Page 68 of Brood
It’s like a miracle.
One afternoon, while Bun is having his nap, I leave the nursery to stretch my legs and breathe some different air. I wander for a while until I end up in the Meadow for the first time since Bun was born.
I inhale deeply of the briskly moving air, my lungs expanding and my stomach relaxing.
I didn’t realize how claustrophobic I’ve been feeling all this time until I stepped inside this large room.
Will is working, so there’s no sense in wishing he were here with me. I don’t know why I feel lonely. I’m surrounded by people nearly all the time, but I haven’t felt close to anyone except Will and Bun since they took me out of the kitchen.
I wave at Danny and Tara on the bench that he and I used to share, but they appear deep in discussion, so I don’t join them. I find another empty bench on the opposite side of the Meadow and sit down.
I close my eyes and try to still the restlessness that won’t leave me. I’ve experienced it for months now, and it never goes away.
This place isn’t truly safe anymore. Not for me. Or for Will. Or for Bun. Or for anyone.
I want out.
Desperately.
“Cadence!”
My eyes pop open at the familiar voice. Bella. I haven’t seen her in almost a month, and I burst into a smile at the sight of her. She hurries over, and for a moment, I think she might hug me. She restrains the impulse but reaches to squeeze my hand as she sits down beside me.
“I’m so happy to see you. I’ve been worried.”
“Why have you worried?” I ask her, genuinely curious.
She gives her head a brief shake. “Just a feeling. You’ve been so droopy the last few times I saw you. You were being stretched too far. I could see it. But you’re looking a lot better now.” Her eyes are sharp and searching. “You’re still too pale. And not as vibrant as you should be. But you don’t look like you’re going to dissolve into nothing anymore.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” It’s a lie. An automatic brushing away of scrutiny and concern.
“It looked bad. You’re feeling okay now?”
“A lot better. I’m actually able to get some real sleep at last.”
“And Bun is doing good?”
“He’s amazing. He still eats like vacuum, and he’s such a happy little fellow. He seems to actually know who we are now. Vera says there’s no way he recognizes me and Will or cares about who we are. He just likes attention. But I don’t believe that’s true. He giggles and babbles when he sees us in a way that he doesn’t with anyone else. When he’s crying, he reaches for me.”
“He does know who you are. Don’t let Vera tell you differently.”
“So you had the same experience when you were nursing?”
Bella’s face twists slightly. “You and Will spend more time with Bun than any parents I’ve ever seen, so it wasn’t exactly the same. But my little girl knew me then. I know she did.”
For some reason I don’t understand, my eyes sudden swell. Blur. “She did?”
“Yes. They took her away before she could say her first word, but she knew me.”
I’m shaking now. For Bella. And for me and Will. Because that’s going to happen to us too. They’ll take Bun away when he no longer needs my milk to stay healthy. He’ll be kept in the nursery until he’s old enough for the schoolroom. And then he’ll start his working life at thirteen and never know that we’re his parents.
We are. I’m his mother, and Will is his father, but they’ll never let us keep him.
We’re not supposed to even want to.
When I’ve controlled my emotions, I ask softly, “So you know that Will and I spend a lot of time with him?”
“Everyone knows. You need to be careful.”
