The Liberators of Willow Run

by Marianne K. Martin

  Ruth smiled, despite the tightness in her throat giving way to her own tears. It was more emotion than she was ready for—raw and honest and beyond what she had expected. She stepped to the window, allowed the tears as she stared at the blurry landscape. Not watching, though, did not stop the tears. The vision was unshakably vivid—the glimmer behind Audrey’s tears, was it hope? And if it was, wasn’t it tragic in itself? She couldn’t find an answer. Maybe there wasn’t one, not one that could explain what she was seeing, what she was feeling. All she could do was let emotion overrun its bounds, and let the tears try to soothe the pain she couldn’t identify. If this was so difficult, how could she ever soothe Audrey’s pain?

  Audrey had begun the song again from the beginning, and kept singing until Velma’s voice dropped off. She tried the chorus once again, but Velma had stopped singing.

  Ruth quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, and turned from the window to find Audrey with her forehead pressed against Velma’s. Agitation nearby, a patient circling too close to another patient’s chair, brought a staff member over to control the situation. She directed the patient to the center of the room, and walked back over to announce “Visiting hours are over. You will have to leave now.”

  Audrey never looked up. She pressed her lips to the side of Velma’s head and whispered something in her ear. Velma made no response, there was no acknowledgment in the eyes staring straight ahead. Audrey wiped her cheeks with her hands as she straightened, then smoothed her hand over the free, dark tresses before she left.

  The pace Audrey set was quick and determined. Ruth matched her steps, a silent retreat through the long hallway and down the walk from the building to the street.

  “Shouldn’t we have called for a cab?” Ruth asked as Audrey turned down the sidewalk between a tall iron fence and the street.

  “I need to walk, Ruth,” she said without breaking stride. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t be sorry. We’ll walk as long as you want.”

  They walked for miles with no small talk, no conversation at all. If this was how Audrey needed to work through the pain, Ruth would respect it, no matter how long it took or how many miles they walked. The hardest part was watching the woman that she was growing to love more each day struggle alone, and not know how to help her.

  Audrey was nearly as unresponsive as Velma when they finally traveled home, mustering only an occasional “I’m okay” to Ruth’s concerns. It wasn’t convincing. How could it be? Ruth had decided before they got off the train that she wasn’t leaving her alone tonight.

  They stood at Audrey’s door and she repeated her plea, “I just need to be alone.”

  “Not tonight,” Ruth replied. “Not after today. You don’t have to talk about it, that’s fine. Just let me talk.” Audrey’s expression looked more like relief than resignation. Convinced that this was where she needed to be tonight, Ruth took Audrey’s hand to have her sit on the edge of the bed with her. But Audrey wasn’t ready to talk or to sit. She slipped her hand from Ruth’s, put her purse on the table, and walked to the small window at the back of the room.

  “I understand,” Ruth began, “why you wanted me to go with you today. I couldn’t know you without seeing Velma, without seeing you with her. I saw how deeply you love. I saw at least a little of how hard losing what you had with her has been on you. And there was something else I saw. I’m not sure what it was. When Velma started singing I saw it in your eyes . . . Was it hope, Audrey?”

  Audrey tilted her head back and spoke toward the ceiling. “No,” she said, and turned to face Ruth. “Not hope. You saw what I saw, the only part of Velma I have left.” She stepped quickly past Ruth, across the room, an abrupt turn and then back again. Her voice rose in anger, her hand sliced the air as she spoke. “They took away hope, they took her life just as if they had put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.” Her eyes held a fierceness Ruth had not seen. “They sent electric current through her to erase what was wrong with her brain.” She stepped closer. “What was wrong—because she didn’t follow the rules, because she loved me.” Tears streamed down Audrey’s face. The fierceness in her eyes had morphed into something else. “They erased it all,” her voice began to waiver, “everything that was good, they took it all.” Then in a final burst of anger, she shouted, “What right did they have? What right?” She stood there in the middle of the room, quivering and spent, her eyes pleading for an answer.

  Ruth went to her quickly, wrapped her arms tightly around her, and felt Audrey’s body slacken. She had given up, released the anger that had bound her all this time, and finally let it go.

  “Come here,” Ruth said, pulling a willing Audrey onto the bed with her. She wrapped herself around Audrey and cradled her as she cried. There was nothing to say, not yet. The heart of it had been said. What was important now was for her to feel someone else’s arms around her. She didn’t need to be strong now, Ruth would be that strength for her. This was her time to cry as hard and as long as she needed for the cleansing. It was Audrey’s time. Ruth’s would come soon enough.

  How long she held Audrey like that, stroking her head, kissing her forehead, Ruth couldn’t say. It didn’t matter, she was there when Audrey needed her. She wanted to promise that she would always be.

  The last of the sunlight shining through the window had long since turned to a hazy blue-gray, and now the room was quickly darkening. Audrey rested calmly, her face snugged into the warm vee of Ruth’s neck. She stirred enough to slide her arm around Ruth’s back and to whisper, “I can’t let her go.”

  “I know,” Ruth replied softly. “It’s okay.”

  “I love you, Ruth. But the Velma that she used to be tears at my heart.”

  “If she didn’t, if you had just let her go, I don’t think I would love you like I do.”

  Audrey leaned away to look into Ruth’s eyes. “You aren’t afraid of this love, are you?”

  “And that worries you, doesn’t it?”

  “Velma wasn’t afraid either, she was just honestly who she was, and it destroyed her.”

  Ruth ventured the next question. “Why her and not you?”

  “Because I’m a liar,” Audrey said as she sat up. “I will lie and deny, and compromise who I am to survive. Not traits to be applauded, or to be proud of. Is that a woman you can love?”

  Ruth sat up next to her. “I’ve lied, Audrey. Maybe not as successfully as you, but I’ve lied and compromised. Unlike you, though, I didn’t just lie to others. I lied to myself. What I was doing was for everyone else. The only one surviving was who they thought I was, while the real me was dying. I had to learn what you somehow have known all along—that whatever we have to do, we do to protect who we are.”

  Ruth stood and straightened her skirt. Audrey remained on the edge of the bed, her focus on the floor. Ruth touched the top of her head and said, “It’s been a hard day, and I do understand your fears. I understand a lot of things, Audrey, so there’s no need to test me anymore.” She turned and started toward the door. She had been there with her through the anger and the sadness, and now she was sure that Audrey needed to be alone. Nothing about either of their lives was simple, and nothing was going to be resolved tonight.

  Audrey’s voice behind her was sharp, raised above conversation level. “I’m not testing you. It’s me I’m testing, Ruth. I’m testing me.’’

  Ruth turned to see Audrey standing in the middle of the room, her fist clenched tightly against her chest. “What inside of me,” she continued, “in this heart, in this conflicted head of mine, can I believe? What do I trust? The truth is, I don’t know. Maybe the love that I feel is so wrong that it poisons anyone who touches it. Will I poison you, too? Destroy you as I have Velma?”

  “Oh, no,” Ruth said, returning to pull Audrey into an embrace. “No, honey, no.” She clasped the back of Audrey’s head and held it firmly against her own. “It’s me here, just me. No one else. No parents, no husband or boyfriend, no one. No one knows me except
you.” She pressed her lips to Audrey’s neck, kissed it again and again. “There’s no one in my life but you,” she whispered. “No love but yours. There’s no one to take it away.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Ruth loosened the firmness of her hold and lifted her head to look into Audrey’s eyes. “Because I know me now,” she said softly. “The only doubts are yours. The only fears are yours.” She traced her thumb over the high cheekbone, felt the warm flush from Audrey’s face against her palm. “Believe me,” she whispered, as her eyes traveled to the natural pale pink of Audrey’s lips. “Believe this.” She kissed Audrey, full and firm, and sent a flood of heat through their bodies that neither of them could deny. They both knew the course of it—the heat deep and low, spikes of excitement defining a need that would consume them. But it wouldn’t go there yet, not tonight.

  Ruth lifted her lips, left with one last light kiss, and backed toward the door. “Dream of me tonight,” she said, “as I will you.”

  Chapter 23

  Dear Amelia,

  I have wings now, as sleek and shiny and strong as the ones that take the Liberator into battle. I can soar now—as high as my hopes and as far as my imagination.

  I’m free, Amelia. I’m free to explore and imagine and accomplish, and even to fail. Failure doesn’t scare me, that’s how I am going to know what I want for my life. Nor does wondering and thinking about the possibilities for my life scare me. It’s exciting to see what’s possible, for me and for other women, and for you.

  Women have accomplished such wonderful things. And why not? We are smart and resourceful, we’re strong of will and determined. We are all of that, Amelia. I am and you are, too.

  Don’t be afraid to test your wings. Let them hold you up and keep you safe. Trust us for a plan and trust your wings to make it happen.

  Her letters, until now, had been Ruth’s only answer to the worry that had consumed her for months. And until this one, sending them off in the mail had offered at least a temporary relief. She’d done all she could do, as well as she could do it. But, this time, instead of relief she felt the fear of time running out without a plan in place. She had made a promise that she might not be able to keep.

  And if she failed her promise, failed Amelia, how could she ever read another of her letters? How could she know the truth in the words and go on, untouched? There was no way to unknow what she knew, or stop the images that her knowledge allowed. There had been no frightening images before Audrey, before Velma—only a sketchy and fleeting image of Amelia’s uncle. She had needed a picture of him in her mind in order to create a place for her disgust, and to separate it from her empathy. It had been enough at the time. Then, she had listened and empathized. Had advised and made it a daily practice to bolster Amelia’s self-confidence. All the while she was sure that she understood.

  But she didn’t understand, not really. She had never herself felt the clutch of fear that governed Amelia’s world, or the repulsion that grew out of her vulnerability. Ruth had never had to endure repeated violations to her body and her spirit, or live with the knowledge that she had no power to stop it. What she saw and what she understood, at least in its simplest form, were the consequences. Amelia’s consequences, and now Velma’s.

  Beyond that, she was only beginning to recognize her own consequences. Without Audrey, without Velma, she wondered how much longer it might have taken. Would she have dared to consider the role of savior, dared to take on such a serious responsibility? What made her think that she was smart enough, resourceful enough, brave enough?

  How long she’d been staring out her bedroom window she couldn’t say. But for at least that long she had been looking at an important part of a plan, one that just might work. It had been sitting in Mrs. Welly’s driveway all along.

  Ruth rushed downstairs and into the front room, startling her landlady from her reading. “Oh, Ruth! What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “No, no, nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Welly. In fact, it’s possibly just the opposite.” Ruth dropped into the chair, her excitement barely contained. “The car in the driveway,” she began, “do you ever use it?”

  “Oh, Lord, no. I wouldn’t even know how to start it,” she replied. “Not sure it would start even if I knew how. It’s been sittin’ there as long as my husband’s been gone.”

  “Have you ever thought about selling it?”

  “Never got around to it. I thought maybe my son-in-law might want it, but he has a newer model and doesn’t need it.”

  “Can I buy it from you?”

  “For you? You want to buy it for yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Welly seemed to be trying to grasp a reason for the request. “Do you know how to drive a car?”

  “No,” Ruth said, “not yet.”

  “Why on earth would you even want to learn?”

  “There’s something important I need to do, Mrs. Welly.”

  “Well, then, if that car’s going to help you, it’s yours.”

  Her excitement couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Ruth took the next bus to Audrey’s and anxiously waited on her front step to tell her the good news. It wouldn’t matter how long she had to wait, the plan was too important. And for the first time it felt like a real plan was close—not just a hope or an if only, but a real course of action was coming together. Her own fear had already bowed its head. Now to assuage Audrey’s.

  She used the hour or so of waiting to think about what needed to come next. The pieces seemed so feasible—get the car running, learn to drive it, prepare Amelia—but the one big if, the last important piece, was up to Lillian.

  The sun began its descent late in the evening this time of year, and Ruth could see Audrey walking down from the bus stop. Even these last few minutes were too long to wait. Ruth stood, lifted her skirt above her knees, and ran to meet her.

  If not for the wide smile, a woman running at her down the middle of the street might have given Audrey serious concern. Ruth let the smile carry the message until she was two doors away. “Great news,” she called out. “I’ve got great news.” She closed the distance and, breathing hard, wrapped Audrey in an excited hug.

  “Tell me,” Audrey said as Ruth released her. “What?”

  “I have a car. I mean, I will have a car. It might not start, so we have to find a battery. Oh, and I’ll have to learn to drive it.”

  “Whoa, slow down.” Audrey said. “Come on, let’s get in and sit down. I’m so tired.”

  By the time they plopped onto the kitchen chairs, Audrey, too, was bristling with excitement. “Wait, Ruth. You don’t have to worry about learning to drive. I can drive it. And I can teach you.”

  “Oh, Audrey, it is happening. Our plan is coming together. I’ve been so worried.” She stopped for a moment to appreciate Audrey’s smile. She hadn’t seen it nearly enough lately. Then she asked, “How did you learn to drive?”

  “Velma,” she replied. “My wonderful, daringly unconventional Velma.” The smile was still there but had softened with reflection. “She watched her father every day, riding to work with him. She remembered every move he made. Then while he was working she would take the keys from his jacket pocket and practice driving the car all around the parking lot.”

  “Oh, a firecracker to be sure.”

  Audrey nodded before her smile dissolved. “She was.”

  “Tell me how she taught you to drive.” Her tactic was obvious but effective.

  “She stole her father’s car right out of the parking lot, picked me up, and we spent the whole afternoon driving in the country. She was so good, like she had been driving for years. It was a beautiful sight—the window down, her hair blowing around her face as she sang to me, singing to the world . . . I didn’t think it would be so easy—driving. But it was. And not only in the country. I drove right through town as if I were going to work or shopping or visiting friends. I’ve never felt anything quite like it. Driving that car was liberating, Ruth. When I was behind th
e wheel I was in control. I knew I could go anywhere I wanted, anytime I wanted. The world felt different, like I had my hands on its direction. I could make it fly by me, tempt me with stopping here or stopping there. And I would decide. I could make it be still for as long as I wanted—long enough for baby goats, bouncing and baying in a famer’s field, to make me laugh, or for a river, tumbling over rocks under a bridge to make me wonder where it went.”

  As she watched her, Ruth realized that Audrey wasn’t merely telling a story, she was igniting possibility. What Ruth heard was a description of the world as she, too, wanted to experience it. A world with possibilities she hadn’t even imagined, possibilities she wanted to experience with Audrey.

  “We took the car a lot,” Audrey continued. “We drove and sang and explored, and we knew we would find a way to have our own car. It was part of our future.”

  “Did she ever get caught?”

  “Not by her father. Someone he worked with came out to get something out of his car just after Velma had parked it. But the timing was as lucky as it gets. She had just filled a bucket with water and begun washing the dust from it to hide that we’d been driving in the country. He thought that she had to be the perfect daughter to be washing her father’s car while he was working. She laughed when she told me about it, and said it was the only time she would ever be considered the perfect daughter.” Audrey hesitated and answered with a frown. “She was right.”

  It felt as if a brisk spring breeze had been sucked into a vacuum. The air was suffocatingly still.

  “I’m going to go sit in our car tonight,” Ruth began, “and imagine I’m driving and feeling everything you described.”

  The corners of Audrey’s mouth lifted gently. “I promise I’ll give you the real thing. I’ll see if Jack can help us find a battery. And since I’m a government worker, I’ll see if I can get the gas voucher.”