The Unwanted (Black Water Tales Book 2) (7 page)

“Nothing, I’m sorry.” Blaire curbed her amusement and handed Natalka a dust rag. “So how long have you been at St. Sebastian, Natalka?”

“Not very long.”

“Really? Then I guess we can be new here together.”

“I don’t like it here.”

“Why not?” Blaire asked, hearing her words out loud made her wish that she had responded differently.
Why would any child be happy with no parents in a place like this?

“I just want to go home and be with my family.”

“You have family?” Blaire asked.
Another dumb question, everyone has family whether they know them or not
.

“Yes!” Natalka snapped at Blaire’s ignorance. “My father says that he is coming back for me when he starts his new job. He wrote and said that it was a mistake bringing me here, and that they will be coming to get me soon. You will have to be new here by yourself,” Natalka explained graciously.

“That’s good news. I’ll be sad when you go, but happy for you too. I can handle being new by myself, I guess,” Blaire said with a wink.

They both looked up as Travis knocked on the open door.

“Looking good in here!” He completed a quick inspection of the room. Natalka eyed the tall man carefully.

“You think so? Not as good as that nurse’s office, I bet.”

“Of course not, dear,” he shot back with a smile. “…and who are you?” he asked, walking over and extending his hand to the young girl.

“Natalka,” the girl said with a toothy smile on her face.

“Hi, Natalka. I’m nurse Wells. How about I treat you ladies to lunch down the hall?”

“Great, I’m starved,” Blaire announced.

Natalka walked in front of them taking glimpses back every few steps to make certain that Blaire and Travis were still following. She guided them carefully, as if leading them into some sacred temple for an
age
-old ritual.

The lunchroom buzzed with activity as children raced in every direction, receiving their lunches, and then clamoring around the mismatched tables. Travis, Blaire, and Natalka made their way over to the lunch counter where they would indulge in the
one
-course meal, which consisted of whatever was in the intimidating black
cauldron
-like pot. Undulating waves of disgust washed over Blaire as she watched Heinrik clump the lumpy
oatmeal
-looking substance into Natalka’s bowl. At first glance the meal appeared gray, but at other angles was iridescent. It looked radioactive and smelled just as bad.

“Hello,” Blaire said, greeting Heinrik, who grunted something in return.

Natalka received her portion, and then took a seat at a table with some other children, leaving Blaire and Travis to fend for themselves.

Heinrik scooped a hefty portion of the meal and delivered it to Blaire’s bowl.

Blaire struggled to swallow the lump in her throat, so that words could pass. An insincere “Thank you.” came out.

“I am not eating this,” Travis said, leaning in to whisper.

“Just put some in your bowl, because you don’t want to be rude,” Blaire instructed in a hushed tone.

“Rude? It’s rude of them to serve us this rotten cream of wheat. I’ve seen more appetizing meals on
Fear Factor
.”

“Maybe it just looks bad. What if it tastes really good?” Blaire said.

“No way! Someone played that trick on me with fruitcake one year, and I will not let it happen again,” Travis answered, sighing, but allowing a portion of the mush to be poured into his bowl against his better judgment. The two found an empty table in the corner and sat down. Blaire looked around and saw the children consuming the sparse meal ravenously. She wanted to make small talk for the hour and not even look into her bowl, but coming into one’s home and not eating food offered was an insult of epic proportion. Expecting the flavor to be awful, Blaire was pleased at the realization that it was absolutely tasteless.

“I don’t even know what to put in this
stuff
—sugar, salt, butter, or what?” Travis said, sincere frustration flooding him.

Blaire took another spoonful and struggled to swallow.

“…and the mystery of why all of the children are so severely malnourished is solved.” Travis felt a knot in his stomach from the food and the immense job that lay ahead of them.

“How is your office coming along?” Blaire asked, changing the subject.

“Pretty good, I should be able to start examinations soon. I just want to get everything organized and, more importantly, sterilized,” he said. “…but I’m missing some basics.”

“Like what?”

“I’m going to need thermometers for sure, a stethoscope, bandages, the basics, you know?”

Across the room Blaire noticed Danya and Dariya sitting quietly together resembling a circus sideshow act of some sort. Danya’s old camera hung from her neck on its
beat
-up strap. Blaire’s eyes floated down to the girl’s chest, which was exposed down to just beneath her collar bone. A purplish bruising was apparent, and Blaire was sure it was new and not on the girl before. Travis’ voice was chattering somewhere far in the background as Blaire continued to review what seemed a fresh injury. At that moment, Blaire’s eyes flicked up to meet Danya’s, and Blaire realized that both sisters were now staring right through her. Danya lifted her camera and pointed it at Blaire, who felt it all coming at her. She would be struck by something shooting out of the old camera, capturing her, pulling her in, and destroying her.

Say cheese, 1…2…

CHAPTER EIGHT

“H
e
llo
!
”

Both Blaire and Travis looked up to find a jovial
strawberry
-blonde woman standing over them.

“Hello,” Blaire offered a bewildered greeting. Cheerful people were not something that Blaire had become accustomed to seeing here, and, in only a day, an enthusiastic person seemed peculiar.

“I’m Anya. I work here,” the plump young woman said, smiling. In one hand she had a bowl of the lunch slop, and, with the other, gave a long wave that glided in front of her chest like a windshield wiper.

“Hi Anya. I’m Blaire Baker and this is Travis Wells. We’re here with the United Care Organization. We’re volunteers.”

“I know. You are American, right?” Anya wiggled into one of the chairs at the table without an invitation, though the minor faux pas bothered neither Blaire nor Travis.

“Right,” Travis confirmed.

“So how long have you been here at St. Sebastian?” Blaire asked.

“A couple of years. Are you just caretakers?” Anya spoke, shoveling a spoonful of the weird oatmeal into her small mouth.

“I’m a teacher and Travis is a nurse,” Blaire answered. Anya seemed amazed by their middle class occupations.

“I will be teaching down the hall in the classroom and Travis will be working in the old nurse’s office.”

“That is good news, that is fantastic news, and the children will be so thrilled.” Anya clasped her hands together and erupted in an enormous burst of laugher that ended in a subtle snort.

They all laughed.

Anya nodded and again began to eat excitedly. Suddenly she was insecure under the watchful eyes of the Americans. “I should stop. My husband thinks I need to lose a few pounds.”

It was clear that Anya was not suffering from malnutrition like the children, though fat would not have been the most accurate term to describe her; round was a better word, like a fairy godmother. The few extra pounds around her waist signaled only that she was a woman who knew that good food sometimes nourished the soul just as much as it did the body, unlike Vesna and Hannah whose thin frames reminded Blaire more of cackling witches.

“You look healthy to me,” Travis said with a smile that made Anya blush.

“I believe that there are some things in the shed that both of you may find useful for your work,” Anya offered.

“Really? That would be great.” Blaire forced down another bite of the tasteless gray matter in her bowl.

“Not much, maybe just a board, some blocks and chalk, and things like that. I’m not sure how much stuff there would be for the nurse’s office, but it couldn’t hurt to take a look,” Anya added.

“Thanks,” Travis said.

“Thank you,” Blaire added. “Anya, do you know what’s for dinner?”

“More of this I’m afraid.” Anya held up her spoon, allowing the chunky substance to plop down into her bowl. A thin mask of embarrassment slipped over her face.

“The children eat this every day?” Travis stared at his untouched portion.

Anya nodded her head up and down, hesitant in her confirmation as if she would be in trouble with the powerless volunteers.

“This is terrible for the children,” Blaire said in a voice that could be heard over the resounding noise that bounced eagerly off all the walls in the room. Oddly enough, it had quieted down to a whisper just before she spoke, which caused her assertion to be heard clearly across the room. A ferocious glare came from Vesna, who sat two tables over. Anya’s head lowered, so as not to catch any part of the chastising scowl from the older woman, who appeared to laud some type of seniority over the rest of the St. Sebastian clan.

“I must go. I have a few things to do before I start my shift.” Anya got up and scooted away from the table.

“Bye,” Blaire and Travis called out in unison.

Travis’ eyes returned to his full bowl of slop, and he stirred it quietly. “It’s going to be a long year.”

The next morning Blaire stood in the doorway of her classroom admiring her work. It wasn’t finished, but at least it was clean. With a new layer of sparkle and some items that Anya helped her find in the shed, her classroom was starting to look like a place where children could learn. In the shed Travis had found some of the basics that he needed, Blaire dug out a standing globe that, with a little polish, was just like new. Anya found a lamp that was perfect for Blaire’s desk. They turned up chalk and erasers for the board that Travis promised to hammer back on the wall. Also, there were educational posters and oversized cutouts of all the letters of the alphabet, except the J and the K. She would hang them after the walls were coated with a fresh layer of the
cream
-colored paint that also had been discovered in the rusty treasure trove that sat on the side of the main building.

Blaire sat her bag on the desk and proceeded toward the back of the classroom to open the windows when she stopped suddenly. Looking back, she took a mental note of every object on her desk
.

Her body stiffened slightly when she noticed that the lamp that she had placed to the left of her computer last night, now sat to the right of it. Blaire went to the door and flipped the lock back and forth, and it was indeed functional, which allowed her to shrug off any sinister suspicion. Blaire’s attention was drawn to the
clown
-faced children in the photograph up above the closet door. They laughed at her, at first softly, but it grew until it was loud and ringing in her ears like school bells, quickly dissolving into a blare of sirens, and then once again into the laughter of the children. They got up from the places where they sat in the photograph and ran and played in a circle with one another. Blaire could hear them so clearly that it was as if they were in the room. She looked around and realized that their playful voices and laughter
were
in the room, as the sounds were coming up through the vent at the bottom of one of the walls.

“Good Morning,” Anya said, poking her head through the door and smiling brightly.

“Geeze!” Blaire jumped. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. Anya here, reporting for duty.”

“Are you always this cheerful in the morning?” Blaire asked.

By late afternoon the entire room was painted, and they sat on the floor by the open windows, waiting for the paint to dry and the horrible smell to disburse. Outside, Blaire could hear the waves gently brushing the shore, and she felt relaxed for a moment. She and Anya shared a meal of some of the snacks that Blaire had brought from Kerchaviv when she arrived.

Anya devoured half a bag of chips and several cookies which she immediately regretted as it violated the terms of her strict new diet.

“Are you from Borslav?” Blaire asked as she snacked on peanut butter crackers.

“No, I am from another town north of Kerchaviv, but my husband is from Borslav. His entire family came to Borslav many years ago from a small town called Slokivka.”

“What does your husband do?” Blaire asked.

“He’s a locksmith. His father was a locksmith and his grandfather, too. He installed all of the locks on almost every home and business in Borslav, including this place. His
great
-
great
-grandfather installed the original locks on this place when it was a home for the guy who built it.” Anya spoke proudly of her husband and his history.

After their lunch Anya helped Blaire clean up the paint supplies and offered to put them away before starting her shift with the children.

“Are you going to stay?” Anya asked sheepishly as she stood in the doorway, barely making eye contact.

“Yes, I have some work to finish,” Blaire said as she flipped open her laptop. “Thank you, Anya, for all of your help.”

Anya stood at the door, her gaze lingering uncomfortably on Blaire.

The long hesitation caused Blaire to ask, “Is there anything else?”

“I meant here at St. Sebastian. Are you going to stay? People like you don’t stay.”

“Forever?” Blaire questioned, sincerely trying to understand just what Anya was trying to ask since she seemed too frightened to just come out with it.

Anya was silent. When she finally spoke, she seemed unsure of her own words, “…of course, not forever.” Her voice almost a whisper now, infusing every inch of skin on Blaire’s body with a prickly tingle.

“For the next year, yes, I am going to stay here. I have no plans on leaving anytime soon. I was sent here to do a job, to help these children, and I am going to do it.”

“You’re going to help them?” Anya questioned further.

“Yes, I will help them.” Blaire felt as if she were somehow agreeing to something implied that was far beyond anything that she could have ever imagined.