by Jill Cooper
“Like your parents?” George shook his head. “I wish I shared your views, but at least I know soon, I’ll be with you. We’ll be together and then I can leave this behind. Our marriage will not be like theirs.”
“No.” I stroked back his hair gently. “It won’t.”
He cupped my chin in his hand and when he leaned in to kiss me, my eyes fluttered closed. A gentle peck on the lips was how it started, but as the kiss strengthened, I gripped his jacket in my hand, and pulled him closer.
“It’ll be filled with dancing,” George smiled as he thought of it and he looked intoxicated, “laughter, and amusement. Good times, Abby.”
“Great times,” I said, even as my heart feared the future. I didn’t fear George, I loved him, and I counted my luck that he had been chosen for me. I could’ve ended up with someone like Montgomery Tippin.
“Abby?” Momma’s voice carried down the hall. “Where are you?”
My eyes widened as I stepped away, and straightening my blouse, I walked down the stair. “Right here, Momma. I just found George as I was asked to.”
Her smirk said she didn’t believe me and her eyes lit with anger. Had she seen us kissing? If she had, it’d be the end of all things. “In the kitchen now. We’re both needed.” She gave my arm a gentle shove. “Go on. George, we’ll see you at dinner.”
“Yes, Mrs. Taylor.” George hurried along, his shoes clicking against the cement.
“Momma.” I tried to turn around but she gave me a gentle push.
“Not now, Abby Taylor. Not now.”
Oh, by the workmen! She had seen and now she knew. What that meant for the future, I feared. Kissing and affection outside of marriage were forbidden. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had seen my parents kiss. Had I ever? I wasn’t even sure, but I knew they loved each other. I felt it when they were together, no matter how much they bickered.
My stomach fluttered with nerves as we entered the dull brown kitchen, not much bigger than a closet. Mrs. Tippin’s back was to us as her shoulders rocked with a silent sob, an off-white handkerchief clutched in her hand.
I was stunned to see her so upset and I froze in place, but Momma charged in to take the boiling pot of water off the stove.
A row of casserole dishes lined the scuffed counter top and a stack of chipped white dishes waited to be set. Everything was ready—except for Mrs. Tippin. She dabbed her red rimmed eyes. “Well,” her lips quivered in what should’ve been a smile, “I guess you know my secret now. I’m a hysterical mess.” When more sobs raced up her chest she shook her head. “I’m sorry. So sorry…things are just never right. They’re just so hard.”
I didn’t know what to do and instead looked to Momma for guidance. Her face was stern as she took Mrs. Tippin by the arms. “We must pull ourselves together, Viviane, mustn’t we?” Momma’s voice was quieter than her stern expression would suggest, and Mrs. Tippin responded to it with a nod.
She sucked in her breath. “Dinner is nearly done. Everything is warm, and I wanted a feast to welcome the Taylors here.”
“And we appreciate it so.” Momma gripped Mrs. Tippin’s hands tight and spoke with compassion. “We look forward to sitting with you and taking fellowship together. I brought a pie.”
“A pie?” Her eyes lit up as she looked between us. “You honor us in ways I can never repay. Oh, Sandra…” Mrs. Tippin teetered on her feet and Momma gripped her arms a bit tighter.
“We’re about to be family and always shall be as our children are married and we enter the next phase of our lives. It won’t be easy, but change never is, Viviane. I’d like to go into this change with a friend.”
“A friend? You honor me and I’m sorry Abby has to see me like this.” She turned her head away from me and I realized I had been staring so I glanced away at the food.
“Think nothing of it.” Momma turned and issued orders to me gently. “Start setting the table and bring the food. Tell the men dinner will be ready and for them to sit, but don’t touch anything until we arrive.”
“Yes, Momma.”
“And Abby,” her voice returned as stern as it was before, “sit across from George. Not beside him. We must show a bit of decorum, child.”
I opened my mouth to dispute what it was she was trying to say but instead I clamped my mouth shut and grabbed the stack of dishes. They were a heavy porcelain and the nicest things the Tippin’s owned. I rushed from the kitchen, then pressed my back against the wall to hear what Mrs. Tippin said.
“I don’t know how I’ll survive alone in this house once George is gone. Montgomery can be such a brute when he’s angery. I don’t want my boy to leave me, Sandra. I don’t!”
“It’s the way of things Viviane. I feel for your situation, I do, but the children will be wed by the authority of the ministers. If we try to interfere, if we try to deviate from the plan they laid out for us…”
“I know, I know! But I hate it. He’s just a boy and adult life, working and providing for the ministers, it’s anything but fun. Shouldn’t there be fun left in the world?”
Momma sighed. “That’s enough talking like that, Viv, or Montgomery will prove to the town that you really are hysterical. Life is hard, it’s void of fun, but the ministers provide for us. They keep us safe and keep us fed. What else can we do?”
What else indeed.
I had heard enough and I pushed away from the wall, and what I carried in my satchel heavier than ever.
****
We ate dinner and the Tippins relaxed and normalized themselves, even Viviane shared a few smiles as she talked to George, her laughter steady and even, as if we hadn’t found her coming unglued in the kitchen. Everything she had said about her husband haunted me. I stared him down as he slid his knife into my momma’s pie, wondering what kind of man he was.
A brute?
Did he hurt her or was it his words that were sharp as a knife? How lucky I had been to have been paired off with George at birth and how fortunate he’d grown into a nice, kind man. As we aged together, I knew he’d grow even kinder and more generous—he just had one of those faces.
“This pie is divine, Mrs. Taylor,” Viviane said with a wide smile. “Isn’t it, George? Montgomery?”
George nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. I hope Abby will have the recipe one day.”
I blushed as Poppa laughed nervously. “Well, it’s a family recipe and there it should stay, which I guess means in a few months, it’ll be yours.”
Montgomery slid his plate back even though he had only taken one bite. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Viviane folded her napkin like a fan. “Is there something the matter with your pie, Mont? I think it’s—”
“A great way to show up our family.” Montgomery’s eye twitched as his eyebrows shot up to the roof, wrinkling his forehead. “Remind us that you’re merchants, our son is set to be a merchant and one day will take over for you, while I’m nothing more than a simple bricklayer.”
My mouth dropped open and Poppa stammered, his cheeks growing bright red. But Momma became indignant. “That was never our intent, Mr. Tippin. We are trying to celebrate our family’s union, nothing more! Abby is our pride and joy. We are looking forward to this union and wish to get to know your family better.”
“Over the years we’ve gotten to know you quite well enough,” Montgomery said and looked to Poppa. “Do you always give your wife free reign to say what she wants?”
Momma squeaked and her mouth fell open. “Do not speak to me as if I am not in the room, Sir!” She stood up and tossed her napkin down onto her plate. “Life is what it is, and I think you’d best come to terms with it. Our families will be linked together with a child. It’s to be a joyful occasion. Maybe you should redirect your anger at yourself somewhere other than me and your wife!”
“Father!” George’s eyes widened, and I could do nothing but feel like I wanted to sink down into a hole. “You should mind your tongue.”
Montgomery rose to his feet. “Don’t tell me what to do in my home, boy.”
My eyes widened. Would he hurt George?
Poppa struggled out of his chair and faced Mr. Tippin. “Let’s not say or do anything we might regret. I think it’s best if we go. We thank you deeply for your hospitality.” Poppa bowed slightly in respect. “Abby,” he ordered and gestured with his hand for me to follow.
As I slowly rose up, fear lined Viviane’s face. “Please, don’t rush off. Montgomery, say you’re sorry!”
“Sorry? I won’t apologize for who we are.”
Her face twisted as she fought off a string of new tears and I feared what would happen if we left her.
“I’ll stay and help her clean up.”
Momma shook her head at me with a look of determination I had seen before. “You’ll do no such thing. I won’t have you alone in this house with this family.” Momma sucked on her bottom lip and pointed at the door. “We’re leaving. Bid George good-night.”
“You don’t trust us?” Montgomery asked with raging defiance. He stepped forward and pushed his finger into Momma’s chest, right near her collarbone. “Who are you to judge us?”
“I’ll ask you kindly to keep your hands to yourself!” Poppa slid his arm between Momma and Mr. Tippin.
All I could do was watch with horror. How was it that this could’ve happened so quickly? Hadn’t we just had a nice dinner? George rushed to my side and slid his arms around me. “It’ll be all right, Abby,” he whispered.
But it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t unless we stopped. “If we could please stop fighting,” I said. “We’re supposed to like each other. We’re supposed to be family.”
“Welcome to life, Abby,” Montgomery sneered on his approach to me. “Things rarely go as you expect and never the way you want.”
That wasn’t true, it just wasn’t. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t figure out what to say, but I felt a heat coming from my side. With horror, I realized it was my satchel. I glanced down at it and between its leather folds a brilliant light was evident.
It was glowing. The book inside was glowing.
I slid my hand down my bag and pressed it firmly so no one else would see it. It terrified me that someone would question what was going on, but we needed to get out of there. The bag was making my leg extremely hot.
Mother grabbed my arm. “Let’s go.” She yanked my arm and I glanced back at George. His eyes were so sad as he just stood there, a lost look on his face. I wished to stay and comfort him.
“George,” I whispered, as Poppa ripped the front door open.
He screamed as he came face to face with someone on the other side. Poppa and Momma both backed up as the Minister of City Affairs face lit up as thunder outside raged.
“Going somewhere, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor?” He slammed the bottom of his cane onto the ground and a shiver raced up my spine.
We were in trouble now. Real trouble.
Chapter Eight
Tarnish Rose
“Minister,” Poppa used his fake smile to greet him, “we were just leaving after a nice dinner with the Tippins. Early morning tomorrow and ration day.”
The minister was quiet as he rounded the table and peered down. “Pie, well that’s quite the treat. Did your wife make it?”
“I did, Minister.” Momma’s voice was proud. “If you’d like to have some extra…”
The minister dredged his finger through the sticky sauce and sucked it off. “No, thank you, this is a common pie. Not bad given the supplies you have to work with, but I throw pie better than this out on a regular basis. Lifetime on the hips, you know.” He laughed and everyone laughed right along with him.
His joke wasn’t funny; Momma’s face reddened with rage and I saw the anger festering, even if she didn’t say anything.
“Not everyone has finished their pie, I’ve noticed. Is there a problem here?”
“Just full, Minister.” Montgomery stepped forward with his hands in his pockets. “Dinner was exceptionally filling.”
“Curious then. Our office has fielded quite a few complaints over the last several weeks about this place. Screaming and crying, lots of crying. I thought I better check it out before I sent the hunters down.”
I glanced at my parents and then at George. The only thing I was thankful for was that my messenger bag was no longer hot and a quick check revealed that it was no longer glowing. I breathed a sigh of relief at that even as Mr. and Mrs. Tippin’s faces showed unbridled terror.
“The hunters?” Mrs. Tippin said. “Well, that’s unnecessary. We’re fine.”
The minister grumbled under his breath as he touched Mrs. Tippin’s cheek to turn her face and spotted a purple bruise. He left her without a word and headed for Mr. Tippin then tapped the man’s bruised knuckles. “Doesn’t look so fine to me, Mr. Tippin. Keep order in your house any way you like, but when people start to complain, we have to take stock in what’s being said. If you can’t control your wife…”
My eyebrows netted closer together as Mrs. Tippin covered her mouth to silence a sob. “She’s standing right there. She’s a person and not something you can just shut up,” I said.
The minister quickly turned toward me and Momma hissed, “Abby!”
“Did I hear you right, Abby? Did you speak out of turn?”
I took a deep breath and stood straighter. “Yes, but poor Mrs. Tippin—”
“She’s hysterical, all right?” Montgomery said getting between me and the minister. “My wife is always crying, always emotional and ranting on about me and life and our boy. She’s unhinged, Minister.”
“Father,” George’s voice rose sharply, and his eyebrows followed suit. “Please—”
“How could you?” Mrs. Tippin whispered. “How could you, Montgomery!” She picked up the dirty knife still lying in the pie plate and charged for her husband.
“No!” I screamed and hid my eyes as Poppa pulled me away to safety, but he hadn’t needed to. The minister grabbed Mrs. Tippin’s arm before she reached her husband. The blue glow around his eyes intensified and shone so bright that I could barely look at them, but Mrs. Tippin fell under his spell. The knife slipped from her hands, her eyes rolled back and her mouth fell open.
A second later, she collapsed onto the ground and two hunters floated inside to collect her body. “Don’t look, Abby, don’t look!” Momma pulled me and Poppa toward the wall for safety and I stared numbly as the hunters gathered up Mrs. Tippin and then the three of them vanished before our eyes.
“Mother!” George screamed and scrambled to the spot where she had been. “Mother!”
Gone. Just like that. My heart broke for him and I ached to race to his side.
The minister sighed as he tipped his hat at all of us. “A sad state of affairs when one so young must be forgotten, but the female mind is a frail thing.”
Frail? She hadn’t been frail. Once she had been strong, brave, and Montgomery had beaten it from her. I moved to speak but Momma tightened her grip around me.
“Very frail, minister,” Montgomery mumbled, staring down at the ground where his wife had been.
The minister quietly bid us all a good evening. “See to it that you get home before curfew,” he said to us right before he left and shut the door behind him.
The silence hanging over us was angry and uncomfortable, like a thick cloud of mourning. “Mother!” George screamed and fell to his knees where she had last been. I moved to go to him, but Momma stopped me, wrapping her arms around me.
“This is your fault,” she accused Montgomery with a flare of her nostrils and a stab of her finger. “You made life hard for your wife and you have cursed our children’s union. You’ve cursed it!”
Poppa opened the door and ushered us out, but I strained my head back at the fallen figure of George, crying on the ground. I needed to stay with him. I had to make him understand it’d be okay, that we’d get through this. We could get through anything.
“George!”
I called back to him just as Mr. Tippin slammed the door in our faces.
Crestfallen, I gazed up at my father with bitter eyes. I cried without realizing I had done it and Poppa held my head to his chest. “Easy now,” he said gently, “we have to keep moving. The eyes watch everywhere.”
Even where the hunters weren’t, your own people were willing to report you to the ministers. What kind of person would report poor Mrs. Tippin to the Minister of City Affairs?
Could it have been her own husband? I had to wonder, but what could I do about it? I was powerless and nothing more than a kid. Now more than ever, I ached to be alone in my sleeping nook, able to disappear inside the words of a book and never come back.
****
“Abigail, we need to talk about this,” Poppa said as I ran into the shop ahead of him. By the time I was in the center of the room, he’d drawn the shades down.
“Talk about what? Mrs. Tippin is gone for good. They made her a forgotten right in front of us. Just like that.”
“And you know what that means?” Momma asked as she lit the candles on the countertop. “You must tell us what that means, Abby.”
I shrugged. “I know what it means. We aren’t to talk of her. Aren’t to reference her. Even George…she’s his mother and now he has to pretend she doesn’t exist? How is that fair?”
“The ministers are not fair,” Poppa said and sucked on his bottom lip so it disappeared completely behind his mustache, “but they protect society. They keep us forging forward so we all survive and the weak…the weak…don’t make me say it, Abby.”
I stood my ground and my nose flared. “The weak don’t matter? The weak have to be eliminated for the good of society? But what about their families? What about us?”
“Us?” Momma asked.
“Your back hurts. Some mornings you can barely walk. What if someone finds out? What if someone sees? How can sending people we love away be better for society?”
They exchanged uneasy glances and I snorted with anger. “I might be young, but I have come of age, and you can’t hide these things from me. I see the pain and I see the fear. I know the worry because I feel it, too! I see the way you hold hands when you think no one is looking and I hear Momma call out in pain when she’s alone and thinks no one hears her whimpers,” as I said it, my lip quivered.
