Hannah shot me an amused glance, and then walked gingerly toward them, stopping a few feet from the tree. She bent closer to their heights and asked, “Well, hello. Are your mothers home?”
At that moment, the screen door burst open, and a haggard-looking woman in a long beige dress appeared, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “You children stay on the ground and stop all that noise, you hear?” she shouted, searching the top of the trailer for the small offenders. “You’ll crack the roof and let the rain in, and this thing is all we’ve got to live in!”
Suddenly noticing us, her feet stopped before her body did and she nearly fell forward. She looked from Hannah to me, and her face blanched. “Hannah Jessop, what’re you doing here?”
“Grace… You remember Clara Jefferies,” Hannah replied.
The woman turned to me. She took me in head to toe, questioning, and then appeared to piece it together. I didn’t know if she’d address me directly or not, but after she carefully assessed me, the woman said, “I heard you’d come back, Clara, but I couldn’t believe it. What nerve you have.”
“Word gets out quickly,” I said, ignoring the barb.
“Where’s your badge? A cop too, I hear.” Not giving me time to answer, her words tumbled out. “Another reason you’re not welcome.”
I remembered a girl named Grace, a classmate of mine, plump with delicate features. In the eighth grade, we sang together in the school choir. I wondered if this could be the same girl, grown into a woman. I didn’t remember my friend having a jaw so hard set, the twin indentations between her eyes making her appear angry.
Life had taken a heavy toll.
Grace moved closer and scowled. “Those who descended on us, harassing our community, had badges, too. They worried our husband so, he had a heart attack and died.” She pointed at the Pathfinder a short distance down the road. I sensed her fury building. “You’re not one of us. Get back in your car. You don’t belong here.”
I approached her slowly, calmly, shortening the distance between us. “Grace, I’m not here to cause any problems. I’m here to help you—”
“We don’t need your help. You need to leave!” she commanded.
“Please, let’s just talk,” I pleaded. I had no desire to linger any more than she wanted me to stay. I’d come for information. Then I’d be gone. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m—”
“Get out!” Grace screamed, her face inflamed with a seething rage. “Leave now. Everything of value we had has already been taken from us.”
Hannah stepped forward to intercede. “Grace, please, Clara came to help. I asked her to. I told her about my concerns, about Eliza.”
At that moment, two other women emerged from the trailer wearing threadbare but clean, carefully pressed dresses and stern expressions. The older one I recognized as Alma Heaton, the family’s first wife. Her hair had turned a yellow-gray, one that matched her pallid complexion. A look of incredible sadness on her face, Alma took Grace gently by the arm and pointed her toward the trailer door. Then she called out to the little girls watching wide-eyed from behind the tree trunk.
“Inside,” Alma ordered. When they didn’t immediately react, she demanded, “Children. Inside, now!”
The others vanished inside the trailer, and left Hannah and I alone with Alma. A slight, frail woman, she had the look of someone who’d been chronically ill for a very long time. Turning to Hannah, she seethed, “You have no business bringing police here. I told you Eliza left of her own free will, abandoned us like all the others.”
“Alma, please,” Hannah pleaded. “I’m worried that Eliza may not have left willingly.”
“Eliza ran off, I tell you,” she hissed. “Can’t you leave us alone?”
“That girl loved all of you.”
Tears formed in Alma’s red-veined eyes. “We thought she did. We were wrong.”
Hannah’s voice became soft, urging. “Eliza wouldn’t have left you. In your heart you know that, Alma. What can it hurt to answer some questions? I asked Clara to—”
“My daughter is no longer one of us. I will not speak of her.” Alma ran the back of a hand gnarled by decades of hard work over her cheek to wipe away tears. “Making things worse, you bring a police officer to this house, after what the Gentile police did to our family and our town.”
“How can you be sure that Eliza is safe?” I tried to redirect the conversation.
“My daughter abandoned us,” Alma hissed. “Like all the other teenagers, the ones who turned their backs on their families and faith. Like you did, Clara Jefferies.”
Alma Heaton glowered at me, but addressed Hannah. “You have no right to bring her here.” She stalked toward Hannah, pointing at her face with one rigid finger. “This isn’t a grand palace, but it is our home. We say who is invited. She is not.”
“Alma, please,” Hannah implored.
“I want you, both of you, to leave, now.”
“No, Alma,” Hannah whispered. “Talk to Clara. We only want to help Eliza. If you know where she is, tell us. Please, just tell us.”
“No! I will not speak of Eliza. Never again!” Alma’s denial erupted from deep within her, carrying with it the grievances of a life gravely damaged.
“What if she’s not?” I countered.
Alma turned toward me. “What?”
“What if Eliza isn’t safe?” I asked. “Would you turn your back on her suffering?”
Ever so slowly, Alma Heaton shook her head, nearly imperceptible at first, then harder and stronger. Her breathing turned hoarse, her eyes stared sharp. “You question me, a mother, challenge my love for my child?” she taunted. “You, who have no children, a barren woman who rejected her people?”
Her words hit their mark, a wound deep within me. I willed my face calm. I knew this world. Here
