Page 34 of See How They Hide

Some things couldn’t be explained to a child.

To avoid more questions, Calliope said, “Can you keep a secret?”

Riley sat up, crossed her legs, and nodded her head up and down vigorously. “Tell me, Mommy.”

“No one knows yet except your daddies,” Calliope said. “You’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

Calliope put Riley’s little hand on her stomach. “There’s a baby inside.” Her best estimate was that she was four months along. Naked, she could see the small bump. Soon, she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret. She planned to announce her pregnancy at community dinner next week when everyone was back in Havenwood. She was always nervous when they were spread out, her nights filled with bad dreams thinking about everything that could go wrong outside Havenwood. Craft fairs and hunting trips and supply runs—they were all dangerous. She needed everyone under the same sky so she could be at peace.

“Really?” Riley said, eyes wide. “A baby?” She smiled. “Can I hold him? Can I feed him? I’ll share my dolls if she’s a girl, I promise!” She crossed her heart.

“You’ll make a wonderful big sister. Now, find your basket, we’d better head back so we can make pies.”

Riley carried a small basket and Calliope had a larger one. They’d gone to collect early apples from the orchard. Though the apples weren’t quite ready for harvest, with a little sugar and butter, and her mother’s delicious piecrusts, the tart apples would be perfect for pie.

September and early October were the busiest times at Havenwood, as they worked long hours to harvest all the fruits before winter. They grew apples, plums, and pears. Many people didn’t think fruit could grow in the Rocky Mountains, but some varieties did extremely well.

Havenwood had the orchard, a large garden, and a greenhouse. Two barns for animals, and a large enclosed chicken coop attached to a small shed they kept heated when temperatures fell consistently below freezing. The enclosure was to protect the birds from coyotes and other wild animals—years ago, they’d learned the hard way that they couldn’t let the chickens roam in the valley.

Riley, an inquisitive child, kept stopping to pick flowers, telling Calliope what kind of weeds and plants she saw. Her daughter loved nature and she would grow into a kind, generous soul. Calliope and the other residents of Havenwood made sure to encourage that interest. Havenwood children were collectively schooled and Calliope put their education above all else.

Perfect, Calliope thought. A perfect home, a perfect child, a perfect life.

Havenwood had become the utopia her mother had envisioned and Calliope had cultivated.

Calliope heard a truck—then another—coming down the road from the east. It was too early for the group to return from the Labor Day craft fair in Flagstaff where they sold their crafts and specialty jams. They weren’t expected back until Tuesday. Maybe they sold out on the first day and were returning? She wanted to see Robert—she missed him so much. It would be wonderful if they were home, but she didn’t think that likely.

Havenwood was built in a hidden valley deep in the mountains. Occasionally they encountered campers, usually lost or who hadn’t seen the private road signs that clearly marked the boundaries of Havenwood property. Never day hikers because there were no maintained trails near Havenwood, but the occasional deep woods backpackers.

Calliope didn’t like strangers to know of their slice of paradise, and her mother and William too often befriended people, inviting them to camp in their valley for a night and share a meal. So far, no one had done anything to hurt them, but Calliope kept waiting for people to return, expecting hospitality in exchange for nothing. Calliope also despised listening to stories of corruption and violence outside of Havenwood. It seemed life Outside had gotten worse in the years since they founded Havenwood.

Calliope had seen enough violence as a child, before her mother met William and they decided to move here with Calliope. She’d been nine, but the minute she stepped into the valley, she knew it was home.

She hadn’t left since.

When Calliope and Riley reached the village—the grouping of homes surrounding an ancient tree around which Havenwood had grown from two families to four to now over one hundred people with a common dream—she saw that the two trucks weren’t filled with strangers. Todd and Sheila were there. They’d come back to Havenwood, and for a split second Calliope was thrilled—sheknewthey would return, that they would miss utopia as soon as they lived in the filth and decay of the outside world.

Then Calliope saw they had brought others. Three large men with guns.

“Mommy, who are those men? Is that Sheila? That’s Todd!”

“Shh,” Calliope said sternly.

Glen ran around the back of their home and stood by her side. He took the basket from her arms and put it on the ground. “We need to get out of here,” he said. “Let me take you and Riley to the house. You don’t want to get upset, not with the baby. Athena can handle this.”

“They have guns,” Calliope whispered, her heart racing. Todd and Sheila brought strangers with guns to their home. Theirsanctuary.

Her mother approached them, but Calliope didn’t move. She couldn’t. Every fear she’d had for the last twenty years since her father was murdered in front of her bubbled to the surface, all at once.

Glen said, “Please, for the baby, for Riley, come with me now.” He scooped Riley up in his arms. She clutched her small basket, eyes wide, scared because she didn’t know what was happening.

These people were scaring her child. They’d broughtfearto her daughter.

“Daddy Glen? What’s wrong?” Riley said, her voice shaking.

“Where’s Thalia?” Calliope demanded.

“Her group is still at the lake,” Glen said.

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