Hero Complex (20 page)
Authors: Margaux Froley
The intercom next to the driveway squealed to life as a woman’s voice asked, “Do you have an appointment?”
The driver looked at Devon in the rearview mirror. “Do we?”
“Yes, tell her Chelsea Ford is here.”
The driver rolled down his window. “Yes, I’m delivering Miss Ford for her appointment with you. Chelsea Ford.”
The intercom clicked off. They waited in silence as the wind whistled around them. Devon noticed the driver stealing glances at her in the backseat.
“What’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask,” Devon said.
“Kevin,” he said. “I know you’re no Chelsea Ford, but that’s fine. The less I know, the better.” He flashed a toothy grin.
Devon smiled, relieved she didn’t have to try to lie to the guy who probably heard her snoring while he drove. “That’s probably a good idea.”
With a screeching dial tone, the gates slowly swung open.
“So far, so good,” Kevin said. He shifted gears, and the SUV climbed up the driveway. The house at the top of the hill wasn’t what Devon expected. It was sleek and modern and huge, with vast
wood-paneled wings. She thought it would look like a nineteenth-century Colonial with a wraparound porch. In her mind, this place, even just the idea of it, was a relic from another era. But apparently in the current era, the underage pregnancy business paid pretty well.
A nun dressed in full regalia was already walking toward their car as they pulled in. Her cheeks were pink in the cold Montana air, and her breath was visible in the dawn light. She was surprisingly young.
Kevin walked around and opened Devon’s door for her.
“You must be Chelsea,” the nun said, extending a hand to Devon. She scanned Devon up and down. Probably guessing if she was pregnant or not, Devon thought. Maya never said anything about Chelsea Ford being pregnant.
“Thanks for having me,” Devon said.
“I’m Sister Louise. Let’s get out of this cold, shall we?” The nun smiled, but Devon could see her jaw was clenched. The gas station attendant was right; visitors were probably not welcome around here. Sister Louise showed Devon to the front door. Devon turned around and saw Kevin leaning against the car, blowing into his hands against the cold air. He nodded. Next time she got in that car, Maya would be with her, and they’d probably be running.
Inside looked more like a spa than a boarding school. The walls were painted a warm yellow color. A pitcher of water sat on its own small table with a handwritten sign that read:
STAY HYDRATED!
The whole room had turquoise accents and lots of Native American art and blankets.
A girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen sat behind a desk, one hand resting on her pregnant stomach. She wore an oversized men’s plaid flannel shirt with leggings and furry boots and had pulled her hair into a messy bun.
“Hi, I’m Reina,” she said with a bright smile and extended a hand to Devon.
“Chelsea,” Devon replied.
“Reina is one of our newer arrivals. She’s been on front desk duty this week. Let me give you a tour, and then we can talk a little more personally, hmm?” Sister Louise offered a knowing smile. Reina gave Devon the same.
Yep, they all think I’m pregnant. Thanks, Maya
. “Let’s start with the study rooms.”
She led Devon down a long hall lined with six private study rooms, all with large glass doors and a lone pregnant teenager studying inside. The girls eyed Devon, each one glancing at her flat stomach, before a look from Sister Louise sent them back to their books. Privacy was probably rare at a place like this. She kept hoping Maya would be in the next study room or suddenly come around the corner.
Did Maya even know she was here? What exactly was her plan at this point?
At the end of the hall was a larger room with a kitchen setup on one side and a nursery on the other. “This is our practical education lab. We try to help the girls learn to cook for themselves and learn about proper food and nutrition for their growing babies.”
Devon nodded politely.
They passed the front desk again, where Reina smiled at Devon but went back to her homework. The next hallway wing had rows of closed doors, none of which were glass. These rooms were private; maybe Maya was in one of them. Devon reached for a door handle.
“Could I use the bathroom?” she asked.
“Yes, but that’s not the bathroom,” Sister Louise snapped.
Devon already had the door open. Inside, an older nun sat at a desk, her head bent in prayer. Across from the desk, facing the wall, was a girl kneeling on a small stool, head bent in prayer as well. The older nun looked up, her face dry and cracked with wrinkles and frown lines. The girl stayed kneeling but looked up, too.
Maya
. Devon blinked.
They locked eyes, and Maya quickly put her head back down. Devon could hear her whispering a
Hail Mary
.
“This is a restricted area,” the old nun said. She stood and approached Devon. Tall, with football player-sized shoulders, the nun filled the doorframe, forcing Devon back into the hallway.
“I’m sorry, Sister Helen,” Sister Louise muttered. “She was faster than me.”
Devon noticed a glass case behind the nun’s desk, multiple rifles standing at attention inside. Across the room, Maya hadn’t moved. What was she waiting for? Sister Helen closed the door, its lock clicking into place.
“Why don’t we head to my office for our chat?” Sister Louise offered.
Devon did not want to get stuck in this nun’s office while struggling to hold up her thin lies. “That sounds like a great idea. But if you’ll give me a minute, I really need to use the bathroom—”
A scream came from Sister Helen’s room, cutting her off.
The door slammed open against the wall. Maya lurched into the hall, clutching her stomach with an agonized look on her face. “The baby’s coming,” she gasped between short breaths. “I have to go now. Call an ambulance.”
“Call the ambulance,” Sister Helen yelled back at Reina. “Tell them we have a baby coming.” Reina called 911 from the phone on her desk.
Sister Helen tried to steer Maya away from the door, but Maya went limp in her arms. “You’ll be fine, Maya. This is just a contraction. You probably have a few hours until the baby comes. Breathe like we talked about …”
“Please, it hurts,” Maya moaned. “Something’s not right. Let me go to the hospital. The ambulance won’t get here in time.”
Devon pounced on her cue. “I have a car here. We could take her.”
Sister Helen’s grip on Maya’s arm tightened. “I’m sorry, we’re not supposed to let these girls out of our sight. They are under our guardianship.”
“Then you can ride with us,” Devon answered. “You don’t have to leave her, but we can honestly get her there faster than waiting for the ambulance.”
“Just—just get me to the hospital,” Maya stammered. She waddled to the front door, pulling the nun along with her, straight toward the SUV. Kevin quickly ran around to open the back door for her. Devon helped hoist Maya into the seat.
“Sister Louise, you go with Maya. Call me when you get there,” Sister Helen commanded. Sister Louise nodded vigorously; she almost seemed excited about going to the hospital. Devon ran around front and hopped into the passenger seat. Doors slammed, Kevin revved the engine, and they were barreling down the driveway.
Devon had to hand it to Maya: the girl could act. She kept up the panting and crying the entire forty-five minutes it took to reach the hospital as Sister Louise rubbed Maya’s hand and coached her breathing. When they pulled up to the hospital entrance, Sister Louise instructed Devon to get a wheelchair to help Maya get inside.
“No,” Maya interjected. “Get them to find Dr. Collins. See if he’s here.”
Sister Louise nodded. “Right, right. Dr. Collins. Wait for me here; I’ll be back with a nurse.” She jumped out of the SUV and ran into the emergency room, her long black skirt flapping behind her in the wind.
“Get the hell out of here!” Maya barked at Kevin. She reached over and pulled the backseat door closed. “Now! Get to the highway and go west!”
Kevin needed no further instruction. He screeched into reverse, spun around, and sped toward the highway.
Devon couldn’t shake the image of the lone nun running into the hospital. “I can’t believe that just happened,” she said, gripping the door handle as the car swerved along the snowy roads.
“Thank God it did,” Maya said. “Not that I’ve gone all religious or anything.”
Devon stared at her. “But you’re okay? No baby problems or anything?”
“Yeah, yeah, that was all a show.” Maya started unraveling her braid. “We’ve had to watch all these birthing videos, so I’ve got the scream down. Plus, Sister Louise totally has a crush on Dr. Collins. She can’t function around him; it’s hilarious. She’ll take way too long to put together what just happened, but when she does, Sister Helen is probably going to have her ass. Whatever. Probably wasn’t going to be a good nun, anyways.”
Devon couldn’t believe how calm she was. “How soon do you think until they send out a search party? There’s no way that older nun is going to take this lightly.”
“We’ll be fine. We can call off the search party when I show up back in San Francisco.” Maya leaned her head back in her seat and closed her eyes, her hands resting across her stomach.
“Yeah, okay. It’ll be fine,” Devon said. If only she believed it.
You’re welcome
, she added.
January 29, 1945
Our fears have come true, and it’s worse than we ever thought possible. The war in Europe is almost over; the Allies are advancing on Germany now. And just a few weeks ago, we heard that the Japanese internment camps have started releasing people. Keaton has spent every morning watching the road up the hill, hoping for the cloud of dust that would bring Hana back home with it. Surely if people were being released, she would be returning as soon as she could
.
Yesterday as we were eating dinner in the mess tent, we saw the cloud of dust down the hill. A car
had dropped someone off near the bottom. A woman in a black dress carrying a small suitcase was walking up the hill alone. We all froze, and Keaton ran down the hill to greet her. But we knew something was wrong when Keaton stopped running before he reached the woman. “It’s not her,” Edward said behind me, his napkin still tucked into his shirt collar
.
“Maybe it’s her sister or a friend. She has news, whoever she is.”
“She’s not coming back.” Edward said the words almost to himself. I noticed his skin had suddenly gone pale and a line of sweat formed on his brow. Edward noticed me looking at him. “I’m not hungry,” he said and disappeared into his cabin
.
I ran to get Athena. While she carried the baby outside, waiting for this stranger, I had the horrible realization that Edward was somehow behind Hanna being taken. Had he told the Army she was a spy?
We hurried to the top of the road just as Keaton and the woman were arriving. Keaton was holding her suitcase and ushering her toward the mess tent. “Come, have some water. We have food, too. Anything you need.”
Athena and I were speechless. For all we’ve seen of the newsreels of this war’s atrocities, we have been spared much of its real misery. But this woman, her black hair was matted with dirt. Her skin hung over her cheekbones, limp and pale, and her eyes—I heard Athena inhale, and I knew she saw what I did in the woman’s eyes. They were dark brown, almost black, and when she looked at us as she passed, it was as if she didn’t even see us. As if she was still watching
something else happen before her eyes, something she couldn’t stop seeing
.
We followed Keaton and the woman into the tent. She ate the rice and fish quickly, keeping her eyes glued to the plate. When her plate was empty, she took a long drink of her water before finally looking up at us. She gave Keaton a slight smile
.
“Hana told me you would be nice to me,” the woman said. “My name is Issa. We shared a tent in our camp. They took us to Wyoming. I was lucky and got on the first train leaving. But Hana, she asked that I find you.”
Keaton reached across the table and took Issa’s hand in his. “Please tell me where I can find her. I will go anywhere. Just tell me where.”
She pulled her hand out of his and sighed. “Hana is still in Wyoming. We buried her there with your son.”
Keaton couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. “Son?” he choked out
.
“Francis Ichiro Keaton,” she told him. “Hana didn’t know that she was pregnant when they took her. She was first sent to a detention center in Montana because of her marriage to you. They were convinced she was selling secrets to the Japanese, but Hana only swore her loyalty to America. By the time they sent her to Heart Mountain, she was six months pregnant and not doing well. I remember her skin almost looked gray when she arrived in our tent. I took care of her; we all tried. We gave her whatever we could of our own food, our clothes. She had gotten sick in the winter. Most of us didn’t have warm enough clothes. She was starting to get healthier as it got warmer. She talked a lot about
you, how proud she was of you and the work you were doing for the country. Despite everything they did to her, she still loved America. She talked about after the war, about the beautiful hillside you lived on and how she wanted to live there and raise your son. She named him Francis after you. Ichiro means ‘first son’ in Japanese. She wanted to have many children with you.”
Keaton’s head hung low, the tears dripping from his chin onto his khaki pants. Next to me on the bench, Athena cried while holding William. I kept looking at Issa. Was it possible any of this was false? Could Hana have gotten mixed up with someone else? It didn’t seem true
.
“He was born on May 6th, 1943. We had a nurse in our block that helped Hana, but there were complications. We didn’t have a doctor, and we couldn’t stop the bleeding. Francis lived for another day, but he was so small. I kept him with her until her body went cold. We tried to feed him goat’s milk and water, but he followed his mother. He wouldn’t have survived there another two years. This way they are together. We couldn’t send a message to you because it was illegal to contact anyone in the military. We couldn’t risk being sent to a more hostile detention center.”
Issa reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. Inside was a gold ring. I recognized it as matching the gold wedding band that Keaton wore. She gave it to Keaton. “This was hers. I’m sorry for the loss of your family, Mr. Keaton.”
None of us knew what to say. The war had come home
.
