When I am finally allowed to return to the third floor, the room I share with Belle is empty. I want to go looking for her, but I am told to stay in my bed. I wait until shortly before suppertime, when Belle at last returns to our room, congratulating me heartily on the birth of my baby girl. Only then can I tell her what Dr. Townsend has planned for me in just two days’ time.
“We’re getting out of here tomorrow, just like I said we would,” she says softly, confidently. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Rudy’s keys have to open the door to the nursery, Belle,” I continue, my tone as quiet as hers, but not nearly as confident. “I can’t leave without Amaryllis.”
“Amaryllis? That’s her name?” Belle looks at me quizzically, but this is no time to explain anything.
“His keys have to open the door to the nursery!” I whisper insistently.
“They will, they will. His keys open all the doors. He told me.”
“And there’s sure to be a night nurse in the nursery. You must get my baby without her seeing you.”
Belle waves my concern away. “Not to worry, Rosie. I can be as stealthy as a cat. You’ll see. I’ve taken care of everything. Rudy’s going to be leaving some clothes in a suitcase for me on the outside, behind a gas station he knows of about a mile from here. We can’t be seen in these clothes, you know. And you probably won’t fit in anything in that bag of yours.”
“Which we have to get.”
“I know, I know. And, hey, I won’t be able to vouch for the style of the clothes Rudy gets. I have a feeling he’s going to be stealing them from the back of his mother’s closet. They’re going to be dresses even she doesn’t wear anymore.” Belle laughs lightly.
Far from putting me at ease, Belle’s confidence is unnerving. The last time I tried to escape from somewhere, I was sent to this godforsaken place. I want to believe, as she so easily does, that I can have a happy life again. I had one once. It was a simple life. There wasn’t much money, and I felt a bit alone, but I had been happy. I hadn’t realized this was true until this moment. When I had my family, the vineyard, and my colors, I had been happy. It had been a good life. My family is gone now, and so is the vineyard, but I still have my colors. Surely a new kind of happiness is still within reach.
That night, my sleep is again interrupted by my breasts, which ache, and by dreams of escaping, of holding Amaryllis. Several times I wake with a start when I realize my arms are empty.
On Sunday morning, I lie in my bed as the rising sun slowly replaces the darkness with mellow light. This is the last time I will open my eyes in this room.
I am allowed to go with Belle down to the cafeteria for meals, for which I am grateful. I don’t want to while away the entire day in our room waiting for the sun to set, waiting for the midnight hour, waiting for freedom.
Belle is in high spirits, seemingly intoxicated by what will happen tonight. Her cheeks, flushed with excitement, make her morebeautiful than ever. I spend the day quietly wishing she would just act like herself. But all throughout the day, whenever I see her, Belle is full of laughs. She has learned Stuart Townsend has been charged with outside security tonight, and she finds this exceedingly convenient.
“Even if he does see us, he’ll let us go,” Belle murmurs to me just as the dinner chimes ring. “He’s in love with me.”
“But you can’t let him see us!” I reply in an urgent whisper.
“He won’t!”
Minutes later, Belle and I see Stuart on the first floor as we emerge from the elevator on our way to dinner. It is the beginning of his evening shift. Belle immediately makes a comment about how handsome he looks in his uniform and with that shiny whistle around his neck. The observation makes Stuart blush with obvious infatuation. He walks with us to the cafeteria, and Belle prattles on about how safe she feels with him in charge and I wish she would just shut up. When we get to the cafeteria doors and the queue to go inside, Stuart has no choice but to round the corner and continue on his way, though he seems reluctant to do it.
“Belle, can’t you please just leave him alone?” I say softly when he is gone. “Must you lead him on like that? You don’t need to.”
“For heaven’s sake. I’m just having a bit of fun with him,” Belle answers, loud enough for anyone to hear—if anyone in the queue with us cares to listen. A couple of residents turn their heads.
“But he thinks you really like him. It’s not kind, what you’re doing.”
“Honestly, Rosie,” Belle continues at normal volume, and sounding a bit peeved with me. “He’s just a child. Probably doesn’t even know what his pecker is for.” This Belle says plenty loud enough for others around us to hear. There are gasps and laughs, and I turn to see who else heard Belle. Belle turns, too, and we both see that Stuart has returned from around the corner,and he heard it as well. His face is a mask of humiliation and hurt.
“Oops!” Belle says, and a laugh escapes her. Several other residents laugh, too, but before she can think of a quick explanation for what she said, Stuart turns and hurries out of sight.
“I was only kidding, Stuart!” Belle calls after him.
I feel bad for the boy, but I must dismiss it. I need to concentrate on supper and eating a full plate. Neither I nor Belle knows when or where we will get our next meal. Soon we will be gone, and hopefully Stuart will forget Belle and that he had his heart flattened by her.
The rest of the evening seems to pass at a snail’s pace. When it is finally lights-out, I get under the covers to lie awake until Belle says it is time to set our plan in motion. We talked it over during outdoors time that afternoon. When the rest of the room is soundly asleep, we will put our day clothes back on and then wait for the nurse on our ward to go downstairs for her nightly snack of tea and toast, which usually happens around midnight. While I’m not supposed to use the stairs yet, I know I must, as not only will the elevator be noisy, but the night nurse from our ward will be taking it. We will quietly sneak down the stairs to the second floor, where Belle will use Rudy’s keys to open the door into the infirmary to get inside the nursery. I will hold the door slightly ajar so that she will not need to use the keys again to open it from within. We do not know how long this part will take because Belle will have to find the nursery, take the hoped-for sleeping baby out of the room, and all without being seen. And then we will head to the first-floor administrative closet, and then the front door and freedom.
When we are finally able to start executing the plan, the first part goes off seamlessly. In mere minutes after leaving our room—after molding our bed pillows and nightgowns into body-shaped mounds under our blankets—I am standing at the door to theinfirmary, holding it only slightly open. I pray Hail Marys repeatedly, dreading every second I stand there that I’ll soon hear shouts or an alarm sounding. I don’t know how long I wait, but finally Belle is at the door with a bundle in her arms—sweet Amaryllis, asleep and wrapped in a blanket. She hands my daughter to me and quietly closes the door behind us so that it clicks nearly silently.
“The old bat is asleep in her chair,” Belle whispers with a laugh, speaking of the nursery’s night nurse, and the only staff member she saw in the infirmary.
Back to the stairs; we go to the first floor. My stitches are starting to burn, but I ignore the pain. Belle opens the stairwell door slowly and quietly, but there is no one in the hallway or in the dimly lit reception area. Belle has to try several keys to open the door to the administration wing, but once we are in the hallway, the same key opens a closet next to a file room.
