The Grace Year(27)

There’s a deep pause. A strange electricity among us. Suspicious glances quickly turn to panic as the girls take off running back toward the gate, clawing at the wagons for anything they can claim.

“I heard this is how it starts,” Gertrude says.

“How what starts?” I ask.

“How we turn against each other.”

I meet her gaze and I know she feels it, too.

I’m waiting for Kiersten to stop this, do something, but she just stands there, a hazy smile perched over her lips. Almost as if she wants this to happen.

Swallowing my nerves, I force my way into the fray. “We just need to stay calm,” I say, but they’re paying me no mind. Two girls fighting over a bag of food bash into me; the burlap rips, sending a cascade of chestnuts spilling to the ground. Girls are piling on top of each other to get to them. Leaping out of the way, onto the empty wagon bed, I yell, “Look at you … behaving like a pack of outskirt dogs.”

They glare up at me, hate burning in their eyes, but at least I have their attention.

“All we have to do is take inventory. Ration. We’re going to have to trust in each other if we want to get through this.”

“Trust you?” Tamara lets out a strangled laugh. “That’s rich coming from the girl who filched Kiersten’s husband.”

I’m opening my mouth to try to explain myself when Kiersten steps forward. “She didn’t steal him from me.” The girls ease back in anticipation of what’s about to happen. “I wanted Tommy all along, a real man who can give me sons.” But even as she’s saying it, I feel a surge of repulsion rush through her. “No…” She looks me up and down before facing the crowd. “This is about betrayal. Tierney never wanted anything to do with us. And now she thinks she can come in and tell us what to do? How to live our grace year?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” I yank off my veil and get down from the wagon. “I’m not trying to take over.”

“Good,” Kiersten says, but I can tell she’s slightly disappointed. She was ready for a fight. “Everyone, put the supplies back. The only thing that belongs to you right now is your pack. Gather that.”

The girls do as they’re told, but they’re still staring at each other skeptically.

As I’m searching for my bundle, out of the corner of my eye, I see something sail over the fence.

I turn to look, but all I find is Kiersten standing there, a priggish look on her face as a gaggle of girls hover around her trying, and failing, to stifle their laughter.

“All set?” Kiersten asks.

Looking around, I see everyone has their supplies, everyone except me. “I don’t have mine.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Kiersten replies. “Yours must’ve rolled off somewhere along the way. You’re welcome to go back and find it.” She nods toward the barrier.

I want to go after her, drag her to the gate, make her go out and fetch it, but then I think of Gertie’s warning. As hard as it is, I need to show Kiersten that I’m not going to be a threat to her. And if that means being a little less comfortable than the others, so be it.

“I’m sure it will turn up,” I say, lowering my eyes.

“That’s the spirit,” Kiersten says, smug satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “But hear me,” she says as she walks through the group. “If someone took Tierney’s supplies, stealing will not be tolerated. There will be punishment.”

“But who’s going to do the punishing?” Hannah asks. “At home, the punishers are men, chosen by God.”

“Look around,” Kiersten says as she stares me dead in the eyes. “We are the only Gods here.”





As we pry open the door to the small structure on the left, we discover a narrow space with shelves lining each side.

“This must be the larder,” Ravenna says.

“Or a place to stack the bodies,” Jenna whispers to Kiersten.

“Oh no, pretty dovey,” Helen cries, barging past everyone, coming out with a scrawny ringnecked dove cradled in her hands. “I think her wing is broken.”

Kiersten picks up the rusty axe propped up in the corner. “I’ll do it.”

“No … you can’t,” Helen says, pressing the bird against her ample bosom.

“What did you say?” Kiersten snaps back.

“I mean … I’ll take care of her.” Helen quickly softens her tone. “You won’t even know she’s here.”

“I’ve always wanted a pet,” Molly chimes in, stroking the bird’s smooth, drab head. “I’ll help.”

“Me, too,” Lucy says.

Soon Helen is surrounded by girls offering to pitch in.

“Fine,” Kiersten says, setting down the axe. “Anything to get you to shut up, but I hate birds.”

“You better get used to them,” someone mutters from the crowd.

Kiersten whips around. “Who said that?”

We all stand there, desperately trying not to laugh. It’s common knowledge that her husband-to-be has an affinity for torturing majestic birds. I think Martha may have said it, but I can’t be sure. Maybe we’re just exhausted, but in this moment, it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. But the levity quickly dies when we realize how little they gave us in the way of supplies.