Garden of Stones - By Sophie Littlefield Page 0,54

of his rejection combined with her fears about Reg were too much to bear alone. Lucy knew that what was happening to Jessie was wrong, and it seemed to be breaking him inside, but she also knew he was right to fear Forrest. The image of him cowering at the end of Reg’s bed combined with her memory of Rickenbocker’s crushing grip on her leg: they might both be evil, but they were also powerful and used to getting what they wanted.

Lucy had no illusions that Miyako could make Reg stop. He was a staff member, and a man; she was a woman, utterly powerless. But maybe she would know what Lucy should do, how to help her friend.

“Jessie pushed me at lunch today,” she said carefully, and Miyako looked up sharply, cream shiny on her fingers.

“What would make him do such a thing?”

“I don’t know. He’s—he’s mad at me.”

“Did you two have a fight?”

“No. I—” Lucy swallowed; the words were hard to get out. “I went to see Reg Saturday morning and Jessie was there and he was sitting on the bed.”

“You went to Reg’s room?” Miyako looked taken aback. “Why would you go see him?”

“No. I only wanted...” Lucy bit her lip. “I had a letter to deliver to him.”

“On a Saturday?”

“I was supposed to deliver it the day before. I tried, but he wasn’t there,” Lucy said, unwilling to mention the motor pool office, the party she’d interrupted.

“Lucy.” Her mother sat very close to her on the bed and gripped her wrists. “How could you? After what happened? We talked about this. You must never go to see any of those men alone. Not any of the staff, even if you think they’re trying to be nice to you. Do you understand me?”

Miyako’s grip was surprisingly strong. Lucy breathed in her mother’s smell. Miyako had stopped wearing perfume, and in recent weeks she had often skipped her late-night bath. Her odor was unpleasant to Lucy, earthy and ripe.

“How could I say no?” Lucy protested. “It’s my job. I have to do whatever they tell me. You do whatever Mr. Rickenbocker tells you.”

Her mother slapped her so fast she didn’t see it coming, but the impact of her palm on Lucy’s cheek was stunning. Tears immediately stung her cheeks.

“Oh, Lucy,” Miyako cried, horrified. She cradled Lucy’s face in the hand she’d slapped her with. Lucy tried to pull away, but her mother held tighter, mashing her cheeks. Lucy turned her face from Miyako’s stale breath, but she couldn’t twist out of her strong grip.

“Mama—let me go—”

“I can’t always be with you! Don’t you understand that? Don’t you see?” She shook Lucy by the shoulders, making her teeth knock together. “They do whatever they want. Whatever they can get away with. We have no power here, none. We are prisoners and your only hope is to stay away from them.”

Lucy’s defiance vanished at the pain in her mother’s ragged, broken voice. “I can get a different assignment,” she offered, wanting to reassure her mother. “I can ask Mrs. Kadonada if I can file, or—”

“No, don’t you see? It will never be enough, not if they decide to go after you. You’ll never get away from them.”

“Why would they go after me?”

“Lucy.” Finally, her mother relaxed her grip, but she did not let go. Her eyes were glassy, her hair wild. “Do you know why I married your father?”

Renjiro Takeda had receded to the background of Lucy’s thoughts lately. In her memory he was always dressed in fine clothes and scholarly spectacles, always with a pocketful of treats. The men at Manzanar dressed in rough clothes and dug ditches or washed dishes, or crouched outside the barracks playing dice games and smoking. It was unimaginable to Lucy that her father should ever be in a place such as this, squatting in the dirt with farmers, eating beans from a tin plate. Perhaps, somehow, he had known what the future held, and had wisely died before he could be dragged into this place of shame and suffering.

“No, Mama,” Lucy whispered.

Miyako pursed her lips, seeking the right words. “Your father was a gentle man. He protected us. I thought... But you see, no one can protect you forever. Not even me.”

Lucy didn’t dare disagree, but as she thought of the girls in the motor pool office, Jessie sitting at the edge of the bed, even her own absent and much-missed father, she felt the stirring of rebellion. Lucy was not like those