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Authors: Fran Elizabeth Grubb

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BOOK: Cruel Harvest
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The hole inside me widened into an open gorge. I felt what was left of my heart break and sink into a dark, lonely place where no hurt could ever touch me again. I dried my tears and stood up, looking away from her.

“That's all right.” I forced my voice to stay strong. “Daddy would never let us both go anyway. I'll stay and make sure he doesn't find you.”

Nellie gave me a quick hug. “I love you, Frances.”

I hugged her back. “I love you too.”

Nellie left me the blanket and crawled out of the shed with the cornbread. I followed and watched until she disappeared into the woods, hoping the thin coat she wore would be enough to keep her from freezing. She waved one last time and was gone. At that moment, I vowed I'd never leave Michigan with Daddy. I wouldn't travel another road or be forced to lay down on that filthy quilt beside him. No matter what! That night, I decided I would choose death if I could not get away from him.

Chapter 26
Courage to Run

When Nellie left,
I knew she was better off, but at the same time I had been left behind again. I knew I hated this man we called Daddy, the man who had done everything possible to ruin and destroy everyone around him. Talking to Nellie so many years later, this grown, free woman with kids of her own, brought back the deep sadness I'd felt the night I'd last talked to her, even though it was a joyous occasion.

When I finally hung up the phone with Nellie, Wayne smiled at me and asked if I'd like to consider a family reunion now that so many family members had returned to my life. It made me smile.

“Honey, guess what? That is exactly what we had in mind!”

“Okay, we'll do it,” he decided.

Wayne went to the computer to make plans for the reunion. I watched him go. Although I was thrilled, I could not stop thinking about what happened after Nellie escaped.

Daddy's rage over
Nellie leaving did not explode as it used to. Instead, it festered. His drinking became constant, and he beat anyone who seemed to get in his way. I did my best to keep Mary Anne safe, but it was impossible to avoid his anger.

The weather seemed to match his mood. The hint of early spring vanished days later, replaced by a blanket of new snow and dreary clouds. The temperature plunged, making it hard for us to work the grapevines on a consistent basis. Mr. Spencer stayed away as well. On occasion, he'd stop by during the day when the weather was nice to find Daddy and me working the grapevines. Daddy made sure to show a good face, but the second Mr. Spencer left, he cursed him, claiming that he'd been the one responsible for taking Nellie away. At the same time, he made no effort to find her. Of course, Mr. Spencer was clueless. I did not know at the time, but Jackie and her sister knew what was going on with Nellie, and they had made a vow not to tell anyone where she was hiding.

Daddy made sure that I did not learn from Nellie's example. He drove me like a slave master, beating me at the first sign of defiance. He used my love for Mary Anne against me as well. If he thought I was a step too slow, he would strike her for it. I withdrew inside myself, the pain becoming so unbearable that I had to refuse to admit it was even there.

At night, I would lay by myself and think about freedom. I prayed for Nellie.
Please hold Nellie in your arms and protect her. And please
God, show me the way out of here
.

I cried constantly, wishing I had left with her but knowing that her only chance for freedom was to make it out on her own. I had to stay behind for her sake. I knew there was no other way.

One morning, Mary
Anne found me. She looked up at me, and I could see the worry in her big, dark eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“Of course not, honey,” I said.

I tried to smile, but it was forced and it slipped off my face sooner than I meant it to.

“Do you want to play jacks?”

“Sure,” I said.

I felt so sorry for her. She did not deserve any of this, not any more than me or Nellie had. I tried to make her smile, but the effort was almost more than I could endure. I played with her but hurried out when it was time to get back to work.

That night, I got Mary Anne settled away from Daddy's notice. He drank and drank, eventually passing out at the table again. Millie and her son hid in the other room. Once Daddy was unconscious, I got up and walked out to the porch. I sat down as I did the night Nellie left, gazing out into the quiet night. This time, though, it was different.

“I don't want to live,” I said to the stars.

I meant it. I was fourteen and I had not done any of the things a normal teenager does. I'd never seen the inside of a high school or been to a ball game. I didn't know how to talk on the phone. I didn't know how to talk to
people
. I was tired of being hungry and afraid all the time. I felt so empty. And I was shamed by what Daddy had done to me. I did not know how I could continue to live with that. Things would never be what they should have been. I truly believed that there was no more life left in me. I was alone.

I stood up and walked back inside. I did not try to be silent or worry about Daddy catching me up walking around. I just did not care anymore.

Life went on
like that for a month. It was as if someone else was living my life, and I couldn't feel anymore. Daddy beat me. He beat Mary Anne. He had horrible, bloody fights with Millie. He drank every day. Life went on, and I endured it in silence.

I believe Daddy noticed. At the same time, I think he mistrusted Mr. Spencer from the day Nellie left. I existed in an empty stupor until one morning Millie stopped me as I was heading out to tend the grapevines. There were acres of them, and they needed to be pruned.

“Your daddy is getting ready to leave,” she said, pulling me toward her and whispering close in my ear.

“What?”

I stared blankly at her, not comprehending. Then it hit me. She meant
we
were getting ready to leave.

“Shh. Listen, he's planning on heading to Arizona to find warmer weather.”

A little bit of my soul reawakened when she said that. I remembered the vow I made.
I will not leave Michigan without Nellie
. I would not let the last piece of my family fall away and disappear forever. I dared to hope.

“I think it would be better if you got off by yourself before we go. Things would be easier with Mary Anne and me. We could be a family, you know. I know you want to get off by yourself. I can help you. I will help you if you want to leave.”

I stared at her. There was a desperate tone in the way she spoke.

“If you want to stay here and try to find Nellie . . . I can help,” she repeated.

Excitement made my heart flutter. A part of me did not trust Millie. She was a good person, but she was as cowed by Daddy as we all were. I knew the strange things someone could do or say when they were being abused, but the thought of finding Nellie overwhelmed that.

“How would I do it?” I asked hopefully.

“After we pack up, I'll set your box of stuff down behind the car. When it's time, I'll distract your daddy while you fetch it and get out.”

“When is he going to leave?”

Millie's voice dipped lower. “Tonight.”


Tonight?
You're leaving
tonight
? Why didn't you tell me before now? I don't know where to go. I don't know what to do. How will I do it? I'm afraid.”

Millie blinked. “I'll help you. Just be ready.”

Daddy hollered from outside.

“You better go.” She pushed me toward the door.

I headed out, my stomach in a knot. I could not believe all this was happening so quickly. I was very afraid to leave. Even with Nellie gone, the years of threats and abuse from Daddy kept me bound like a prisoner of war. Millie's words, though, changed something inside of me. I had vowed not to leave Michigan. Did I have a choice? Would Millie really help me?

That day I was barely able to stand still. I caught Daddy glancing at me from the corner of his eye a few times. I think he must have noticed something different, considering I had totally withdrawn a month before and had walked around like a zombie until that moment.

That day felt like a month. When snow started to fall just after noon and Daddy called me in for the day, I could barely contain myself. All I could think about was the possibility of failure. Failure meant death.

Inside the house, I tried to corner Millie. I needed more details, but she avoided even looking at me. All I had was her word that she'd help. It was enough though. I was committed the second she told me that Daddy was leaving that night.

For the rest of the day, Daddy never mentioned that he intended to leave. The sun began to set, and I saw him and Millie quietly start to pack. I felt every nerve in my body tingling with fear and anticipation. Would she remember to set my little box out? Would I be able to grab it before I ran? I didn't want to lose the few clothes Jackie had given me.

When it was totally dark, Daddy finally let me in on the plan. He turned and barked at me, “Go help Millie pack. We're leaving here tonight.”

A small bit of courage stirred in me.
Oh no
we're
not
, I thought. My hands were shaking as I joined Millie in the small kitchen. I inched closer to her than I needed to be, hoping she would whisper to me more about her plan. I pleaded with my eyes for her to tell me something, but she avoided looking at me.

“Finish gathering up the pots and pans,” she said.

That was it. Nothing about our earlier conversation. Doubt crept into my body, chipping away at my resolve.
Can I do it? Will she help
me? I can't do it by myself
. Outside, Daddy kicked up an enormous racket.

“What is that noise?” I asked, afraid.

“He's loosening the bolts on the butane tank.”

“Why's he doing that?”

The butane tank held the gas that fed the stove in the kitchen. It belonged to Mr. Spencer.

“He's planning on taking it with us so he can sell it down the road,” Millie said.

“He's stealing it?”

She just nodded and picked up another box. That really made me mad. Mr. Spencer and Jackie had been so good to all of us. I didn't understand how he could steal from them. Millie walked out to the car without another word about it. When she was gone, I searched out my small box of belongings. It was already packed and sat on the floor beside the front door.

Millie came back in and scooped up another armful. She headed back to the car, and I followed empty-handed. I did not pitch in because I wanted to delay leaving as long as I could, hoping that Millie would give me some sign that the plan was going forward.

Once Daddy secured the stolen tank in the trunk of the car, he called out to us.

“Get in the car, now.”

He seemed nervous and in a hurry, as if he expected Mr. Spencer to show up and find him stealing his property. Millie, carrying her son, ushered Mary Anne into the backseat. I stood watching.

“Hurry up,” he quietly said, giving me a warning look and taking his place in the driver's seat.

Although there was threat behind his tone, he spoke softly, as if afraid someone would hear him. “I'm coming!” I shouted as loud as I dared.

I saw Daddy cringe and pull his head down. I shouted again. “I forgot the pots and pans!” My voice was louder than usual in the still night, and he was getting frantic.

I turned around and rushed back into the house before he could say anything. I grabbed the box and walked out, purposely jiggling the contents. The clatter echoed over the fresh layer of snow covering the yard, sounding like cymbals clanging together.

“Quiet down,” he hissed.

“What did you say?” I hollered back as loudly as I could.

Each ring of those pots filled me with courage. I was defying him, and nothing was happening! I was alive, and I tasted freedom for the first time since being taken from Connie Maxwell.

Daddy glared a warning at me, but he didn't want to make any noise, so he stayed quiet. If looks could kill, I would not be here today. I could see his anger building, but he tried not to show it. And something else. He was afraid!

“Frances, hurry up now,” he said in a syrupy voice. “The kids are getting cold.”

I yelled to the top of my lungs. “You want me to hurry?” I could see the internal fit raging inside him. He was paranoid that Mr. Spencer would be driving by, or anyone for that matter. His fear of the police was not logical. This time he wasn't in control of the situation; for once, he was on the receiving end of fear. Each time he urged me to hurry, I yelled back louder. He shrank down like a shadow behind the steering wheel.


What did you say?”
I practically bellowed the words.

This was getting fun! I wanted this horror of a human being to feel fear for a change!

I still held the box of pots and pans in my hands. I met his eyes as he sat inside the car, and he stared helplessly as I lifted the box higher up into the air over my head. Suddenly, I dropped the box to the ground. The clanging of pots, lids, and pans was deafening. It sounded like an alarm going off in the night.

BOOK: Cruel Harvest
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