She has a point, Claudia said. You know how people get when there’s a scandal in the air. Especially when it involves a young girl.
That’s exactly right, Jennifer said. What’s more, you all seem to be forgetting that our families have more reasons than most to keep out of the spotlight. We’ve been fortunate so far, even with the whole community whispering about us behind our backs, but that fortune won’t last if something like this comes out. To begin with, the local news stations are going to have a field day. They’re going to send reporters and cameramen out here to question all of us and our neighbors. And sooner or later they’re going to look into our pasts to try to figure out how five single women ever managed to get a hold of a farm this size. Our worst fears will become realized. They’ll find out about Elliot and the other parcels, and then we’ll be the ones on trial. That’s the nightmare that’s in store for us if you go ahead and call the sheriff—our children ostracized and abused, while government auditors come in and strip away everything we have. I’d be curious to hear how you could justify even the possibility of that happening.
I waited for Katie to fire back at her. Or Mama. Or anyone else, really, just so I didn’t have to try and stand up to her myself. Jennifer had changed since the summer, or maybe I had. Either way, it wasn’t like Katie’s party this time around. There was too much cold logic in what she was saying, too many legit reasons to follow the cautious path. For years I had prided myself on being able to hold my own against any adult in the room, but now that no one was treating me like a child, the thrill of being included in the discussion had finally worn off. If anything, I found myself feeling jealous of Jessie and Gracie, safe and happy in the smaller house with all the other little kids. They probably didn’t even know that anything was wrong, or at least they had no clue of the compromises the adults were preparing to make on their behalf. I was flirting with the notion of going over and joining them when all of a sudden Dawn let out a long and miserable-sounding groan. She fell into Mama’s vacant chair and pressed her palms to her forehead as if to keep her face from hitting the table.
What’s the point? What’s the fucking point of any of this? She raised her head and looked out at the rest of us with tear-rimmed eyes. This farm was supposed to be a safe place, she said. This was supposed to be a place where no one could hurt us. Not Elliot, not anyone. What’s the point of holding on to the farm, this hundred and twenty-acre monstrosity that everyone in town hates us for having, if we can’t keep our children safe? What’s the point if we can’t have justice when one of our own gets treated like a piece of meat? Why even bother?
Heartbreaking as Dawn’s questions were, they didn’t have any effect on the rest of us beyond making us feel even lower than we already did. Jennifer stood with ice water in her veins, arms folded across her stomach like a peeved schoolteacher waiting for her class to settle down. Mama had taken a seat back at the table, and Anthony might as well have been a piece of decoration on the wall for as much as he contributed. As for me, I could already tell where the debate was headed, such that it seemed cruelly procedural when Jennifer called for a vote to settle the issue. Dawn’s arm was the first to shoot into the air, followed a moment later by Mama’s. Whatever hesitation she might have had in casting her vote in favor was likely erased by the realization that the nays had already won. Katie’s vote was the final one cast, several long seconds after Jennifer and Claudia had raised their hands. Afterward she let both arms fall down at her sides, as despondent in victory as if Beth’s assault had been carried out all over again.
I’m going to feel guilty about this for the rest of my life, she said. Even now I don’t believe it’s the right thing to do. But I’m responsible for more than my own here. I can’t ask you to risk the wellbeing of your kids just to do right by one of mine.
Those final words of concession stung worse than anything else that was said that morning. They placed the outcome squarely on the shoulders of those of us who had no say in the matter, declaring once and for all that we were the ones intended to benefit from denying Beth a chance for justice, regardless of how we felt about receiving the favor. The precedent had been set, and all future votes were proactively rendered meaningless. From now on, the women were subservient to the needs of the children, and we in turn were ruled by invisible enemies from outside the borders of the farm. While Mama and the others were slow to get up from the table, I left immediately after the vote was concluded, too overloaded with my own angst to do anything but let it fester on its own.
It was early afternoon when again someone knocked at my door. I threw a pillow over my head and shouted to whoever it was to leave me alone and let me sleep. Of course I hadn’t really been sleeping, but if Mama got to spend days at a time lying awake under the covers, feeling like shit, then I believed I was entitled to at least half a day of regrouping in the same fashion. The door creaked open and I sensed a pair of feet coming toward me across the thin carpet. I sighed into the sleeping bag and prepared to cuss out Jessie or Gracie for ignoring my demands. But when I threw off the covers, I saw that Anthony was the one standing over me. The look on his face was deceptively vacant. Most people wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but I’d spent enough time around him the past few months to know when he had something on his mind.
Christ, man. I could’ve been nude.
His face didn’t change. Come with me, he said. I have something important I need to do, and I can’t do it alone.
I’m not getting out of this bag unless you give me a good reason to.
Just come on. Please. I was going to ask Will, but I don’t know if I can trust him.
All right, all right. Give me a second.
I pulled my jeans on and followed Anthony to the bedroom he shared with his brothers, Sebastian and Mark. The whole place stank of boy, of dirty socks and B.O., with an undercurrent of spray deodorant that did nothing to mask the other smells. Anthony began fishing through the wadded clothes on the floor at the bottom of his closet. He uncovered a grungy duffle bag and set it down carefully on the edge of the bed. The mysterious silence he was holding to was more off-putting than anything. Before unzipping the bag, he wedged a laundry hamper against the door to obstruct anyone who might try to surprise us.
If you’re thinking of showing me your secret porn collection, I said, you picked one hell of a weird time.
He acted like he couldn’t hear me. Stay by the door, he said. Keep an ear out and tell me if somebody’s coming.
You’re going to have to explain what this is or I’m leaving.
Not so loud. Just keep listening to the hallway.
I waited and watched as he opened the duffle. Inside there were other wrinkled clothes, old shirts and cotton shorts worn down to mere rags. Anthony tore several layers off the top of the mound and threw them onto the bed, paying no mind whatsoever to what he was digging through. He forced his whole hand inside and grabbed hold of something at the bottom. After some initial stubbornness, the rifle came loose and slipped out from under the pile of clothes like a newborn calf bursting free from its mother’s pelvis. Anthony clasped the wooden underside of the rifle in his other hand and stood with the piece angled diagonally across his chest. Regardless of how he might have pictured himself, he looked less like a soldier or hunter and more like one of the illustrations from his brother’s picture book, Peter and the Wolf. If I hadn’t been so afraid of what he planned to do with the rifle, I almost certainly would’ve teased him about it.