Novella: Chapter Three - Crossing the Border

Despite her promise of nothing changing, Allison hadn’t spent the night or even shown up to say goodbye. Katherine had, finally bringing the finished dress, glowing with the idea that it would be seen by all the city people. The material was a creamy yellow, dyed with the goldenrod that grew nearly everywhere, it was plain but cheerful. Katie suspected by the dark circles under her friend’s eyes that she had stayed up all night working on it. Katherine squeezed her neck in a tight hug, then rushed out the door, already running late.

Katie packed her clothing in a crate, contemplating taking the quilt, but she decided to leave it for Mallory, for even in Texas the winters were miserably cold. She took only her clothing, wondering how different her life would be when she returned, if she even did return.

The screen door creaked and slammed, the sound suddenly nostalgic. Likely her house would no longer be here when she returned, for Mr. Blackwell was the first to throw down money for any scrap of land that came up for sale and once he bought it, he'd dismantle anything he could take apart to be sold for scraps. Their land was prime for farming so long as you had workers and seed.

It was strange to reach the town and find everyone rushing to their work. A few smiled at her. Several called out or offered a quick hug. But it was another day for them, another race to bring in crops, to load their offerings onto Tucker’s truck, to begin their apprenticeships on time.

Even Clark looked harried and pale clutching his satchel and looking straight ahead as he rode down the street.

She swallowed, uncertain if she should call out or leave him alone. Hating that their last interaction should have been an argument about futures, and now she wasn’t even sure what he was thinking. But he spotted her and turned his horse to cross the street toward her. He slid off the animal, but his face wore the stoic Blackwell mask.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said.

Katie swallowed. “Me too.”

The silence stretched as she tried to think of a way to ask if he still hoped she would wait or if his first rejection had shaken him into reality.

“Maybe I can find a way to get you there,” she teased weakly.

He smiled with no mirth. “I think I may have been unrealistic in that regard. Even my father’s money can’t get me into the city.” He took a breath. “But I also realized last night that a half-trained doctor is better than no doctor. So I guess I'd better stay here.”

“I guess you better,” she echoed.

His lips formed three different words as he struggled for a sentence, then shrugged and said, “Have fun.”

He opened his satchel and dug out a package wrapped in butcher paper, shoving it into her hands. Then he’d snapped his cap back onto his head in his usual manner, and mounted his horse, now properly saddled with no room for her. He hadn’t looked back. And neither could she.

She clutched the envelope feeling her throat tighten and searched for Tucker’s truck but, as usual, he was running late. So late that there was no escaping Mr. Blackwell. He offered her a smile that looked like Clark’s but lacked its warmth.

“I hope you realize,” the man said, “the enormous opportunity you’ve been given.”

“I do,” she answered, a tad defiantly.

“Clark and Allison will be held back for the rest of their lives for missing this chance,” he said. “Our entire town will be judged on your performance and your attitude.”

He eyed her. She tried to meet his stare but only managed to lift her eyes as far as his starched collar.

“I have wanted to live in the city for my entire life,” she said. “I am not going to squander or jeopardize this.”

“See that you don’t,” he said. “And while you’re there—for whatever degree you’re getting—find a way to stay there. You’ll do far more for this village by continuing to represent our people in the city and warm them up to allowing us in, than you will returning here. Jeremy will have enough mouths to feed, and Clark will be married before you return. You’d do better to find yourself a man from the city and stay there. Understood?”

“Understood,” she answered. She lifted her chin. “Not to be mistaken with agreed. You don’t own me, Mr. Blackwell.”

He almost smiled, but his face masked again. “No,” he said. “I do not own you. But I do own the well your sister and her husband drink from.”

Her heart burned as panic was swamped by rage. Why did he hate her that much? How dare he threaten her family if she ever returned to her own home? And who did he think he was, assuming that she would return as helpless as she left?

“Katie!” Tucker’s voice broke them up like throwing a stone between two cats.

He reached for her crate. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she said, and escaped the man who ran her town.

It was hard to look anywhere with the tires spinning up dust and the wind whistling through the windows lashing her hair into her eyes. She tucked the wayward strands behind her ear, irritated that her hair was too slick and thin to stay where she wanted it.

“You’re gonna love the city, Katie,” Tucker said. “There are things there you never even imagined. When you finish up in two years, you gotta at least come back for a visit and tell poor Tucker all about it. I seen those buildings in the distance all my life, but I never been up close.”

“Why not?”

“I just go to the city limit,” Tucker said. “Traders from inside the city come there. I give ‘em what they need and get what we need. But my truck ain’t cleared to go on the toll road to get all the way inside the city.” He eyed me. “You gotta stick close to me at the market. Other drivers’ll sell anything they get their hands on—including women.”

Katie shifted, feeling a spring press against the back of her thigh from the worn seat. “How are you going to get me into the city?”

“Your sponsor family is gonna meet us there at the market. They’re cleared to go in.”

Katie gulped for air, imagining a world where every face belonged to a stranger.

Tucker nudged her with his elbow. “Now I come here every first Saturday,” he said. “I know you’ll be busy with school and all that and maybe you can’t get over to the market, but if you can, you get a letter to my truck and that way we’ll all know how you’re doing.”

Katie swallowed, suddenly envisioning every word she wrote being read at the village church service. Anything bad would make Mallory worry. Anything good would make Allison cry.

“I’ll try,” she said.

She turned her eyes away before he could see her pooling tears. They blurred the limbs of the live oaks that swept in gnarled loops only inches off the ground. Brush grew between them, creating a thick carpet of foliage that barred an average walker from the woods.

The tires spat the last of the rocks behind them as the wheels hit paved road. Katie worked a foot beneath her to see better out of the windshield as a dark, smooth road stretched ahead like a wide, fresh ribbon. The truck quieted, even though the wind still blew through the windows. Sunlight glinted off the river, glimmering between the thick trunks of the trees before it wound away from them again. That was one comfort. The river, at least, would go with her, or rather leave her, for it flowed from the city to the village.

“Too bad the river flows downstream and not up,” she said. “Y’all could just drop a note in a bottle.”

“Ah, you got a better chance of somebody finding a note you send to us, than one coming to you, anyway. You’re gonna be too busy to fish, and those town people don’t wash their clothes in the river.”

She blinked. “They don’t wash their clothes?”

“They do, just not in the river. They got machines to wash for them. And they don’t have to crank them to make them run, neither.”

“How do they run?”

“With electricity. They got electricity there, just like our folks did before the Blackout.”

“Huh.” She rapped a knuckle against the worn leather that once covered the door. “I don’t know if Dad would have let me go if he knew there would be electricity.”

“He’d be a fool not to. Somebody gotta get out of our village.” He turned off the road onto a large stretch of cleared field where people had set up tables and opened the back of trucks. “Did you remember to wash behind your ears?”

“Funny,” Katie threw back, and her driver just grinned.

The two sponsors stood out, standing in a sea of vendors, dressed like they’d intended to show up for Mallory’s wedding rather than picking up a new student at a market. The man stood with his hands in the pockets of a traditional suit, gray with silver stripes running down the pattern. A blue tie squeezed his throat, also accentuated with silver lines, only now they were vertical. Even his hair seemed in on the act, dark in the middle, but framed with silver that grew near his temples and highlighted the path over his ears. He peered at Katie from behind two circles of glass held by a silver wire that pinched his nose. His mouth turned downward, Blackwell-style, and Katie felt a twinge of fear as she stepped onto the grass crushed by a dozen tires.

But the woman glowed. Her hair was the same gold as Katie’s but cut short and curled against her head. Her blue eyes were framed with dark lashes, standing out even from several paces. She wore a tailored bodice of pale pink, matching a pleated skirt that rippled softly with each movement. She balanced in high heels, putting one foot in front of the other like she was balancing on a fence post. She was even more elegant than Mrs. Blackwell.

Katie instinctively pulled her shoulders back with movements she’d practiced in front of the mirror since she was six and her mother had giggled at her efforts.

“Katie!”

She watched, enchanted as the woman descended with a smile, never slowing as she drew near. Her arms expanded, wrapping around Katie like it was a reunion instead of a meeting. She smelled like flowers and sugar.

Senses overwhelmed, Katie choked again, for something in the hug was genuine and made her miss her mother. And just as suddenly, she was pushed away. The woman studied her, saying, “We are so glad to have you, aren’t we Rich?”

The man tore his eyes from inspecting the dent in Tucker’s truck, “Hmm? Oh. Yes.”

“I am Mrs. Alcott. This is my husband, Richard. You can call him Mr. Alcott. We’ve already set up a room all to yourself at our home. You’re going to just love it.” Mrs. Alcott tugged gently on Katie’s hand, guiding her toward the distant line of cars. “All the things in the room are new. We bought them just for you, though I had to guess the size for the clothes. If they don’t fit, we can always exchange them.”

Katie glanced back, suddenly realizing she hadn’t said goodbye to Tucker, but he was already twenty feet behind them. She turned back to Mrs. Alcott, but before she could ask to run back, the woman asked her own question.

“Have you ever slept on FreeFibre sheets?” Mrs. Alcott asked. “No? Oh, you will love them! We just got a set for ourselves, and they are the softest things you can imagine, just like butter!”

Sleeping in butter sounded slimy. Katie blinked, half turned back to the men, but they too were breaking apart.

Mr. Tucker waved. Then he put his hand to his mouth and shouted, “Don’t forget, the first Saturday!”

Katie waved back and as her arm fell, Mrs. Alcott swept it against her side, cradling her as they walked.

“You’re very thin,” the woman said. “You must be hungry. Rich tells me people from the woods are always hungry. But just hang on a little bit longer. We have a treat for you tonight. We’re having lobster. I don’t suppose you’ve ever had it. It grows in the water, Rich says. Did you know there are places in the world where there’s nothing except water for as far as you can see? Some days when the sky and water are all blue or all gray, you can’t even tell one from the other. It’s just one big block of colorful nothingness. I’ve seen it. Rich and I travel a lot.”

The woman’s words piled in Katie’s head, creating disjointed pictures, but Mr. Alcott did nothing to aid when he caught up, carrying the crate with Katie’s clothing. As the trio passed through the line of tables, items were thrust at them from every side. Some traders fell into step behind them, clamoring until Mr. Alcott shouted them away. “No, no, we’re not here to buy today.”

Katie hugged Clark’s gift against her chest, shielding herself from the glances of any merchants who might want to capture and sell her.

“Want me to hold your package?” Mrs. Alcott asked.

“No, thanks. I’ll keep it with me.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Clark gave it to me just before I left.”

“Clark?” The woman smiled and elbowed her. “Is that a boyfriend?”

“No.” Katie winced. “We’re just friends.”

“I see,” the woman said.

A few persistent hopefuls followed all the way down the row of vehicles until they reached a black, smoothly curved car.

Mr. Alcott opened the door, shoved the crate across the seat, grabbed Katie’s arm to hurry her in, and nearly slammed the door on her foot. Mrs. Alcott slid into her seat, and he locked the doors while he rounded the hood.

A merchant yanked on Katie’s door. “I have a lovely necklace for you, sweetheart!”

 She stared through the tinted window, wondering if this was how Clark felt every day.

“Leave us alone!” Mr. Alcott roared.

The man stepped back with a surprised glance, as Mr. Alcott unlocked the driver’s door by key and slid inside. He let out a harsh breath and glared at his wife. “Told you it was a bad idea to pick her up here.”

“Where else could we have picked her up?” Mrs. Alcott asked.

“Her village.”

“Then we would have had three times this rabble! Besides, last time I went there, the water made me sick, remember?”

Katie shifted to try to see more of the woman’s face. “You’ve been to my village?”

“Only once. A few months ago,” she said. “We saw you. From a distance.”

Mr. Alcott started the car and revved the engine. He inched the vehicle forward and the crowd scrambled like oil away from a drop of water, but Katie didn’t breathe better until they had gone a mile down the road and turned a bend. Then the car stopped again.

Mrs. Alcott turned in her seat, her voice dropping into a confiding tone. “We do have one little problem, Katie. You’re not vaccinated, and they won’t let you into the city without one. Now, we can get it done, but not today. So—just for today—you’re going to have to hide in the car. Once we get you across safely, you can stay at our house, and we’ll take you tomorrow to get everything all set up for school.”

Katie hugged Clark’s package closer to her chest, eying the floorboard with trepidation. “Isn’t that illegal?”

“Only if you’re caught,” Mrs. Alcott smiled. “It’s not a big deal. The medical center is closed today. We won’t be taking you to any of the stores, just straight to our home, so it really isn’t a problem. They just don’t need to know there are three people in the car, instead of two when we go through the checkpoint. We’ll put you on the floorboard and cover you with the packages, and we’ll be good to go.”

Katie glanced back down the deserted road. She swallowed. “I guess that would be all right.”

 Already two seats were filled with colorful paper bags, allowing only a small gap. Katie crawled into it and pulled her legs to her chest. The bags Mrs. Alcott covered her with felt like they were each filled with only one light thing.

Good thing they’d chosen her for the scholarship. There was no way that Clark could have fit into this spot. She waited until the two doors in front had shut again and the car began to jostle its way over the uneven ground before she asked, “What does vaccinated mean?”

“Inoculated,” Mr. Alcott answered, “so, you don’t get sick while you’re here or spread your sicknesses to us.”

“Like the sickness in the river water?” she asked.

“Oh, it can be in the water, in air, anywhere,” Mrs. Alcott said. “Sometimes it just doesn’t work well when country and city people mix. But they told us you were healthy, and you appear to be so, so we should have nothing to worry about.”

“Who told you I was healthy?” Katie asked.

“The scholarship people.”

“How could they know?”

“I suppose they asked your local doctor.”

Katie frowned. “Our local doctor died. Clark is the doctor. Nobody asked him. He would have told me. I think.”

Katie shifted, trying to relieve the shoulder she was lying on, wondering what inoculation meant. She may find lots of words here she didn’t know. She didn’t know there was anything in the world that could keep one from getting sick. What could such a thing do for her town?

She could bring an inoculator—or whatever it was—to Clark. He could be the most successful doctor they’d ever had. Perhaps then his family would be properly proud. Perhaps if she did return to the village dressing and walking as elegantly as Mrs. Alcott, maybe the Blackwell’s wouldn’t shun her.