Page 24 of The Flame

“We’ve weeded out most of the bad seeds,” she assured us. “I must admit, we were more concerned about the medical and technical staff, but you are absolutely correct. We cannot haveorderlies and admin employees who lack sympathy or hold onto outdated sympathies. I’ll look into Lewis Carlton at once.”

The rest of my day was productive. It didn’t take long to read through all four case files. The binders only held the admission form, and some blank pages for my notes. I sat in on two psych evaluations and got a good snoop around Ward X when I visited my other two patients. By the end of the afternoon, I was confident in recommending one of them for immediate discharge.

I stopped by Janice’s office and slapped the blue binder on her desk. “Mary Styler is a Sister of Capra. She’s twenty years old and was returning from a meeting with her contact in the Sisterhood when a guard caught her out on the street after curfew.”

Janice arched a brow, still listening, expecting more before she gave her verdict.

I had plenty more. “She’s not afraid to speak her mind, and for two hours all I heard was how bored she was and how unfair it is that she’s stuck in here and missing the revolution. She blames her pathetic husband, who apparently didn’t have the backbone to stand up to the guard who arrested her. She plans to make him suffer and keep him miserable for months before she finally forgives him.”

Janice’s mouth twitched. “It certainly doesn’t sound like she’s a victim of abuse within her home.”

“If anything, I feel sorry for her poor husband,” I said. “Look, her marriage might not be ideal, but if she’s not happy about something, she’s not going to cower in silence. She doesn’t need to spend another night here when she has a safe home to go to.”

“I agree.” Janice pulled the binder closer, taking it off my hands.

“Another thing,” I said. “Ward X has two communal spaces, but the on-duty nurse told me the patients aren’t allowed to use them socially.”

“The rehabilitation program relies heavily on isolation,” she said. “The communal areas are only used for group therapy.”

“These women aren’t officially in the program anymore.”

Janice slid her elbows across the desk, pressing forward. “Once all the women have transitioned out of Ward X, we’ll be transferring the council heirs there, Georga.”

My heart gave a wild kick at the confirmation.

“But we’ll still have the same nurses on rotation, and we can’t set a precedent for bending the rules or allowing leniency in special circumstances,” Janice continued. “Also, we need to avoid looking like we have different rules for men and women. That was the council’s way, not ours. We fix this by discharging innocent women as soon and as safely as possible.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Oh, and Georga,” she called as I turned to leave. “About Lewis Carlton. His employment has been terminated.”

I turned back to her. “Thank you.”

“Thankyou.” Her gaze narrowed as she considered her next words. “I did some digging into his background. His uncle is a prominent Puritan.”

Well, that certainly explained Lewis Carlton. Puritans believed women were a necessary evil. The snake in every garden.

“We’re trying our utmost to not show prejudice or make the men of Capra feel persecuted, regardless of their former or personal beliefs,” Janice said. “But I won’t tolerate misogynists. I’m grateful that you and Belinda spotted it. If you pick up any other unacceptable behavior, please don’t hesitate to bring it to me.”

Slowly but surely, women like Janice Clearwater were redeeming my faith in the Sisterhood.

Change was here. I could see it, touch it, feel it.

I had a voice. Every now and then, I could even hear it.

After the shuttle ride back to town, I stopped by Berkley House to collect my bicycle. As I was pushing it out of the alley, I spotted Lisa exiting the building. She didn’t smile when she saw me, but she did veer in my direction.

Lisa only really did one emotion—cold and cutting. But today, there was a tremble underlying her clipped tone. “Have you heard about Parklands?”

“Parklands?”

“They’re relocating the council families to the Legislative District.”

“Okay.” That wasn’t a complete surprise. Parklands was the Council Residential District, a secure estate of grand homes reserved for council members and wardens. Why did Lisa sound so bothered? “Is Geneva planning to move herself and the leaders of the Sisterhood in? Does your mother not want to live in Parklands?”

“That’s not it.” She shook her head emphatically. “The Parklands homes won’t be occupied. For now, anyway. My mother says the Sisterhood wants to distance itself from the elitist stigma of the council. So why throw the families out?”

“The Legislative District isn’t exactly the slums,” I pointed out. “It’s got the lake, and it’s closer to town.”

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