Part 9 (2/2)

”Once you learn all the rules, this home will be your heaven, Eden. I promise you.”

All the rules? I doubled my thoughts of getting away that very night.

So I lay in bed and stared at the dark ceiling late that night, mind spinning with thoughts of climbing out the window, and alligators, and rules, and sneaking past guard dogs-all of which chased sleep far away.

I'd thought about trying to call 911 on the house phone, but Kathryn had made it a point to tell me that the phone wouldn't work at night. Why, I had no idea, unless they disconnected it to keep me from using it. But that was probably just my fear getting the best of me.

I was home with my real mother. Laying in my bed. In my room, which had freshly painted pink walls, white lacy curtains, a white bedspread, and a pink lampshade on a little wooden lamp beside the bed. It was all carefully ordered, from the wall picture of Jesus inviting the little children to come sit on his knees, to the neatly hung dresses in the closet-all white, only white. The room had been immaculately prepared for my arrival, cleaner than the rest of the house, which was saying a lot, because, as I quickly learned, my birth mother was obsessive about things being neat.

What was wrong with any of that? Maybe I should have felt more grateful. But all I could think was that something was very wrong.

You have to go, Alice. Now, while you still can.

I sat up in bed and stared into the darkness. Moonlight spilled through the white curtains, just enough so that I could make out the shapes in the room. The house was quiet, but for all I knew, Kathryn was sleeping on the couch so she could stop me if I tried to leave.

Quietly as I could, I peeled back the bedspread, put my feet to the wooden floor, and tiptoed to the closet. I'd already decided that all I needed were shoes-the long pajama pants and top were otherwise clothing enough. But I had to get the black leather shoes she'd said were mine out of the closet without making noise.

I got to my knees, carefully cracked the closet door, then pulled it wide enough to reach in and feel for the shoes. My hand closed over one, then the other, and I pulled them out.

I sat back on my heels and listened for any sound beyond the heavy thump of my heart in my ears. Only the night outside, and its insect sounds.

I'd already concluded that, if I could get it open, the window was my best bet because then I wouldn't have to walk through the house.

I quickly made my way to the window, set the shoes on the floor, and reached for the two latches that held it down along the bottom sill. They came open easily and I felt a breath of hope whisper through me.

Getting the window to slide up wasn't as easy, but with considerable effort, the wood creaked and then moved. The sound of the insects doubled and the hope I'd felt was dashed by a sudden wave of fear.

I stood there for a minute working up the courage to climb out. The door to my bedroom remained closed. That was good, right? I had to at least try. I could always come back, couldn't I?

So I took the shoes, stuck my head out into the night, saw the ground only a few feet down by the light of the moon, and I climbed out, one leg after the other.

I sat down quickly and pulled on the shoes, which were made of soft black leather that laced up the front-a kind of shoe I'd never seen before.

The shoes fit a little large, but at least they protected my feet.

I stood by the window and looked around, getting my bearings. It was brighter outside than inside. I could see the driveway that led to the road clearly, just past the porch to my left.

Immediately, images of snarling guard dogs snapped at my mind.

One step at a time, Alice. Just get to the road. Just that far.

Maybe I should steal the car. But I didn't know how to drive and I didn't have the keys.

Careful not to step on a twig that might snap and give me away, I stole across the rough ground and made it to the driveway. Walking faster, headed for the road just ahead, my hope began to swell.

It was then that I heard the soft creak behind me. The sound of a door opening.

Catching my breath, I spun back and stared at the house. There, on the porch, stood a figure, and at first I thought it had to be Kathryn. But it was too small, and I realized it was Bobby. Staring at me dumbly, with his hands by his sides.

He walked down the steps and ambled toward me in his own stumbling kind of way, looking directly ahead rather than at the ground at his feet.

I could've made a run for it, but before I could make up my mind, he was there, beside me, looking up with wide eyes.

”Where are you going?” he whispered.

I wasn't sure what I should tell him, so I just said the truth.

”I'm going back.”

No one else had come out of the house. But what if Kathryn woke and heard us?

”Where is back?” he asked, confused.

”Back to where I came from,” I whispered.

”Can I come with you?”

”No, Bobby. You live here. You have to go back to the house.”

I was suddenly certain that someone else would come out of the house and catch us standing there in plain sight, so I turned and hurried forward.

Bobby came wobbling after me, like a puppy on an invisible leash.

”Do you like eggs?” he asked, too loudly for my comfort.

Eggs?

”We're going to have eggs for breakfast. I like bacon too.”

”Shhh! They're going to hear you.”

He asked again, only this time in a whisper. ”Do you like eggs?”

I hurried on, still fearful that we would be overheard. We reached the road and I turned back to see if anyone was following.

The porch was still empty. And by now there were a few shrubs and small trees that might hide us from plain sight if anyone looked out.

”Mommy said that I can show you the lake tomorrow. Do you like to fish?”

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