The Testaments (The Handmaid's Tale 2)

“Remember, too, your vows. You pledged yourselves to help women and girls. I trust you meant that.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia,” I said. “We did.”

“This will be helping them. Now, I don’t want to force you to do anything against your will, but I must state the position clearly. Now that I have told you this secret—that Baby Nicole is here, and that she will soon be acting as a courier for me—every minute that passes in which you do not divulge this secret to the Eyes will count as treachery. But even if you do divulge it, you may still be severely punished, perhaps even terminated for having held back, even for an instant. Needless to say, I myself will be executed, and Nicole will soon be no better than a caged parrot. If she won’t comply, they’ll kill her, one way or another. They won’t hesitate: you’ve read the crime files.”

“You can’t do that to them!” Nicole said. “That’s not fair, it’s emotional blackmail!”

“I appreciate your views, Nicole,” said Aunt Lydia, “but your juvenile notions of fairness do not apply here. Keep your sentiments to yourself, and if you wish to see Canada again it would be wise to consider that a command.”

She turned to the two of us. “You are, of course, free to make your own decisions. I will leave the room; Nicole, come with me. We wish to give your sister and her friend a little privacy in which to consider the possibilities. We will return in five minutes. At that time, I shall simply require a yes or a no from you. Other details regarding your mission will be supplied in good time. Come, Nicole.” She took Nicole by the arm and steered her out of the room.

Becka’s eyes were wide and frightened, as mine must have been. “We have to do it,” Becka said. “We can’t let them die. Nicole is your sister, and Aunt Lydia…”

“Do what?” I said. “We don’t know what she’s asking for.”

“She’s asking for obedience and loyalty,” said Becka. “Remember how she rescued us—both of us? We have to say yes.”

* * *

—

After leaving Aunt Lydia’s office, Becka went to the library for her day shift, and Nicole and I walked back to our apartment together.

“Now that we’re sisters,” I said, “you can call me Agnes when we’re alone.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Nicole said.

We went into the main room. “I have something I want to share with you,” I said. “Just a minute.” I went upstairs. I’d been keeping the two pages from the Bloodlines files under my mattress, folded up small. When I returned, I unfolded them carefully and flattened them out. Once I’d laid them out on the table, Nicole—like me—couldn’t resist placing her hand on the picture of our mother.

“This is amazing,” she said. She took her hand off, studied the picture again. “Do you think she looks like me?”

“I wondered the same thing,” I said.

“Can you remember her at all? I must’ve been too young.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Sometimes I think I can. I do seem to remember something. Was there a different house? Did I travel somewhere? But maybe it’s wishful thinking.”

“What about our fathers?” she said. “And why did they blank out the names?”

“Maybe they were trying to protect us in some way,” I said.

“Thanks for showing me,” said Nicole. “But I don’t thin

k you should keep these around. What if you get caught with them?”

“I know. I tried to put the pages back, but the file wasn’t there anymore.”

In the end, we decided to tear the pages up into small pieces and flush them down the toilet.

* * *

—

Aunt Lydia had told us we should strengthen our minds for the mission ahead of us. Meanwhile, we should continue on with life as usual, and not do anything to call attention to Nicole, or arouse suspicion. That was difficult, as we were anxious; I for one lived with a sense of dread: if Nicole were to be discovered, would Becka and I be accused?

Becka and I were due to leave on our Pearl Girls mission very soon. Would we even go, or did Aunt Lydia have some other destination in mind? We could only wait and see. Becka had studied the Pearl Girls standard guide of Canada, with the currency, the customs, and the methods of purchasing, including credit cards. She was much better prepared than I was.

When the Thanks Giving ceremony was less than a week away, Aunt Lydia called us to her office again. “This is what you must do,” she said. “I have arranged a room for Nicole at one of our country Retreat Houses. The papers are in order. But it is you, Aunt Immortelle, who will be going in Nicole’s stead. She herself will take your place, and will travel as a Pearl Girl to Canada.”