Chosen (Second Sight) (4 page)

Off to the left, two windmills slowly turned and, as the car came to a stop, Isabelle noticed it was the only one in the parking lot. As Susan turned off the engine, Isabelle saw a few people in the distance, curious looks turning their way. She also realized that virtually every patch of green grass had a play set or a jungle gym and children were playing at each of them.

“Welcome to Green Earth Commune,” muttered Susan. “Now go home.”

As they got out of the car and Susan locked it, Isabelle inhaled the smell of something she could only characterize as fresh air. They’d left the air pollution below in the valley, a distinct brown layer that had been particularly thick today. But here–Isabelle shielded her eyes from the sun–the sky seemed a bit more blue and the high, wispy clouds a brighter white. Perhaps it was the fields or the myriad stands of oak trees but the scent on the air was sweet and clean.

When Isabelle returned her gaze to the complex, she saw that no one was taking much interest in them any more. Though it looked as though they didn’t get many visitors, it didn’t seem to matter, except to the children. A few of them, at the nearest playground, had simply come to a stop and were standing staring. She gave them a little wave that sent them into a near panic. As one, they turned away and ran for the next playground. All except one boy who looked like he might be kindergarten age and hid under the slide and peered out.

“I have no idea where to look,” Susan said, coming alongside her.

“Maybe that big house?” Isabelle suggested. “At least as a place to start?”

Susan frowned.
 

“That’s what I thought last time,” she said, “until the eco-police showed up and asked me to leave.”

“Okay,” Isabelle said. “Maybe that group of people over there.” She pointed to where the children had run. “We have to start somewhere.”

“Well,” Susan said. “I was thinking you might want to use that…gift of yours.” She looked at Isabelle’s gloves. “That way we wouldn’t have to talk to them.”

Ah
, thought Isabelle.
That’s really why I’m here.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work like that,” Isabelle said. She’d have thought Yolanda might have clued Susan in. “In a public place like this, I’d read everyone who’s been here. Though I
might
get a glimpse of Kayla, she’d be jumbled up with everybody else. It’ll be much quicker if we just ask for her or look around ourselves.” Susan grimaced. She’d apparently been hoping to just bring Isabelle, follow a trail to her daughter, and then leave with her. It wasn’t going to be that easy. “If you want,” Isabelle said, “you can wait here.”

“No, of course not,” Susan said quickly. “I just thought…well, no matter what I thought. I just want to find my daughter and get out of here.” She eyed the people at the next playground. “They’re as good a place to start–” She paused. “Uh oh. Don’t look now but the eco-police have arrived.”

• • • • •

Geoffrey rubbed his hands together and smiled the winning smile that he knew melted hearts.

“
Ladies
,” he said. “Welcome.”

He waved off the security guards behind him, not that he’d wanted them in the first place. In their t-shirts, baseball caps and boots they looked more like police than commune members. He was always worried that it put off the women. And that was the
last
thing he wanted. These two were hardly a threat. From afar they’d appeared the same age but now he could see that only one of them was under thirty. He immediately focused on her–which was not a hard thing to do.

“I’m Geoffrey,” he said extending his hand to the older one first. Her sour face said everything he needed to know.

“Susan,” she said curtly.

He quickly turned to the young lady.
 

God, what
eyes
!

“Welcome to GreenEarthCommune.org,” he said, his voice as soothing and deep as he could pitch it. “Where we’re leading by example and saving the world, one child at a time.”

The young one smiled at him and took his offered hand.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m Isabelle.”

Perfect
teeth.

He held on to her gloved hand.

“What a lovely name,” he said, beaming down at her.

Let’s hope the gloves aren’t covering some skin disease.

The older woman cleared her throat. Isabelle took her hand back and Geoffrey was forced to look at the other one.

“How can I help you two today?” he asked, light and friendly, as though he did this all day–which was almost true.

If Green Earth Commune had a face, it was his: perpetually tanned, closely shaved, a facelift for the under-forty look, along with a nose job and capped teeth. Plus hour upon hour in the gym to ensure his body matched his face.

“I’m here to see my daughter,” the older woman said. “Kayla Massen.”

He cocked his head and tried to look thoughtful.

“You know,” he said grinning at Isabelle. “I’m just
awful
with names but, to be honest, I don’t recognize it.”

“What?” the older woman said. “She’s been here for almost a
year
.”

What was the older woman’s name? He’d just heard it. Isabelle and…Susan! That was it.

“Susan,” he said. “There are several hundred people here and…well, I just can’t keep track. I’m not saying she isn’t here. I’m just saying I don’t know the name.” He looked from her back to Isabelle. “Do you have a photo perhaps? I’m
much
better with faces.”

The two exchanged looks.

“I’m afraid not,” Isabelle said.
 

Her voice was a little breathy and incredibly sweet.
 

“Well,” he said, as though that settled the matter. He took Isabelle’s hand put it on his forearm and did a neat turn, tucking her arm under his. In moments, he was her escort. “Let me give you a guided tour of our little corner of the planet and maybe we’ll see her.”

As they began their slow walk toward the Big House, Geoffrey looked down sideways at Isabelle.

She was small-boned and petite. Sometimes that could be a problem. She looked up at him just then, those incredible eyes just glittering, and he beamed at her before forcing himself to look away.
Size wasn’t always a problem
, he thought.
Besides, that was
much
later.

• • • • •

Though Geoffrey seemed polite enough, Isabelle couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed always to address her and not Susan. It was Susan’s daughter that they were looking for. And it was Susan who was growing more agitated by the minute. They had skirted the edge of the mansion on a paved path so that Geoffrey could talk about the crops.

“We are completely self-sufficient,” he said, keeping his hand firmly over hers. Though Isabelle wanted her arm back, the opportunity never presented itself. “We’re not vegan but we are vegetarian. The goats are kept in the back forty where we milk them.”

They had walked all the way around the mansion to its back and were rewarded with an expansive view. A shallow valley spread below them, full of planted fields. A sparkling, blue stream bisected the middle fields and, where straight roads defined the edges of the square plots, simple wooden bridges with railings crossed the water. Much further in the distance, on the other side of the valley, there appeared to be a number of red barns.

“This is a
huge
property,” Isabelle said, truly amazed.

“With a zero carbon footprint,” Geoffrey said. “We’re also completely off the grid.”

“I’m sure this is all very fascinating,” Susan said from behind them. “But I want to speak to my daughter.”

As Geoffrey turned, Isabelle managed to pry her hand away.

“Of course,” Geoffrey said, finally turning to Susan. “Of course. Let’s try the main house.” He led the way. “Sometimes I get carried away with everything we do here. I’ll talk forever.”

Though they’d seen a number of people moving among the crops or women watching over the playgrounds, no one had ever been close enough to really see, let alone question. Except for one red-headed young boy–the one who had peeked at them from under the slide. Even so, he kept his distance.
 

Geoffrey led the way to the back of the mansion and held the door for them.

If the commune grounds and fields were serenely picturesque, the inside of the main house was a beehive of activity. In the rear of the house, they passed an enormous kitchen with three sets of doors. Wooden crates of vegetables that looked as though they’d just been picked lined the corridor and, through the doors, Isabelle could see a virtual army of women either chopping or cooking. Stainless steel appliances gleamed. Four enormous stoves were full of large pots. Behind them, a wall of refrigerators and ovens held doors that seemed to be opening and closing non-stop. The women were chatting and laughing.

“They look like they’re cooking for a city,” Isabelle said as they passed.

“We’re not only able to support our own community,” Geoffrey said. “We also take meals to the surrounding towns. Canning only goes so far.”

As they passed, several bright faces beamed at them–or rather at
Geoffrey
, Isabelle noticed. He took just a fraction of a second to acknowledge each one: a small nod, a quick wave, a wink. None of them gave either her or Susan a second look. No one even seemed to notice her gloves.

Although that was unusual, something else seemed out of place.

Though Isabelle couldn’t put her finger on it, something just at the periphery of her awareness nagged at her as they moved down the wide central corridor of the house. Susan lingered behind for a moment but then caught up with them.

“How many people are there here?” she asked.

“Oh,” said Geoffrey, waving his hand. “I’ve lost count. Maybe six hundred? Seven?”

“Geoffrey!” said a young woman who’d been heading to the kitchen. “Maurice is looking for you.”

Maybe in her mid-twenties, she’d have been very pretty except for the large nose. Her blue eyes were focused entirely on Geoffrey’s. She paused, smiling at him, as he reached out a hand to her round and protruding stomach.
 

“I hope you’re feeding that little one enough,” he said.

She covered his hand with hers.

“I’m headed to the kitchen right now,” she replied.

Suddenly, Isabelle realized what had struck her about the kitchen. Several of the women there had been pregnant. The young woman resumed her path, a smile lingering on her face, her hand on her tummy.
 

Maybe the pregnant women in the commune tended to work in the kitchen
, Isabelle thought.
Rather than the fields. But even for a community of several hundred–

“Geoffrey!” said a young man approaching them with an electronic tablet in his hand. They had reached the center of the large house and, in addition to the many double-doored rooms they passed, the wide corridor branched off at regular intervals. Isabelle peered down the one the young man had come from and through an open door. It looked like a telemarketing operation–young women with headsets seated at computer monitors. Despite the sandals and homemade look to the clothes, it was as though they’d walked into a corporate headquarters.

“I just wanted to pass these Facebook posts by you.”
 

In his twenties and with that same physique that said there had to be a gym somewhere on the premises, the man presented Geoffrey with the tablet and smiled at Isabelle.

“Enjoying the tour?” he asked her as Geoffrey perused the tablet, occasionally swiping or tapping.

“It’s amazing,” said Isabelle as Susan came to her side.

“Good work,” said Geoffrey handing the tablet back. “Pass it on to the team.”

 
It was as though the young man had been given a bonus.

“Thank you,” he gushed. “I’ll do that.” He turned to go but stopped as though he’d forgotten something. “Don’t forget to friend us,” he said to Isabelle before he disappeared back into the room.

“I don’t know what we’d do without these people,” Geoffrey said. “The whole internet thing is really a mystery to me.”

Before Isabelle could stop him, Geoffrey had taken her hand and set it on his arm again. As Susan fell in behind them, Isabelle realized that the man with the tablet had never said a word to Susan.

“Apparently we have a very popular Facebook page,” Geoffrey was saying as Isabelle glanced behind her. Susan’s face was contorted, frustration and anger mixing.

Isabelle stopped Geoffrey with a sharp tug on his arm.

“Geoffrey,” she said. “We’re not here for the tour. I don’t mean to be rude but we really are looking for Kayla. Could we pause at these rooms and have a look?”

Just then another young pregnant woman crossed the hallway in front of them, carrying a tablet of her own and holding the earpiece of her headset to her ear. Her stomach looked as though she might be about ready to pop.

“Of course, of course,” Geoffrey said.
 

He waved the very pregnant woman over. Like everyone else, she beamed at him and covered the distance as quickly as she could.

“Maybe you can help us,” he said to her. “We’re looking for someone called…”

He turned to Isabelle.

“Kayla Massen,” Susan said loudly from behind them. “For god’s sakes, Kayla–”

“Kayla?” said the woman, the first person to actually look at Susan. “She’s in the kitchen. It’s just back–”

But Susan had already turned and was running in that direction.

Again, Isabelle had to tug her hand free from Geoffrey’s grasp but in moments she was running after Susan. The little, red-haired boy had followed them into the house and she dashed by him.

“Kayla?” Susan called. She quickly disappeared into the first kitchen door. “Kayla?” she said again.

No sooner had Isabelle entered the kitchen, than she nearly ran into Susan. Standing frozen, her mouth open and eyes wide, Isabelle followed her stare. There, at one of the sinks, stood Kayla. Her hair was longer than Isabelle had remembered and she’d obviously put on weight.
 

Equally obvious was why. She was pregnant.

“Mom?” Kayla said, her hands in the sink, looking nearly as shocked as her mother. Susan covered her mouth with both her hands. Kayla dried her hands on the ballooning apron in front of her. “What are you doing here?” Kayla said.