Harvesting Ashwood Minnesota 2037 (23 page)

“So what do we do?” I uncrossed my arms and stretched out for the data pad as if to write a list of our thoughts.

“You do nothing.” Lao, himself a military vet, issued the command. “You do everything Milan asks and concentrate on your children and getting Ashwood through harvest.” The look he directed my way was powerful, a leader ready to do battle against another acknowledged leader. “Make sure there is no questioning of your actions.”

“Are you suggesting I not talk about Peterson’s cover with Milan?”

“You definitely should discuss this with Milan, but know that he is working on levels you and I must not question.”

Terrell stood as well. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. Milan will be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“That gives me time for breakfast with the kids.”

Terrell and Lao looked at each other before Lao said, “Sarah is in charge of the children until Milan’s assigned guardian ad litem arrives.”

Chapter Twenty-One

With these two men I could be plain Anne Hartford. I let seconds escape as I put my hands over my head, scratched at my scalp while my mind skittered over what had to be accepted—our children were not really ours. Except for John. David and I thought of John as Ashwood’s only truly free child, all the way from the natural blending of our DNA to the absence of government directives over his daily life.

“I’m sorry, Anne,” Terrell said, breaking the silence. “I followed medical guidelines last night, but I accept responsibility for how this developed.”

“Don’t go there, either of you.” Bringing my hands back to rest in my lap, I sat very upright. “If you want to get all analytical, Antwone brought me a glass of iced tea from the kitchen as the others had dessert last night. I may have fainted because of something put in my tea. We could follow a lot of blind alleys looking for the answer to how this ball started rolling, but I think Lao’s discovery about Captain Peterson’s history is all we need.”

One small dot of coffee stained my shirt collar. I rubbed at it out of habit. They watched and I felt self-conscious.

“Well, I had better get over to the residence for breakfast while my mother-in-law, who does love me, is in charge of my children. From what I remember of studying the guardian protocols, I will have open access to the kids as long as there are no claims of mental instability or potential for physical harm.” I looked to Terrell.

He shrugged. “Sounds logical, but this isn’t my area of expertise, Anne. We’re all going to walk carefully as the investigation goes on.”

“Let’s get started,” I said as I stood. “I’ll walk over with you. Tell me more about Dr. Frances.”

“You’re going to like her.” We left the conference room, walked back through the offices. “She’s older than you, completed her training before the
D
, did a pediatric clinical internship at Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital in New York, and has managed to practice both within the Bureau and independently.”

“Sounds impressive, but tell me what you think of her as a person, Terrell.”

“Rock solid. Blessed with deep insight and the love of kids and people who love kids. Not all clinical types like parents and teachers.” He pushed open the outside door and waved me out first. “Frances will want to work with you as well as with Phoebe.”

“Understood. How did Milan respond to hiring outside the Bureau’s short list?”

“He wants to clear up Peterson’s concern quickly for the kids’ sake and Frances is well respected.” Terrell waved to a worker, then yawned. “Hard to miss a night’s sleep.” Another yawn formed. “By the way, did I tell you she’s damn expensive and we’ll be housing her for a couple of weeks? Milan approved both, but I’m not sure whose budget gets hit.”

Amber, looking tired and uncomfortable with a swollen nose, directed final breakfast logistics in the kitchen. On another day, when my actions weren’t under investigation, my arms would have held the child. “Executive Milan wants to meet with me now, Cook Terrell. Is it all right if I go?”

As the surprise that Milan was at Ashwood without contacting me passed, I thought how intimidating such a request was for a worker. “He’s a kind man, Amber,” I said to assure her. “Did you want someone to walk over with you?”

“He said I shouldn’t talk with anyone about last night.”

“Go on,” Terrell handed her a towel. “Wipe your hands first. He’s in the estate office building.”

“Before you go, Amber, thank you for coming to get me last night.” I touched her arm. “I’m so sorry you were hurt. Terrell, can you spare Amber for the day? I’m sure you didn’t sleep well.”

“Cook suggested that, but I would rather be here.” She wiped her hands, touched fingers under one eye. “My mom once had a shiner that lasted for a month. I didn’t know how much that could hurt.”

Terrell and I did not look at each other. I did gently hug her, remembered the scars we found on her back when, at five years of age, she was the newest worker at Ashwood. I promised myself I would look into extending permanent legal protection over her.

She walked across the courtyard, head down. “How did you know where Milan was located?” I asked Terrell over my shoulder. “Was he already in the building when we were talking?”

“Don’t worry about the small details, Annie.” He gave directions to a boy loading the dishwasher, and I fretted about what I wouldn’t know in the coming days. “Go say hello to the kids. Have a cup of tea. Avoid more caffeine until this evening or the antidote I administered might set your nerves jangling.”

I left the kitchen, checked my appearance in a hall mirror. For my kids’ sake I shook off tight shoulders and concentrated on walking into the dining room with my normal energy and confidence.

Andrew spoke with Sarah and the boys at our family table. Phoebe looked lost in thought until she saw me and pushed her chair back to run to me for a hug.

She smelled of soap and shampoo, her curls damp against my shirt. My arms tightened around her skinny body as I bent to kiss her head. I remembered the first time I kissed her in the dark of the old nursery and promised to keep her safe as long as I remained at Ashwood. She stepped back.

“You have coffee on your shirt, Mom.”

Circles under her eyes would tell teachers of her difficult night. Of course, it was possible the entire story of the courtyard drama had spread around the estate.

“It was a tough night, sweetie, and I started the day in too much of a hurry.” We walked back to the table. “Since you’re the second person to notice that spot, I better change my shirt. Good thing I wasn’t interviewed this morning or the whole country would know I spill things.”

The boys giggled. I kissed Noah and John, wanted to at least squeeze Andrew’s shoulder but knew he needed time before such intimacy. I sat in the empty chair at his side. “I hope you slept well your first night and these two didn’t keep you up?”

One shoulder rose, then fell. He finished chewing a toast crust. “Sleeping in a bed again felt good. I shared a room with my older brother so John and Noah were no big deal.”

“Where did you sleep at your aunt’s?” Already comfortable with Andrew, Noah wanted to know about this new friend and stepbrother.

“On the floor. We found an inflatable mattress, but it always leaked so I just made myself a place to crash out of blankets and a rug.” He looked at me quickly, then picked up another slice of toast. “It was okay.”

“That’s your fourth piece of toast,” Phoebe observed. “You must really be hungry this morning.”

Andrew flushed.

“Andrew and his aunt didn’t always have enough food,” I offered, watching how the information settled on Phoebe. “Believe me, it takes a few weeks if you’ve been really hungry to get your body back in balance.” I took the liberty of extending my arm around the back of Andrew’s chair. “That’s doubly hard when you’re growing. So Andrew should eat as his body needs.”

Sarah sipped her beloved morning coffee. As always, she appeared tidy and ready to work, except for her eyes which carried a mixture of fatigue, worry, sorrow. We glanced at each other over the table. Starting this morning I was almost as powerless as Sarah to change what was wrong.

“Will we go hungry this winter, Mom?” John’s question surprised both Sarah and me. All our children stopped eating or drinking. “Cook Jeremiah told some workers that our cellars were empty and we might have a hungry winter.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sarah answered. “And your mom sent him away. Cook Terrell is working hard to make sure we have more food than we need in storage. We have been canning and preserving food for hours every day and have plans for big, wonderful greenhouse crops.”

“I heard Cook Jeremiah was stealing,” Phoebe said, “and the police took him away.”

Sarah looked to me for a response. “None of that really matters, Phoeb. Estate gossip can stretch truth pretty far.” I poured myself a glass of water, decided to pass on eating. “There’s no new information about Dad, but we have other important things to talk about this morning.”

Around the table I sensed weariness in this constant flow of bad news. The kids looked wary, even Andrew.

“Is this about last night?” asked Phoebe. “About me sleepwalking outside?”

“Yes it is, dear.” Sarah’s blunt answer surprised me.

“I’m not sure I agree with Grandma, Phoeb.” Sarah gave me a cool look across the table, a look I don’t think I’d seen before. “There was a security breach last night which allowed you to walk out the front door. Because of everything else happening, Executive Milan had to call for a special review, which includes bringing in a person to stay with us during the process.”

Sarah’s cool look disappeared. “I didn’t have all the information and mispoke. I’m sorry.”

I knew Sarah wouldn’t hurt Phoebe’s feelings intentionally, but that meant nothing when my daughter put her head on her arms on the tabletop and began sobbing. Sarah rose from her chair, but stopped as I put my hand up. Putting aside the whole letter of concern investigation, I acted as Phoebe’s mother and drew her close.

“I wish I was dead,” she whispered so only I could hear. “If Daddy’s dead, I want to be with him.” Her crying intensified.

Few words from my stepdaughter could frighten me more. I wanted to cry with her, to strap her to my chest and hold her safe until the world calmed, to fight demons or angels on her behalf.

“Sarah, maybe you can take the others outside.” I gestured above Phoebe’s head. “Please.”

They hesitated, three young boys, frightened and fascinated by Phoebe’s intense despair. When they left, the room felt larger, too impersonal. So I carefully lifted Phoebe from her chair and sat us on the floor, where I could cradle her long little-girl body into my own. I rocked with her, smoothing her hair and making the kind of small gentling sounds that often broke her terrors at night. As her sobs quieted, her body relaxed. I leaned against a table leg.

“Listen to me, Phoebe.” I vowed to protect Tia’s daughter, called the child my own, and hoped my heart and mind could lead us to stable ground. “You are a beautiful, wonderful person, exactly the kind of person this world needs. Nothing has happened that should make you feel so very bad.” I kissed her head, wiped tears from her cheeks and chin with my shirt. “Your biological mom asked me to take care of you and Daddy. All of you are the very, very best parts of my life. If you ever—and I mean ever—feel like life is too difficult, please come to me.”

“If they take me away from you, I’ll die.” Her voice, so childish and small, still sounded firm. “I don’t want to be like the kids who come here all alone and have to sleep in a dorm with strangers.”

“Phoeb, I believe Dad is alive and will be back.” I assessed what I had said, knew I wasn’t lying. “I don’t have the odd feeling I remember when my family members passed away.” She settled, listened for comfort but also for truth. “I’m worried about Dad, really worried. But I don’t feel like I want to crawl out of my skin.”

“You wouldn’t make that up?” She began to sit upright, to draw away even while she pulled at my shirt to wipe more tears from her face.

“No.” I leaned toward her, gave her free use of the shirt. “I’m worried about keeping you healthy and eradicating those night terrors. I don’t like Executive Milan’s legal guardianship right now when Dad isn’t present. But, in my bones I believe that Dad will be back.”

“Will he take us away from you? Me and Noah? And will Andrew get to stay with you?”

She was almost eight, a wise child with genius intelligence and keen perception. From experience, I knew I had to careful if I blurred the truth.

“I honestly don’t think so, Phoeb. But you and I have to be very serious about what happens over these next days or weeks.” She shook her head, not understanding. “This is part of something big that is controlled by powerful people. I can’t predict what might happen. You and I and the boys and Grandma might get scared at times.”

“What about Grandpa?”

“Even Grandpa gets a little scared.” One foot wiggled. “There’s something special you and I need to talk about. Terrell has found a therapist to help us understand what causes your bad nights.” She pulled away more. I kept her anchored with an arm. “Her name is Dr. Frances and she arrives today and will stay with us for some time. I think this is better than having long-distance sessions with a counselor.”