The Girl Before (32 page)

All my nails are painted, and I admire the buttery color as Jane puts the cap back on the bottle. “Did Charlotte and I like each other?” I ask hesitantly.

“You were sisters.” Jane smiles. “You had your fights, but you loved each other. Lottie was always more serious, especially after . . . Well, you balanced each other out.” She stares out the window, wistful. “I always dreamed of seeing you two as teenagers, sharing clothes, talking about boys . . .” Her voice begins to wobble, and my eyes fill again.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper. My life wasn't the only one affected by Mama and Papa's actions. I know this, but each time I talk to my family, I realize it more. “I wish . . .”

Jane reaches out to grip my wrists, careful not to smudge my manicure. At first I recoil. Her strength surprises me, but it is not overpowering. I force myself to relax. She is not trying to dominate me, as Glen would if he made the same move. She just wants me to listen. I look straight into her eyes as she speaks, eyes that are so familiar though we were only recently reunited.

“Listen to me, C-Clara.” She stumbles on my name, but her voice remains strong. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Those people stole you from us, stole you from yourself. You did what you had to do to survive all these years, and . . .” Her voice cracks as she chokes on a sob. “I am so thankful that you did.” Her hands release my wrists to cup my face. “I don't want to waste any more of our time on misplaced apologies or unnecessary guilt. You are my daughter. And I love you. I have always loved you.”

My cheeks are wet. “But there's so much you don't know. About me. About what I've done.”

Jane is already shaking her head before I finish. “I don't care. Do you hear me? I. Don't. Care. I want to know you. I want to know what your life has been like. It's going to hurt like hell, for both of us, but I
need
to know. And you need to trust that nothing—
nothing
—you can tell me will change how I feel about you. I won't let you go again. I promise.”

My mother pulls me into her lap, though I have grown taller than her, and she holds me as I cry, and as she cries with me. She holds me as if she has been holding me for twenty-three years, and she holds me as if she will never let me go.

I believe that she won't.

It's dark and I don't like it. Those people said they would come back, but it's been forever and I don't want to stay here forever. My throat hurts from crying. I miss my mommy and daddy, but the lady said that they didn't want me anymore and that I had to go with them. I wonder if they got rid of Lottie, too.

I'm really hungry. We were gonna get McDonald's tonight, but I don't think these new people know that I like chicken nuggets and not cheeseburgers. I hope they have a TV. And I hope Mommy gave them Theo. I can't sleep without my little stuffed puppy. I start crying again because I really need Theo.

The door opens and that woman is standing there. I can hardly see her because she's all dark and the light is behind her, but she is scary, so I scoot closer into the corner. She reaches down and grabs my arm, and it hurts.

“Ow!” I say. “That hurts. Don't do that.”

She shakes me. “You will remain silent, child.”

“My name is Diana.”

I don't see her hand coming, but she hits me across the face and it stings and I taste blood. It tastes like metal and it's gross. I always taste it when I lose a tooth, but this time I just bit my cheek. I cry harder. Even if Mommy and Daddy don't like me, they are nicer than this lady. I want to go back to them. Maybe if I clean my room more they will let me stay.

The woman drags me into another room, a kitchen, and shoves me into a chair at the table. There is a sandwich on a plate. “Eat,” she orders. I pick up the sandwich. Just cheese and butter. Gross. I put it back down.

“No, thank you,” I say, trying to use my polite voice. “Do you have any macaroni and cheese?”

The woman walks over and pinches my arm, hard. “Don't!” I yell, drawing the word out. She is meaner than Lottie. She doesn't say another word, but picks up my sandwich and throws it in the garbage.

“You won't be eating tonight, Clara.”

“My name is Diana.”

“Not anymore, it isn't,” she says. “My name is Mama Mae, and you will call me Mama Mae.”

“You are not my mom.”

Another slap across the face, and I feel one of my baby teeth wiggle. I only have a few left. I start to cry again.

“You will watch your mouth around me, Clara. You will speak only when asked a question. You will do exactly as you are told, or you will be punished. We will begin your training tomorrow.”

The man who was driving the car earlier walks into the room. “She giving you trouble, Mae?” he asks.

“No. Nothing unmanageable,” Mama Mae says. “Did you find Glen?”

“Yeah, he and Joel were down by the creek again.”

Mama nods, then turns back to me. “This is Papa G. You will do what Papa G says. He is in charge first, and then me. His punishments are harder than mine, so you would be smart to behave. Your old parents said you were smart. Are you smart, Clara?”

It is on the tip of my tongue to correct my name again, but instead I nod. I am smart. Mrs. Weisser says so. I am going to be in the gifted program next year. My heart feels sad when I think about school. I wonder if Mama Mae will let me go to my old school. We have a concert next week that I don't want to miss. Maybe if I'm really good they'll let me go.

“Good girl,” Papa G says, his voice gruff. “She's a pretty one, Mae. She'll bring in a good price in a few years.”

“And very trainable. That didn't take long at all for her to stop talking back.” Mama Mae is watching me with a strange look in her eyes. “She is going to do big things for us, Glen.”

Papa looks at me again and leaves. Mama grabs my arm, leading me out of the kitchen and down a dark hallway. She takes a key from a necklace and unlocks a door at the end of the hallway. She pushes me into the room ahead of her.

“You'll share a bed with Macy,” Mama says, nodding toward a girl sitting cross-legged on a double bed, already in a nightgown. “Here is
something to sleep in. The bathroom is over there. Any of the girls can answer your questions. I will collect you in the morning.” With a whirl of skirts, Mama Mae is gone, locking the door behind her, leaving me clutching the nightgown she shoved into my hands.

I do not look at anyone, but go in the bathroom and change. The tiny room holds a gross sink with brown spots all over it and a toilet that wiggles when I sit on it. There's a bathtub, too, but I hope I don't have to use it. The nightgown I have been given is thin, and I scurry across the cold tile back into the other room. I do not know where to leave my clothes, so I take them back to the bed with me and ball them up to put under my pillow. I don't want to let them out of my sight.

The other girl, Macy, is already under the covers. I climb in, and she turns to face me. “Hi.”

“Hello,” I say. I am feeling scared again. I want my mommy. The sheets are scratchy and the blanket has holes all over it.

“What's your name?”

“Which one?”

Macy smiles, and I am surprised there is smiling here. Everyone seems so mean and serious. “Both.”

“My name is Diana. But they keep calling me Clara.”

Macy nods. “I'm Macy. My old name was Ella.”

“How long have you been here?”

She shrugs. “A few weeks?”

“Did your parents give you up?”

A sad look crosses Macy's face. “Yes. Mama and Papa told me they didn't want me anymore and wanted money instead. I still miss them, though.”

“Me too.” A tear escapes my eye, and I was trying really hard to stay brave. “Is it always so scary?”

“Yes, but you get used to it.”

A sharp rap on the door interrupts our conversation, as well as the
other whispered conversations of the other girls in the room. “Quiet time, lights out!” Mama's voice says. The lock clicks, and Mama pokes her head in. “You,” she says, looking at me. “You figured out where everything is?”

I nod, afraid to answer her. I don't want to get hit again.

“Where are your clothes?”

Before I can answer, her eyes shoot to the side of me, where my brand-new Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt is sticking out from under my pillow. She stalks across the room, rips my clothes from under my pillow, and shakes them at me. “You always put dirty laundry down the chute,” she scolds.

“I-I was wondering if I could keep them,” I say, my voice shaking.

“No.”

Without another word, Mama stomps into the bathroom, and I hear a whooshing sound as my clothes are tossed in with the rest of the laundry. I hide my tears until Mama turns out the light and locks us back in. No one even tries to make me feel better. I cry myself to sleep.

I stare at the ceiling tiles in my room, waiting for Connor to retrieve me for Mama's visit. I was allowed to call to ask her to visit, since I had denied her last several visits. I rub my rounded abdomen, taking comfort from Nut. I am doing this all for him. I have to be sure of my decision. If I follow through, Mama will be in prison. Glen will be in prison. Nut and I will be free.

Is being free from Glen what I want? I haven't yet decided. That step will come later. By helping implicate Mama, however, the dominoes will begin to tip. And with the information I've already given them on Glen, his fate is almost certain. All they need is a little more
proof to put him away forever. A wave of nausea runs through my body. Can I be without him? Before this, I never would have thought so. He has been my world for almost half my life, but I am learning that it doesn't have to be that way.

I never expected to be in this position. But after learning all the things that Glen has done . . . I can't help but think that he deserves whatever consequences they come up with. Part of my heart breaks at that knowledge. But the other part breaks for all the families he has destroyed, all the lives ruined, lost, because of his decisions. They deserve justice. I want to help deliver that, even if it means putting Glen away.

A part of me cannot help but wonder what kind of man Glen could have been if he had lived another life, if he hadn't inherited this legacy. I remember him as that excited boy, the one who convinced me to run away from the only home I'd ever known with only his love and promises of a better life. What if we had succeeded that day? What if we'd gotten on that bus and disappeared? It's almost painful to imagine what our lives might have been. We might have had our own family, kids we would have raised to be even better than we were. He might have been different. I know I would have been. I tamp down the guilt threatening to rise. Now is not the time for “could have beens.”

My parents came to see me again, and watching them together was like magic. Two people in love, but as equals. Doug attended to Jane, made sure she was comfortable, but not for show. Jane did not look over her shoulder, waiting to see how Doug would react to a misstep. She was confident on her own, while still being connected to Doug. I can't stop comparing their relationship to mine with Glen.

Connor knocks on the door and enters, but says nothing. He knows I'm ready. I sit up as he enters and struggle to my feet before he can cross the room to help me. He takes my elbow anyway and leads me toward the door.

“Are you okay, Clara?” he asks, concern lacing his tone. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I laugh. “I thought you wanted me to do this weeks ago.”

“Not if you're not ready.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You are strong, Clara. You have nothing to prove.”

My head is already shaking before he finishes the sentence. “I do, though. To myself. It is time for me to stand up to Ma—to Mae Lawson.”

The look on Connor's face is proud, and once again I am allowed into the visiting area without cuffs. “Will it look suspicious?” I ask. “Will she think there is something wrong?”

“No,” Jay jumps in. “You've been unshackled before. It might seem weird if we decided to start again.”

That makes sense. I take a deep breath as Jay opens the door, admitting me to the room. No one else is using the area today. There are extra recording devices set up around the room, and Mama has signed a document saying she understands that what she says and does will be recorded. This is not a change from her other visits, but she doesn't know about the microphone I am wearing this time. Nor do I plan on telling her.

Mama stands as I enter, holding her arms out. I go into them and close my eyes, trying to imagine them as the comforting arms of my family. They feel cold and lifeless, and I am relieved when she releases me after a brief moment. Her hand goes to my stomach.

“You're starting to show,” Mama says, eyes shining. “That's my grandbaby in there.”

I force a smile. “Yes. On track and healthy, according to the doctor.” I move away and her hand falls back to her side. “How are you, Mae?”

Her smile is tense. “Not great, Clara.” She leans forward. Good. My microphone will pick her up that much clearer. “They've been asking me questions, acting like I should have known about everything.”

I frown. “But you did know. It was Papa's business first.”

Mama swats my hand, hiding the gesture with her body. It does not hurt, but it's a reminder of my place. “Quiet, you silly girl. Of course I know that. I trained you, didn't I? But they aren't supposed to know.” She pauses. “You haven't said anything to them, have you?”

“Of course not.” I pretend to be offended by the question. “You trained me better than that.”

Mama doesn't look convinced. “You know it is Glen's wish that I stay out of this. Even if he ends up in prison, he wants me to live the rest of my days as a free woman.”