Aftertime

details from a woman she met in the library; Cass had listened while the woman told the story of her mother’s death in her arms, how she’d held her until finally the unbearable heat left her wasted body. Cass’s own mother had refused to see her, even when she was dying of the fever.

But Lily reached across the table and squeezed Cass’s hand gently. “Right now, it is natural that you are hurting, that you are questioning God’s decision to take your mother from you,” she said. “But others have found comfort through a deeper understanding of His will and His ways. You can find that comfort in faith, too, Cassandra. Do you believe me?”

Cass fluttered her lashes. “I…don’t know.”

“So many of us have lost loved ones to the fever, to hunger, to senseless violence, to the Beaters. The loss is real, of course. But the anger it causes is not. You think you are angry at God for taking your mother, right?”

Cass nodded. She didn’t say that she was no longer the person she used to be before Byrn came along. He changed her forever when he intercepted her on her way to the bathroom one night after she’d stayed up too late studying for a biology test. He’d traded her trust for a few cheap thrills, pretending that his hands on the thin fabric of her nightgown had been in her imagination, forcing her to scab over her pain with self-doubt. Until it happened the next time. And the time after that.

That person-the old Cass-truly was dead. And the new Cass was angry. And no new-age faith-hawker was going to take her rage away. But Cass took those thoughts and carefully folded them, once, twice, until they fit back into the place where she kept them hidden away. Their energy, though, she summoned to feed this lie.

“What if I told you that you can learn to trade your anger for forgiveness?” Lily asked. “For peace? For healing?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes. I know it’s hard to accept at first.” Here it comes, Cass thought, the hard sell. “At first there were only a few of us, women just like you, Cassandra. We were all hurting. We had all lost someone. We found our way here, and we prayed without ceasing. Faith was our only reward, but what a glorious reward it was. Mother Cora founded the Order in this place in the end days of the Siege, when all the nations of the earth were at war with each other, and she prayed until she was exhausted and then slept only long enough to get up and do it again. Her first acolytes were women who were also looking for answers through faith, and they began to pray with her, and that allowed her to divide the work of her prayer into shifts. Now-” Lily swept her hand in an arc toward the interior of the stadium “-now there are dozens of us praying at every moment of the day. And that’s not all.”

The enthusiasm in her voice was too bright, too brittle. The pitch was well-practiced, and Cass could understand how easily a woman weakened by grief and fear could fall for it, but underneath Lily’s pious words, the pieces didn’t fit together. Cass focused on Lily’s mouth, her bowed, pale lips. “What else?”

“Tell me, Cassandra, is there room in your heart to forgive?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“There is a lesson in the Bible, one of my favorites-and also one of the simplest. In it, we learn that our Lord expects us to take the traveler into our home, the sinner to our bosom.” She tapped her fingernails on the desk as she recited: “I say to you, what you have done to one of these least ones, you have done to Me.”

Cass knew the passage well, from a long-ago game in church camp. The disinterested counselors made the girls form two lines, linking hands over their heads to form a tunnel through which they took turns running while everyone sang words like I accept you as you are and There is no bridge we can’t cross together. Cass remembered the game because one of the older girls had tripped her, sticking out her foot as Cass ran through. Then she pretended to help her up, whispering, God hates dirty skanks like you.

The likelihood of God’s affection for her was one of the subjects Cass took pains to avoid, but Lily seemed to be waiting for her to say something. “I know that one.”

“Yes, yes, it’s a beautiful lesson. But now I would like you to let your mind disconnect from what you have learned in the past,” Lily encouraged. “Be open to what you will hear and see in the days to come. Be open to miracles-true miracles.”

“What do you mean?”

“Close your eyes for a moment,” Lily said. “You will do much more work in the days ahead, with teachers who are far more gifted than I. But I just want to share with you a glimpse of what lies ahead. The beauty of forgiveness, the glory of letting go of all that is hurting you-the hatred, the sorrow, the regret, the anger-most of all the anger, which is like a poison inside you-letting it all flow away. That is the work that we do here, in the Order.”

Cass let her eyes drift shut. Despite herself, she felt herself responding to Lily’s gentle voice, to the soothing rhythms of her words. She had a lovely voice; Cass wondered if she sang. Probably. All these religious types did, didn’t they?

“That’s it…now breathe with me. In…out. In…and hold…and now, very very slowly, breathe out for one, two, three…good, Cassandra. Very good. Let’s do that again, together.”

Cass let Lily lead her through the breathing exercise. She was really very good, much better than Elaine, who had tried something similar in the impromptu yoga group she started in the library. Better than the physical therapist who attended Cass’s A.A. meetings from time to time and came over once or twice with gifts of tea and gingersnaps.

Cass had rejected the help offered by that woman, and Elaine, too. She’d always been aware of their agendas, their desire to lead her through their own personal programs. And Cass could not follow. She’d been made a rebel by all the years of trusting the wrong people, and she couldn’t let go enough to trust Elaine, and while all the others in the library lay on their backs and stretched their arms over their heads and practiced the Three Kinds of Breathing with great zeal, Cass faked it and felt her sadness coil all the tighter in her chest.

But Lily was different. Lily’s voice was gilded with hope and delight, and it was so tempting to think that such a thing might be possible for Cass, too, if she just followed along…if she let go of the torments that held her back…if she opened herself to forgiveness.

Of course it was all ridiculous, all part of the brainwashing, but would it really hurt anything if she played along, if she took this time to rest and relax? It had been such a hard journey, she had been on alert for so long, her body had been through so much.

“Just relax, Cassandra, lean back in the chair and let your hands rest loosely at your sides…that’s right and now in again and hold…”

Cass breathed and she listened and she felt her mind loosen and settle like a bowl of batter that had been stirred. It was like sleeping except she could still hear Lily’s soft words, like dreaming except the images in her mind were real things, memories of nice things. Ruthie, tucked under the bright quilt she found at a secondhand shop. A stray cat the neighbor took in, who grew sleek and fat-how Ruthie loved to pet that cat! Ruthie the day Cass took her back from Byrn, the dimples when Ruthie smiled and laughed and hugged her tightly around her neck.

Ruthie with the dandelions, the little yellow blossom under her chin.

The memory slanted in, surprising Cass. Dandelions…yes. There had been dandelions growing in the scorched lawn of the library. They had all been amazed the day the first one popped up, followed by another and another, pushing their tough stalks through the matted dead grass, defiant in the June sun, returning from exile. Cass had picked them and put them in jars and coffee mugs and still there were more, her own flower garden, and the morning after she brought Ruthie back, they went outside to see. The sun was up and it was safe and Bobby had dragged a PlaySkool plastic kitchen home with the raiding party the night before and they were setting it up in the courtyard. They’d seen a sandbox, shaped like a turtle, and they were planning to go back for it.

When you looked close at a dandelion you could almost believe the Siege had never happened. Hold it up to your face, inhale the sweet-bitter fragrance, watch clouds drift through the spiky leaves. Brush the soft petals against your face, and you were back Before, in the world you once knew.

Ruthie found a patch and squealed with delight. She began picking them, small hands tugging with determination, petals dropping to the ground, but no matter. Pull up all the flowers-tomorrow there might be no flowers at all.

Cass squatted next to Ruthie, her hands flat on the brick sidewalk. The bricks were cold against her palms, but