Waiting for the Moon

Lucy brushed a tear away. "Oh, no. For many of them it's a wonderful place to be. Bertha and Theresa think it's heaven. Most of the women do. There is no want here, no beatings, no hunger, and they are respected. Our founder, Mother Anna Lee, was a woman."

Selena ran the hot iron over her thumb. With a yelp, she dropped the iron and shoved her aching thumb in the lavender water. "Did ... did I like it here?"

Lucy shook her head. "The rules always bothered you, but before you left, you'd started talking about babies. You wanted one so badly. You scared me with how badly you wanted it. You used to say that death was the only way out for you, but you didn't want to hurt Elliot. Otherwise, I think you might have killed yourself right in your room. And then you disappeared." A smile breezed across her face. "I was so proud of you, Agnes. I thought ... I thought you were free."

"I was," she answered quietly. Bending, she retrieved the heavy iron and awkwardly lifted it back to the table, setting it down on the apron.

"Where did you go? What did you do?"

"I do not know. One day I simply woke up at a very special place up by the sea. I was hurt badly and my memory for almost all things was gone."

"How did you get hurt?"

Selena shrugged. "No one knows."

"What was it like up there?"

Pictures sprang to mind, all of them painful in their beauty. Her fingers curled tentatively around the iron's wooden handle. "There was a man. . . ." Her throat closed. She couldn't say any more.

318

"You loved him."

Selena looked away, unable even to nod.

"You shouldn't have come back."

"What choice did I have, Lucy? I was a married woman and my husband came back for me."

A silence fell between them, swollen and poignant.

In that moment, Selena understood that this was all there was for her. Friendship with a few women, perhaps, and a life of rigid control. No hunger, no beatings, no deprivation, but also no freedom. No real family, no laughter.

"Agnes?" Lucy stared at her. "Are you all right?"

"No," Selena said quietly. She definitely was not all right now that she'd glimpsed her future. Her life stretched out before her, long and lonely and governed by the ringing of the bells.

The breakfast bell rang at precisely 6:00, and by then Selena was tired and sweaty and her hands were creased with dozens of tiny burn marks. Her thumb throbbed with pain. She and Lucy finished with the shirts they were pressing and returned the irons to the stove.

Together, silently, they walked back to the dwelling house. People were everywhere, marching^ in orderly, noiseless lines up through their segregated doors, into their silent dining rooms.

Selena wanted to scream, to jump up and down and wave her hands and screech like a seagull. But she was too tired to do anything but follow the crowd.

It wasn't just the ironing that had exhausted her- although her motor skills were not good enough for such a complicated physical task. It was everything; every silence, every closed door, every rule that had to be followed. She wanted to pass by the kitchen and go to her room, such as it was; she wanted to crawl into her old worldly clothes and climb into bed, pull the covers up to her chin and sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep and never wake up again. She could feel herself sinking into

319

despair, and she couldn't find a way out, couldn't make herself smile. She looked around this sterile place and saw nothing of value, nothing to care about

She knew that she was being unreasonable, that this place was filled with loving, caring people, but they weren't the right people. She didn't want to be welcomed or loved by them. She wanted her family back, the only family she'd ever known. She wanted forests instead of fields, shorelines instead of riverbeds. Ian instead of Elliot.

Oh, Ian ...

Lucy slipped her hand in Selena's and squeezed. "Don't do it, Agnes," she whispered.

"Do what?" Selena asked, but she didn't care, not really.

"You're getting that desperate look again."