The Line (7 page)

Ms. Moore sat for a moment, saying nothing. Her eyes had widened ever so slightly. She set her cup and saucer down on the table next to her chair and furrowed her brow. “Rachel,” she said, “are you talking about the tray of seedlings Jonathan told me about?”

“Yes.” Rachel felt horrible. Was there something else she had done wrong, that she didn’t even know about?

“Well, that is one of the reasons I wanted to talk with you today. But only because Jonathan mentioned that you seem sad. He thought the seedlings might have something to do with it.”

Rachel blinked. “I am sad.” She felt tears flooding her eyes again and blinked harder. “I
killed
them.”

Ms. Moore looked alarmed at the possibility of some sort of emotional outburst. She straightened her back, plucked at her skirt for a moment, removing an invisible speck of lint. Rachel snuffled with increasing force. Ms. Moore abandoned her skirt after the third repressed snuffle from Rachel, produced a linen handkerchief and held it out. Then she held up one hand in the universal signal for stop. This brought Rachel’s tears to an abrupt halt, as though even they were intimidated.

“Rachel.” Ms. Moore waved away the handkerchief, which Rachel, after using it to blow her nose, was trying to return. “Losing seedlings is a part of the work. You did your best and that is all that can be expected. Sometimes there is no reason, at least that you can see, for losing them. You can do everything right and they will still die.” She smiled. “Why, if I counted the trays of seedlings I’ve lost in my day, trays I had high hopes for, in fact, that might have become very special crosses. You just have to keep trying.”

Rachel thought about the feeling she got when that tray of seedlings took hold, when their waxy green leaves began to form into tiny replicas of what the adult plants would look like. It felt like she was creating something important, something that went out into the world and made a little difference. The shipments of orchids that Jonathan took to town were
all
once just seedlings; tiny green sprigs of possibility. She wanted to see her own seedlings grow into beautiful blooms too.

She liked to imagine the journey the orchids took, from the greenhouse to the vendors’ stalls, where they were put into buckets of water, waiting for someone to notice them. She liked to think about who might pass by and see the ideal red or the impossible blue of a bloom, and feel themselves drawn into it. She could picture a woman buying a single, perfect orchid and carrying it home, to an apartment somewhere. She could see the woman getting a vase down from a cupboard, filling it with water and placing the orchid in it just so, tilting it a bit this way or that, setting it in the middle of a table, standing back to admire it. Smiling.

Ms. Moore’s voice interrupted Rachel’s daydream. “Unless, of course, you don’t
want
to keep trying. It may seem like too much work to you.” Ms. Moore took a dainty sip of her kalitea, her eyes lowered to the rim of her cup.

Rachel hadn’t really known how much it mattered to her until today, when it seemed as though she wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. “I do want to keep trying, Ms. Moore,” she said. “I love the greenhouse. I just assumed you wouldn’t want me to work there anymore . . .” Rachel struggled to keep tears from falling onto her cheeks.

Ms. Moore spoke quickly, as if she hoped her words could forestall another disturbing display of emotion.

“I asked you here today because I wanted to see if you
would
be interested in learning more about growing orchids, Rachel. I may need more help in the greenhouse from now on. You seem to have the aptitude, and you also seem to enjoy the work. Those are both important things. But there is so much more to it than what you know now. It would take serious study if you were to advance enough to be of real assistance.

“I have, of course, discussed it with your mother already, and she feels that as long as your schoolwork doesn’t suffer, the decision is up to you.” Ms. Moore paused for a moment. “Would you like more kalitea, Rachel? I would love a bit more, if you don’t mind.”

While Rachel poured, Ms. Moore continued. “As I said, in order to help me, you would need to learn more. That would require more studying on your part. Which would mean that you would earn more, as well. I can’t pay you much more than I do now, but it would help, perhaps, with college. Your mother tells me you plan to attend somewhere once your primary studies are completed.” Ms. Moore picked up the teacup Rachel had filled and sipped.

Rachel was surprised that Ms. Moore knew about her college plans. Her mother kept most of their personal business to herself.

“I
am
planning to go to college,” Rachel said. “My mom thinks it’s important that I learn all I can about how the world really is, but we still need to save more for tuition.” Rachel added some sugar to her tea. “If I could help Mom with that, it would be great.”

“How the world really is?” Ms. Moore’s eyebrows rose. “Your mother thinks you might learn that at a college?”

“Not just any college.” Rachel was surprised at how loud her voice sounded and she could feel her face getting hot. Ms. Moore had no right to criticize what her mother thought. “She wants me to go to the right kind of college, the kind where they teach the truth about things, not just what they’re supposed to tell you.” Rachel wanted to say more, but she was afraid she had already said too much.

Ms. Moore just smiled. “I’m sure that your mother is right, Rachel,” she said. “Perhaps I’ve just stopped believing that ordinary people are
ever
told the truth about things.” Ms. Moore stopped speaking then, and for what seemed like a long while she gazed somewhere above Rachel’s head. Rachel was puzzling over what she had said, when Ms. Moore finally stirred, and smiled once again. “I want you to think about our conversation and let me know in a few days. In the meantime you should take some time off from the greenhouse, a little vacation. Jonathan can keep up with the daily maintenance for a short while. If you do take the job you’ll be quite busy with working and studying. A rest first would be good.”

“I don’t even have to think about it, Ms. Moore,” Rachel said. “I know I would like to learn more. I don’t need a rest. I could come in tomorrow morning as usual.” Rachel was relieved that Ms. Moore hadn’t thought better of her offer. “I didn’t mean to be rude about colleges, Ms. Moore.”

“Rachel,” said Ms. Moore, looking at her carefully. “It is never rude to respectfully state one’s opinion. We simply have different thoughts on the subject.” Ms. Moore set her teacup down on the table between them, her movement signaling the end of the meeting as clearly as a judge’s gavel. “Thank you for joining me today. I am glad you want to learn more about the orchids, but I still want you to take a few days for yourself. A bit of free time never hurt anyone. You can start back on Monday.”

Rachel hesitated for a moment, but she knew now was as good a time as any to try to find out more about Ms. Moore’s mysterious past. “Ms. Moore,” she said, keeping her eyes on her teacup, “I was wondering . . .” Rachel had to think about how to go on. “I was wondering whether you ever think of moving to Bensen, or Ganivar, or somewhere . . . not so close to the Line.” Rachel saw Ms. Moore stiffen, and she finished her question in a rush. “Lots of people seem scared of it.”

Ms. Moore was watching her closely.

“Why,” said Ms. Moore, “would I be afraid of a simple barrier that some ignorant military committee ordered built?” Her voice was hard. Rachel was almost afraid to speak, but she managed to squeak out her next question.

“Because of . . . Away? Because of the things people say about—”

Ms. Moore cut Rachel off, her tone as sharp as a china shard. “You know nothing of Away. And it’s best not to speak of things you don’t know about. Perhaps once you attend the
right
college you’ll learn something about that.” She rose slowly from her seat. “I need to rest a bit now,” she said. “I will see you in the greenhouse on Monday.”

Their meeting was clearly over.

Rachel walked down the path to home. She thought about how angry Ms. Moore had been at her questions. There was something behind it, something Ms. Moore didn’t want anyone to know. She was pretty sure that it was something about Away. The skin prickled on her neck, though the day was mild. The idea that Ms. Moore knew something about that frightening, shadowy place didn’t really scare her. The idea that whatever she knew caused her voice to shake the way it had in the parlor—
that
scared Rachel plenty.

R
ACHEL!” VIVIAN INHALED deeply as she kicked off her shoes. She was back from Bensen and Ms. Moore’s supplies were all put away, so she was done for the day. “Did you make dinner again?”

“Yes. I thought you would probably be tired since you had to lug all the supplies around by yourself today. I’m sorry I couldn’t go help.”

“You had enough to do at the greenhouse today.” Vivian inhaled again. “Whatever that is, it smells delicious.”

“It’s that rice dish you made, the one with the asparagus, remember?” Rachel pulled out a chair at the table for Vivian and made an exaggerated, sweeping gesture. “Have a seat, milady.”

“Oh, this is so nice.” Vivian sank into the chair. “Especially nice, because I have to go back to Bensen
again
tomorrow. Most of the vendors had nothing today. Another transit breakdown. So none of their shipments were delivered. It seems like every other week one of the transit vehicles breaks down or the refrigeration malfunctions and everything is ruined. So much for government efficiency.”

“I can go with you and help tomorrow. Ms. Moore gave me vacation until Monday.” Rachel put the bowl of rice casserole on the table and sat down. “She had me over for a
meeting
today.”

“I thought she might.” Vivian tried to look innocent, but when she saw Rachel’s face, she laughed.

Rachel swatted at her with her napkin. “You could have warned me. I thought I was going to get fired!”

“Fired? Why would she fire you? You’re doing very well at the greenhouse.”

“I don’t know.” Rachel shrugged. “You know how she is—hard to tell what might make her mad.”

“Did you take the job?”

“Yes. It’s okay, right? I mean, Ms. Moore said she talked to you about it.”

“It’s fine. And I think you deserve a vacation.” Vivian considered for a moment. “I think you can even have a vacation from . . . schoolwork!”

Rachel just stared. She
never
got vacations from schoolwork. “Mom!”

“Just be sure that on Monday evening you’re back at it right after you finish at the greenhouse. When you get to college, I don’t want you to be behind the others. Understood?” Vivian spoke in a stern voice, which dissolved into a giggle when Rachel saluted and said, “Understood, yes, ma’am!” in her best military voice.

“I’ll still go with you tomorrow though, okay?”

“Sure, honey. I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon. You can take the morning for whatever you want. Just be sure you stay out of trouble.”

 

 

THE NEXT MORNING, after she tidied up the breakfast dishes, Rachel decided to take a book and a picnic and spend some time outside. The book was one she had checked out from the Bensen library during the last trip she made with her mother. A real book, about orchids. She would have to return it soon and she hadn’t had much time to read it. She packed some cheese, a bottle of water, and an apple, and set out.

The Property covered ten acres, and Rachel had not explored it all. Vivian had always told Rachel that she must not venture outside the area Jonathan maintained around the buildings. That included the main house, the garage, the greenhouse, and the guesthouse, and it was over three acres in all. Plenty of room for all kinds of imaginary kingdoms and games. Meadows surrounded most of the lawn, gradually giving way to forest. One of Rachel’s favorite places was the west meadow, where a stream flowed into a small pool. She decided to go there.

There were late summer flowers springing up along the stream’s banks, and Rachel could hear a frog croaking somewhere in the reeds as she approached. It fell silent as she settled into the nook of a tree stump near the tiny pool. Her back fit into the stump’s curve perfectly. From this seat she had dreamed up countless diversions for herself when she was younger.

She looked around at the meadow surrounding her, taking in the sunlit grasses swaying in the light breeze and breathing in the fresh, cool air. Then she opened her book and began to read about a different method of germinating orchids, one that Ms. Moore didn’t use. Rachel was thinking of trying it. Soon the frog resumed its singing, and some sparrows that had flown away to a nearby tree at her arrival ventured back to the pool to drink.

Rachel was happily lost in her book for some time. Once, a dragonfly buzzed by her, investigating her presence. The iridescent flash of its wings caught her attention for a moment, but she soon went back to her reading. The germination method the author described seemed fairly simple, and it promised less chance of rot. Rachel wasn’t sure she could get permission to try it, but she thought Ms. Moore might let her if she showed her the percentage of healthy plants the book’s author claimed it yielded compared to the method they used now.

“Caw-caaaaw!” Rachel jerked in surprise and looked up from her book. A huge black crow was stalking along the edge of the pool, screeching at something. He looked indignant, as though he was personally affronted at whatever he saw there, which made Rachel laugh. At the sound of her giggle, the crow darted his head toward her, one glittering eye glaring for a moment, then dismissed her and turned back to the pool. “Caw-ca-aaaw!!” he screamed. He hopped back and forth, toward the edge of the pool and away, agitated.

“What is it, buddy?” Rachel put her book down and sat up straight, craning to see over the reeds that fringed her view. The crow screamed again, skipping sideways away from her. Rachel stood and the crow turned to face her. “I’m not going to hurt you, buddy,” Rachel said, starting toward him. With a muffled clap of his wings, the crow leaped into the air, swooping upward and screeching the whole way. “Sorry,” Rachel muttered, and walked closer to the pool to see what he had been so excited about.