by Ellery Adams
Hester’s eyes now grew moist. “Yes. You can miss them with your whole being.”
Estella gave both women a moment to gather themselves before saying, “I have a feeling that the person who raised you was nothing like your mom.” She waited for Abilene to shake her head before adding, “It was a man, wasn’t it?”
Abilene went very still.
“Darling, I know what it’s like to be mistreated by men.” Estella spoke without a trace of emotion. “I know what that kind of life does to a girl. How it molds her. She can never relax. She is always afraid. It’s taken me years to stop glancing over my shoulder to see if someone’s creeping up behind me. It’s taken me decades to remember that I don’t have to worry about being too loud, too quiet, too present, or too absent. Is that how he made you feel?”
Abilene managed another nod.
“I’ve been there too.” Estella cupped her mug of hot tea with both hands and Nora pictured the frightened girl Estella must have been. A girl who’d been abandoned by her biological father and beaten by her stepfather.
Why does life have to be so hard? Nora thought, her gaze leaving the circle of women to land on the nearest bookshelf.
She knew there was no logical answer. Life was hard. But it was also surprisingly beautiful. Nora felt the beauty as she looked back at the other women in the room. At her fellow survivors.
“I grew up in a basement,” Abilene said. She pressed the bakery box against her chest as if she could somehow drink in the scent of the honey-date scone. For her, this was her mother’s perfume.
No one moved or spoke. They knew Abilene was trying to let her secret out. She was trying to wrench it free from the dark, tangled place where it had been locked. But like all secrets, it wanted to stay hidden.
“I could only come out to do chores. I cooked, I cleaned my uncle’s house, and I washed clothes. I left the basement for three hours every night. When he was at work, I was allowed to read. My uncle chose the books. While we ate supper, I’d have to tell him what I’d learned.”
She sank back in her chair. Her face was pale and she seemed shrunken. Diminished.
Nora hated seeing another woman look this way. She hated hearing what Abilene had endured. “Did you ever try to escape?” she asked. “I mean, before this time. Before you succeeded.”
“I haven’t.” The words were a whisper. They hovered around the circle of chairs for a long moment before being swallowed by shadow.
“You haven’t succeeded?” Nora asked, half afraid of the answer. “Do you think your uncle’s looking for you?”
Abilene shot a fearful glance toward the front of the store, as if someone was staring at them through the window. “I know he is. And when he finds me, he’ll kill me.”
Chapter 12
The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still
—Maya Angelou
In the silence following Abilene’s statement, the tempo of the rain increased. It fell harder and faster, hammering the bookstore’s roof. A second later, thunder rumbled like an empty stomach.
Nora felt chilled, and she hadn’t been caught in the storm without a jacket like Abilene had. Without asking, Nora gave Abilene a fresh cup of coffee. She wished she had a cozy sweater for her, but a throw blanket was the best she could do.
June was clearly thinking similar thoughts, for she started fussing over the condition of Abilene’s wet shoes.
“Your sneakers are paper thin. And where are your socks?” June clucked like a hen and began digging around in her purse. She told Abilene to kick off her shoes and when she complied, Nora could see angry red welts on the back of Abilene’s heels. She guessed that Abilene had bought the cheapest sneakers she could find. They obviously weren’t a good fit.
“I made these for Nora, but I’ll knit her another pair.” June handed Abilene some of her handmade socks. “Put these on before you catch a cold. I don’t care if modern science says that being soaked to the bone doesn’t make you sick. I don’t believe their mumbo jumbo for a second.”
“Hey, those are different,” Estella said, pointing at the socks in Abilene’s hands. “You can make animal designs now?”
June smiled. “Just a few. I added foxes to Nora’s socks because they remind me of the fox on her walking stick.” She gestured for Abilene to hurry up and don the sock. “Go on, honey. We want you to be as dry and comfy as possible. We’re going to make you feel better, starting with those feet of yours.”
Abilene did as she was told. Once she had June’s socks on, she reached for her coffee. She cradled the warm mug between her palms while gazing at the bookshelves opposite her.
“Are you up to telling us more?” Hester asked.
Reluctantly, Abilene turned away from the books. “I thought about killing him,” she said in a thin voice. “For a long time, it was what I thought about the most. I did all the cooking, so I thought about poisoning his food, but he had me taste everything first. He never turned his back to me. Also, there were cameras mounted all over the house so he could watch me while he was at work or went out to do an errand. The phone and TV were locked in his bedroom. If I broke a rule, I’d have to stay in the basement for days.”
“What a sick bastard,” Estella said angrily.
“When I was older, he brought work home from his shop for me to do. I had to meet his deadlines or I was punished.” She paused for a long moment. “The worst punishment was losing my books. It was worse than going without food. My books were everything to me. My friends lived in books. My dreams lived there too. Anything that’s good about me came from reading books.”
Glancing around her shop, Nora thought of how she’d always drawn solace from books. The needs she’d been trying to meet were different from Abilene’s. For Abilene, a girl held hostage for her entire childhood, there was nothing beautiful, magical, or positive in her world unless it came from a book. Books were her only means of escape from her prison. She had no phone, no television, no friends, no schoolmates, and no family. She was a living ghost.
“Were you able to go outside?” Nora asked.
“Sometimes,” Abilene said. “The backyard had a really high privacy fence, and I was allowed to work in the garden after supper. My uncle always watched me. If the neighbors were outside, then I couldn’t go out.”
June shook her head in disbelief. “What about folks coming to the front door? People delivering packages? Soliciting? Was there ever a chance for you to yell for help?”
Abilene released a sigh. It was so heavy, so weighed down with sorrow that it felt like an anchor dropping into the dark depths of the ocean.
Nora looked at Abilene and realized that she possessed an inner strength that defied belief. This girl had grown up without love or companionship. She’d probably experienced little or no joy. She’d never had a birthday party, a restaurant meal, or bought something from a shopping mall. She’d never received a personal letter or a phone call. She’d traveled nowhere and spoken to no one save the man who’d locked her, this friendless orphan, in a basement.
“Why did he treat you that way?” Hester asked. “Why did he feel compelled to control you?”
“He hated children,” Abilene said without hesitation. “He was furious with my parents for dumping me on him. For ruining his life. Those are his exact words. I heard them a million times.”
Estella curled her fists into tight balls. “I don’t know how you survived. I would have killed the bastard. Somehow, I would have found a way.”
Abilene gave Estella a look of resignation. “In the end, I decided not to try. Because if I succeeded, I’d be a monster, just like him. I didn’t want to be like him.” She gestured at the bookshelves. “I wanted to be Jo March, Lizzie Bennet, Hermione Granger, Anne Shirley, Nancy Drew, Meg Murry, and Laura Ingalls.”
June followed her gaze. “Meg Murry?”
“She’s the heroine from A Wrinkle in Time.” Nora smiled at Abilene. “I love that book.”
The other women in the room nodded in agreement.
“How did you finally get away?” June asked.
Abilene didn’t answer. Instead, she sipped from her coffee cup and kept her gaze lowered.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to,” Hester said.
When it was obvious that Abilene wasn’t going to respond, Nora said, “There are other things we have to talk about. And the last thing I want to do is pressure you, but you have to tell us about Amanda.”
There was no movement from Abilene. She was like a rabbit, frozen in fright, and Nora had no idea how to coax the truth from her. Bullying or threatening wouldn’t work. Cajoling probably wouldn’t help either. Even if Abilene wanted to speak, something was holding her back. Something powerful. Something like fear.
Nora stood up and wandered over to a bookshelf. “You and Amanda Frye had something in common. Her books were her pride and joy. Stories were her portal to a different life. Her escape hatch. She didn’t have money or a career. She didn’t have close friends or family. She was alone and isolated. She also didn’t have your strength, Abilene, or your determination to believe in a better future.”
Abilene shifted in her seat and though Nora waited for her to respond, she said nothing.
“I guess time and disappointment beat the hope out of Amanda, which is why she swallowed a bottle of pain killers and stumbled into her pond to drown.” Nora touched the nearest book. Its title winked, as if the gilt letters were encouraging her to continue. “The four of us found her floating in that gross pond. Do you know why? Because her books couldn’t save her. In the end, the books failed.”
“No, they didn’t,” Abilene said, leaping to the defense of her favorite things. “She died because of me.”
Hester jumped out of her seat like a spooked cat. Standing by an endcap of books with autumnal covers, she said, “What are you talking about? Amanda committed suicide. According to the paper and to Jasper, that’s the official ruling. Once the labs came back confirming the presence of the drugs . . .” She trailed off and turned to the books on display. It was as if she sought an explanation from Red Leaf, Yellow Leaf, The Cider House Rules, and The Witches of Eastwick.
“Anything else you’d like to share with us?” Estella asked Hester. “Something your man might have let slip in a moment of passion, perhaps?” When Hester shook her head, Estella turned to Abilene. “Can you explain what you mean? You’ve been through hell. Lifetimes of it. But you’re no killer. If you had that in you, your uncle would already be dead. And he’s not dead, is he?”
Abilene whispered a barely audible no.
“So how could someone who refused to be infected by hate and hurt have caused Amanda’s death?” Estella wanted to know.
“I led him to her. My uncle.” Abilene spoke so softly that the rainfall almost washed her words away. “After the hospital, I had nowhere to go.” She shook her head and started again. “When I was growing up, the only person my uncle invited over was our next-door neighbor. She was a reader. My uncle was a reader. They talked about books in the backyard. She never came inside because of all the cameras.”
Estella cursed under her breath.
Abilene cast her a surprised glance before continuing. “She’d bake him cookies. He’d make her margaritas. When she moved away, he was even angrier than before.”
June whistled. “Your perv of an uncle was having a suburban love affair.”
“No,” Abilene said firmly. “He wouldn’t have touched her. He was repulsed by sex and anything to do with it. To him, nudity was disgusting and physical relationships were for base people. Animals, he called them. The books he read—the books I was allowed to read—couldn’t focus on those subjects or he’d call them filth and destroy them.”
Estella, who’d been sitting on the edge of her chair, visibly relaxed. “So he never touched you?”
“No!” Red patches bloomed on Abilene’s cheeks. “When he was very angry, he’d twist my arm or squeeze my neck. Afterward, he’d scrub his hands while reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. He wasn’t a germophobe, he just hated touching people.”
Nora studied Estella. Abilene’s story was undoubtedly calling forth memories that Estella had rather stay buried. A stepfather’s physical and verbal abuse. A mother’s negligence. A father’s abandonment.
“He’ll never touch you again,” Estella said, her eyes shining with cold fury. “If your asshole uncle followed you to Miracle Springs, he’ll regret it. I promise.”
Hester passed her hands over her face while June picked up her mug, gave it a dismissive glance, and put it back down on the coffee table.
“I wish there was something stronger in my mug than roasted beans,” June said. “I’d kill for a real drink right now.”
“Me too,” said Estella. “But no one needs it more than Abilene, and she’s probably never had liquor before. Am I right?”
Abilene looked embarrassed. “My uncle made me sip his wine before serving it to him. I didn’t like it. It tasted like balsamic vinegar.”
“You’re probably more a chocolate martini girl,” Estella said. “But we can hardly move to the Oasis Bar until we’re done here. Finish telling us about Amanda.”
The talking had taken its toll on Abilene. She’d kept all of these words and feelings locked inside for so long, that it had obviously taxed her to let them all out.
Still, she went on. “I knew where Mrs. Frye lived because she sent letters to my uncle and I memorized her address. My uncle never wrote back. After she was gone, he became even meaner. I knew I had to escape or he’d take all of the anger out on me. I decided to run to Amanda. It was stupid, but I figured that she must be a decent person because she loved to read. I did crazy things to get here.” She paused. “When I showed up at Amanda’s house, she didn’t know me.”
“She’d never seen you,” Nora said, trying to imagine Abilene’s desperate journey from Texas to North Carolina.
“I was wearing hospital scrubs and paper booties,” Abilene said. “Mrs. Frye wouldn’t let me in at first, but I told her enough things about my uncle that she finally believed my story.”
June grunted. “It’s a wonder she didn’t call your uncle.”
Fear flitted through Abilene’s pale blue eyes. “I think she did. I was so tired and hungry that I fell onto the bed in her spare room and slept for ten hours. Then, Mrs. Frye gave me something to eat, and we talked a little more. She seemed nervous. Every sound made her jump and she kept looking out the window. It was scaring me, so I told her I couldn’t stay.”
“How did she react?” Hester asked.
“She was relieved. She wanted to give me something to wear, so she took me outside and pulled a clean dress off her clothesline. She’d just handed it to me, along with a pair of flip-flops, when the neighbor’s dogs started barking. All the blood rushed out of Mrs. Frye’s face. She gave me a shove and whispered a single word.”
Nora felt like she was there, standing with Abilene and Amanda. She saw the sun on their shoulders and the breeze rippling the dresses on the line. She smelled the faint scent of laundry detergent and heard the frenzied baying of the dogs. For some reason, the hair on her forearms stood on end. “What was the word?”
Abilene’s voice trembled when she said, “Run.”
Nora knew what had happened next. Abilene had seen terror in Amanda’s eyes and she’d reacted like any true survivor would. She’d run.
S
he ran all the way to town, Nora thought. She ran to the building with books in the window. In the books, she saw sanctuary. She hid among them, taking refuge in the only companions she’d ever known.
“You’ll never have to run again,” Nora said. “You’re never going back to that basement, that man, or that life. You have a new home now. You have a new family. And you have four big sisters who will protect you.”
Nora embraced Abilene. Abilene didn’t return the gesture, but just as Nora was about to pull away, a pair of thin arms encircled her back. Abilene expelled a honey-scented sigh into Nora’s shoulder.
“Let’s get that drink now,” Estella said, reaching for her raincoat.
The women piled into June’s car and drove to the Miracle Springs Lodge, a sprawling brick structure perched atop a hill. With over two hundred guest rooms, multiple gardens, several eateries and cocktail lounges, gazebos for small group meetings and private meditation sessions, and the thermal pools, it was the biggest property in the area.
Estella had spent many an evening in the Oasis Bar, but tonight, she suggested the Bamboo Bistro instead of her regular haunt.
The women chose a secluded table near the entrance to the Japanese Zen garden and left the ordering to Estella. She sauntered up to the bar and a few minutes later, a waiter served them drinks in tall glasses garnished with translucent apple slices.
“Your Indian Summers,” he said as he set their drinks down on cocktail napkins embossed with a green bamboo stalk. “Enjoy.”
“This is basically cider spiked with vodka and elderflower liqueur,” Estella explained to Abilene. “It’s the perfect refreshment for this between-season time.”
“To a new season.” Hester held her glass out for a toast.
Everyone else touched rims with her except for Abilene, who clearly didn’t understand the ritual. She raised her glass to her mouth and took a tentative sip.
Nora’s sip was tentative as well. She was a little worried by how much she was anticipating this drink, and how eager she was to soften the sharp edges of the past two weeks.
