Ami, I whispered, quit trying to read God’s mind and pay attention! What do you hear? What do you see? I tried to figure how far upriver the boat had been when I saw it. I was a lot smaller than a boat, too small to be seen from so far off, wasn’t I? The sound got closer and seemed to be building up to a high-pitched whine until it sounded like it was right on top of me, but I still couldn’t see it. Then the sound cut off so suddenly it felt like I had gone deaf, and something floated into my line of sight.
It was more of a raft than a boat, long and flat, much bigger than I’d thought when I first saw it. There was a cabin like an upside-down box toward the back of it, big enough for a few people to sleep in, I guessed. There were men standing at its railing, three of them, one at the front and one on each side. Another man stood up from a crouch at the back, where they’d rigged up some kind of huge motor that must have made the buzzing sound. He’d turned it off so the raft drifted now, slow and quiet, and then I could hear them talking. They sounded closer than they were, and I guessed it was a trick of sound bouncing off the rocky bank.
“Aw, what’d you stop for?” the man facing me called out. He wore a dirty old floppy hat and had a big bushy beard that hid most of his face, and nothing on except a pair of old pants cut off above the knees. The skin of his chest and arms was tanned so dark I thought he must never wear a shirt, but the little bit of his face I could see looked pale beneath the brim of his hat.
“I told you I seen somethin’ movin’ right along here,” said the one at the front. He looked a lot like the first man, but he was taller and heavier. They all looked alike from where I hid, just hats and beards and skin turned to leather by the sun. “They was over on your side, why ain’t you watchin’ out?” The first man rolled his head back on his neck and looked up at the sky before he answered.
“You always thinkin’ you seen somethin’ when ain’t nothin’ there. Waste of time. We already gotta go the long way around the far edge of the damn lake to skirt them crazy hippies, and I’m ready to get home.”
“Just look,” the man in the back said. His voice stayed low and even, and something about it reminded me of Papa. He must be the one in charge, I thought. The first man dropped his head back down to level and made a show of shielding his eyes with his hand while he scanned the riverbank, first one way and then back the other. I ducked back behind the tree so I couldn’t see, and my skin prickled even though I knew he couldn’t see me either. Could he? I got the feeling he wasn’t looking that hard.
“I don’t see nothin’,” he said in a stubborn voice. I peeked out around the side of my tree, but they had already drifted past the edge of what I could see. In a minute, I heard the motor crank up again, but I waited until it faded away to nothing before I bolted back toward the road.
Stupid, I thought as I ran. Stupid stupid stupid. Did I really think I was the last person alive between the compound and Lake Point? I pictured Zeke Johnson, dirty and underfed, and imagined the woods crawling with men just like him. What were the men on that raft out looking for? What would they do if they caught me? Could Papa have hired them to track me down? Surely not—I couldn’t imagine how he would have met up with rough men like that. Then again, I had no idea how he’d met up with Zeke Johnson either. The thought sent chills over my body. Then I remembered my own thought: I might be one of the only fertile females left in the world, but Zeke Johnson isn’t the only fertile man. I’d been so happy to realize that, but now it knocked the wind out of me. There were plenty more men like Zeke out there, only they weren’t buttering up my papa for a place at his table. “You’re not in your own woods anymore, Ami,” I muttered to myself. “You’re out here alone, you’ve cut yourself off from your family, even cut yourself off from God. You got to pay attention now, girl. No more strolling along out in the open! Amber said you were smart, so act like it!”
I’d reached the road again, but I didn’t step out onto it. People travel down rivers and roads, and I knew I had to be more careful. All I’d thought about before was Papa catching up to me, but now I understood that even worse things could happen. I trudged along, following the road but staying hidden in the tree line. It was slow going at first, but after a while, the walking calmed me down some and I realized I was naming the trees I passed, touching the trunks and softly chanting tulip poplar, maple, pin oak, pine. I’d never had much cause to feel scared tromping through the woods back home, and my mind wasn’t used to it. I couldn’t seem to hold on to the scared feeling for long. The trees are hiding me, I thought. They’ll keep me safe. My heart slowed back down to normal, and the soft green light filtering down through all those leaves felt like a comfort. I figured I could be careful and smart without having to feel scared the whole time. I just had to pay attention.
I got into a good rhythm of weaving through the trees and checking the road. After a while, I noticed I was seeing a lot more signs than I had before. They were big rectangles set up on tall poles, I guess so people in cars would see them as they came by. It seemed funny to me that people would need to see a sign that was a message from a dentist, reminding them to brush their teeth, or another one telling them where they could buy some fancy-looking “genuine leather cowboy boots.” Other signs made me feel sad and strange, like the one for the C-PAF that showed a happy mother smiling down at her newborn baby. The sign was old and faded by the weather, but the message was plain as day: BABIES ARE HAPPINESS. The baby’s face barely peeked out of its wrappings, but I guess people back then didn’t need to see a baby clearly to know what it was. Maybe what they needed to see was the mother’s face and how it should look as she held that precious cargo in her arms. I tried to put myself into that picture, with my own face smiling down at my own little baby, but it was hard to do when I barely even knew what my own face looked like. I realized that the woman in the picture had been a real person, and I wondered how it was for her, if she knew her picture was up there so huge and that everyone who passed was looking at her in such a private kind of moment. I wondered if anything about her life was ever really hers after that.
But it was the next sign, a much smaller and simpler one, that made my heart thump: EUFAULA, 5 MILES, it said. And underneath that: LAKE POINT RESORT, NEXT EXIT. A big part of me wanted to turn around and run, all the way back to Heavenly Shepherd and all that was familiar and safe. But the other part of me knew that wasn’t possible, that everything had changed and I could not go home until I could make right what I had done. I couldn’t stop and think about it too much or I would never go. I took a deep breath and headed toward the exit ramp.
Eight
I guess I had this idea that I would walk up to some kind of big fancy gate, and my mama would be standing right there on the other side, just waiting for me like she somehow knew I was coming. And even though she hadn’t seen me since I was a baby, she would recognize me right off as her daughter. The reality was a little bit different. For one thing, Lake Point didn’t have any kind of gate. Instead it had a wide, crumbling parking lot, faded ashy gray in the Alabama sun, that seemed to go on and on until it finally narrowed and split into three little roads. The first led to the big lodge. The other two went in opposite directions around two sides of the lake and were lined with little cottages and cabins. I didn’t know which one to take, but I figured if there was any kind of main office or person in charge, they would be in the lodge, so that’s where I headed.
The big double doors to the lodge were the closest thing I’d seen to my daydream of the gate, and I felt my heart speed up as I pulled one open and stepped inside. But then I forgot to feel scared for a minute because I could never have imagined a room like the one I was in. For one thing, it was huge, with a ceiling high overhead supported by long, polished wooden beams going up into a point. In the far back of the room, most of the wall was made of glass that showed the lake behind, all silver and sparkling with ripples of light. A few sections of glass had broken and been covered over with boards, but they didn’t block the view enough
to matter. It almost felt more like being outside than inside a building. Between me and the wall of glass was a long room filled with tables and chairs and couches but almost no people, and nearest to me, a kind of counter where a woman stood watching me.
She was tall and thin with mousy grayish-brown hair that lay lank and oily on her head. The sleeves had been cut off her shirt to show wiry, muscular arms. I couldn’t have looked too dangerous, but her face was suspicious. I figured they saw more strangers here than we did at Heavenly Shepherd, but this woman still didn’t know who I was or why I was there. I looked down at the floor for a minute, embarrassed and terrified. In my whole life, I’d never met more strangers than I could count on one hand and probably without needing all the fingers. Now here I was, alone and far from home, about to probably sound like a crazy person searching for a ghost. But when I looked up again, the woman’s face seemed to soften a little, and she raised her eyebrows in question. I took a deep breath and walked over to her.
“My name is Ami Miles, and I’m looking for my mother. I mean, I think she might be here or might have been here, at least, about six years ago. Do you know her?”
“Well now, that’s hard to say without just a little bit more information,” she said in a flat kind of voice. “What’s her name?”
“I … sorry. Um, her name is Elisabeth? Miles. Elisabeth Miles.” The woman kept her face blank, and she looked up at the ceiling like she might find my mother there.
“Elisabeth is a fairly common name, but Miles don’t ring a bell. Could she have another last name now, like a married name? Can you tell me what she looks like?”
“Married name? She’s not—” Married, I started to say. But what did I know about her, really? Not even her name. Would she even want me to find her? I hoped so. I had to keep believing that she would. And then there was the other thing of what she looked like. How could I tell this woman that I had never laid eyes on my own mother? She might think I was lying. I was scared she’d throw me out before I even got a chance to look around.
I stood there looking at her for about a minute and then dropped to my knees, shrugging off my bedroll as I knelt. She could probably just see the top of my head over the edge of the counter, and I should have known better than to make any sudden moves. I heard a click and looked up to see a pistol cocked and aimed at me. Instinctively I held my hands up to show they were empty and said, “Sorry! I have a picture. Can I get it?”
“Nice and slow,” she said. I still don’t think she was all that worried about me, but she wanted to make sure I knew who was boss. She watched as I unrolled the blankets with my cheeks burning in embarrassment, then reached in and grabbed the drawing of my mother. I stood and handed it to the woman. I was more terrified than I had ever been in my life—that she wouldn’t recognize her, that she would say she had been here but left years ago for no-one-knows-where, that she would refuse to give the picture back and tell me to leave. Any one of those things scared me more than the gun pointed at me. It felt like anything could happen. I knew that I should say something, but I couldn’t make my mouth open, and I was too afraid to come up with words.
“This her?” the woman asked, holding the drawing out from her face a ways. I guessed she was farsighted like Ruth. There was something so familiar about the way she held the paper out to see it that I almost broke down. Don’t, I told myself. Instead I just nodded yes. She studied the drawing thoughtfully.
“I guess this ain’t too recent, unless your mama had you when she was about eight.” She gave a little laugh like she found her own self funny, but I could tell she was also stalling for time. She didn’t recognize her. Or she did and she didn’t think she should tell me. My eyes started to well up then, and a tear made it over the edge, but I refused to break down all the way.
“No, ma’am,” I managed to squeak out. “I don’t … I haven’t seen her recently. Since I was a baby.” I saw understanding dawn in the woman’s eyes. Could she guess my age, that I was sixteen and so I’d been born during the last years of the C-PAF agents? That my mother had me and then ran to avoid capture and forced breeding in one of the Centers? She didn’t look quite as old as my grandma Ruth but not much younger either. She’d been around long enough to know the story. She looked at me another moment, then back down at the picture. I saw her make up her mind, and she let out a long sigh.
“Well,” she said, “maybe … It’s hard to say.” After what seemed like a long time, she looked back up at me. “I think I know who this might be,” she said, “but—what did you say your name was?”
“Ami, a-m-i. Ami Miles.”
“Okay, Ami, I think I know who this might be. But I’ll need to talk to her to make sure. Even if I did know for sure, I would need to ask her. If … if she wanted to see you. I feel pretty sure that she would, but you understand. We try to respect one another’s privacy here.” She waited for me to respond, so I nodded. I tried to stop them, but the tears welled up and slipped down my cheeks anyway. I made myself keep watching her face. I felt like if I looked down, I would turn and run, and then what? I had run away from home and disappointed my family, myself, and God. I needed my mother to help me figure things out. She had to be here, and she had to see me. I tried to have faith that this was God’s plan. Please, I prayed. Please.
Something new entered the woman’s face, and it was pity. My cheeks burned with shame. I felt about as miserable as I had ever been in my life.
“You must have walked a long way,” the woman said now in a tired but kinder voice. “Let’s get you into a room. It’s a few hours till supper, so that’ll give you time to get cleaned up and rest some.” She was letting me stay! She came around from behind the counter and started walking, so I followed. We went down a short hallway and then up some stairs, then down another longer hall until she stopped at a door and opened it.
“This should do. The bathroom is right through there. We got running water ’cause of the tanks on the roof, and of course we’re solar powered, but we do try to conserve.” She looked at me then, from the rat’s nest of my hair to the dusty shoes on my feet. “If you stay, we’ll have to put you on the schedule for water use, but I think this counts as special circumstances. You look like you could use a good long soak. Get you a bath and then rest your eyes while I go talk to … uh … this person, and then I’ll be back around supper time. I’m Helen. If anyone asks what you’re doing here, tell them I put you in this room.” And just like that, she was out the door and gone.
Back at Heavenly Shepherd, all the trailers had stand-up showers rigged to small roof tanks, so I hadn’t soaked in a tub since I got too big to fit in the old metal washtub that Ruth used to bathe me in out in the yard when I was tiny. I couldn’t really picture a tub that could hold all of me now at my size. Part of me was screaming, Who cares about a stupid bathtub? Take me to my mother! But the rest of me knew that there was nothing I could do but wait. I thought maybe a bath would help me calm down, not to mention the fact that four days of walking through the woods in summer doesn’t do much for the way a person smells.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, which was almost twice as wide as my bed at home and also twice as lumpy. I wondered about all the people who’d slept in this room over time and about the years it must have sat empty before the last survivors started to make their way here, as I peeled off Amber’s running shoes and the pants and shirt she’d given me. I had to admit, they had been more comfortable and practical than my muslin dresses and bare feet would have been, but after sweating in this particular set all day, it felt good to get out of them. I laid the clothes across the bed, wondering when and if I would get a chance to wash them, and also thinking maybe I would just lay my body down like those clothes and sleep for a while. But I was still curious about the bath, so I walked over to the doorway the lady had pointed to and turned on the light. Then I screamed.
There was someone already in the bathroom! At least, that was what I thought at first. But after I had scrambled ba
ckward through the door, it seemed strange that there wasn’t any sound coming from in there. I peeked my head around the doorframe and got a look at the girl I’d seen. She was peeking around the doorframe, just like I was. Because she was me. Even after everything I’d been through, realizing I was about to see my whole self, naked, in the big bathroom mirror might have been more terrifying to me than when I thought there was someone else in there.
I saw a couple of towels folded on a shelf above the toilet and thought I might be able to at least wrap a towel around myself before I looked, but they were too far to reach without stepping into the room. The mirror was old and cloudy around the edges, but I could still see better than I wanted to. Finally, curiosity got the best of me, and I locked eyes with my own self in the mirror. They were just about the only part of myself I was used to seeing in my little round pocket mirror, so that part was kind of comforting and familiar. I thought that maybe if I could just keep looking myself in the eye, I could find the courage to step out and look at the rest of me. And sure enough, I started to feel calmer. Keeping my eyes on their reflection, I slowly stepped into the bathroom.
When I was a few steps away from the mirror, I stopped. The towels were within reach now, but I was feeling braver. I let my eyes focus on my whole face and then outward just a little more to take in my hair. I had pulled it back into a thick braid at some point, but it was escaping in wisps and curls like it always did. Like it wanted to be free. So I pulled the long tail of the braid over my shoulder and untied the end, then worked my fingers through it until it was loose and wild around my shoulders and down my back. I pulled it all around me like a cape, and then I let my eyes drop so that I was looking, finally, at all of myself.
The Ballad of Ami Miles Page 6
