Heidi hoped that he’d forget about it. She hoped she could sneak Carrie in by the weekend, and that by the time he realized it, his life would be so comfortable and so much easier that he wouldn’t be able to resist her. Carrie did make incredible desserts—blueberry and blackberry pies that had everyone salivating. That had to count for something.
The following morning, after Heidi finished her chores, she went to her parents’ place to speak with Carrie. Carrie’s bruises had gotten worse, darkening into purples and greenish yellows. She looked like a meek girl of thirteen, as though their father had sent her back in time. With their mother snoring in her bedroom and their littlest brother outside mowing the lawn, Heidi sat with Carrie at the kitchen table and told her about her idea.
“I have a room all ready for you,” she said. “You can go back to school. You can take days off from chores, if you want to.” She wanted Carrie to have the childhood she couldn’t have.
Carrie’s face echoed her shock—and a tiny bit of anger. “You know this won’t work,” she said. “You know that Daddy won’t let me leave.”
“He doesn’t have a choice,” Heidi stammered. “And won’t he be happy to have someone out of the house?”
“He’ll marry me off before he lets you have me,” Carrie stated.
“You’re sixteen,” Heidi declared.
“Rachel got married last week,” Carrie told her. Rachel had only just turned seventeen a few weeks back. Heidi had been at the party. She’d heard whispers about a wedding, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it was really going to happen.
“Listen, Carrie,” Heidi whispered. “Pack what you need. Pack it discreetly and come to my place. Not today. Harvey might be too upset about it today. But tomorrow, during the day, before Daddy comes home. Will you do that for me?”
Carrie closed her eyes for a long time. She looked exhausted. “I’ll try,” she said. But she was obviously filled with doubt.
The following day, Heidi didn’t go to her parents’ place. She did her chores, then began cooking a delicious, complicated dinner, something she felt would welcome her sister to their place. It was two in the afternoon, and then it was three thirty, and still, Carrie wasn’t there. Heidi alternated between rage and fear. She considered running down the road, taking Carrie by the hand, and walking her back here. Was it possible that Carrie didn’t want to come? Was it possible that Carrie was fine with her life with their parents?
Heidi shuddered.
Sometimes, if Heidi stopped at the public library (which was rare), she picked up books and read the first few pages. She read about other people’s lives, about lives in big cities, about lives on gorgeous coasts that, from her humid and strange town in the mountains, she could hardly fathom. She read about heroines falling in love with heroes—romances that had nothing to do with her marriage. Was that how every wife felt? She read about women who were so strong, who had so much agency, that they could create whatever lives they wanted. Heidi never finished the stories. She didn’t have a library card, so she couldn’t take the books home. But just knowing the stories were there felt almost like enough.
She needed to create a new story with Carrie. She dared to hope.
Just when she’d decided that Carrie wasn’t going to make it today, that she’d chickened out, Carrie appeared on the front stoop. She carried a single suitcase, and her eyes glinted with tears. But she’d come! Heidi threw open the door, hugged her sister, drew her in, poured her a glass of water, and told her to get herself comfortable in the bedroom upstairs.
“What happens when Harvey comes back?” Carrie asked meekly.
“We’ll eat dinner. It’ll just be like a normal night,” Heidi said firmly, because it had to be so.
Heidi focused on her breathing as she prepped the last of dinner and set the table. She could hear her sister upstairs, moving around her new room, making it stylish for herself and reflecting her personality. They’d never really been able to do that as girls back at home. She imagined countless mornings and evenings with Carrie by her side, happy hours during which they could talk about Carrie’s next steps. Maybe they could even try to get real library cards. Perhaps they could exchange real ideas. Whatever “real” ideas were.
But then, she heard her husband’s boots on the stoop. Fixing her smile, she raised her chin and watched as he came in, casting a shadow on the dining room table. “Hi, honey. How was your day?” she asked, hurrying over to kiss him on the cheek. His breath reeked of alcohol. She knew he was tipsy, if not all the way drunk. She didn’t know what that would do for her case.
Harvey grunted, then sat in the chair by the fireplace to take off his boots. For a little while, he talked about some minor tragedy that had happened at work. It sounded like some poor soul had lost a finger. Heidi shuddered. She hated hearing about it. She hated knowing that people all across the mountains hadto struggle so much to stay alive. Maybe that was why Harvey and her father needed to drink.
And then, from upstairs came the sound of Carrie moving something around. Harvey stopped speaking immediately and raised his eyes to the ceiling. It was sinister. Without speaking, he got up and went to the stairs. Heidi reached for the spatula, with which she’d been cooking dinner, as though it were a weapon.
“What do we have here?” Harvey asked under his breath, moving up the stairs.
“Harvey, why don’t you sit down? There’s plenty of beer in the fridge,” Heidi said, hurrying to the base of the stairs.
But Harvey was fixated on Carrie, who’d come to the doorway of her new room. She gazed out at him, frightened as a deer in the woods. Her face was pale.
“I told you,” Harvey hollered. “I told you that I didn’t want her here!”
Carrie took a tentative step back. Heidi willed her to slam the door in Harvey’s face, and she was surprised when Carrie actually did just that, smashing it just before Harvey entered her room. Harvey raised his fist and began to batter it against the door. “Open up! This is my house! Carrie, for crying out loud.” But it seemed that Carrie had locked the door. It wouldn’t hold forever, Heidi knew. But it had stopped him for now.
Of course, Heidi hadn’t considered that Harvey would come after her next. He turned around and glared at Heidi, where she stood at the center of the steps. “You disobeyed me,” he said firmly, stepping back toward her. He didn’t have a weapon, but he had those big fists. Heidi had been conscious of those fists from the get-go. She’d seen them during their wedding. She’d known what they were capable of.
Heidi had a single chance, she knew. When he came closer to her, when he took that first step down, she smelled the alcoholon his breath and remembered that he wasn’t entirely stable on his feet. When he went to reach for her, eager to hurt her in whatever way he could, she slipped past him, then watched as he lost his balance and fell down the stairs. He landed all wrong on his shoulder, then began to howl louder than she’d ever heard a man howl. It was the worst sound she’d ever heard. But it was also the soundtrack to her freedom.
She knew it was time to get out of there.
Carrie flung open the door, gasping with panic. “What did you do?”
