Ivy of Our Hearts

Thirty-three

I stayed in the bedroom, turning the ribbons over in my hands, until Margaret came looking for me. I shoved the ribbons under my pillow.

"Hey, lunch is ready," she said, smiling around the door.

"I'll be there in a second," I said, smiling back. If she could tell I'd been crying, she didn't say. She went back into the front room to him.

I spent a few minutes in front of the mirror, making sure my eyes weren't too red and there weren't any dried tears on my cheeks. He would notice. He would ask and he'd do to me whatever he had before. In the front room, Margaret laughed. I couldn't tell her now, but I would tell her soon enough. I plastered a smile onto my face and left the room. I kept the smile on throughout lunch, but my insides would seize whenever he touched me. A slight brush of my elbow no longer had the same effect it had before.

I smiled so much my cheeks hurt, but if he ever guessed that I knew we would never leave this place. It would have been easier to keep myself in one of the rooms and never come out. I saw the deceit in his eyes whenever he looked at me. How could I have not seen it before? And Manderley... had we been a gift to Phillip?

After lunch, I sat curled up in the corner of the couch. While I pretended to read, I'd glance at him. Manderley had left bird poop all over the counter. He cursed while he cleaned it. Margaret was in the bath, so we were as alone as we could be. I turned a page of the book and stared at one word on it. Obey. Is that what he wanted from me? He had another thing coming. I was no one's puppet.

"She knows I hate when she does this," he said, throwing down the pooped stained rag. He drummed his fingers on the counter.

"Maybe it was one of her gifts," I said. I realized how that must have sounded and added, "She is a bird after all."

His drumming didn't stop, and for a while I thought I'd given myself away. He'd heard the truth in my voice. He knew I knew.

"She knows better," he said. He went to the fridge and took out a bottle of water. He held it up. "You thirsty?"

"No," I said, staring once again at that word in the book. Obey. I'd remembered the soda he'd served us. Now I tasted its sweetness on my tongue. And Simon? What had he done to him? Outside, a gust of wind blew a leaf to the window. It became stuck there, in the hinges. How ironic. Here we were as trapped as the leaf.

Phillip came and sat beside me. He took a swig of his water. Some of it dripped down his chin. He wiped it away. I pressed myself closer to the end of the couch.

"That's one of my favorites," he said, inclining his head to see what page I was on.

I hadn't read any of it. I'd skipped ahead. "It's good," I said. I turned to another page, which I had no intention of reading.

Phillip took another swig of his water. He got up and went to the window, probably searching for Manderley. She'd left an hour before. I didn't know whether I should be angry with Manderley or not. She'd bought me the ribbon that made me remember but she'd also brought us to him.

I turned another page of the book. Margaret went from the bathroom to our bedroom. Phillip came back to sit beside me. "Manderley," he said.

"What?" I'd already settled on another word in the book. Love. I'd never thought I'd equate it with something as horrible as poison. He'd poisoned us.

"The place in the book is called Manderley," he said.

"Is it?" I asked. I hadn't even noticed. I'd been so distracted trying not to look like he terrified me.

"Yes," he said, grinning. He ran a hand through his hair. "It's how she got her name, Manderley." He held up his hand, as if to say, "You get it."

I nodded. When he turned his head for a moment towards the bookshelves, I didn't turn away from him. In the daylight, I couldn't see any hint of the beast in him. He appeared as normal as any of the boys I'd gone to school with. And although I now knew the truth, a part of me still longed for him. The longer I looked at him the more I felt it. He turned and I went on staring at the word love in the book. I couldn't give into him. No matter how much my heart ached for the little boy who'd been left in the woods. I wouldn't give into Phillip Thomas Callaway. He would never have my heart.

***

I pretended all through the day. I let him pat my head as if I were a good, obedient dog, although the sight of his hands made me cringe. We had dinner and I gasped along with Margaret at his story of how he'd found Manderley as a chick a month after he'd lost Nora. He told us a heroic tale of how he'd nursed young Manderley back to health after she'd fallen from her nest.

"It was meant to be," Margaret said.

She had a bit of food in the corner of her mouth. Phillip wiped it clean for her and again the image of a dog being cleaned by its owner came into my mind. I swallowed down the bile that had risen in my throat. How long would I have to sit here, to do this? A month? A year? So much time had passed already without us realizing.

I bit my tongue, seizing the questions that fought to make their way out, and helped clear the dishes from the table.

"Would you turn on the radio, Ivy?" Phillip asked.

Even the sound of his voice now bothered me, like the whistle of the kettle as Margaret made tea. How lucky for him he now had two girls to do his bidding. With my soapy hands, I turned on the radio.

There was static and the DJ's voice, "The search is still on for the two girls..."

Phillip leapt from his chair. Seizing the radio, he said, "Not that station." He half smiled; an expression wasted on me.

A quick glance at Margaret told me that if she'd heard she hadn't put two and two together. They were looking for us, my parents, and Margaret's. The thought made me want to sob or chuck a plate at him. I couldn't decide which.

I would find my way out of these woods, away from him forever.