and watches the show as “Luck Be A Lady” plays from the speakers.
While my heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest.
I’m certain she can feel it. I’m sure everyone in the vicinity can hear it, but everyone keeps their eyes on the famous fountain, their phones poised up in the air to capture the show. Several couples turn and take selfies in front of the water, and for the first time in my entire adult life, I think I understand the fascination with them. Suddenly, I have a strong desire to take my own phone from my pocket and taking a photograph of Freedom and myself. I want to capture the look on her face as she gazes up at the lights and water in enthrallment and wonder.
When the song ends, the fountains return to their regular display and the crowd starts to disperse. Freedom and I stand there and continue to watch. We watch the people and how they interact with each other, the families buzzing off the bright lights and sugar, the couples stealing kisses and share private moments, even when surrounded by hundreds of people. We stand there and watch, feeling as calm and collected as I ever have, all things considered.
“I’ve always wanted to come to Vegas,” she finally says, breaking our silence.
“Really?” I ask, though it really doesn’t surprise me much. Freedom is more of a people person and can make friends about anywhere she goes. I’m the homebody who avoids crowds at all costs.
She nods her head against my chest. “I never left the compound when I was little, but one of the older girls told me she once went to Las Vegas with her dad. She talked about the lights and the people, and it sounded like a fairy tale. Like someplace I could get lost in the shuffle. I dreamed about coming here and doing just that. Getting lost.”
My throat is so thick, I can barely swallow. I knew Freedom spent a big part of her childhood in some weird compound with her parents, but she never talked about it. I overheard my mom and Harper talking when they were in high school about it, but neither of them knew too much. All Harper knew is she didn’t want to go back to live with her parents.
“There weren’t a lot of kids, so we tended to hang out together between classes. We were all homeschooled by a couple of the moms. I’ll never forget the first day I walked into a real classroom.” Even though I can’t see her face, I can hear her smile.
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to ask, but I’ve never been one to shy away from saying what’s on my mind. “What kind of compound was it?”
She sighs. “One with few rules. One where it was nothing to see naked individuals walking around or the occasional free love under the night sky. We didn’t eat meat, grew our own vegetables and herbs, some of them questionably legal, and made money by selling goods we made ourselves in a local town. The law didn’t bother us, as long as we kept to ourselves. The land belonged to the leader, an older guy with a potbelly and gray mustache, and I remember my mom frequenting his tent at night as part of the rent they paid to live there.”
My stomach churns as she speaks. I couldn’t imagine living in a place like that, where everyone lived in tents and apparently shared their spouses with others. Where kids were subjected to all of it, their young, impressionable minds soaking it up like little sponges. While I was watching cartoons and eating Cheerios, she was growing pot and selling it.
“He didn’t, you know…” I start, unable to even finish the question.
“No,” she confirms, completely oblivious to the sudden rage I feel on her behalf. “Master Leonard didn’t touch the girls until they were eighteen. It was a rule.”
“Christ,” I whisper, grateful he never got his hands on Freedom, yet still angry it was even a possibility. “When did you go live with your grandma?”
“When I was in seventh grade. I was miserable there. I stopped eating and participating in class. I had contracted a bad case of influenza B and pneumonia that required medical attention. Most of our medical attention was tended to by a resident nurse, but she told my parents I needed to be in the hospital with antibiotics and IV fluids. They took me to the nearest