Карен Кингсбери - A Distant Shore [calibre]

“The customers are terrible,” Alexa had told Eliza back then. “But your father cares about us. He buys us fine clothes and sweets whenever we want them.” Her expression had grown fearful. “The world is dangerous, Eliza. Your father protects us.”

“He does?” All Eliza had been able to think was that she wanted her mama and brother.

Alexa had been adamant. “Yes. Anders watches out for us girls.”

Eliza had been so young, so innocent. “What does that mean? He takes care of you?”

“Hmm.” The question had seemed to stump Alexa. “I think he gets mad at those men.” She shrugged. “All I know is Anders takes care of it. We need him. That’s what the oldest girls say.”

Eventually, though, Alexa had become one of the older girls. She wasn’t supposed to tell Eliza, but she had, anyway, and the story haunted Eliza still. Alexa had told her that on her fourteenth birthday, Eliza’s father had pushed her into a dark-lit room. Not her usual bedroom. “The mattress smelled like stinky men and strong bleach,” Alexa said. “Then one of the guards stepped into the room.”

Eliza didn’t like to think about the details. But what had remained of her friend’s childhood had clearly died that day. Before the guard had left her, before housemaids came to tend to her battered body, her father had come back into the room and told her one thing. “You work for me now, Alexa. You keep the younger girls happy and you won’t go through this again.”

The wounds from that day would never heal. Not for Alexa or Eliza.

After that, Eliza better understood the sick truth about the Palace. The older girls were part of the operation, and in that sense, Eliza was no different. Like Alexa, Eliza would spend a few hours every month in the village. The armed guards would be at her back, never more than a few feet away.

When the guards saw some unsuspecting poor little girl, all by herself, it was Eliza’s or Alexa’s job to approach her. “Come with me,” Eliza would say. “You’ll have the best clothes and the best food! Even your own bedroom!”

And the lonely young girls would come.

Same with the teen girls flown in from other countries, property of Anders McMillan. Eliza and Alexa were often chosen to go with the guards to the airport. So that from the new girl’s first few minutes in Belize, she would feel comfortable. At home.

I am a wretched, evil woman, Eliza told herself now. God should’ve already struck her down and sent her to Hades. There were sixteen girls younger than her currently living at the Palace, sixteen children whose precious souls had been ripped out one by one. And one way or another Eliza had helped coerce each of them into a life of slavery.

Every single one.

She comforted them and reassured them. She helped pick out pretty clothes for them and she combed their hair. And every hour of every day she lied to them. “You’re safe here. No one will hurt you.” Eliza would pat their shoulders and hug them when they cried. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

All the while she told herself she was actually helping the girls. Otherwise they’d be afraid. At least I’m on their side, she would convince herself. But the truth always ate at her. She wasn’t their friend. She was their tormentor, making it impossible for them to know up from down, right from wrong.

By helping them feel at home in the Palace, Eliza did her part to keep the girls locked in a prison of slavery as their childhoods were destroyed. The same way hers had been—even if the men never touched her. Eliza was part of the girls’ terrible reality until they joined the older girls and finally understood the full truth about their captivity.

Eliza shuddered. If hell had rooms of torment and torture in direct relation to a person’s dark life, Eliza expected hers to be the worst.

Two summers ago, a week before dear Alexa turned twenty, she had told Eliza everything she was going to do once she was out of the Palace. Once she was free.

“All that money!” Alexa had been like a new person, her eyes full of anticipation and life. “A year’s wages? That’s a fortune, Eliza.” Her friend’s brown eyes had sparkled. “And I know just what I’m going to do.”

Eliza couldn’t imagine. “What?”

Alexa had taken hold of Eliza’s hands. “I’m moving to Colombia! I’ll rent an apartment in the heart of a big city. Bogota, maybe. So I never have to see the beach again as long as I live.” She grinned big. “And you can come visit me after…” Her voice fell off because Alexa knew the truth.

“If my husband lets me.” Eliza had blinked back tears. Because whatever man her father would choose for her, he would keep her under lock and key. He would never let her travel alone.

But Eliza had been happy for her friend anyway. “Colombia will be wonderful!” Being even a mile from this place seemed too good to be true. Eliza had searched her friend’s eyes. And for the first time, Eliza felt something warm and thrilling, strange and unfamiliar. A sensation as foreign as freedom itself.

The feeling was hope.

Because if Alexa was getting out on her twentieth birthday, then maybe Eliza’s future husband would be kind to her. Maybe he wouldn’t keep her locked in a room. She could at least hope for happier days ahead.

In the days that had followed, Alexa’s excitement grew until it seemed woven into her very soul. Never mind the work she had that week. All the girl could talk about was turning twenty. And sure enough, on Alexa’s birthday she ran and found Eliza. Alexa had never looked happier. Her words were practically a song. “I came to say goodbye.”

Eliza stood and the two hugged. “He’s really letting you go?”

“He is.” She stood a little taller and smiled. Then she pulled an envelope from the waistband of her short skirt. “Ten thousand U.S. dollars. Can you believe it?”

Eliza couldn’t. Especially knowing her father. Alexa’s release from the Palace seemed too good to be true, but the cash was there in her waistband, tucked inside a white envelope.

“How are you getting out?” The dots hadn’t quite connected for Eliza. “Is my father taking you?”

“No, silly.” Alexa giggled, one of the few times Eliza had heard her friend laugh. “The guards are taking me to the airport. They asked me where I wanted to go.”

“Hmm.” Eliza had questions, but she didn’t ask them. No sense ruining Alexa’s big day. “Okay, then.” Eliza hugged her once more. “I’ll find you. After I’m married. However long it takes.”

“Yes! You can come and stay with me for a few days. The Palace will be long behind us.”

Someone had called for Alexa from the main floor, and her grin faded. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you again. I know I will.” Eliza was lying. But it wasn’t the time to say so. “I’ll be fine.”

Her friend nodded. “Bye, Eliza.”

“Bye.”

Then Alexa waved and disappeared out the door. It was the last time Eliza ever saw her friend. Last time she ever would.

Eliza stopped the memory there. She stood, dropped her beach cover-up on her towel, and walked toward the water. She cherished these few hours each day, time to sit on the beach, to swim and let the darkness of the night—the sounds and certainty of what was happening down the hall—wash off in the waves.

She pushed through the foamy surf and into the clear sea beyond. Her tan legs cut through the water and the swells lapped at her thighs. She had asked for a one-piece swimsuit this summer, but the guards had only laughed at her.

“A beautiful princess like you, Eliza?” her father had said. “This is your world, and you will wear only the best. In the water and out.”