House Arrest (24 page)

38 ~ Emily

The emergency room was overflowing with people, a crush of hacking, bleeding, moaning, wheezing, miserable citizens crowded on rows of chairs, spilling onto the floor.

“It’s a full moon,” the triage nurse said by way of explanation. Or apology. “Otherwise, it’s never like this on a Tuesday night.”

Lunar effect. We learned about that in nursing school. There’s no evidence that more people get into accidents, have babies, or commit crimes when there’s a full moon, but people believe it anyway. Even doctors and nurses in the E.R.

The nurse scanned the intake questionnaire, glanced at the rash on Pippa’s ankle, then back at her face. “Any trouble breathing?”

Pippa shook her head.

The nurse pointed to the rows of chairs. “It’s going to be a wait.”

“Any idea how long?” I asked.

“An hour, easy. Come see me if the hives get worse or you have trouble breathing.” The nurse turned to the next person in line, a squat man clutching a blood-stained kitchen towel printed with tulips tight against his shoulder.

I checked my watch. Almost eleven.

“We should be back by midnight,” I told Pippa. “But I bet it’ll be closer to one before they call you.” We walked through the rows of chairs towards the red exit sign, stepping over bundles and bags and outstretched legs.

“Hey, Emily,” a man’s voice called out.

I looked around, but didn’t see anyone I knew.

“Over here.” Andy pushed through the crowd, wearing rumpled scrubs splattered with the leftovers of a long E.R. shift. “What’s wrong?”

Terrific. Marge’s spy just as I was breaking the law and every rule in the book.

“Hi, Andy. This is our client, Pippa. I’m here with her.”

“I’m just going off shift, but I can get you in quick.”

“Don’t bother. The triage nurse said it wouldn’t be long,” I lied. “Pippa’s having an allergic reaction to latex, but it’s mild. I’m probably being overcautious. Because of the pregnancy, you know.” Stop blithering, I told myself. Shut up before you make him more suspicious.

“It’s no bother,” he said.

“No thanks.” Pippa smiled up at Andy. “But that’s really sweet of you.”

Smart girl. I smiled at Andy too, adding, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Just per diem. For now. Got to go.” He hurried through the staff-only door.

“We’re out of here,” I said. I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought.

Outside, we waited on the sidewalk while three ambulances, sirens screaming, flew up the road and screeched into the emergency bay. I turned to Pippa, who was staring open-mouthed at the flashing lights and rushing figures pushing gurneys into the frigid night. “That gives us an extra hour.”

That is, if Andy doesn’t turn us in, doesn’t call Marge and snitch that I’m overreacting again about this latex allergy stuff. If Nan doesn’t get suspicious and call out the squad cars. Not being truthful with Andy and Marge was one thing, but lying to Nan had been harder than I expected.

We drove to the park in silence. Thick snowflakes fell heavily into the oval pools of streetlight. The drive took forever on slippery pavement, but finally I turned onto the residential road leading to the bronze arch entrance. The dark was sliced by the warning strobes of lights from three police cars, pulled up in front of the gate.

“Shit.” Pippa slipped out of her seat belt and curled on the floor.

“Should I turn around?”

“No. Keep going. Pretend this has nothing to do with you.”

I wished it had nothing to do with me. Though there was something almost enjoyable about the tingle of excitement, the pulse palpable in my fingertips. I wondered if my parents felt that mix of thrill and fear when they spread kerosene on military registration folders on the floor of the draft board office. When they struck the match.

The cruisers were empty, both in front and in the wire-caged back seats. No sign of any folks in white robes. Funny coincidence though, a pickup truck just like Sam’s was parked near the entrance. Once the flashing lights withered behind us. I pulled the car over on a dark stretch of road between two cones of streetlight. I peeled my fingers from their tight grasp on the steering wheel, then held my hand in front of me and I watched it tremble.

“Maybe we should give up on this,” I said.

Pippa wiggled back up onto the front seat of the car. “No. The cops might be here for something else. Drive into Longmeadow. I’m pretty sure I can find the way from the south. But I can’t just abandon my family. I can’t let Abby down again.”

“It’s too dangerous.” I opened the thermos and poured steaming tea into the plastic cover. I took a sip. It was strong and sweet and burned my tongue. I handed the cup to Pippa.

She drank. “If I get busted, sell those yellow chairs to post my bail.”

How could she joke like that?

“Listen,” Pippa said. “I get it that the Family of Isis is flawed. I see the silly parts, the ridiculous parts, even. But there are good parts too, kind parts, and these are my people. I don’t know what I’m going to do once this is all over. But tonight, I owe them this. I need to be there, even for a few minutes. I’m the one who’s pregnant this year and I have to dance. No one else can do it. If you don’t want to come with me, I’ll understand.”

I leaned my forehead on the icy glass of the window, looking out into the swirling snow. If only the night were clear. If only I could see Orion, find some sign or omen or something. Things seemed so clear to Pippa.

“Even if your family is flawed, you’ll still risk your freedom?”

“It’s not just them. It’s me, too. I’m not stupid. I know that Abby’s death was my fault.” She paused, then added, “We’ve come this far.”

Maybe she had come pretty far, but what about me? I still couldn’t even talk about what happened to my family more than twenty years ago. All of a sudden, that seemed important.

“Before we do this,” I said, “I want to tell you something. My father almost killed someone. He set a fire in a draft board office. It was a protest, against the Vietnam War. A janitor was working late and he was horribly burned.” I stared at the lonely snowflakes. Funny how you knew they were white, but when you looked up at them, tumbling down in slow motion against the gray sky, they fooled your brain into thinking they were black. “It was an accident,” I continued, “but it was his fault. Momma’s too.”

There. The words were out. I didn’t feel any lighter. I was just as scared. Just as ashamed, no matter what anyone said about higher purpose or lofty ideals. And just as confused.

“What happened to him?”

“He went to prison. He died there.”

“How?”

“Bad asthma. Worse medical care.”

“I’m sorry,” Pippa said.

I spoke into the snowy sky. “I never visited him in prison. Never tried to understand. Never forgave him.” I turned to her and added, “I wish I had.”

Pippa didn’t say anything right away. She stared at the whitening windshield. “My father did kill someone. He meant to. My father killed Delmar on purpose.”

Pippa leaned her head against my shoulder. We sat that way for a few minutes, sharing the cooling spearmint tea, passing the cup back and forth.

“We’ve come this far,” I said. “We might as well finish the job. That monitor system downtown has probably already started its conniption fit, so the damage is done. But first, please put that sock on under the strap, so you don’t really go into anaphylactic shock.”

“Thank you,” Pippa said, leaning over to take off her boot.

“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who has to find the trail.”

39 ~ Pippa

“This doesn’t look familiar.” Emily peered into the trees. “Are we lost?”

Pippa thwacked through the bushes. “Not exactly. Coming in from the south, it all looks different,” she said.

She had lost her bearings almost immediately, although she thought they were heading in the right direction. Visibility wasn’t great, but the snow was lighter and the wind had died down. She thought she saw a star. “I think the trail is up here on the left.”

Emily was silent for a moment. “I’m worried about the time.”

“We’ll head back by midnight. I promise.” Hopefully, she could keep that promise.

The trail didn’t appear on the left, but soon Pippa spotted a bush with shiny teardrop leaves. “Okay, I know where we are. This is the southern end of the rhododendron grove.”

They walked side by side along the generous path, designed for people who needed extra room to maneuver. Pippa had to look away from the small openings in the hedge, openings leading to private clearings big enough for several people to lie down. Big enough for a red blanketed baby to sleep on white snow.

“We were totally lost, weren’t we?” Emily asked.

“Thought I fooled you.”

“Nope. But now we’re okay?”

Pippa tried to smile. “We’re not lost anymore, but I’m still terrified.”

“Me too.”

Things didn’t feel right. The forest was too quiet. By now, they should be able to hear the singing, the familiar cadence and yearning melodies. They should be able to see the pinpoint lights of the candles through the trees. If nothing else, they should smell the smoke and see the sparks from the bonfire leaping into the sky. Pippa’s mind shifted to a flaming night sky in Georgia, her father’s tall shadow outlined dark against the glow in the pasture below. Snowflakes melted on her face, dripping down her cheeks.

“Something’s wrong,” Emily said. “It smells like wet campfire. Like steaming coals. Like someone dumped water on the fire.”

“Or snow,” Pippa said, as they scrambled down the slope to the sacred dingle. “We’re here, but they’re gone.”

Broken branches littered the flat rock in the center of the circle. Discarded blankets were strewn like twisted corpses on the torn-up snow. The circle was gap-toothed, where stones had been kicked aside. Wisps of steam rose from the dead fire.

“We’re still here.” A whisper and the rustle of leaves announced Jeremy’s presence just before his arms wrapped around Pippa’s chest. Sam held Timothy’s sleeping form draped over his shoulder. The boy’s feet dangled against the man’s knees.

“Please don’t be angry,” Sam said. “I wanted to help.”

“Sam saved us from the cops,” Jeremy said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“How did you know we were coming?” Emily asked.

“Sam said you would,” Jeremy said.

Sam shrugged. “I guessed.”

Pippa looked back and forth between Sam and Jeremy. “What happened?”

Timothy’s sleepy voice joined the conversation. “Tian came,” he said, sliding down from Sam’s arms. “He was so cool.”

“He was pretty impressive,” Sam agreed. “Really took over the celebration.” He looked at Pippa intently, like he wanted to say more. Maybe she’d have time to ask him some questions later.

“But then the cops burst in and took them all away.” Jeremy’s voice wavered.

“In handcuffs,” Timothy added.

“It looked like the cops had been following Tian,” Sam said. “Like a trap.”

“Why did they take everyone?” Emily asked.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, but after they found some jugs, the cops got rougher, nastier. They handcuffed everyone and led them away.”

Pippa pulled both boys close to her. “How’d you two manage to get away?”

“Sam helped us,” Timothy said.

“The blond woman seemed to recognize me,” Sam said. “My mustache.”

“That would be Francie.” Pippa smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Emily looked at the stones and candles, disappearing into the snow. “Sam, you take the boys home. Pippa and I have to go back to the E.R.”

Pippa dug in her pocket for a key. “Take them to Pioneer Street. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. The Family of Isis may not be perfect, but we take good care of our children.” Pippa heard her own words. That’s what they always said. Was it true?

Sam shook his head. “I’d rather take them to my place.”

Pippa looked slowly from Sam to Emily to Timothy to Jeremy. “Okay. But first, I have to do what I came here for.” Her gaze remained on the twins. “Can you boys do the mother-chant?”

Jeremy and Timothy nodded in unison. They wrapped the blanket tighter around their shoulders and followed Pippa into the circle. She brushed the broken twigs from the large flat stone and stepped up onto it. Tian would have stood there an hour earlier, in the center of it all. Had he really been careless enough to lead the cops right to their sacred place? She pushed that thought away and nodded at the twins.

Their voices shaky at first, Timothy and Jeremy sang the words that offered new life for the family and the earth. With each verse, their voices gained strength and assurance and conviction. Pippa started slowly too, her boots shuffling on the slippery stone, her shoulders swaying to the beat of the familiar chanting. Her arms opened and her body found the rhythm of the twirling, twisting steps. She closed her eyes then, and it was her private prayer to Isis and her baby. Her undulating arms spun sorrow and regret, sang goodbye to Abby. Then Pippa shifted into the dance of gestation and birth and hope.

The soft sounds of the final repetition faded into the snow. Pippa stood motionless for a moment. Then she opened her arms for the twins’ embrace. She turned to Emily and Sam, standing just outside the ring of stones. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“I’m not.”

Emily’s voice surprised Pippa.

Sam looked strangely at her too. “What?”

Emily didn’t answer. She pulled the glove off her right hand and reached deep into her jacket pocket. Her hand made a tight fist, extended in front of her chest like a weapon. She walked slowly, marched almost, into the dancing circle. Already the snow was beginning to erase Pippa’s footprints.

Emily squatted, brushed the snow from the granite stone, and placed two small pebbles there. She whispered something, but Pippa couldn’t hear the words. Standing up, she looked for a second like she might want to say more. Instead she walked to Pippa and took her arm. Pippa didn’t understand what had just happened, what those pebbles meant to Emily, but she could see the relief in her friend’s face.

“Let’s go home,” Emily said.