What She Left Behind (23 page)

In slow motion, she saw Shannon’s head turn toward her, her eyes glazed over with alcohol and lack of sleep. Her smile disappeared when she saw Izzy coming toward her. Shannon opened her mouth to speak, but Josh stepped between them, blocking Izzy.

“What the hell happened back there?” he said to Izzy. “Are you okay?”

“You know perfectly well what happened,” Izzy said.

She skirted around him and made her way toward Shannon. Shannon stared at her, her lips working as she tried to decide if she should smile or frown, no doubt wondering if her deceit had been discovered. But having been in this position a thousand times, Shannon instinctively knew what to do. She smiled, a look of artificial relief washing over her face.

“Oh my God!” she said. “Are you all right?”

For a split second, Izzy almost stopped in her tracks and turned away, knowing Shannon wasn’t worth it. But then something dark gave way in her brain and she rushed forward, grabbing Shannon by the collar with both hands. She shoved her face into hers.

“If you mess with me again,” she snarled, “you’ll be sorry!” Spittle flew from her lips, landing on Shannon’s perfectly tanned cheek. Shannon blanched and pulled backward. She tore at Izzy’s fingers, trying to break free.

“Get your hands off me!” she yelled.

“Say you’re sorry!” Izzy said, her words rattled by fury.

“I didn’t do anything!” Shannon cried.

“Say you’re sorry or I’ll pound you to a pulp!” Izzy shouted.

Before Izzy knew what was happening, Josh pulled her away, one hand gripping her hoodie, the other around Shannon’s upper arm, forcing them apart.

“Leave her alone!” he said, holding Izzy back. “I don’t know what happened back there, but she didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Izzy yanked herself from Josh’s grasp. “Bullshit!” she said. She shoved a finger in his face. “You know exactly what happened! You put me in a vault and left me there! And she put you up to it!”

“Me?” Josh said, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but I didn’t touch you! Alex started screaming and we all ran out. I thought you were right behind us!”

“You’re lying!” Izzy said.

“You weren’t with us!” Alex said to Josh. “You didn’t come outside until a couple minutes later, after Luke and Crystal let me go!”

Shannon stood next to Josh, arms crossed over her chest. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “I apologize for everything and ask for another chance, and this is the thanks I get. I don’t know if you’re trying to get revenge or what, but saying I put Josh up to locking you in a vault is a pretty serious accusation. I would never do anything so terrible.”

Izzy started toward Shannon again. Josh stepped between them and pushed her away. Then Ethan appeared, his back to Izzy. He cocked his fist and punched Josh in the face, grunting with the effort. When Ethan straightened, Josh staggered backward and fell to the ground, his hand up, his nose bloody.

“Stay the hell away from Izzy!” Ethan snarled.

Dave appeared, eyes blinking as he looked at Josh, then Ethan. “What the hell are you doing, Ethan?” he said. Ethan pulled back his fist, ready to deliver another blow, this time to Dave, but Izzy grabbed his arm.

“Don’t,” she said. “They’re not worth it.”

Ethan wiped his forearm across his mouth, panting and staring. He put a hand on Izzy’s shoulder. “You okay?” he said. Izzy nodded. Dave helped Josh up and they stared at Ethan, shaking their heads.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dave said.

“What’s wrong with me?” Ethan said. “When are you going to grow up and start thinking about the consequences of your actions? What would you have done if something happened to Izzy? What if she got hurt or we didn’t find her?”

“What the hell, Ethan?” Shannon said. “Why are you sticking up for her?
I’m
your girlfriend, remember?”

Ethan stared at the ground for a minute, then looked Shannon in the eye. “Not anymore,” he said, scowling as if he’d tasted something rancid.

“What?” Shannon said, her voice high. “What did you just say?”

Ethan took a deep breath, holding Shannon’s gaze. “I’m breaking up with you. I can’t date someone who enjoys hurting other people. I don’t know what’s happened to you lately, but you took it too far this time.”

“I took it too far?” Shannon said, her voice breaking. “You’re just going to take her word for it?”

“I found your buddy Bryan in the vault,” Ethan said. “He said you paid him.”

“That’s not true,” Josh said, his words wet and muffled. He held his nose, his plank-thick hand covered with dark blood. “She didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“You can stop trying to impress her now, Josh,” Ethan said. “She’s all yours.”

Ethan took Izzy by the arm and turned, making his way toward the shoreline. Alex followed.

“Do you want to go to the ER?” Ethan asked Izzy.

“No,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”

“Come on,” Ethan said to Alex. “Let’s take her home.”

CHAPTER 16

C
LARA

 

A week after her release from the Rookie Pest House, Clara was allowed back in the general population. She was sent to a different ward and given a job at the laundry, sorting, starching, and ironing. The work was hot and exhausting, but she was relieved to be out of the Rookie Pest House, grateful for the chance to stand up and perform labor, to use her body and stretch her muscles. More than anything, she was grateful not to be chained to a bed twenty-four hours a day.

The women in the laundry kept to themselves, except for Matilda, an older woman who talked to everyone. Matilda spoke with a thick European accent and wore her gray hair in long braids. Head and shoulders taller than most of the other women, she had thick, muscular arms and incredibly wide fingers. Matilda delivered the freshly washed sheets and pillowcases to the starch baths by lifting the tubs full of wet laundry up on one shoulder and carrying them in slow motion across the room. When she wasn’t lifting impossibly heavy tubs of wet laundry in the air, Matilda pushed wagons of torn and ripped clothing into the sewing room across the hall. At every stop, she hugged every woman and recited the same words.

“I don’t hear voices. I don’t see visions. I’m not crazy. I am nervous.”

Normally, the patients weren’t allowed to touch each other, but no one tried to stop Matilda from doling out her daily hugs. Clara found herself looking forward to seeing Matilda every day, feeling her strong, warm arms around her. It felt like forever since she’d been hugged, so she held on a little longer every time. When Clara thanked her, Matilda grinned and said she was sweet. It became a bright spot in Clara’s day, a tiny demonstration of kindness in a cold, heartless place.

After two weeks, Clara was allowed to go to the recreation room for an hour every afternoon. The room was long and narrow, with striped wallpaper, brocade curtains, and Victorian chandeliers. Patients sat on cushioned sofas or cane-bottom chairs, talking, staring, or playing cards and board games at oak tables. In one corner, a patient cranked the handle on a Victrola, playing a scratchy rendition of “America The Beautiful” over and over. Decorated to look and feel homey in an attempt to make the patients relax, the room had the opposite effect on Clara. To her, it felt like a mockery, an attempt to placate patients into thinking their needs were being met while years and months slipped by. Their lives were disappearing and no one was making an attempt to help get them back. Behind the fancy curtains and comfortable furnishings, the windows were still covered with bars, the doors were still locked, the orderlies still watched with vigilant eyes.

Clara threaded her way through the chairs and tables, trying to find a quiet spot where she would be left alone. Then her heart leapt in her chest. Esther and Madeline were sitting together in front of a bookshelf, Madeline leaning forward and reading to Esther, who was sitting in an overstuffed chair with her head back and her eyes closed. Clara hadn’t seen Madeline since the day in the kitchen, when Clara hit her head and went into labor. And the last time she saw Esther was on their daily walk, when they went past the Rookie Pest House. Clara rushed over and knelt next to Esther’s chair.

“I’m so happy to see you two!” she whispered.

Madeline dropped the book in her lap, her eyes wide and staring. “Clara!” she said. “Where have you been?”

Clara glanced at Esther to see her reaction, but she was asleep. Up close, Esther’s face looked paler than Clara remembered, dark circles lining the wrinkled skin under her eyes. She looked like she’d aged ten years, her movie-star features stolen by grief and stress. All because she kissed another man. Clara swallowed, trying to find her voice.

“I went into labor that day in the kitchen,” she said. “They kept me and the baby in the infirmary for a few months. But then . . .” Her voice caught, trying to speak around the burning lump in her throat.

“Where’s your baby?” Madeline said in a small voice. Her eyes grew glassy and she gripped the edge of the book, her knuckles turning white.

“They took her,” Clara managed. “A woman came and took her away from me.” It was the first time she’d said the words out loud. All of a sudden, she felt dizzy and nauseous. She stood and pulled up a chair, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Oh no,” Madeline said. “I was hoping you’d been released, or your parents came to get you after your fall. That’s what I told myself anyway. I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if something bad had happened to you because you were defending me. But now, they’ve taken your baby. . . .” She lowered her head and sniffed, fat, swift tears falling from the tip of her nose.

Clara squeezed Madeline’s hand. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m going to see my daughter again someday. I don’t know when or how, but I am. For now, I just have to hold on to that and do what I’m told. And somehow, I’ve got to convince Dr. Roach that I’m cured.”

Madeline lifted her head. She bit her lip and starting picking at the skin around her thumb.

“What is it?” Clara said. “What’s wrong?”

Madeline glanced at Esther. “Be careful,” she said. “Dr. Roach did that to her.”

Clara turned to look at Esther. “Did what?” she said. “What’s wrong with her? I thought she was sleeping.”

“She is,” Madeline said. “Because that’s all she does now. Before this, Dr. Roach kept asking her for details about her affair. Her husband said she was acting like a common whore and Dr. Roach said the only way he could cure her was if she told him everything. He wanted every detail. At first she refused, but Dr. Roach said she’d never be released if she didn’t cooperate. Then, when she finally agreed and told him everything, he wanted her to act out what she had done with her lover. He tried to get her to have sex with him.”

Clara clenched her jaw, a hot coil of anger building up beneath her ribcage. “Did he hurt her?”

Madeline shook her head. “He tried to force himself on her and she kicked him,” she said. She pointed toward her crotch. “You know where. A week later, she disappeared. When she finally came back to the ward, Nurse Trench said she had been in an insulin-induced coma. Esther was fine, but really, really tired. They let her stay in bed for a while. But then something happened. She says a man came into the ward. I think it frightened her.”

Clara frowned. “A man came into the female ward? How is that possible?”

“He was with the carpenters. They were fixing a leak in the ceiling or putting up a new door. I’m not sure.”

“He didn’t hurt her, did he?”

“No,” Madeline said. “I don’t think so. But, after it happened, Esther kept asking where you were. She wouldn’t stop. She kept saying, ‘Where’s Clara? Where’s Clara?’ over and over again.”

Clara sat up, startled. “Me?” she said. “Why would she be asking about me?”

Madeline shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “We both wondered where you were, but this was different. She was frantic. Like her life depended on finding you. She asked everyone where you were. After it happened, Dr. Roach put her on some kind of medication that makes her want to sleep all the time. And when she sleeps, it’s like the dead. When she wakes up long enough to talk, she won’t tell me anything. She’s afraid she’ll forget if she tells me. That was over two months ago.”

Clara looked at Esther. “Will she talk if we wake her up?”

“She might,” Madeline said. “Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. It depends on the time of day.”

Clara put a hand on Esther’s arm and gently shook it. “Esther?” she said. “Esther, can you hear me?”

Esther moved her head ever so slightly. Madeline sat forward in her chair, looking around the room to make sure no one was watching. The orderly in charge of the recreation room was sitting at a desk reading a magazine. Madeline took Esther’s hands and gently pulled her forward.

“Esther,” she said. “Wake up. Clara is here and she wants to talk to you.” Esther’s upper body started bending forward, but her head lolled backward and her eyes remained closed. Madeline stopped pulling and let Esther sink back into the cushion. “Did you hear me, Esther? Clara is here. She’s right beside you.”

“Esther,” Clara said, fighting the urge to shout. She moved closer and leaned over the arm of the overstuffed chair, getting close to Esther’s ear. “It’s me, Clara. Madeline said you want to talk to me. What is it? What do you want to tell me?”

Esther’s eyelids fluttered and she lifted her head from the cushion.

“That’s it,” Madeline said. “Wake up, Esther. Clara is here. Remember Clara?”

Finally, Esther blinked and opened her eyes. She looked at Madeline and squinted, then put her hands over her face and took a deep breath.

“Esther,” Clara said. “Why did you ask Dr. Roach where I was? Do you want to tell me something?”

Esther dropped her hands in her lap and slowly turned toward Clara, a thin line of drool trailing from her lower lip. “Where’s Clara?” she said, her speech slow, her words slurred.

“I’m right here,” Clara said. “Open your eyes and look at me. I’m right here.”

Esther forced her lids open, trying to focus on Clara’s face. The whites of Esther’s eyes were bloodshot, her irises dull. “Clara,” she said. “A man came into the ward.”

“Yes,” Clara said. “Madeline told me.”

“I was sleeping and he woke me up.”

“What happened?” Clara said. “Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?”

Esther shook her head. “He shook my shoulder and it scared me. But then he asked about you. He asked if I knew you.”

Clara’s heart thundered like a train in her chest. She dug her nails into her palms. “What did he look like?” she said. “Did he tell you his name?”

“Dark hair. Brown eyes.” Esther closed her eyes and for a second, Clara was afraid she was falling asleep again. Then a faint smile played across Esther’s lips. “Very handsome.”

Clara could barely breathe. “Esther,” she said. “What did the man say to you?”

Esther swallowed and blinked. “Tell Clara I’m working with the carpentry crew. Tell her I came to get her.”

“Who?” Clara said, the hairs on her arms standing up. “Who came to get me? What was his name, Esther?”

“Bruno,” Esther said. “Bruno came to get you.”