– Sarah’s Story
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As Sarah and Jessica come to sit down at the table, I’m surprised to see Henry take the lead in
speaking to them. I get a little cup of coffee for myself, and a bowl of sliced fruit – honestly, I’m going to
be too distracted to eat much and listen interestedly to the start of the conversation.
I don’t know why I’m so surprised, but Henry really does shock me with how charming he is with Sarah
and Jessica, immediately putting them at ease as he asks them very simple, easy questions about who
they are and what they like. He doesn’t delve into any of the big questions that I’m sure we’ll get into
soon where they lived, how they lived, and why they ran but instead 1 does a wonderful job of showing
his interest in who they are as people.
As I sit down at my place next to Sinclair and begin to sip at my coffee, I’m interested to see how Henry
concentrates his attention on Jessica. She’s so young and so shy at first, but his questions about what
she likes – reading, and animals – and what she dislikes – cold weather, chores – really allow Jessica
to open up. I see Sarah smiling warmly at her sister and then at Henry as she, too, sees Jessica shed
her shyness and become the lovely, happy little girl that Sarah must know at home.
“Yes!” Jessica says, enthusiastic. “I love dogs! I wish I had one! We used to have one, but…” she
hesitates, and then looks up at Sarah, biting her lip.
“Master Xander had lots of dogs,” Sarah says, smiling around at us. There was a puppy that we liked
best of all we…called him our dog. Frisky, we said his name was.”
“Because,” Jessica says, laughing, ” He was always so playful! And he liked to get into trouble.”
I smile at the little girl, laughing and imagining her with the little dog. But I notice that Sarah’s face turns
sad, and she looks away from Jessica, not wanting her to see. My own face falls as I realize that…this
story must not have a nice ending. And that Sarah doesn’t want Jessica to remember that.
Luckily, Henry jumps in. “Well,” he says, raising his eyebrows at Jessica. Did you know that there is a
mama cat, here in the palace? Who had her kittens just about a month ago?”
Jessica’s eyes go completely round as she gasps at the news. Henry leans forward, smiling at her.”
Would you like to play with them?”
“Oh!” Jessica says, clasping her hands together and holding them tight under her chin. “Yes, please!
Oh, I would like that very much!”
Henry looks over at my mate, who smiles and nods, letting him know it’s a good idea – and then Henry
rolls away to a corner of the room, where he presses a button on an intercom and says a few words to
whoever is on the other end.
As he does, I look over at Jessica who is beaming with excitement, and then down at my own baby,
who sitting on my lap and blowing bubbles, grasping at the table cloth and generally exploring his
world. When I look up at Sarah, I smile to see that her eyes are on Rafe as well.
She looks up and meets my eyes, her own face breaking out into a big smile to match mine. And I can
see…a sort of pride there, in that she was able to help this little baby, to keep him safe with me.
Gratitude races through me first, and then, after it, a deep determination to give this woman everything
she needs to build a life. She has given me everything – and I’m determined to give it back.
Before I can say anything, though, a young woman peeks through the door and we can all already hear
the kittens mewing. Jessica gasps and stands right up on her chair, trying to get a better look as Henry
beckons the young woman forward and directs her to the back of the room.
“Oh, Sarah,” Jessica says, her voice full of pleading as Sarah scolds her and tugs her down off the
chair. “Please, please can I go and play with them?”
“If…that’s all right?” Sarah asks, looking around at the rest of us.
I nod eagerly, wanting the little girl to enjoy herself. And so Sarah lets her sister dash off to the living
area at the back of the room, completely distracted.
“Well, that was nicely done,” I murmur to Sinclair, peering at Henry who follows Jessica to the back of
the room to ensure that she’s settled.
“Henry is full of tact,” my mate murmurs back, smiling proudly after his dad. “You should have seen the
clever things he did to convince Roger and me to go to bed when we were kids. We were hoodwinked
left and right.”
“I hope you remember these tactics,” I sigh, watching Henry come back to his place at the table. Cora
stands up, fetching Sarah a refill on her cup of tea as Sarah looks around at all of us.
“Thank you,” Sarah says, especially to Henry but looking around at us all. “I -I am grateful to have her
out of earshot. I know you have questions, and I want to tell you everything but…” she glances over at
her sister, who is giggling madly as she lays on the floor, letting kittens climb all over her. “Well, I don’t
think Jessica needs to relive any of it, or hear details which I’ve tried very hard to keep from her.’
“We understand,” Cora says, setting the fresh cup of tea down next to Sarah and setting in her seat
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Sarah takes a deep breath then, pressing her lips together as she looks around at us. “Well, then,” she
says, giving a little shrug. “Where can I begin?”
Sinclair and Roger take a larger role now, falling into some of their interrogation patterns that I
recognize from our time at the bunker, as elsewhere. But I am very pleased to note that both of them –
despite their eagerness to get all the information they want and need from Sarah – are careful to be
warm, and kind, and conversational.
Henry intercedes at certain moments, pressing Sarah for a little more information when he needs it, but
he’s mostly silent.
Cora and I, though we don’t ask the questions, are actually the ones to whom Sarah speaks, even
though Sinclair and Roger are the one who ask the questions. It’s not that she neglects the men in the
room, but…I’m not really sure why, but as she tells us her story, I find that her eyes are on our faces,
her words directed to us. Perhaps it’s because Cora and I react more emotionally to the story, gasping
and leaning forward, mumbling our empathy when things get tough, but either way –
As Sarah’s story unfolds, it’s clear that she’s more comfortable telling it to us. And so Sinclair and
Roger lean back in their chairs, letting Cora and I take the lead.
And the story that Sarah tells us…it’s as sad as I thought it would be.
“I was born in that house,” Sarah says quietly, her eyes a bit far-off. “I don’t remember being anywhere
else as a child – not really. I didn’t go to school, I didn’t have any friends – honestly, I’m not sure I knew
that other children existed for a long, long time. My mother was only allowed to keep me – to keep us –
because she promised that we could be raised to be obedient. That we would…replace her, when she
became old and infirm.”
“And your father?” Henry asks, gentle phrasing the question so that Sarah can answer it in any way
that is comfortable for her.
“I never knew him,” Sarah says, looking around at us, unashamed of the fact but seeming confused by
it. “I don’t even know if Jessica and I have the same…” her head dips while she clears her throat a little
before looking back up at us, taking a deep breath. Mother always said she would tell us when we were
old enough to know. But then…she died before we were old enough, I guess.”
I look Sarah over, sympathy in my eyes. Because while she had a mother who loved her and was
present in her ife, her reality was in so many ways so much more brutal than mine. Because I had Cora
at my side – and we always had hope of a different, better life.
And Sarah, she’s about mine and Cora’s age now, but we both have so much that she doesn’t have.
My heart aches for her.
“Sarah,” Cora says, turning my attention to her. “What happened to your mother?”
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