by Sandra Smith
Clare’s finger shot to her lips. In a flash, Rose was at their table, pulling up a chair.
“Whatch’all talkin’ about?”
“School,” all three answered at once.
“School? Huh. It looked like you were real excited.”
Ana turned to look Rose full in the face. “Of course they were excited. They are learning new things, and that’s always exciting. Isn’t it, children?” she said, looking at the others. They smiled and agreed.
“Hmph,” said Rose. “My school is boring.”
Just then, the adult volunteer who had been helping Rose called to her; Rose skipped away.
“That was a close one,” Clare observed.
“She’s kind of nosy,” said Lily. “I like her okay, but sometimes she’s annoying.”
Ana chuckled. “Rose is all right, but it’s best we keep our secret in a small circle for now.”
The children opened their textbooks and pretended to do schoolwork while Ana taught them more about what to expect from various seeds. Later, she gave the girls information about other Seed Savers, instructing them to keep the information secure in two different locations.
When it was at last time to return home, the kids had a hard time letting Ana go.
“It was so nice today, just like old times,” Clare said. “Are you sure you can’t come again?” She smiled weakly, hoping to change Ana’s mind, but knowing there was no chance.
“No, Clare. It’s for the best. And school will be out soon, anyway. Tutoring session will end. I’ll be at church. Let’s slip each other little notes now and then on Sundays.”
Ana hugged each child goodbye while Rose looked on enviously.
19
SUMMER BREAK
It was July. School had been out for a month and the children had never experienced a more interesting summer. Gardening presented them with a purpose; something to look forward to every day. The once tiny tomato plant was bigger than they’d imagined possible. What started out as lemon yellow flowers, then small green marbles, were now sizable round fruit. So far, there were six tomatoes, and the plant kept getting bigger, kept making more yellow flowers.
The carrots, as well, had prospered. The children pulled up a few in curious wonder to help “thin” the crop, as they’d read about. Being small, the seedlings were not much to eat, but it was exciting, nonetheless, to consume something they had planted.
The carrots had a strong earthy flavor, with a hint of sweetness. Dante especially liked how the tiny roots crunched. The children wished they could eat the green part, and nibbled at it. However, there wasn’t anything in the books about how to eat the tops, so they left them on the grass.
Clare and Ana continued to see each other and pass notes on Sundays. One day, Clare found a map in her prayer book. Do not use this unless something happens, the words at the bottom of the page read. Though I’d love to show you everything, we simply cannot risk it. Closer study revealed one side to be a street map directing how to get to Ana’s house from St. Vincent’s, while the second side mapped the interior of her home, revealing hidden places with additional seeds and books. It was tempting to want to hop on the bikes and ride out of town in search of Ana’s place. But the kids knew better. GRIM still tailed them occasionally.
As the summer days stretched long as taffy, the children busily studied the books in their care. Lily, the artist of the group, was already making plans for next year.
“Next year,” she said, from her place under the maple tree, “we simply must plant radishes and lettuce. Everything I’ve read indicates that these plants are easy to grow. And they were eaten raw in a dish called ‘salad.’ It sounds very healthy. Kind of like Vitees, only in their natural form.”
“And where are you going to plant all this?” asked Clare.
“I think we could do it where the carrots are, or even those dead patches in the lawn. Or else in that empty lot.” She pointed to the lot across the alley. “We could plant stuff inside those old tires. Nobody would know the difference. Look.” She held out her sketchpad. Lily had drawn a complete plan of her would-be garden. Peas, it read. Beans, squash, potatoes.
“Wow,” said Dante. “I like it.”
“You know,” said Clare. “Ana told us about this once, remember? She said she used to plant around town after they raided her place that time. That she would sometimes scatter seed as she fed the birds. Especially when the seed was getting old. She said almost always something came up, and hardly ever was anything confiscated by GRIM. Sometimes they don’t even recognize vegetable plants out in nature.”
Lily nodded. “We’ll be ready. We have all year to study and plan. And next year,” she patted her sketchpad, “next year, here we come.”
20
AN EMPTY SEAT
Clare and Dante missed the last Sunday service in July. It was day five of an extreme heat wave and Mama had had enough; she was taking the family to the reservoir for a swim and that was that. They wanted a good spot, so church would be missed. The children didn’t think much about it. Church seemed less relevant in summer. If God was found in nature, then being in nature was being close to God.
The reservoir, of course, was crowded. For the briefest moment in between water exploits, Clare’s mind flitted to St. Vincent’s and Ana. I bet the church is empty, she thought. Although she was glad to be in the cool water and open air rather than a dark, stuffy church, she felt a little sad. A splash in the face brought her back to the moment, however, and off she ran chasing Dante.
The following Sunday, Clare and Dante were bursting with anticipation. Two of the tomatoes were beginning to turn color. Not red, but a lighter green—almost a yellowing—as the green tomatoes began to ripen toward the inevitable, final red. They couldn’t wait to tell Ana the news. As they walked to church, they decided they would sit closer to her than usual. No note passing this time; they would tell her face to face, if only in a whisper.
“Remember that first day? The day we blessed and planted the seeds?” Over and over they spoke of the many firsts as they walked.
“Can you wait to eat a tomato?” Dante asked. He laughed right out loud. “It’s too bad we can’t tell Mama.”
“I know,” said Clare. “But it’s better this way. She would worry if she thought we might get in trouble. And she would wonder where we got the tomato plant. Knowing Mama, she’d squeeze the truth out of us, and that wouldn’t be good for Ana.”
“Yeah,” Dante said, kicking a tin can, “but I bet she’d like it, you know, if it weren’t for those other things.”
“Yes, she probably would. She was always trying to grow things when we first moved here.”
The children arrived at the aging cathedral and walked in quickly. They were surprised they got there before Ana; Clare thought they were running late. They took their seats and waited. Dante turned his head often, looking for Ana. The organ began to play. Clare glanced around. The children exchanged worried looks. Ana’s place in the pew remained empty.
Father Williams preached his sermon, but Clare didn’t hear it. She mouthed the words of the hymns and prayers, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The entire service passed and Ana never came. For awhile, Clare had willed herself to believe that Ana had arrived late and was sitting somewhere in the back, out of their sight. But when it was time to leave, she had to admit the truth: Ana was nowhere to be found.
Clare and Dante spoke to no one; they hurried out of the church and across the parking lot.
“Clare,” Dante finally said. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. Ana has never missed a Sunday.”
“Maybe she’s sick,” Dante suggested.
“Yeah, maybe.”
They walked in silence the remainder of the way home, each thinking their own thoughts about why Ana had not been in church. The can Dante had been playfully kicking earlier lay flattened on the road.
Later that afternoon, Clare rode her bike to Lily’s place. It was in
her mind to use the secret map to find Ana’s house and make sure everything was all right.
“She’s only missed one day,” Lily reasoned. “I don’t think that’s an emergency.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m overreacting. But we weren’t in church last week—Mama took us to the reservoir. We don’t know if it’s only been this one Sunday or not.” She paused. “Lily, do the GRIM people still watch you?”
“No,” Lily said. “They never watch me. You mean you still see them?”
“Yeah, I still see them sometimes. I always check.”
“I don’t pay that much attention,” said Lily. “But I don’t think they do.”
“Well, be careful, Lily Gardener,” Clare said with a sly smile, “the future depends on you.”
“Aye aye, Cap’n,” she answered with her own smile and a salute.
After that, the girls rode around town, pointing out places they imagined they’d purloin for next year’s crop. Ending at Clare’s, they sat on the stoop awhile, talking about future harvests, and quizzing each other on the knowledge gleaned daily from the banned books they dutifully ingested.
Clare sighed heavily. “I really wanted to tell Ana about the tomato.”
“Yeah, and the days pass so slowly in summer,” Lily said. “Sunday will take forever to roll around.”
Mama opened the door behind them. “Are you two moaning about how bored you are again? Clare, I think you’ve forgotten that I signed you and Dante up for tech camp this week.”
“Oh, that’s right. Dante and I have day camp all week. Are you going, Lily?”
“Nah,” she said, “too expensive.”
21
BROKEN ENTRY
Sunday never did roll around. It was Tuesday that forever changed the lives of the children.
As always, Clare and Dante were expected to transport themselves to and from camp. Though tech camp helped pass the time, they both thought gardening camp would have been immensely more interesting.
Arriving home after a day of inventing gadgets from garbage, the first thing Clare noticed was that the front door wasn’t locked. Mama shouldn’t have been home yet, and she never left the door open. Clare walked slowly into the kitchen.
“Mama,” she called, nudging herself in front of her little brother.
No one answered. “Mama?” she called again, louder.
“Mama,” Dante cried, running from room to room.
Clare caught him by the shoulder. “She’s not here. I think someone else has been here. But I think they’re gone now,” she whispered.
“Should we call the police?”
“Don’t be silly, Dante. We can’t call the police.” Just then a thought occurred to her and she dashed away. She came back in a few minutes. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
“The tomato plant.”
Dante gasped. “What about—”
“Shh,” his sister said, putting her finger to her lips, shaking her head no. She led him out of the apartment and onto the sidewalk.
“The books are all still under your bed,” she whispered, a safe distance away.
“And the seeds?”
“The seeds are safe.”
Mama didn’t come home from work at her usual time. At 7:30 p.m. the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Clare, it’s Mama.”
“Mama!”
“Listen, sweets, I’m at the jail.”
Clare gasped.
“Not to worry,” Mama said quickly, as if talking faster would make everything better. “There’s some confusion. Those GRIM men sent the police to our place to search it, and they claim they found an illegal plant.”
Clare tried to speak.
“Honey, don’t talk, just listen. Anyway, I don’t know what they’re talking about—I’m sure it’s a mistake. I have to stay the night here, but things will be okay tomorrow. We’ll get it all straightened out. Don’t worry now, and take care of your brother.”
“Okay,” Clare said in a small voice.
“That’s a good girl. Love you, and love to Dante.”
“Love you. Bye, Mama.”
The phone clicked at the other end. Clare wasn’t sure what to do.
“Breathe,” she said aloud to herself. “Be calm; think.” She pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.
“Was that Mama?” Dante asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Yes,” said Clare.
“Working late again?”
“Dante, I need to think about something. Can you go back and watch the Monitor, please?”
“Okay, okay, sheez,” he said as he turned and walked back out.
Clare lay her head across her arms. She was praying and thinking, thinking and praying. What to do? First Ana disappeared, then the tomato plant gone, and now Mama was arrested. This dream of real food, a new tomorrow, was it all going to end like this? She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. And then, as quickly as the despair, a voice in her mind answered. No, it isn’t. You were put on this earth for a purpose. A Bible verse memorized years earlier came flooding back: “I know the plans I have for you. Plans for hope and a future.”
I know what I have to do, she thought. Dante and I need to leave. We must find the others out there—the Seed Savers. Mama knows nothing. They won’t be able to keep her locked up. But we need to get away.
She pondered for a moment about Lily. Had GRIM searched her house? Lily had said they never followed her. Maybe it would be better not to involve Lily; maybe they weren’t really on to her. As much as Clare wanted to contact her friend and find out if anything had happened with her, she resisted the urge. Clare felt there wasn’t time. She must get away now.
PART TWO
THE GARDEN STATE
22
INTO THE NIGHT
“Dante,” Clare called urgently. “Come here, now.”
When he stood in front of her, she spoke to him saying things like, “Why are your socks on the floor,” and, “Help me wash the dishes,” all the while motioning him not to speak, but instead to walk out the front door. Once outside, she held his hands and told him what had happened, ending with a hug from Mama. He started to cry, but she urged him to be strong and listen.
“Dante, I think Ana’s disappearance may have to do with GRIM. Mama will be okay because she doesn’t know anything. I don’t think they suspect Lily. But I need to leave.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If I stay, if we stay, they’ll make us confess. They’ll take our seeds. Who knows, they will probably take us away from Mama. We need to leave here, tonight, and find the others.”
Dante began to cry again, but Clare could tell he understood.
“I’ll miss Mama,” he whispered.
“Yes,” said Clare. “I know. So will I.”
Before dark, the children had stuffed their backpacks with Ana’s cherished books, extra clothing, and all the food and money they could find. They waited until midnight to slip out of the apartment and onto their bikes. Not trusting the city bus station, they decided to ride to the next town.
Clare remembered which way Mama had driven when they left town to camp or swim. They didn’t get out of the city much, but when they did, it was always memorable. She had no idea how long it would take to reach the edge of town, only that it was a long way.
It seemed like forever when they finally hit the place where the lights ended. A two-lane highway stretched ahead of them into the ebony night. They pedaled on. At last Dante’s small voice broke the silence.
“Clare? Clare, can we stop? I’m tired.”
She kept riding, considering his request, and then eased to a stop.
“I guess we can stop and rest,” she said. She shined her small flashlight around. Deep ditches, dry now, with long, bent-over grass lined both sides of the road. “Let’s get in the ditch; no one can see us there, and maybe we can sleep.”
As they nestled into the trench, Clare and Dante l
ooked up for the first time, stunned at what they saw. They had never witnessed the expanse of the starry night sky quite like this. Away from the city lights and late into the summer night, the constellations lay before them like sand on the seashore. Dante caught his breath and opened his arms in a wide embrace.
“Look, Clare. Look at the stars!”
“I see them,” she answered. But she was thinking how she’d never seen them. The immensity of the star-strewn sky on a clear summer’s night was overwhelming. It made her wonder about all the other things she’d never seen or experienced. Being enveloped by nature, the trappings of her sheltered and ordered urban life torn away, deepened her resolve to learn about real food: the saving of seeds, the planting, the nurturing, the harvest, the blessings. Though she’d not yet experienced these things, she felt a yearning and a sense of loss.
“Clare?” Dante interrupted her meandering thoughts. “It’s so beautiful. I feel so small.”
“Think of it as your blanket,” she whispered, reaching over to hold his hand. Fingers woven together they drifted off to sleep—the earth their mattress, and the stars of the sky, the squares in their quilt.
They awoke with the first early light, the clear crisp air invigorating them, and followed the highway until daybreak. Clare thought it better to keep a low profile, so they soon found a side road running parallel to the highway. The houses had crept farther and farther apart, and after a while the children began to see the large agribusiness farms that grew the few major crops used in processed food. Massive buildings were surrounded by miles and miles of an unknown monoculture.
This is what Ana had been teaching them: about how small family farms had lost out to the government-encouraged crops that were the choice ingredients in the food groups of Sweeties, Vitees, Carbos, Proteins, and Snacks.
