Getting Somewhere (26 page)

“You mean really dead?”

“Yes. I just have this powerful feeling that, after they put her in a nursing home or whatever they did with her, she died.”

“Wow. Does that make you really sad?”

“I guess not really. The last year or two, she was pretty bad and certainly not happy.”

“Would you have gone back and taken care of her after this if you could?”

Cassie has thought about this a lot but is still composing her response, feeling like, once the words are out, she'll have to be committed to them.

“I suppose it isn't very kind, but I wouldn't want to. I didn't mind it then because I didn't have anything else. Now, maybe I would mind. Do you think that makes me a bad person?”

“Of course not. Cassie, I don't think you could be a bad person even if you tried. I think you gave your grandmother as much as anyone could, even an adult, maybe more than an adult. You don't owe anybody anything.”

“Maybe not. What about you, do you miss anything? Besides music, I mean.”

“No.”

“Nothing?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I guess I am. It just seems like, well”—and Cassie hesitates—“you know how things work. You know how to be a part of how they work.”

“And that's why I ended up here?” Jenna laughs sardonically.

“No, that's not what I meant. It just seems like you would have had, I don't know, things you liked to do and people you liked to do them with. I'm not trying to say that it's not really hard to have to live with people who aren't your parents or to be so disappointed in your own mom, but I just figured you had a lot of friends, you know, people who you
did
like.”

“Why in the world would you think that?”

Cassie is a little cowed by Jenna's anger, is sure she has said the wrong thing, broken some rule she didn't even know about.

“I'm sorry. I guess just because everybody here really likes you, looks up to you, you know. You seem strong and brave and worldly, like you've turned hurt into something you use to protect yourself and get what you need.”

Jenna is swallowing hard, keeps her face turned away from Cassie. Cassie is afraid she's just going to stand up and head back to the house. She stays very still, sits perfectly straight with her hands folded neatly in her lap, thinking if she makes no movement or sound, that Jenna will stay. She's cold and the river is starting to make her nervous and she's pretty sure it is getting close to dinnertime. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jenna clenching her jaw, digging her toes into the soft dirt.

Finally, Jenna says, “I'm not mad at you.”

“Okay.”

“No, really, I just . . .” Jenna is shivering now, and she pulls her second shirt more tightly across her chest. She straightens her back and takes a deep breath.

“This is the first time I've really had a friend, like, a good friend.”

Cassie turns to look at Jenna, an expression of bafflement on her face.

Jenna laughs. “You, stupid.”

Cassie raises her eyebrows, presses her lips together in a crooked smile. “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

“I think you'll make a great mother.”

Cassie feels her face go hot, even though the rest of her body has started to shiver. The words surprise her, and she wants to hear them again.

“What?”

Jenna laughs a little uncomfortably. “Not like I'm exactly an expert or anything. I just think, I don't know, how that kid is going to feel when she finds out how much you wanted her, how hard you worked to get her back.”

Cassie nods, the lump in her throat too large for any words to get past.

Jenna looks embarrassed now, taps her stick against her knee.

“Do you remember when we got here and Ellie told us that even if we didn't get into the whole thing with the food and farming or whatever, that we'd maybe learn what it might feel like to, I don't know, figure out what you want and try to get it?”

Cassie nods, not failing at all to notice Jenna's hesitancy to say the word “love.”

“Yes, I remember.”

Jenna shrugs. “Maybe that's what we're actually learning to do.”

With that, Cassie can't hold it in any longer. She can't tell Jenna that she overheard the conversation with Lauren, is too embarrassed to admit that she believed what Lauren was saying but she has to let her know how much Jenna's friendship means to her, too. “I made a terrible mistake,” she says breathlessly. “I, well, I didn't understand why you wanted to be my friend and I got afraid. I think I was sort of mean, and I didn't want to be. I just—I just didn't know how to be sure.”

Jenna is blinking her eyes rapidly, glances at Cassie then away. “Yeah. I kind of wondered if I'd done something . . .”

“No! You didn't. It was . . . it was just me.”

Jenna nods. “Okay. That's good. Thanks. I mean, thanks for telling me.”

Cassie feels like she is going to burst with happiness and relief. She's done the right thing. Now, if she only knew why she still feels so uneasy about Lauren's deceptions.

THURSDAY, JULY 19

LAUREN IS IN THE KITCHEN WHEN ELLIE BRINGS IN THE
mail, her face pale underneath the tan.

For a long time, Lauren balked at doing dishes, but she has figured out that being in the kitchen is a lot better than being in the garden, particularly in the late afternoon. With all the work there is to do, Donna has taken to washing dishes as part of the evening shift, leaving both breakfast and lunch dishes until she returns to the kitchen to prepare dinner so she can spend more time in the garden during the day. The schedule suits Lauren, allows her to come inside during the worst heat of the afternoon. The soapy water helps to get the garden dirt off of her hands, and she can take as long as she wants at it. Donna doesn't stand over her like Grace does and actually seems to be glad when Lauren lingers, is willing to wash the cooking utensils and pans as Donna finishes up with them. Often, Ellie will come in an hour or so before everybody else to spend some time in the office and stop into the kitchen to talk to Donna, and Lauren likes to be there to hear their conversation. They never talk about anything of tremendous interest, but it makes Lauren feel powerful to be right there while they are chatting, to imagine they will forget she's there and say something about one of the other girls or about Grace. But it hasn't happened until now.

Ellie is holding all the mail in one hand except for a single letter, which she is dangling out in front of her like she suspects anthrax. She lays everything on the table, and Lauren sees the white envelope off to the side, looking official and important, though she can't see the return address. Ellie laughs nervously as Donna steps over to the table to flip through the stack, makes a point of pushing the letter right under Donna's hand so she'll have to pick it up. Ellie isn't exactly whispering, but her voice sounds breathless.

“Why would they be sending us a letter? I'm having a mini–panic attack about this. You open it.”

Donna does, her hands steady as she unfolds the letter on the table. Ellie sits down beside Donna, watches her eyes move down the page, studies her face for any change of expression. “What does it say?”

Donna turns the page over, reads the last couple of paragraphs, then lays it down on the table, and reads the whole thing again. She raises her eyes to Ellie's, but her expression still hasn't changed.

“Here. You need to read this.”

“It's bad news, isn't it?”

Donna bangs her fists once hard on the table, stands up and presses the heels of her hands to the sides of her head, mumbles, “Shit!” with more venom than Lauren could have ever imagined her saying anything. Ellie's eyes have grown wide watching her, and she seems almost more hesitant to read what the letter says after Donna's response, glares at the tri-folded sheet of paper for a second before carefully picking it up and smoothing it in front of her.

Lauren begins drying the dishes, though they don't usually do that, quietly putting them away so she can watch better.

Ellie reads the letter twice, too, but all she says when she is done is, “July twenty-fifth. That's less than a week. Do you think I should call them right now?”

Donna shakes her head. “It's up to you, but I think it would be better to give this a little time to sink in. You don't even know what questions you want to ask until you've had a chance to think more about it. And we should tell Grace, too, before you do anything.”

Ellie closes her eyes then and slumps back in her chair as if the thought of telling Grace is worse than the news itself. “Oh, Donna. This is exactly the kind of thing that Grace has been afraid of.”

A look of irritation passes over Donna's features, but she quickly composes herself, glances over at Lauren, and then sits down and pats Ellie's hand. “Okay, yeah, but you don't even know yet what ‘kind of thing' this is. Don't drive yourself crazy. There isn't enough information here to come to any conclusions. You'll talk it over with Grace and tomorrow, you'll call.”

Ellie then glances at Lauren, too, nods. The two women are silent for a bit and then stand together, Donna saying, “Thanks for doing that, Lauren. I'll be right back.”

Lauren barely acknowledges their departure. She is almost dancing from dish drainer to cupboard. She has always had total faith that she would be rescued from this place, and even though this isn't quite how she imagined it, she is sure this must be it.

To pass the time and keep herself from going totally nuts, Lauren has invented all kinds of stories about how it would happen. She always starts with the image of her own father's car driving up into the yard, and, in her imagination, Lauren is actually able to feel her legs pumping as she runs to it, the joy as she sees him step out, throwing herself into his arms. That picture is so flawed in so many ways that she rapidly abandons it. Then, it is a strange car, one she doesn't recognize, but when the man, wearing a dress suit and carrying a briefcase, steps out, Lauren sees that it is her attorney. He is, of course, polite, maybe a little brisk, but he just tells Lauren to go get her bags packed while he stands in the yard talking to Ellie.

Lauren hasn't been able to decide if Ellie protests, or if she would just stand there listening, nodding with her head lowered, an obvious sense of failure all over her face. Lauren's story needs to have Ellie contrite, sorry she didn't pay more attention to Lauren, apologetic and maybe even crying as Lauren climbs into the front seat of the car and they slowly back out of the drive. She also hasn't settled on a good scenario for what happens with the other girls, if they are gathered around, maybe crying, too, or if they are just watching from the field or the house, jealous and unnerved that Lauren has been successful where they haven't, that she has a life to go back to and they know, more than ever, that they don't. In one image, she has herself hugging them good-bye. She can't really quite picture that with Jenna or even Cassie, but she is able to imagine it with Sarah, and it seems somehow important to the story for her to be sad about something, for her to have someone, a reason, why the parting is tinged with sorrow.

Grace doesn't fit in the picture at all nor, really, does Donna. They are minor characters in the plot, though Lauren does get some satisfaction from thinking about how Grace will react when she finds out. It has always been completely clear in her mind that, if anyone is destroyed, anything at all, it will be Ellie and her program. But Lauren really doesn't care that much about what happens after she is gone. She just wants out.

Actually, she hasn't given much thought to what happens to her when this is over either. Or, more accurately, when that thought enters her mind, she quickly sidesteps, as if it is something unappealing smashed on the sidewalk. Something has definitely changed, and she doesn't like the feeling of it. A sensation she only knows to describe as squirminess attacks her limbs and muscles whenever she finds herself part of the group of girls—working together, playing ball or Frisbee just before dark, at the sessions. She hates the feeling, bats it away like she does when the smell of food makes her hungry. She tries to study them, note the details of their actions like scientific inquiry so she can convince herself of her own detachment. Still, the little intimacies that have developed between them, the shared jokes, the familiarity, are like pin pricks stabbing her skin.

It might not even be so bad if they could all at least agree on their disdain for the three women and the program, but the other girls have fallen hook, line, and sinker for that, too. She had some hope for Sarah originally, but now just sees her as a druggie, a weak personality whose motives are simply to get high. She's had Jenna deciphered right from the start, but Cassie is way smarter than Lauren first gave her credit for and, while the biggest goody-goody on the planet, is seemingly forming some kind of weird friendship with Jenna, of all people. And now Cassie's got this thing going with Ellie to get her baby back as if they are all part of some big, happy, ridiculous family.

Things are shifting, and Lauren doesn't like it at all, not one bit. She's exhausted, not only by the physical work but by the constant effort of keeping watch, resisting, preventing it all from pulling her right in with the rest of them. She wants to shout, “We're prisoners here! Don't you remember?” but they have all completely forgotten, it seems, why they had to come here in the first place.

But none of it matters now. Lauren doesn't need any of them, and she certainly won't spend another minute thinking about them when she gets home. She concentrates on what it will feel like to sleep late, have meals served without having to clean up after, long days spent doing exactly what she wants: catching up on her favorite TV shows, downloading music, tanning by the pool. And Jason. She just can't imagine how happy and surprised he'll be to see her. The squirmy feeling gets almost unbearable when she thinks of him, what he'll do when he sees her walk into the room. That's when Lauren knows for sure that the feeling is just her incredible restlessness about getting out of here.

The letter is the beginning. She's sure of it. She just wishes she could have figured out a way to be the first to see the mail, but it never crossed her mind that the women might be alerted to what was happening before she was. She can't tell if the fluttering in her stomach is from nerves or excitement. Now she has to wonder what the letter says, what action is being taken. Will she just be told that someone is coming to pick her up on such and such a day? Will they have to go to court, and, if so, will Lauren have to testify? Have the women already been told that Lauren has reported them? None of these questions occurred to her until now.

L
AUREN IS IN
the living room with the light off. She has got to get a look at that letter. She is waiting, hoping Ellie will go back to Donna's room or go out to Grace's cabin and leave the office door unlocked, though she is also afraid, if Ellie goes out to talk to Grace, that she'll take the letter with her.

They tried to make the rest of the day seem normal, but it was obvious that Ellie was distracted, or worse. She spent the early evening in the office with the door closed and didn't come to the dining room for supper until the rest of them had already started. Though she exclaimed over the stuffed zucchini, she then went silent, barely acknowledging the conversation around her. Lauren had kept her head down, didn't want to alert the rest of the girls, though she figured they probably noticed that Ellie was quieter than usual. She tried to watch Ellie and Donna out of the corner of her eye, but they appeared to be avoiding eye contact. Lauren is sure Ellie didn't tell Grace right away, wonders if she will or when, realizes that she doesn't even know what there is to tell.

Grace went out to the garden again after supper, though no one seemed tempted to follow, including Jenna. Ellie had gone back into the office, and Donna said she had some stuff she needed to do in the kitchen so the girls had just lingered around the porch for a while, not really wanting to play Frisbee or soccer if Ellie and Donna weren't going to play. They talked a bit about the chapter Ellie has been reading aloud from
The Hobbit
as if discussing it might lure her out to read some more, but apparently Bilbo Baggins was going to be stuck in the elf dungeons of Mirkwood for at least another day. Jenna had gone out to ride her bike around for a bit, and Sarah and Cassie had each taken a couple of turns, but their hearts didn't seem to be in it. Finally, they wandered back up to the house and, one by one, climbed the stairs to their rooms.

Lauren has almost fallen asleep when she sees the arc of light from the office sweep across the hallway, hears the front door open and shut. She jumps to the living room window and can see Ellie crossing the yard to Grace's cabin, the white envelope clutched in one hand.

There's nothing more she can do right now. She decides to go on upstairs where she's pretty sure the rest of the girls are not asleep. Jenna's and Sarah's rooms are empty, but she hears voices coming from Cassie's room, pauses just outside the door. The conversation stops, and she hears Cassie's voice saying, “Lauren? You can come in.”

Lauren steps into the room and sees that the girls are all gathered on Cassie's bed with a deck of cards between them, but they are not actually playing.

“Where were you?”

“What do you mean?”

Jenna doesn't look at Lauren but she rolls her eyes. “Just what I said. Where were you before you come up here?”

“Downstairs. What does it matter to you?”

“I just wondered. With all your lurking around, did you hear anything?”

“I wasn't ‘lurking.' And hear anything about what?”

Cassie says, “Sit down, Lauren. I made room for you right here.”

Lauren hesitates and then moves forward to perch on the edge of the bed beside Cassie, keeping her feet on the floor. She hates this new, pseudo-confident Cassie, the way the girl almost acts like she has something over on Lauren when it should be the other way around.