by C. B. Stone
And it isn’t just singing, it’s music as well. It sounds just like my dream, except it’s Noah’s voice instead of my own singing the verses.
Instead of frightening me like it should have, it lulls me into a deep sleep where my voice joins in with Noah’s, harmonizing together, singing our song.
There’s a land we have not seen,
where the trees are always green.
VI
I awaken with a start. Someone is moving around the kitchen and I can hear pots and pans being rattled about. The sun streams in through the window, letting me know I’d slept peacefully through the night.
Sitting up in bed, I stretch and tell myself it’s likely my mother or father. After all, they both worked the night shift and were due back home any time. Getting out of bed, I quietly walk through the house, expecting to hear the voices of my parents.
“Now where did I leave that knife?” My mother’s voice is muffled, but it’s clear enough to be recognizable, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Stepping into the kitchen, I see Mama digging through our cabinets. “Morning,” I say, startling her into nearly jumping out of her skin.
“Goodness, Jaelynn, you scared the daylights out of me.” My mother’s hand rests against her heart, like she’s trying to keep it contained.
“What time is it?” I ask, rubbing my eyes to get a better vision of what she’s doing. I yawn.
“A quarter past 7,” Mama responds mildly.
My eyes widen in shock. Usually I am up by 5:30 to get started on all the chores. Sleeping in isn’t normal for me, and it’s frowned upon by our society. You can’t get your work done lying in bed all day.
“I overslept!” I exclaim, stating the obvious.
“You did, and I’m sorry I woke you, honey. I figured it was good for you to get a little extra sleep and was trying to stay quiet,” my mama comments as she continues moving briskly around the kitchen.
“It’s ration day though, and I have so much work to do.” I groan a little as I shuffle further into the room and plop down in a kitchen chair.
Mama smiles and pats my cheek as she passes me. “Honey, it’s okay. Sometimes you need to go easier on yourself. Rations are handed out later in the evening. You’ll make it there in plenty of time.”
“But I still need to wash and iron your uniforms —,” I interject.
“Not another word from you, child. Hush it,” Mama instructs. “Unless you want to tell me where our carving knife disappeared to?”
I freeze and suddenly realize she means the knife, the one I’d used as a weapon when I thought I was going to have to stab Noah the day before.
Thinking back, the best I can come up with is I’d left it lying outside, somewhere between the garden and the shed. I don’t remember dropping it during the whole electrical shock thing, so I must’ve put it down sometime before that happened.
When I don’t answer, my mother turns around to face me, a concerned expression on her face. “Jaelynn?”
“I have no idea where it went, Mama,” I stall. “What do you need it for?”
“The Ministry gave all the employees a roast to bring home after working so hard the last few days. Isn’t that nice?” She smiles. “The first bit of meat we’ve had in a while, and I need to get it carved up so we can eat it before it goes bad.” She points behind her.
I didn’t notice it before, but my eyes follow her finger and see the big roast on the counter. Just looking at the large hunk of meat makes my mouth start to water as I imagine what it’s going to taste like.
My stomach rumbles. “Maybe you can cook it whole?” I offer hopefully.
Mama shakes her head. “We don’t have a pan large enough for that. Seriously, where is that darn knife? I left it right here on the sink,” she insists, turning back to rummage through the cupboards once again, rattling pots and pans in her fervor.
I stand up. “I don’t know, Mama, but I hope you find it. I’m going to go check on the garden, we might have some carrots to throw in with it.”
Sounding distracted, my mother mumbles, “That sounds delightful, but don’t get your hopes up, sweetie.”
I smile. I’m not sure if we have carrots yet or not, but it gives me an excuse to step outside and look for the carving knife. The next problem will be to put it somewhere my mother hasn’t looked yet. I know that will be a challenge, but plan to take it one step at a time.
Stepping out into the front yard, I walk over to our garden. As I’d hoped, there are more tomatoes today than there had been yesterday. And the cucumbers and lettuce are also looking fresh and ready to eat. Glancing around, I don’t see any carrots though.
Pretending like I’m checking on the garden on the side of the house, I sneak around to the back. There, right next to the old tree stump, lay the carving knife.
Rushing over, I bend over to pick it up just as my mother shouts out the back door. “What in the world is it doing out there?”
I jump, then freeze for the second time this morning. “I don’t know, Mama,” I toss the words over my shoulder as I stand back up. “I just came back to check on some flowers I’d planted and there it was,” I continue to fib, with difficulty. For some reason I’m finding this one harder to swallow than the others.
Mama steps out from the house and walks over to where I’m standing. “How strange,” she states, taking the knife from me, eyeing it. “I wonder if your father knows about this? I’ll have to ask him when he gets home.”
I feign a smile and try to think of any reason to offer on why the knife might be outside, but my mind is a blank.
“And what is this?” My mother asks, yanking me from my frantic thoughts with a small start.
“What’s what?” I asked through gritted teeth. Mama points. I turn and follow her gaze.
Behind us, on the shed door, there is a black mark. Nothing we can easily make out, but it looks to be a symbol of sorts. “What on earth?”
I rushed forward and reach out to touch it, but Mama grabs me by the hand and tugs me back.
“Don’t,” she warns. “We have to alert the Ministry.”
“But why?” I ask, my pulse suddenly racing. I give her a confused look in an effort to buy some time and gather my thoughts. “It looks like some kids just had some fun with some paint, nothing more.”
“That’s not paint,” my mother says grimly. “And it looks to be a symbol of sorts.”
I feel beads of sweat accumulating on my forehead, feeling as though suddenly I’m drowning in a web of lies, and they aren’t even doing their job.
We can’t invite the Ministry here, not with Noah hiding in the shed, and most certainly not with everything that has happened. I squeeze my eyes shut, my belly in knots. Finally, my shoulders slump.
“Mama, please don’t contact them,” I whisper.
My mother frowns. “Why, sweetheart?” She gently turns me around to face her. “Is this your doing?”
I keep my eyes squeezed shut and don’t say anything. I can’t find the words to explain any of it. I’m not even sure how much I should tell.
“Answer me, Jaelynn,” Mama demands, giving my arm a shake.
“I don’t know, but maybe?” I whimper. I open my eyes, facing her. “Some strange things happened last night, Mama, and I don’t understand it at all. I don’t remember this being here afterward, but I can’t be sure.”
Raising a fist, I bite down on my knuckle, choking back a sob, then continue, “And I don’t know what the Ministry will say about it. I could be in trouble if they find out. Big trouble, Mama.”
“Oh honey.” My mother’s stern expression wilts, and she pulls me close, cradling my head against her chest.
Both of us tremble. I am shaking all over at the idea of the Ministry coming for me. Though not so much over what happened last night with Noah, or even the strange symbol.
And I know my mother is shaking over the idea of the danger I’m in. For that, I feel terrible.
“Please, don�
��t tell them, Mama,” I plead. “Not until I figure it out and I’m safe, okay?”
I know my mother can’t resist trying to keep me safe. I’m playing on her fears now, and hate to be so manipulative, but there’s no denying what I’m saying is the truth. There is no guarantee I’ll be safe if the Ministry gets word of what happened here last night.
Mama sighs, and then cups my face, staring into my eyes. “I won’t, sweetheart. But please, tell me everything. You have to tell me everything,” she insists.
“I will,” I nod, closing my eyes and turning my cheek into my mother’s hand. “On one condition — you can’t tell Papa either. Please, you know you can’t.”
I expect her to fight me on this one, but instead she nods her head in understanding. “Okay. I promise,” she agrees.
With a sigh, I know what I have to do. I grip my mother’s hands and pull them away from my face, stepping back and then clasping one. “First, I have to show you something. Out front.” I tug my mom’s hand and we walk out to the front yard together, to the garden.
Kneeling down, I cup a ripe, giant tomato gently. Mama’s eyes grow wide as she kneels down next to me. “But how —“
“I don’t know, Mama,” I whisper. “But there’s also cucumbers and lettuce too. It all sprouted up yesterday, just out of the blue.” Sort of. I keep that thought to myself though.
Mama picks a tomato from the vine and bites into it, the juices flowing down her chin. She moans in delight, closing her eyes with pleasure. “It’s been so long,” she says, opening her eyes and licking the juice away.
“It’s been too long for a lot of people,” I agree. “But I had to show you this because the next part will likely upset you. But I need you to remember what you saw here, okay?”
She nods and together we stand and walk to the backyard this time, and make for the dilapidated shed. I glance at my mother nervously before I knock on the shed door.
“Noah? It’s me,” I call out. “It’s okay.”
Mama cocks her head to the side, and starts to say something, but instead remains quiet. Noah slowly opens the door, then stands before us with a sheepish grin on his face. Stepping out of the shed, he tentatively holds out a hand in Mama’s direction.
“Hello,” he greets. “You must be Jaelynn’s mother.”
I notice my mother instinctively reach for her gun and I lay a calm reassuring hand on her arm.
“Don’t, Mama. He’s the reason for the garden. I saw it with my own eyes. You tasted the fruit he brought to us.”
Noah’s grin gets wider. “Aw, it wasn’t just me, you know,” he says. “Your daughter played a role too, she just doesn’t realize it yet.”
I’m not sure if that is true or not, but it doesn’t matter right now. It does though, mean my mama is less likely to turn Noah in — or kill him — if she thinks it could implicate me somehow in the process.
“How did you do that?” Mama asks cautiously.
Lips firming together, Noah shakes his head, looking bemused. “I wish I could explain it, but I really can’t,” he replies with a shrug. “Not yet anyway.”
My mother clenches her hands together, her eyes clouding with worry. She looks at me. “All of this makes me very uncomfortable.”
“I know, Mama, it made me uncomfortable too,” I say, realizing as I say it that I’d said ‘made’ instead of ‘makes’. Speaking in the past tense means that it no longer makes me uncomfortable, and I’m not sure what changed or when, but I realize it suddenly feels normal now. “But look at what we did,” I urge. “Think of all that we can do.”
“No,” Mama asserts, shaking her head. “I’m not going to turn you in for what you’ve done, but it has to stop. There can be no more of this, you hear me? It’s dangerous, Jaelynn, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” My mother speaks fiercely, her eyes lit with protective fire.
“Mama, I’ll be fine,” I soothe. “Trust me.”
“Trust me, dear. I work for the Ministry, I see more than my fair share of torture, and I know exactly what they do to people who don’t strictly conform to their views or their way of doing things. They have no tolerance for people who mess around with this kind of stuff.”
My forehead wrinkles. “Wait. This stuff? What do you mean? You know what this is? What’s going on?” I am suddenly intrigued.
Mama snorts indelicately. “It’s magic. It’s hogwash. It’s dangerous, Jaelynn, and it is ending now,” she states emphatically.
Noah looks flabbergasted, and I feel defeated. I can’t defy my mother. I look at Noah, and when our eyes meet, I hear a voice whisper inside my head.
This is not the end.
Noah’s face softens and a calm seems to descend over him at about the same moment I hear the voice. I have an insane urge to plug my ears with my fingers and wiggle, just to make sure I’m not hearing things.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Noah nods at my mother. “I understand,” he says. “And I promise, I won’t do anything to put your daughter in harm’s way.”
I notice he doesn’t tell her it won’t happen again, but he glances at me and something in his eyes tells me not to protest. So I nod too, looking back at my mother.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Mama. Like I said, I have no idea how it happened. One minute we were just standing there, the next minute weird stuff was happening. It wasn’t intentional on either of our parts, I swear.”
Mama sighs. “For what it’s worth, I believe you,” she says. “But the Ministry, and your father, won’t be so forgiving, so it must end. And we must never speak about this to anyone, ever. Are we clear?”
Noah and I nod vigorously in unison.
“But please Mama, is it okay if Noah stays another day or so to find work?” I know I shouldn’t ask right then and there, but I can’t help myself. I need to make sure my new friend is taken care of. I can’t stand the idea of him suffering in any way.
With another deep sigh, my mother’s shoulders slump with resignation, and she proves her heart is just as soft as mine. “Yes, he can stay. On one condition,” she admonishes. “You two will not be together alone at any time.” She eyes us both sternly.
“That sounds reasonable to me,” Noah agrees quickly, rocking back on his heels and nodding. “I truly thank you for your kindness and hospitality.”
Heaving a huge sigh of relief, I nod too. Then I interject brightly, “Now, don’t we have a roast to carve?”
I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so glad to change a subject in my life.
VII
“WHEN will father be home?” I mumble around a mouth filled with delicious roast, juices seeping down my chin before I can catch them. Seems to be a lot of that happening these days, I think to myself ruefully.
It has been a long time since we’ve had any real meat like the delicious feast spread out before us. It’s one of the very few benefits of my parents working for the Ministry. If nothing else, they often feed their own above and beyond normal rations. Although, even that perk seems to come less and less often these days.
“He should be home in a few hours.” My mother looks at the clock sitting on the mantle, one of the few technologies we are allowed to have. The Ministry often preaches about the importance of being on time as well as using said time wisely. “Noah will have to sleep in the shed again, and should probably head back there right after dinner, to be safe.”
Noah nods, biting into one of the fat, scrumptious carrots we were able to pick from the garden, a carrot that hadn’t been there just a few days earlier. “I understand, Mrs. Rose, and I’ll be sure to stay out of the way.”
I have to hide a smile at how earnest he looks. And cute, but I try not to dwell on that too much. “Father mentioned something about the Ministry sensing some weird electrical signals earlier today. Did you happen to hear anything about it?” I ask.
“I didn’t, but he has a higher level of security clearance than I do, so they don’t tell me much of anything that’s important. When did he tell
you this?”
“He came home earlier in the day to check on me, told me then.”
My mother looks concerned. “And the markings on the shed weren’t there?”
“They weren’t,” I say. “At least not that I’m aware. Speaking of which, after dinner, I need to try to paint over it.”
“Not a bad idea,” Mama responds. “I’ll try to get some information out of him when he gets home tonight, but he’s so tight-lipped I can’t guarantee he’ll tell me anything.”
The silence in the room is overwhelming after she says that. I can’t argue with her either, my father takes his job very seriously and often doesn’t tell us any more than he feels we need to know.
He actually takes his job far more seriously than he has to, I often think. At times he seems more officer and less my father than anything else. And I know I’m not the only one who notices it, because he can be the same way with Mama sometimes.
I take a few more bites from the roast, savoring the meaty flavor and relishing the feeling of a full tummy. It has been a long time since a meal left me feeling so sated.
Looking over at Noah, I realize he’s probably gone even longer without a good meal, without even the bare scraps I normally receive. And yet, he didn’t gorge himself like I did when my plate had been set down in front of me. I feel a little embarrassed at my lack of restraint, but that goes out the window when my mother decides to speak again.
“Noah?” My mother asks, causing his gaze to move from me to her. “Do you know anything else about all of this that you’re not telling us?”
My heart thuds within my breast. Why is my mother suddenly sounding suspicious of Noah? Where did this come from?
“Mama, I told you, Noah was just as surprised as I was!” I burst out. Noah doesn’t say anything and lets his gaze fall down into his lap.
Mama eyes me contemplatively. “It was just a question, Jaelynn. No need to be defensive.”
