It was a sad history. The women of my mother’s family had many children and only a few of them made it to adulthood. My mother had ten siblings, and only she and her sister Amanda survived. So many deaths in just one family. I can’t imagine the heartache and sorrow the families must have lived with. The last two entries were of my mother’s marriage to Eugene Seagar and my birth.
I’m leafing through the pages of the Old Testament until I come to the story of Abraham and Isaac. How often had my father told me this story? Was it to scare me? If so, mission accomplished. The God of the Old Testament petrifies me. Always has done. He is cruel, unforgiving, bloodthirsty, and unjust. I turn the page but the words in front of me dance off the page when I hear the door slam downstairs. Not much longer and they’ll take me away.
Am I the sacrifice God demanded from my parents? I am too bad. That’s what my parents always said. Too sinful. No matter how hard I tried to do the right thing, I was too a lot of things. How can a three-year-old or four-year-old child be sinful? It doesn’t make sense. I hear a tune in the back of my mind.
Ring-a-ring o’Roses a pocket full of posies
I look down on the scars on my arms. For most of them, I don’t remember how they came about. Some come with an image of a hand wielding a sharp razor blade.
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
I must be like one of those cars that are damaged so much they end up as scrap metal rather than being fixed.
We all fall down.
The book slips out of my hands and lands with a loud thud on the carpet. The leather dust cover loosens and reveals a piece of paper that peeks out from the spine. I freeze and hold my breath. My blood is hammering in my ears. Like a puppet on a string, I bend down and pick up the book.
I pry the brittle paper from the spine and unfold it. Air whooshes out of my lungs as I finally remember to breathe again. The big, bold letters of the document dance in front of my eyes, form words, and, like a couple dancing the minuet, drift apart again before I can grasp their meaning.
The last thing I remember is someone putting a warm blanket around my shoulders.
That’s nice. I needed that.
Chapter Three
Ama: 17 November 2015, The Tree House
I pity people who don’t have an inside house. By inside I mean, inside your mind. A castle or fortress that only exists in your head. To go there you only have to close your eyes. Our inside house is a tree house. In it, Ama rules. Ama, that’s me.
I have a set of non-negotiable rules for our tree house. After all, it’s our home, our safe place. You’ll find it on no map and there is no street leading up to it. You may say it’s make-believe. Maybe so, but it doesn’t mean it’s any less ideal for us. It keeps us safer than any outside house ever could, because nobody but us can enter. There is enough disorder in our outside world that we have no control over, so we have a few simple rules that are law here:
Number one: there is no fighting in here.
Number two: respect for each other.
Number three: during a lockdown, everyone stays in their room.
It looks like we are about to employ rule number three soon. Sky, Lilly, and Phoenix have called a meeting and are waiting in the common room for us.
Our common room is in the center of the tree house and sits on top of the huge trunk, like a cork on a bottle. From here steps and swing bridges lead to the rooms in the higher branches of the tree. A spiral staircase leads down to the foot of the tree and the only door to the outside world. We don’t have to walk down the staircase every time we leave the tree house and enter the body. That would be hideous. We only need to think where we want to go and there we are. It’s the platinum version of “beam-me-up-Scottie.”
Before we found our tree house we lived in shadowy no-mans-land-like elaborate catacombs. Maddie found the tree house one night when she was attacked and had nowhere to go. To begin with, our house was simple and barren. Now it’s beautiful and well thought out. Luke, our man about the house, worked hard to make life easier and took ideas for more comfort from watching The Swiss Family Robinson.
Now, the floor of the common room is made of beautifully polished wood and covered in pillows, blankets, and soft toys. When you have as many little ones as we do, you need lots of soft toys. Everything oozes warmth and comfort. At the opposite end from the staircase is an open fireplace, surrounded by hand-hewn schist stone.
Most days I’m sitting in my supersize armchair and knit. Although we live in a place of moderate weather—I’m always telling the Tribe our winter is like a bad summer in Europe—winter mornings can be chilly, and the little ones need warm covers.
Having a warm, inviting place to go to and call ours, has made life a lot easier, especially when the little ones are hurting under the burden of the memories they guard. They need protection and lots of care because without their memories being contained, we can’t function. We have to avoid leakages of memories at all cost. Leaking memories result in self-harm or suicide attempts, leading to hospital admissions and being drugged-out for days, if not weeks.
“Ama, are you ready for the meeting?”
Sky is probably worried we are running out of time. I feel sorry for her. A lot depends on her. In times of crisis, we are the polar opposite. She’s quick and plans several steps ahead, like a good chess player. I am slow and steady, like an elephant taking things one step at a time.
“I’m coming, give me a moment.” I’m looking down at Elise. The poor thing collapsed exhausted on her bed. No wonder after the funeral. I don’t understand why Elise isn’t part of the Tribe. Perhaps it is because she doesn’t want to know about us. This means no place in the tree house for her. I put another pillow at her side and drape a blanket over her. Then I enter our tree house. On my way to the common room, I pull two fighting kids apart and send them to their rooms. Remember, rule number one.
Luke calls me a two-hundred-pound force of nature. One day I’ll catch that cheeky monkey and box his ears. My chances are slim because I’m too slow. By the time I find my glasses, lift my long, black dress and white apron out of the way, and get all my wobbly bits into motion, he’s long gone. I don’t mind my squishy bits much, because they are burrows for the little ones when they need warmth and comfort.
What would you prefer? Two hundred pounds of love or one hundred pounds of love? Sometimes size does matter!
Sky gave me a heads-up earlier and I’ve prepared the Tribe’s favorites—crumpets with butter and tons of peanut butter and jam sandwiches. It should last for a while, at least until we are able to lift the lockdown.
Maddie comes in and hops onto my lap. She leans back and whispers into my ear so loudly, everyone in the big room can hear her.
“I’m still hungery. May I have a thpam thundwich, please?”
I’ve given up teaching Maddie proper English. I guess at the age of four and with two front teeth missing, it’ll only take a few years before she talks like the rest of us. Whether I’ll ever manage to move her past her love for spam is a totally different kettle of fish. Next to chocolate, it has been her favorite food for years now.
“Shh,” I put my index finger to my lips, “Pay attention to what Sky has to say. I’ll bring some sandwiches to your room later.”
Sky is standing in the middle of the common room and holds up a yellowed piece of paper. She looks excited and her positive mood seems to seep into the rest of the Tribe by osmosis. Sky usually operates in the background, like the Morning Star, shining bright, showing us the way. Rarely leaving her place in her room way up in the top of the tree house, she is the keeper of our memories—not the emotions, just the memories. More important, though, she is our moral compass. Everything that is good and honorable in us is coming through her.
“Elise found the deed to a house in the South Island. It belonged to Elizabeth’s aunt. I believe it’s ours now. If I remember right, we spent many summer vacations of our early childhood in that house. Aunt Amanda used to live in it. Who
remembers Auntie Mandy?”
“She was a nice auntie. She sewed a dress for Madeline.” Maddie took her thumb out of her mouth and sniffed as big fat tears ran down her face as she remembers her doll. “I don’t know where Madeline is.”
“We will keep looking for her, sweetie.” Sky took a moment to collect her thoughts again. “Nobody can take the house away from us. It’s on the West Coast of the South Island, close to Port Somers and I don’t know in what kind of shape it is, but it’s ours. We can’t stay here with Helen. Elise overheard Helen saying she’ll send us to a clinic tomorrow. We have no choice but to leave tonight.”
Excitement and fear whirled through the room like tumbleweed chased by gusting winds. Phoenix lifts his hand and strokes his gray beard. He’s our watchman, guarding the tree house. It always amazes me how everybody stops and listens as soon as he speaks. Maybe it has to do with him being the oldest, his unfailing kindness, or the comforting scent of pipe tobacco and coffee that surrounds him.
“It will be a total lockdown, that means, you have to be quiet like little mice and stay in your rooms. Elise is sleeping at the bottom of the tree house. We can’t have her waking up. She could spoil everything and give our plan away. We will be in lockdown until we are in the new place. It’ll take a long time. More than one day and one night. Sky, Luke, and Lilly will make sure we get there safely. I’ll be standing watch.”
Phoenix lets his gaze wander over our motley crowd. His eyes turn soft. He loves the kids. Always has, and we all love him for it in return. He’s the closest to a granddad they’ll ever have. It’s because of him that the kids don’t go into a panic every time we meet a grown man.
My gaze swings from Sky to Luke. “If we move to a new home, we need to take as many of our things as we can fit into the van. I assume we can’t come back and take the things we didn’t pack. Everything from the tree house comes automatically. What do we take from Elise’s room and the rest of the outside house? We are taking the van, aren’t we?”
“We are. I don’t want to risk waking Helen, so we have to get away quickly and make no noise. I don’t know how much we can take with us.”
Sky sounded tired. I’ve never seen her involving herself in our activities. Usually, she is the mastermind in the background. That she joins us today indicates how serious our situation is. She’s just not built for active duty. This must be a big stretch for her and a strain on her energy. I want to take as many burdens as possible off her shoulders.
“Leave it to me. I know what’s important. Mainly clothes and papers. I’ll see what else I find.” I was about to leave when I remembered something odd. “I caught Horace stashing away a stack of dollar notes in a shoebox in his bedroom. He thought I was asleep. We should get it, don’t you think?”
Lilly clapped. “Super. We’ll get it on our way out if it’s still there. I’ll disarm the alarm and make sure we get away without any detection.”
I’m glad I remembered the money. It’s not easy to keep track of everything but I do all I can to keep the body and the Tribe well cared for. It includes having the means to buy food. That’s my job, and I take it very seriously as if my life depended on it.
It’s time. I push all the kids into their rooms and then make my way to Elise. We can’t afford to forget important things in the rush to leave the house. We only have this one chance.
Sky says it’s the looney bin for us if we get caught. We can’t let that happen. Every time we end up in a mental facility our spirit shines a little less bright until finally, I am certain, the light will go out. Like every other human being, we cannot prosper without love and recognition. Neither is given in mental hospitals. How do I know? I lived through it every time we were admitted.
How often have I been at a point where I thought, I can’t do it anymore; but I pick up the pieces anyway and nurture our broken spirit back to something resembling normality? After each hospital admission, bouncing back becomes that little bit harder. Each time I have to dig deeper to find strength and hope.
When it comes down to it, we don’t have a choice other than being strong. That pretty much sums up our life.
I tiptoe through the room and get Elise’s backpack and two large sports bags out of the cupboard. Identification, personal papers, the computer, books, clothing… what else? I stop at her table and admire the new wall hanging she’s working on. There is no question; her ten-by-fifteen-inch weaving frame and her wool have to come to. Elise could earn good money selling her woven artwork. She has an amazing eye for colors and textures.
There is a still lot of room in the bags. It will be hard for Elise to leave a place that has been her home for twenty years. For most of the little ones, it wouldn’t make much difference. They live in the past, the time of their creation, and hardly ever leave the tree house. What happens in the outside world and that they live in the body of an adult woman, is something they don’t comprehend.
For us older ones who spend a lot of time in the body and interact with the outside world, it’s much harder. None of us deal well with change. If I’m honest, we are terrible at it. Because we spend only fragments of time in the body, we must be quick on our feet and good at hiding our confusion.
Like the time I was in the grocery store and a woman I’ve never met asks me when the next meeting is. I had no idea what she was talking about and, even though my mind raced, I couldn’t find the information. Yes, we all learned to cover these gaps. We had to. In the end, I acted shocked and told her I’d totally forgot. Living in a stable, predictable environment makes it so much easier to function well.
It’s already late, or better, early in the morning. I do a last mental check through the house. Nothing outside Elise’s room holds much meaning for us. We have to take food and water from the kitchen on our way out, but that’s all I can think of. Sky decided we wouldn’t leave before two in the morning to be sure Helen was fast asleep. That gives me an hour to look for other things to pack.
I spy the old family bible in the corner. Unlike our ancestors, the Tribe has a conflicted relationship with the gospel. I, however, like reading the bible and immerse myself in the life and the work of Jesus. His wisdom and selflessness touch me and gives me guidance and hope for our life. I could start reading to the children from it. With this plan in mind, the bible is stowed away with the other books we love.
Elise will be surprised the bible found its way to our new home but I’m not worried. It’ll be nothing new for Elise to find stuff in her cupboards she doesn’t remember buying. Lilly, Lizette, and Tobias are our shopaholics. I could tell stories, like when Tobias came home from shopping with fire-engine-red board shorts for a six-year-old boy. Elise got into real trouble when Helen demanded to know what she’d bought them for. Poor thing didn’t have the faintest clue. To my surprise, she recovered quickly and told Helen they were a present for one of the women in her weaving group.
I had to take my hat off, even though I don’t wear hats. I wear a white cotton cap. That was the first time I noticed how quick-witted Elise can be.
“Don’t forget the chargers for the phone and the computer,” Luke said, lifting his head from the big scale road map of New Zealand. I join him and, after a quick glance, feel daunted by our plan. We live at the upper end of the North Island and have to travel across Cook Strait by boat. Keeping lock-down for that long will take a lot of effort. Should we take calming stuff? I’m in two minds about the pills.
“Sky, what about meds? Do we need to take them along?”
“Absolutely. We need them as a backup should we run into problems,” Sky called out and turned back to Lilly. I hear them talking in the background trying to figure out why Helen is so keen to send Elise away.
“I thought the house belongs to Horace and should go to Elise as his widow. Maybe Helen wants to make sure she doesn’t end up empty-handed. I wouldn’t put it past her.” Sometimes Lilly’s suspiciousness can be a bit much, but today I agree with her. Helen’s sudden decision to send us awa
y is odd, to say the least. I sense her mind running a search program for possible explanations. She paces the room and then stops.
“Something the doctor said didn’t make sense. What do you think he meant by saying, “…the instructions were always to keep an eye on her? Whose instructions? What is going on?”
“I don’t know, Lilly. All I know is we need to get away before the morning breaks. Once we are safe, we’ll find out what is going on. My energy is slipping. I need to rest before we leave. Can I trust you guys to get everything ready?”
“Of course, you can.” Lilly and I answer at the same time. I hope I put enough optimism into my voice. If Sky is asking for time out, she is in worse shape than I thought. After she leaves the room, Lilly and Luke bend over their to-do list.
“I’m worried.” I immediately regret having said anything as I see Lilly dropping her shoulders.
“We all are, Ama. So much depends on us getting away. I wish I knew where Horace keeps important papers. I have so many questions. What happened to the house we lived in before Elise’s parents died? Didn’t they have any money and other stuff? Where did it all go? I thought they had tons of money. I wouldn’t be surprised if Horace Reid, the slimeball, had his dirty little fingers in that particular pie as well.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
“You are already a big help by keeping the little ones comfortable. Luke and I will take care of our getaway. It shouldn’t be a problem as long as things are quiet in here.” Lilly smiles at me and then her attention returns to Luke. For a brief moment, I feel lost until my eye catches a small wooden box on Elise’s nightstand. Her jewelry. She hasn’t got much, but she’ll appreciate it if I pack them too.
Girl From the Tree House Page 3
