Before I Let You Go(25)

The challenge with freeing her from these people was that we’d become so isolated over that year since Dad’s death. Mom had effectively become a shut-in, and our old network had all but vanished from our lives. Lexie and I talked to some of the teachers at school, colleagues who had also been Mom’s friends, but she became very defensive when they tried to talk to her and was then angry with Lex and me for mentioning it. Lexie even walked to the fire station one afternoon to see if Captain Edwards could help, but when he came to the front door, Mom refused to speak to him. So while we were worried about Mom’s involvement with the strange church, we didn’t know how to stop it, and Mom always reacted violently whenever we questioned her about it.

“They are helping me, girls. Can’t you see that? Your dad’s family is there, and so is mine—I need the support so that I can be a good mom to you. It’s working, isn’t it?”

And she was certainly right about that. Mom seemed calmer and more stable, and she cared again about us. She little by little opened up to us about an entire history that we’d never known, explaining that she and Dad had grown up with their families in the village, but that they’d left together in their late teens.

“We just wanted to see what else was out there in the world, and I wanted to go to college but wasn’t allowed to while I was there— girls are only allowed to study up to the end of middle school,” she explained to Lexie and me. “And because we left, we weren’t allowed to stay in touch with our families much after that. But, girls, I need my family now, and I need my friends there. You need them, too. I know the services are long and it all seems a bit strange, but can you go along with it? For me?”

So of course we said yes, but that didn’t mean Lexie or I liked what was happening with Mom. She might have been coming out of her shell, but she was also rapidly adopting the assembly’s rules in our home, and our lives began to change. The preachers at the church prohibited television and the radio, and so Lexie and I came home from school one day to find ours on the front curb. We begged her to reconsider this, but Mom became increasingly convinced that TV and the radio were pathways for “worldly ways” to enter our house.

“You can survive without them,” she said stiffly, when I threw an Olympic-level tantrum in a last-ditch effort to get her to change her mind. “There are no televisions or radios in Winterton—not even in the cars. No one even misses them.”

Then she began to censor the books we were allowed to read. I was right in the middle of a Nancy Drew phase—Nancy was wearing only a bathing suit on one of the covers, so that was the end of that. Soon Mom was compulsively checking the books we were reading and asking us about what we had learned and discussed during the school day. Lexie and I were worried about where her paranoia might end, but we weren’t at all prepared when she sat us down after dinner one night to make an announcement.

Mom had decided to marry Robert and she would be selling the house. We would all be moving to Robert’s home in Winterton.

“Your dad and I were wrong to start our family out here, and I can see that now. This world has nothing to offer us except pain. You girls will be so much better off out there, where I can keep you safe. The elders can teach you to live righteous lives.”

We cried and we screamed, and we told her we would never go—as if we had a say, as if we had any power at all as eight-and twelve-year-old girls. I was too young to realize it—but for a child, there is protection in stability, and strength to be found in a life that feels controlled.

But when Mom decided to move us into Robert’s house, Lexie and I were about to find out just how vulnerable and powerless we actually were.





9


LEXIE


“So, what happened?”

Annie is sitting up in bed when I get back to the hospital from Bernie’s office, breathtaking hope and optimism in her eyes.

“It’s not good.”

“Didn’t she take my case?”

I sit on the edge of the bed and take Annie’s hand in mine. She’s watching me closely.

“Annie,” I say carefully, “you’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I know,” she whispers. “Of course I know that. But surely the lawyer can help?”

“She . . .” Oh God, where do I start? This would be so much easier if Annie didn’t have that blazing hopefulness in her gaze. I take another deep breath. “Well, the lawyer—Bernie—she’s arranged for the hearing tomorrow to be held here at your bedside, so that’s a good start.”

“Okay. Great.” The fear on Annie’s face eases for just a moment, but then she scans my face again and she sighs. “Tell me, Lexie. I can take it.”

“There are a few things you need to know.” It’s like the lump in my throat keeps creeping higher, and it takes a more determined effort to clear my throat this time. My palms are sweaty, as if I’m the one in trouble. “The hearing is actually about the best interests of the baby, Annie. It’s the juvenile court, so it’s a closed session. That means you won’t be allowed to have Bernie here with you.”

“I can’t have a lawyer with me?”

“No, Annie.”

“Okay then—can you come in?”

I shake my head.