by Dara Girard
There was so much about life she didn’t know. Her schooling had stopped at the fifth grade and there was so much about technology she wasn’t aware of. She learned about a new digital way to listen to music, how phones now acted like computers, and Evelyn patiently taught her,
extending her lessons from book learning to daily life.
“You dress for where you want to go, not where you are,” Evelyn said when she’d taken Catherine shopping for a new outfit. “My aunty taught me that.”
And Catherine soaked it all in for the following two years until Evelyn no longer had to correct her grammar. And although Catherine could never help them win quiz night at the local pub, she was able to manage the household expenses and also helped Grace make side money selling her delicious tea cakes and showed Orla how to cut her interest rate on a credit card. She’d perfected her new manner so well that soon the sisters were mistaking her for Evelyn even more.
“Oh there you are, Evelyn,” Orla said from the couch when she saw Catherine walking past. She lay on her back with a towel across her forehead. “Could you go into town and get me something? I’ve got a headache.”
“But I’m not—”
“I know you’re busy, but I need it.” She handed her the money, then closed her eyes. Catherine sighed. It wasn’t any use telling her she wasn’t Evelyn. She could do the errand anyway. But when she went into town, she was surprised by how many people mistook her for her friend and she didn’t try to correct them. She accepted the smiles and waves with aplomb, perfecting her friend’s gestures and voice. People addressed her with respect even though she was in service.
When she returned and handed Orla the pain medicine, she was actually shocked that no one had caught on to her little deception. When she told Evelyn later that day while in Evelyn’s small kitchen, her friend laughed.
“They really thought you were me?” she said.
“Yes.”
“Well, I can’t blame them. We do look alike.” The kettle boiled just as they heard the mail carrier slide the mail through the letterbox. “Go get that for me,” she said, grabbing two cups from the cupboard.
Catherine got the mail and handed it to her.
Evelyn sorted through it then stopped and opened one letter. She read it, then paled.
“What is it?” Catherine asked.
She touched her mouth with trembling fingers. “I almost can’t believe it.”
“What?”
She fell into the chair. “I’ve found my family. But my grandfather’s died. I knew he was sick, but I’d hoped to get a chance to meet him. I’d wanted to know him better. It says he’s left me money in a trust. I don’t know anything about money. Good manners and decorum sure, but trusts and annuities and equity are lost on me. “
“I can explain anything you need.”
“Yes, you’re clever with numbers, aren’t you?”
Catherine flashed a quick smile, not feeling particular clever at all. She had learned that Evelyn had been raised by her aunt when her mother passed and that she’d never known her father or his side of the family, but Catherine hadn’t known her friend had been searching for them.
“I got notice that someone was looking for me online. I’d signed up to a website for people looking for their birth parents. I didn’t tell you because…I didn’t want to be disappointed. I’ve been so before. I tentatively believed that I could be his daughter, but now this has confirmed it. The DNA results says there’s a match.”
Catherine hugged her. “I’m so happy for you.” She sat back down. “What happens now?”
“He and his wife want me to live with them. They live in the States, Virginia I think, and…my father’s very well off.” She hurried and got some pictures. “That’s him and his wife. They didn’t have any children so they really want to get to know me.”
Catherine plastered on a smile. She’d be sad to see her friend go; she was a bright spot in her life. She envied her having a family that wanted her. “I’ll miss you.”
“Why?” She grinned. “Through emails I’ve told them about you…no, not everything,” she quickly said when Catherine looked worried. “Just that you’re a dear friend of mine. I plan to take you with me.” She hesitated. “That’s if you want to go.”
“Of course, but I cannot go.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have any legal papers.”
“I already thought of your situation and spoke to Grace. She contacted her son for help and he told her of a friend who works with asylum seekers and could provide you with the necessary papers—for a price. I know with one word I can get my father to pay since I want to have you as my companion and plan to have him sponsor you.”
“This is incredible.”
“No, it’s an opportunity. Are you ready to seize it?”
Catherine bit her lip. She’d return to America illegally, but she was willing to take the chance. “Yes.”
“Then it’s all settled. We’re going to America!”
She could hardly sleep. She would be going to America again. And not just anywhere in America, but Virginia. A state right next to Maryland. Home was within reach. But then again, home didn’t exist anymore. America wouldn’t be what she’d remembered, and she wouldn’t see her mother again or meet her half-brother, but it was still a chance to get closer to planning the best way to get back at her sisters. That desire burned brighter in her heart every day.
It was hard for Grace and Orla to lose them both, but to make it up to them, Evelyn treated them to a nice meal at a cozy restaurant hours before they were to leave for the airport. At the end of the meal, Catherine went to the toilet, not knowing how long the drive would be to the airport. When she returned to the table, she found it empty then spotted Evelyn’s wallet on the seat. She’d clearly forgotten to return it to her handbag after paying. Catherine slipped it into her coat pocket, then met the three women in the front of the restaurant where Grace and Orla offered them a teary farewell, telling them to keep in touch. Catherine hugged both women, unable to tell them how dear they would be to her always. One day she hoped to repay their kindness.
Moments later, Evelyn and Catherine waved to them from the taxi as it took them to the airport and a brand new life.
30
Roberta Holloway hated the world and didn’t care who knew it. She hated that she’d gotten fired from her job. She’d done her best, right? Could she help it that she’d missed a bunch of days? It’s not like she did it on purpose, life just happened. Going to a doctor’s visit was important, right? But noooo, her ass of a boss just wanted to get rid of her. And her parents kept at her because they thought she was shiftless. But she wasn’t. She knew what she wanted, it was just hard to get it. Things weren’t as easy for her as it had been for them.
Was it wrong to ask for their help? She said she’d pay them back. Okay, sure she hadn’t been able to for the last several loans, but that wasn’t her fault. Bloody hell. It wasn’t easy to find a place or get a job and now she’d lost another one. But that wasn’t the worse. Lance was a true git and she still loved him.
Roberta stumbled from the pub and got into her car. Sod the world. Why was it against her? She’d been a good student. One of the brightest and all her hard work had come to naught.
She pressed her foot hard on the gas, imagining it was Lance’s slut of a fling—Veronica. Did he really expect her to believe there wasn’t something going on between them? That cow. She knew she’d had eyes for her man, but she didn’t think she’d go for it in the flat they shared.
Roberta drove blinded by rage, blinded by pain, blinded by alcohol. When she crashed into the taxi when she sped through a red light, she was blinded by the impact of the crash.
31
They were calling her Evelyn again. She needed to correct them, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Catherine opened her eyes and saw a sterile white ceiling. What had happened? She remembered waving goodbye, laughing with Evelyn in the taxi as they made pla
ns. She thought of how it would feel to be on an airplane again, to finally fly away from all her misery and then...and then...
Why couldn’t she remember? What was she doing here? Why were they calling her Evelyn?
“Yes, yes, she’s opening her eyes,” someone said then the voice faded away.
Soon later, or was it days later, she wasn’t sure, she heard someone talking to her softly, saw hazy figures in white before they drifted away as well.
When she opened her eyes again, the room seemed brighter than before and not as sterile.
“My dear, we were so worried,” an older woman with cream colored skin and dangling gold earrings said holding her hand.
Where am I? she wanted to ask, but couldn’t. The woman answered her silent question anyway.
“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been unconscious. There was a terrible accident. A drink driver was going too fast. You were lucky to survive.”
A terrible accident? Was Evelyn all right? She had to tell them.
“I’m afraid your little companion didn’t make it.”
Her little companion? She didn’t have one...she was supposed to be Evelyn’s companion, not…For a moment her mind stopped working as if it couldn’t process information it didn’t want to hear. They thought she was Evelyn so that meant Catherine was dead. But she was Catherine so that only meant...no there had to be a mistake. Only a moment ago they’d been so happy. Evelyn couldn’t be dead. She was young, beautiful, but most of all her friend.
“Your father stopped in to see you, but had to travel back to the States for business. I’ve stayed behind to sort things out. Don’t you worry. We’ll take care and make sure she’s buried properly since she meant so much to you.”
The woman’s voice was so soothing and kind, but the tenderness didn’t belong to her. It belonged to Evelyn, who’d never get to feel this woman’s touch. Never get to know the family that had searched so long to find her.
They thought she was Evelyn. Should she tell them the truth? If she did, then she’d have to go back to working for Grace and Orla. It wasn’t a terrible life, but it would be harder without Evelyn. But it would be truthful. She shouldn’t steal what wasn’t hers. Catherine would never have such an elegant room, she would never have kind people by her side. But Evelyn did. Evelyn had a family and a future that Catherine didn’t. Being Evelyn would be advantageous. But could she pull it off? Could she really fool them? If they found out about her deception, the penalty could be steep.
But this is your chance to be free! A little voice said. This is your chance, your only chance don’t waste it. They’ll take you to America!
“Evelyn, are you okay? Is there anything I can get you?”
Catherine slowly shook her head, a tear sliding down her face as she squeezed the woman’s hand, grasping onto her new identity.
They both deserved a better goodbye.
Evelyn deserved a lot more tears at her passing. She didn’t deserve the empty pews and scarce guests that came to the funeral in the village church. This was the end her sisters had wanted for her. They’d wanted her buried in foreign soil and forgotten. This was how they had wanted to destroy her.
And anger filled her heart until Catherine saw that Grace and Orla had shown up, and listened to the kind things they’d said. There had also been some regulars from the pub, the local librarian who’d helped her find plenty of books, and the grocer.
But in her mind she imagined a different kind of funeral. One where all of Evelyn’s favorite songs where played, a poem read, her life remembered. She would not take it for granted. She silently vowed. She would live for both of them.
After she’d gotten retribution. But today she didn’t want to think about the past. Just the bittersweet present and the reality that in all her small and simple ways, Catherine had mattered to those who had come out to say goodbye and it was a treasure to know that in a tiny pocket of the world she would be missed.
Catherine glanced up and saw Orla looking at her strangely, her dark gaze intent. When their eyes met, the older woman’s widened a bit in recognition. Catherine felt her heart start to race. Maybe she’d imagined it. Orla couldn’t know the difference. She’d never been able to tell before. Catherine had made sure to mimic Evelyn’s manner and tone. But Orla had gotten to know them for more than two years. Did she really know? Catherine glanced at her new mother, Vera Doran, and her assistant. Her new father, Noah, had called to see if she was okay. Would Orla tell them? Even if she didn’t mean to, would she accidentally slip and ruin everything? Would this opportunity slip through her fingers?
At the end of the service, Orla approached her outside the funeral home doors Catherine waited, not moving, barely breathing. Orla held out an earring. “You dropped this,” she said.
Catherine touched her ear and realized that she had dropped it. “Oh thank you.”
“No, let me do it,” she said putting the earring back in place. “You were always so particular about your appearance.”
Catherine just smiled, not knowing what move to make.
Orla hugged her, then whispered, “You also have pierced ears.”
Catherine swallowed. Yes, that’s right! She wore clip-ons while Evelyn didn’t. She’d forgotten that.
Orla drew back and smiled. “Good bye and good luck.”
Part III
Freedom
32
Maryland
He knew he was holding up the line, but he still couldn’t move. Jason Redmon stared at the selection of choices before him in a state of panic, sweat glistening on his brow, his heart beating fast as he gripped the tray in his hands. He had to just answer one simple question: “What do you want?” but it felt monumental. In prison he never had that choice, he just took whatever was given to him. And he’d dreamed of a day like this when he could get anything he wanted, but he didn’t know how to handle it. His mind blank, his tongue as heavy as lead in his mouth.
“Sir?”
“He’ll have number three,” an authoritative female voice said. “Correct?” she asked, turning to him. He nodded before glancing up at the choices and reading what number three was—roasted chicken and mashed potatoes. That sounded good and her question sounded more like a demand anyway. The black woman who had ordered for him was dressed in a striking dark suit and had black hair with golden brown highlights. She didn’t look much younger than him, although for the past two years he felt he’d aged decades. She also ordered his side dishes and drink. With his tray now heavy with food, he released a sigh of relief. Now if he could just eat and not think—
“Sir, you have to pay for that,” the cashier said, when Jason headed for the seats.
He nodded then went into the line, his heart pounding. He’d forgotten that he had to pay. He hoped they didn’t think he was trying to steal anything. He checked around for a guard ready to take him aside and…
“That will be—” the cashier began.
“Add it to mine,” the same authoritative voice interrupted.
“No, that’s okay.” He reached for his wallet, knowing exactly what was inside--two ten dollar bills, five quarters, six dimes, three pennies and a nickel.
“Put it away,” she said without looking at him.
He hesitated, then did so.
Once she’d finished paying she said, “Follow me.”
He didn’t dare refuse her. He didn’t want to cause trouble. He just wanted to eat and start feeling human again. He sat down and focused on his tray. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He lifted up his fork and ate, making sure to keep his gaze down. Even though he wouldn’t mind looking at her some more, since she was pretty and he hadn’t been with a woman in a while, but she wasn’t to know that. No one was to know anything. Keep yourself to yourself. That’s how he’d survived inside. He didn’t make eye contact, he didn’t make any fast movements, he didn’t cause trouble.
“So how long has it been?” she said. “A day or t
wo?”
He focused on his peas. He couldn’t believe how green and fresh they were. Real green, not tin green. “What?”
“I know how hard it is. Decision fatigue is real, especially when you’ve been out only a few days.”
He didn’t move. She knew. How could she know? He’d spent the last couple days trying his best to appear normal. Although he’d bathed three times, never feeling clean enough, as if the stench of prison clung to his skin. He’d come to this office park to see how much money was left in his bank account. He didn’t have much. Did she want something else from him?
“No,” she said as if reading his mind.
He quickly glanced up in surprise then lowered his gaze again. “Almost three days.”
“You’re doing fine.”
He felt his cheeks burning, but pretended he was in control. He sat a little straighter and glanced at her again, counting the seconds—one, two, three—before he lowered his gaze again. “You’ve been inside too?”
“Let’s just say I’ve escaped a different type of prison.”
He didn’t ask. He’d learned early not to ask too many questions. You didn’t ask why someone was in or anything about their past unless they told you.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
For a second he almost gave her his prison number, then realized he wasn’t that anymore. Damn, he actually had a name again. A name he could use. “Jason Redmon.”
“I’m Evelyn Williams and I need you to do me a favor.”
He knew it. She was after something. “What?”
“Look at me.”
He pushed his peas around. “I’m sure you don’t need me to do that.”
“But I do.”
“That’s your only favor?”
“For right now.”
