Plus, the lamb. It really is a treat.
Later, as they dig into the meal, Miranda asks, “And how were services today?” She always takes pains to show an interest in this new passion of Tom’s, though she isn’t sure if it’s new or perhaps rekindled.
“Good,” he says, then wipes his mouth and finishes chewing. “This really is delightful. You were right about the parsley. It does add something, doesn’t it?”
She smiles and ducks her head a little. “I think it does. Your services?”
“Ah, yes. Well, I must admit it’s good to have a bit of fellowship.” At her slight frown, he quickly amends his words. “I don’t mean you, of course. I mean fellowship with others like me on the other side of the equation, if you know what I mean.”
“You mean men,” she says, then smiles. “I quite understand. Go on.”
“Today we discussed duty and responsibility. It was really quite enlightening.”
“I see,” Miranda says, not seeing at all.
Tom sips from his glass, then chuckles. “That did sound a bit murky and wide ranging. What I mean to say is that we discussed duty and responsibility when it comes to others, like women and children. About how that duty is sacred and we can’t fall down on the job.”
Alarm bells ring in Miranda’s head. “Women and children? Do they…”
Putting up a hand to push away that idea, Tom says, “No, nothing like that. I’m sure there are others out there in positions like ours, but that’s not discussed.”
“Ah,” she says, relieved. “Then I don’t understand.”
“It’s more general than that, but at the same time, it gives a good place to view any specifics from. For example, if I look at our situation, what is my duty and responsibility? It’s very clear that I must protect you, of course, but what does that really mean? At the most basic level, it means keeping you hidden from others so that you’re safe, right?”
Miranda nods, a little uneasy at the way Tom is phrasing things, but not entirely clear on why she’s uneasy.
“So, that’s the first level, but now that I’m doing that, what more is there? A duty isn’t fulfilled without understanding all of that duty. Responsibility is larger than simply making this house a safe haven. It’s all-encompassing. You have a mind and a soul, and those must be kept safe as well. The needs of happiness, fulfillment, curiosity…all of it. I’d gotten so bogged down on the one big thing that I’d forgotten everything else.”
Miranda puts down her fork and thinks carefully before answering. The words have to be right. “Tom, I think I understand what you’re saying, but honestly, I’m an adult. I should bear responsibility for my own needs and wants inasmuch as I’m able to. Yes, I rely on you to keep me hidden, but other than that, I’m still a grownup. I have free agency.”
She pauses, suddenly realizing how little free agency she’s exercised over the past year and how often her choice has been to stay in a basement lit by artificial light with plants that don’t speak. Clearing her throat, she says, “It’s true that I haven’t been myself for some time, but that was also my choice and not your responsibility. I have free will.”
“Of course, you do,” he says, patting the hand she has resting on the table. The smile he gives is almost indulgent. “I’m not saying you have no say in it, only that I must also do better in anticipating those needs and consider them when I make other decisions. It’s my responsibility.”
Picking up her fork, Miranda looks at her plate and tries to parcel out exactly which of his words is making her so uncomfortable. On the surface, it all seems so logical and kind. So considerate. But there’s an undercurrent there that she’s uneasy with.
It’s true that their position requires him to bear the burden of communication beyond the house. It’s true that like anyone hidden away, she must rely on him for everything beyond the walls. Yet…there’s something.
“Are you alright?” Tom asks.
Picking up the knife to cut another piece of lamb, Miranda says, “Yes, I’m quite fine. I was just appreciating this lovely meal.”
Satisfied with that, Tom cuts into his own meat. “It is good, isn’t it? With so many of the flocks needing to be culled back, there’s plenty of lamb right now. There’s just no need for that kind of production anymore. Soon we’ll have too many shepherds and not enough sheep. I’ll be sure and trade for more.”
Miranda chews, but suddenly, the meal has gone tasteless in her mouth. No need for so many lambs. Too many shepherds. That’s what it is. Tom believes he is her shepherd. She has become his rare lamb to protect from wolves. And what happens to those protected baby sheep? She looks at her plate and the meat there.
They become lamb.
Charlotte
The transport people are nothing if not solicitous. If anything, they’re too solicitous, too polite, and too accommodating. There are seven women in the group, including Charlotte and her mother. All of them are from their area and all of them have decided to go into protective custody. It’s amazing to her that so many women are coming forward after over a year in hiding. Fifteen months is such a long time to hide.
The other five women have been living secretly too, though Charlotte already knew about three of them. The other two are near her age, just teenagers. One of them is the girl her mother saw on that first day of The Dying, the last survivor of the knitting club. Tabitha’s mouth had dropped open when she saw the girl and apologies for leaving fell out of her mouth like an avalanche.
Charlotte had occasionally wondered about the girl from her mother’s story. She knows now.
The bus lurches a little and Charlotte is drawn out of her thoughts. The windows in the bus are reinforced, so
