteen in February. She is a quiet, studious girl
who resembles her father, but, in truth, is a great deal more
like myself. She enjoys her studies and she is a good help
around the house. She is of even temperament, sweet and slow
to anger, protective of her sisters. She enjoys needlework
and she displays a talent at music, both singing and piano.
Charlotte
has just turned eight. She has darker hair than Elisabeth
but a quite similar face. They are both lovely. My energy-filled
middle child does not have the patience or discipline for
studies or domestics of any sort. She would rather be out
of doors, making up some wild game than anything. I do not
know where her boisterous personality came from, but she is
amusing and dear.
Olivia
inherited my light hair and blue eyes. She is small with a
unique look; a kind of fragility that makes people take notice.
She is shy and does not welcome the attention. I have been
told repeatedly that she looks like a miniature of myself—but
I do not see it. I am not, nor do I believe I ever was, so
angelic looking or so beautiful.
My
girls cannot possibly know how much they are a part of me.
How very much I need them.
*
* * *
I
thought my personal ordeal began on that late summer day Jason
left us but, in truth, it began just over a month ago, on
the day the first winter storm hit. The snow was early and
as wondrous as first snows always are. It came down hard and
fast, as if the heavens could not wait to cleanse the earth
with it. My heart thrilled at the sight, but my delight paled
in comparison to that of my girls.
Our
spirits had been vastly diminished since Jason left. His abandonment
was a greater blow to all of us than I could ever find words
to express. But, that morning, our spirits soared. It was
a joyous feeling we shared that day—a snug security.
The snow made us feel cut off from the world. Our world was
our home and it was warm and filled with everything we needed:
food, firewood, love and affection. Jason may have abandoned
us, but my father had left me what he had. It was no fortune
but we would get by and I made a silent vow of determination
that there would be no more grieving or pining for something
that was no longer to be.
Everything
changed late that afternoon when the snow stopped as suddenly
as it had begun. We heard a commotion from beyond our front
door and opened it to learn that Ishan Cross, a child from
three doors down, had been attacked. Ishan was a soft-spoken
boy with fair skin and light brown hair. Even though he was
a year older than Elisabeth, he and the girls had often played
together in the alley and woods in back of our houses, especially
when they were younger. The girls wanted to go to him, but
I had a feeling of such foreboding that I insisted they stay
behind.
I
went to see if I might be of assistance. I do not know what
I was expecting but, whatever I was expecting, it was not
what I saw. I was not braced properly and the sight of him
hit me like a great blow. I have never seen, nor could I have
ever imagined, so battered a child. It seemed contrary to
nature that he could still be living. The only way we knew
he was alive was the pained rasp that came from his throat.
He’d
been hung from the neck and beaten and pelted by a group of
Hyliz boys—his former classmates. They had only cut
him down when he lost consciousness.
I
was given the explanation, but it was beyond my grasp. I gaped
at the sight but could not comprehend what I saw. The instant
that his breathing stopped was the most intense quiet I have
yet experienced in my life; so quiet, it hurt my ears. The
stillness was pressing and absolute.
A
wail from the grieving survivors began in the next moment
and built to a shattering racket. There was not ample space
in the room, indeed in the house, to contain the agony.
Fear
wrapped cold fingers around me and squeezed. Evil had been
loosed round us and we had failed to see its magnitude for
destruction. I had to get back to my own children and we had
to leave this place. I did not know then it was already too
late.
The
instant I stepped outside, my eyes lit on the elegant DeGreggia
carriage stopped in front of our house and I felt as much
fury as fear. I rushed home and bolted through the door to
witness Charlotte struggling against her father as he attempted
to keep her cloak around her. “Mama!” she cried,
when she spied me.
I
demanded to know what he was doing, but much of my fury died
in me as I saw how distraught and gray he looked as he walked
toward me with an unsteady gait. “I know about Ishan,”
he said. “The girls must come with me. It’s the
only way to keep them safe.”
He
had closed the distance between us and whispered the last
of this and I smelled alcohol on his breath. I tried to pull
away from him to respond but he yanked me close again with
a desperate look on his face. “You have to go or she
will have you arrested,” he whispered in my ear.
I
jerked away from him, astonished at the prospect. “What
are you talking about?”
He
put both hands to his head for a moment as if he was taken
with a terrible pain. Then he let them down with an extended
sigh that seemed to deflate him. What I saw at that moment
was a man who had experienced a rude awakening. He had bargained
what he thought was only a portion of his integrity for a
greater lot in life, only to discover he’d traded everything
of value—family, home, the whole of his integrity, his
very soul. It was gone. All gone. Dealt straight to the Devil.
“Things
are in motion,” he was saying, with an expression that
suggested the words had a bad taste to them. “They can
get away with anything now. She wants the children.”
The
realization that there was a plan at work struck as hard as
a physical blow.
“Why
does she want my children?” I asked.
“They
are my children, too,” he replied.
Run!
Run with them, I thought.
As
if he’d read my mind, Jason said, “If you try
to leave with them, she will have you arrested and take them
anyway.”
I
looked around the room. I felt it necessary to do something,
but what? Pack? Run?
“Please,
Anna. They are coming and this is difficult enough.”
“Difficult
enough?” I repeated, stupidly, not believing my own
ears. My heart was beating such a sick and unnatural rhythm,
I wondered if I might faint there on the spot.
He
gripped my arm and squeezed it. “Do you understand what
I’m saying? If you don’t give me the children—”
I
am not prone to fainting spells. In my entire life, I have
fainted only once, during the birth of Elisabeth. But I was
experiencing light-headedness and such extremity of emotion,
I was unable to process what was happening. There was such
painful tingling throughout my body. Even when I think back
on it, there seems to be black holes in my memory. I cannot
accurately represent the order of events or the length of
time each took.
The
door swung open and Zanyia strode in, in all her shiny, plumbed,
green-silk glory. Zanyia. Her white skin is flawless, her
features even and well placed, and yet her face holds no beauty.
She looks as cruel as she is.
Although
she is but a few years older than myself, she attended school
with us for only a few months before returning to private
instruction. I was thirteen or fourteen at the time. I never
knew her as much as I knew of her. I do not recall ever having
a conversation before that day—if one could call what
we exchanged a conversation.
When
she walked in our door, the village constable, a man I know
well, William Elsworth, followed her. He did not meet my eyes.
The next moment lasted an eternity. I noted Jason’s
expression and his dismay at Zanyia’s sudden appearance.
Zanyia, on the other hand, looked cold, cunning and vastly
superior. She lifted one highly arched brow and said to Jason,
“You did not wait for me. I had to take another carriage.”
Elisabeth
was standing behind her chair at the table, clutching it so
tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Olivia stood beside
her. I could see the top of her white-blonde head and the
occasional flash of blue eyes as she looked around the room.
Charlotte was still sitting in the middle of the floor, her
cloak beside her.
Jason’s
movement broke the spell. He turned to me, pleading with his
eyes and his barely audible voice. “Anna, please. I
will take care of them. I swear it.”
“It’s
time,” Zanyia said, from across the room. Ice crystals
could have formed on her words.
Was
I now to be arrested, tried and hanged, too? For what? I had
committed no crime. Then again, William, Cannan, Jenks and
Peter had committed no crime.
“Mother?”
Elisabeth spoke, panicked.
There
was a plan here, an evil plan, and I was too late to thwart
it. Why hadn’t I taken us away from this place?
“Anna,”
Will said. “Jason is going to take the girls—”
“For
what reason?” I spoke up. “I have done nothing—”
Jason
leaned in to me, still pleading, “You’ll be safe
if you let them go. There are men outside to help take them—”
I
pulled back and studied his haggard face. I could see the
regret in his eyes, but I could also see weakness and shame.
He would not help me.
I
felt the walls closing in. There were men outside who would
take my children by force if I resisted. “G-give me
a moment,” I stammered.
Jason
bowed his head and made his way toward Zanyia. She was perched
near the door—erect and disdainful. She had condemned
me, but was willing to save my daughters. Why? Was it because
she could not have children of her own, or perhaps she wanted
them as pawns to control Jason?
The
girls all rushed to me. Elisabeth carried Olivia, and they
were all crying. Charlotte reached me first and I reached
out to touch her face. On contact, her face felt hot, but
as she jerked at my touch, I realized my hands had gone ice
cold. I gathered them all in my arms.
“Why
are they taking us?” Charlotte moaned.
“What
did father say?” Elizabeth asked.
There
was no time to explain even if I’d had an explanation.
“I’ll go and find a new home for us,” I
pledged in a whisper. I felt immediate relief from them and
it bolstered my strength. When I pulled back, Olivia leapt
into my arms and I held her as tightly as I could, loving
the spirit in that tiny body better than I loved my own.
“I
want to stay with you,” she begged.
Zanyia’s
patience had worn through. I could see the disgusted expression
on her face as she directed Jason to get the girls. “I
will come for you,” I whispered. “I swear it.”
“Tomorrow?”
she whispered back.
“No,
not tomorrow. A week or two.”
“That’s
too long, Mama.”
“I
know. I know.”
Jason
was walking toward us. “Get your cloaks,” he snapped
at the older girls. “Go, now. Hurry,” he ordered.
He began to pry Olivia from around me. She did not want to
release her grip.
“Mama!
Mama!” she cried, still reaching out for me.
I
did not want to make it harder for her, but my arms reached
out for her involuntarily and I may have cried out. I don’t
know.
Once
Jason had succeeded in separating us, she began crying for
Hannah, her doll.
“No
dolls,” Zanyia spoke up. “No possessions from
here, whatsoever. Even their clothes will be burned.”
She glared at me when she said this. “We cannot be certain
they are not transporting lice.”
Her
malevolence was paralyzing. How could she or anyone hate me
so much? She did not even know me. I tore away from her hate
filled glare and found the blue eyes of my youngest.
“I
will keep Hannah,” I told Olivia to reassure her. “I
will take care of her for you.”
Olivia
was crying and her hand flew out at me as her father carried
her away behind her sisters. The gesture hurt my heart and
tears began streaming down my face.
Zanyia
and Will remained; Will hanging back at the door with his
hat in his hand.
At
first, there was silence and then I heard the carriage move
away. It was the most terrible sound I have ever heard. I
wanted to control myself. I wanted to stop the flow of tears,
but I could not.
“She
broke into my home,” Zanyia said, looking directly at
me. “Vandalized my things and stole a ring. I feel quite
certain you will find it here among her possessions.”
I
felt a searing indignation. It was a plot. She exuded a zealous
confidence in the same way that Jason had exuded shame. Had
he stashed a ring where it could be found and used against
me? He had. I knew it and my anger provided resolve enough
to stop my weeping. “How is it possible that you hate
me so much?” I demanded of her.
“If
you leave this minute,” she said, ignoring my question,
“I will let you go without having you arrested. But
if you remain or if you ever return, I will see you hung.
And I will make sure your daughters see it as well.”
The
thought was sickening, and horror instantly replaced my anger.
I looked to Will, whom I had considered to be a friend. “I
have never been to her home. And I have never stolen anything.”
“I
have witnesses,” Zanyia snarled. She turned to Will.
“Either take her to the gates or arrest her,”
she demanded. “Someone will be watching.” She
turned and walked to the door, then hesitated. Will dashed
to open it for her.
I
watched her walk out and be assisted into her carriage. My
throat felt closed up and it was difficult to get the words,
“You know she is lying” out.
Will
closed the door and turned back toward me. He met my eyes
and I saw that he did indeed know, but it mattered not at
all. “We have to go, Anna. Get your cloak.”
Shaking
with disbelief, I went to get my cloak. I hadn’t even
bothered with it when I’d rushed to the Cross home.
Unbelievably, Will moved closer to help me. If it had not
been such a painful, surreal moment, it would have been laughable.
He was helping me to put on my coat, as any gentleman would,
so I could be taken to the village gates and banished from
my home.
“May
I pack some things?” I asked.
He
averted his eyes. “She said no.”
“She
is lying,” I repeated.
“But
the ring is here, I’m sure. And she will have you arrested.
She’ll have you hung, Anna.”
“Where
do you expect me to go?”
I
saw it very clearly, then. He was an outsider, too. Saved
only because he had married into a powerful Hyliz family.
Saved for how long, he did not know. He could not risk helping
me.
It
was queer, the way life looked normal as we drove through
the village. Ishan had been murdered and my daughters taken
from me. I was being banished, branded a common thief. Yet,
despite that, people scurried for home as the snow began to
fall again. Two men worked along the side of the road, fixing
a broken wagon wheel. A woman arrived home with a basket from
the market and kicked the snow off her shoes, and a small
boy flattened his nose against the window of his home and
looked out at the swirling snow. Golden lights filtered out
from the windows of homes on the snowy, darkening evening.
It had never looked so lovely.
When
Will stopped at the gates, he either would not or could not
look my way. All he said was, “I cannot believe it has
come to this. I’m sorry, Anna.”
He
was sorry and yet I still had to go.
|
