Looking for Cassandra Jane (The Second Chances Novels) (33 page)

“Are dogs affected by pot?” I asked as we walked past the pen where the “guardian angels” were kept during the day. The dogs lunged at the fence as we passed by, barking and growling and baring their teeth.

“I don’t know why not,” he answered. “The trick will be to time it just right. I’m thinking just before bedtime.” Fortunately for us, bedtime or “lights-out” still happened fairly much like clockwork, usually right around ten o’clock when all but one generator were shut down for the night. “I figure if I time it just right, the dogs will have eaten the pot but not be showing any signs when Mountain lets them out at ten. Hopefully they’ll take off like usual and then after a while just start slowing down.”

“And getting high?”

“Yeah, hopefully they’ll be a couple of mellow fellows. I know this is kind of experimental, but I think it’ll work. I’ll hang around and keep my eye on them, just to be sure.” He then showed me the route he thought would be best for exiting. He’d discovered a place where the barbed wire gapped just slightly, plus he’d found a pair of wire cutters. And escape really seemed possible! I began to feel slightly giddy with anticipation.

We continued walking and talking until we finally reached the barn where he and I would share the original annex bedroom that had been built for the brothers up in the loft of the barn. He’d already told me about the window he and River had frequently used to climb out of at night when they needed to relieve themselves and didn’t want to disturb others inside the house. A shed roof was only a few feet below, and from there you could easily jump down to the ground.

The plan was that we’d hang out in the room until just before ten. At that time Skip would slip out on the pretense of using the outhouse (where he’d already stashed the “dog goodies”). We were like two excited kids waiting for Santa to come as we talked in hushed tones, carefully going over each detail of the plan one final time. We would only take what we could carry in our pockets (and luckily I had dug out my old overalls where I could stick several mementos into the many pockets, including my mother’s photo and a few other things I’d managed to hold on to over the years—unfortunately I’d have to leave my guitar behind). Just shortly before it was time for Skip to leave, I threw my arms around him in a good-luck hug. “Thank you so much for doing this with me, Skip. I know I couldn’t do it without you.”

He hugged me back. “I feel the same way, Cass. But you know, even more than that, I don’t think we can do this without God’s help. I’ve really been praying today, and I believe that God is going to deliver us tonight.”

It was the first time I’d heard Skip personally speak of God since our early idealistic days when we’d come to the farm. And I felt a little surprised by his strong words of faith. I guess I’d assumed that, like me, he’d become something of a cynic when it came to religious things. “So you really still believe that God exists?” I asked.

He laughed lightly. “You mean just because a bunch of us crazy kids made some stupid mistakes, you think that makes God any less than he was before?”

“I’m not sure what I think anymore.”

He gently pushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Cass, I believe in God and Jesus as much and maybe even more than I ever did. I just don’t believe in all this.” He waved his arms as if to encompass the entire farm. “Maybe we started out all right—” he shook his head—“or maybe not. But somewhere along the line we began to go way off track. We quit thinking for ourselves and just totally allowed Sky to lead us. But I sure don’t think that’s God’s fault. And I made a decision this week. When I get out of here, I plan on serving God—not a man who
thinks
he’s God.”

I considered his words. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

And then he kissed me on the cheek and set out on his mission, and I was left alone with only his words to ponder. I had never realized that Skip was so deep. And suddenly I wondered if perhaps I was interested in more than just this pretense of a relationship with him. Maybe he was the kind of person I should hold on to. Maybe, as strange as it seemed, God had put us both here, and through all this, so that we could be together—maybe forever. This unexpected thought was exciting to me and I started to grasp a whole new perspective on God. Could he take something as messed up as the Funny Farm and bring something good out of it?

With growing hopes and eager expectations, crouching by the opened window, I waited for Skip to return for me. He had firmly instructed me to stay right there until I literally saw the whites of his eyes. “Just in case anything goes wrong,” he’d warned. We knew that was a possibility. Maybe the dogs wouldn’t be hungry. Or perhaps someone could be hanging around and prevent him from feeding them or turning off the generator. And we knew if I went out wandering around and looking for him we could really wind up with a mess on our hands. And so I waited by the window, ears and eyes tuned into the night, my heart pumping with adrenaline and anxiety as the minutes slowly ticked by.

Lights-out came and went, but still Skip didn’t return. I listened hard into the darkness but only heard what seemed like the normal sounds of people heading off to their various beds, doors slamming, people saying good night, dogs barking, a baby crying. Just the regular stuff.

Slowly the farm grew more quiet. And still I waited…and waited. It took every ounce of my self-control (which had been fairly well developed by then) not to climb out the window and go see what was up. But I took Skip’s warning to heart and stayed posted.

When Skip didn’t return after what I felt certain must be several hours—I guessed it was well past midnight—I began to feel sick and panicky inside. What if something really big had gone wrong? What if they had caught Skip and were now onto us?

Suddenly I realized that to protect Skip and myself I should appear to be asleep in bed, just in case someone came looking. So I stripped off my overalls, rolled them up, and shoved them back into my bag, then jerked on a T-shirt Skip had tossed on the floor and crawled into bed, shivering from both an icy fear and the chill of the night. My body as rigid as a board and my heart still thumping against my chest, I waited and waited, barely breathing. I knew beyond a doubt now that something had gone wrong.

Please, help us, dear God,
I prayed silently and desperately (for the second time in two weeks).
Okay, God, I really do believe you’re the only one who can get us out of here. So, please, please, help us. And watch over Skip.

Just then the door to my room opened and there standing like an ominous shadow was Mountain, a kerosene lantern in his hand. “Get up!” he demanded.

I leaped up and scrambled for my skirt, still lying in a heap by the bed. I barely had it buttoned before Mountain grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the room and down the steep, ladderlike stairs.

Soon we were standing before Sky and two of the newer brothers in the living room of the farmhouse. The generator to the house had been turned back on, making the room bright and garish. And although it appeared that only Sky and the three brothers were present, I sensed others were around, watching us, listening in hallways or from behind partially closed doors.

“Where is your husband?” asked Sky in an eerily calm voice.

At first I didn’t know what he meant. Then I realized I was a married woman now. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“When did you last see him?”

“Tonight,” I said, glancing back and forth at the brothers, wondering what was going on and whether or not they had discovered Skip. “He went down to use the bathroom just before lights-out.”

Sky slowly nodded, pressing his fingertips together. “And you weren’t concerned when he didn’t return?”

“I guess I fell asleep.” I looked down at the floor.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve had a very tiring night…” The way Sky said it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Where is Stone?” I asked, looking up and meeting Sky’s gaze.

“He’s gone.” Sky’s eyes held mine, as if to test me.

“Gone?”
I made no attempt to conceal my confusion and horror. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he left.”

“He
left?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “But why? How?”

“That’s what we want to ask you.”

“But—but how would I know?” I felt real tears filling my eyes at the thought of Skip abandoning me here like this. It seemed inconceivable, unbelievable.

Sky continued gazing at me, evenly, as if discerning the inner secrets of my heart. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure that he couldn’t.

Totally defeated, I collapsed onto my knees, my colorful skirt billowing up around me like a parachute, then slowly shrinking to the ground. I fell forward and just sobbed uncontrollably—the whole while wondering,
Why, why, why?
Why would Skip do this? Why would he leave without me? Why would he put me through this? I had trusted him. He had seemed so real, so sincere. What about that stuff he’d just said about God tonight? I’d believed him! Oh, was I really such a fool?

Finally I felt someone gently tugging on my arm. I looked up to see Venus hovering over me. “Come with me,” she said solemnly.

And I was taken upstairs, back to my old room where I was placed under what I assumed to be “house arrest.” Venus informed me that I was not to leave that room under any circumstances.

For the next day I stayed in my old room, by myself, in something of a daze or maybe even shock. Meals were brought to me, but I had no appetite. By late that evening, someone knocked on my door. I didn’t bother to get up or even to answer. I knew they would simply walk in. To my surprise, it was Star. Although it was dark, I could sense her presence by the jingling of her jewelry and the smell of heavy cosmetics and cheap perfume.

“Please come with me, child,” she said kindly.

I stood, physically weak and emotionally drained, still wearing the same rumpled clothes as yesterday. I followed her down to the living room where it appeared the “council” awaited me.

It’s not that we had an “official” council per se, but there were always certain people who were in the higher echelons—Sky’s inner circle, I suppose. At that time, his circle consisted of Mountain and Venus and Star.

“We’ve come to a decision,” said Sky after Star was seated. I remained standing before them, like the convicted felon about to go to the electric chair. “Do you have anything to say to us first?”

I looked from face to face, trying to determine what it was they were thinking. How much did they know? What did they want from me? But, as usual, their faces were impossible to read.

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally said. “I don’t know what to think.” I sadly shook my head. “All I can do is ask for your mercy.” I looked directly at Sky, knowing this was exactly the penitent sort of behavior he thrived upon. It made him feel both powerful and benevolent.

He smiled, then nodded to the others. “See? I told you she has great potential.”

I tried not to register surprise at this unexpected compliment, but merely looked down—humbly, I hoped—at my bare toes poking from beneath the hem of my skirt.

“Yes, I have always sensed Rainbow to be a deeply spiritual child,” said Star dramatically.

“And for the most part she’s been a good servant in the kitchen,” added Venus. “She has worked harder than most of the sisters.”

I stared at Venus in disbelief. Was she mocking me? But her expression appeared sober and genuine.

Mountain said nothing, just studied me carefully, and for some reason, of the four I feared his discernment the most. “I’m not so sure,” he finally said.

“Come now, Mountain,” said Star in a melodic voice. “The child is an innocent. Can’t you see this by observing her countenance?” Then Star stood and walked toward me, raising her arms in the air as she came near. She moved her hands slowly in an arch over my head and then back down to my shoulders, again and again, as if she were feeling the air around me. “I sense truth and peace in her aura,” she proclaimed in her theatrical voice, full of authority. Then finally, as if exhausted, her flabby and wrinkled arms fell limply to her sides and she sighed deeply.

“I believe Star is right,” confirmed Sky. “Rainbow, you are hereby released from all accusations. You may rejoin the family and return to your regular duties.” He smiled at me. “Have you anything to say now?”

Knowing full well that he expected me to fall to my knees and express my gratitude, I didn’t disappoint him. I knew I’d been spared from something—something ominous and probably horrible. And although I had no idea what that something was, I knew I should be thankful.

The next few days passed uneventfully. I quietly resumed my role in the kitchen. I worked in silent competence, like a well-trained zombie.

It’s as if something in me had died the night that Skip had abandoned me. Not the old Rainbow me, for she was already dead and buried, but something more. The real me, Cassandra Jane, fighter, survivor—she had given up. The only energy I possessed now was to peel and cut and slice and boil and wash and chop and stir and bake… and that was all.

Then toward the end of the week I overheard a conversation that, like a jolt of electroshock therapy (the kind they once used to stimulate mental patients) jarred me back into consciousness—back into reality!