“My household hang their banners on the common room wall like that,” Bert said between mouthfuls. “They stitch the names of the babies into them. It’s a whole history of the house laid out there.”
“Many households do. It’s a lovely tradition,” Enid said.
“I’ve never met anyone born without a banner. It’s odd, thinking Aren’s baby won’t have its name written anywhere.”
“It’s not the baby’s fault, remember. But it does make it hard. They grow up thinking they have to work twice as hard to earn their place in the world. But it usually makes people very careful not to pass on that burden.”
“Usually but not always.”
She sighed, her solid inspector demeanor slipping. “We’re getting better. The goal is making sure that every baby born will be provided for, will have a place, and won’t overburden what we have. But babies are powerful things. We’ll never be perfect.”
The young assistant knocked on the door to the guest rooms early the next day.
“Ma’am, Enid? Someone’s out front asking for the investigator.”
“Is there a conference room where we can meet?”
“Yes, I’ll show him in.”
She and Bert quickly made themselves presentable — and put on their reputation — before meeting.
The potential informant was a lanky young man with calloused hands, a flop of brown hair and no beard. A worried expression. He kneaded a straw hat in his hands and stood from the table when Enid and Bert entered.
“You’re Jess?”
He squeezed the hat harder. Ah, the appearance of omniscience was so very useful.
“Please, sit down,” Enid said, and sat across from him by example. Bert stood by the wall.
“This is about Aren,” the young man said. “You’re here about Aren.”
“Yes.” He slumped, sighed — did he seemed relieved? “What do you need to tell me, Jess?”
“I haven’t seen her in weeks; I haven’t even gotten a message to her. No one will tell me what’s wrong, and I know what everyone’s been saying, but it can’t be true —”
“That she’s pregnant. She’s bannerless.”
He blinked. “But she’s alive? She’s safe?”
“She is. I saw her yesterday.”
“Good, that’s good.”
Unlike everyone else she had talked to here, he seemed genuinely reassured. As if he had expected her to be dead or injured. The vectors of anxiety in the case pointed in so many different directions. “Did she tell you anything? Did you have any idea that something was wrong?”
“No . . . I mean, yes, but not that. It’s complicated. What’s going to happen to her?”
“That’s what I’m here to decide. I promise you, she and the baby won’t come to any harm. But I need to understand what’s happened. Did you know she’d cut out her implant?”
He stared at the tabletop. “No, I didn’t know that.” If he had known, he could be implicated, so it behooved him to say that. But Enid believed him.
“Jess, I want to understand why she did what she did. Her household is being difficult. They tell me she spent all her spare time with you.” Enid couldn’t tell if he was resistant to talking to her, or if he simply couldn’t find the words. She prompted. “How long have you been together? How long have you been intimate?” A gentle way of putting it. He wasn’t blushing; on the contrary, he’d gone even more pale.
“Not long,” he said. “Not even a year. I think . . . I think I know what happened now, looking back.”
“Can you tell me?”
“I think . . . I think she needed someone and she picked me. I’m almost glad she picked me. I love her, but . . . I didn’t know.”
She wanted a baby. She found a boy she liked, cut out her implant, and made sure she had a baby. It wasn’t unheard of. Enid had looked into a couple of cases like it in the past. But then, the household reported it when the others found out, or she left the household. To go through that and then stay, with everyone also covering it up . . .
“Did she ever talk about earning a banner and having a baby with you? Was that a goal of hers?”
“She never did at all. We . . . it was just us. I just liked spending time with her. We’d go for walks.”
“What else?”
“She — wouldn’t let me touch her arm. The first time we . . . were intimate, she kept her shirt on. She’d hurt her arm, she said, and didn’t want to get dirt on it — we were out by the mill creek that feeds into the pond. It’s so beautiful there, with the noise of the water and all. I . . . I didn’t think of it. I mean, she always seemed to be hurt somewhere. Bruises and things. She said it was just from working around the house. I was always a bit careful touching her, though, because of it. I had to be careful with her.” Miserable now, he put the pieces together in his mind as Enid watched. “She didn’t like to go back. I told myself — I fooled myself — that it was because she loved me. But it’s more that she didn’t want to go back.”
“And she loves you. As you said, she picked you. But she had to go back.”
“If she’d asked, she could have gone somewhere else.”
But it would have cost credits she may not have had, the committee would have asked why, and it would have been a black mark on Frain’s leadership, or worse. Frain had them cowed into staying. So Aren wanted to get out of there and decided a baby would help her.
Enid asked, “Did you send the tip to Investigations?”
“No. No, I didn’t know. That is, I didn’t want to believe. I would never do anything to get her in trouble. I . . . I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“No, Jess. Do you know who might have sent in the tip?”
“Someone on the local committee, maybe. They’re the ones who’d start an investigation, aren’t they?”
“Usually, but they didn’t seem happy to see me. The message went directly to regional.”
“The local committee doesn’t want to think anything’s wrong. Nobody wants to think anything’s wrong.”
“Yes, that seems to be the attitude. Thank you for your help, Jess.”
“What will happen to Aren?” He was choking, struggling not to cry. Even Bert, standing at the wall, seemed discomfited.
“That’s for me to worry about, Jess. Thank you for your time.”
At the dismissal, he slipped out of the room.
She leaned back and sighed, wanting to get back to her own household — despite the rumors, investigators did belong to households — with its own orchards and common room full of love and safety.
Yes, maybe she should have retired before all this. Or maybe she wasn’t meant to.
“Enid?” Bert asked softly.
“Let’s go. Let’s get this over with.”
Back at Apricot Hill’s common room, the household gathered, and Enid didn’t have to ask for Aren this time. She had started to worry, especially after talking to Jess. But they’d all waited this long, and her arrival didn’t change anything except it had given them all the confirmation that they’d finally been caught. That they would always be caught. Good for the reputation, there.
Aren kept her face bowed, her hair over her cheek. Enid moved up to her, reached a hand to her, and the girl flinched. “Aren?” she said, and she still didn’t look up until Enid touched her chin and made her lift her face. An irregular red bruise marked her cheek.
“Aren, did you send word about a bannerless pregnancy to the regional committee?”
Someone, Felice probably, gasped. A few of them shifted. Frain simmered. But Aren didn’t deny it. She kept her face low.
“Aren?” Enid prompted, and the young woman nodded, ever so slightly.