Chapter 8

The other girls are still gone and the living room is too quiet. I am not allowed to turn on the television, which seems to be an unfair rule in a house I am also not allowed to leave alone. I want my day passes, so I obey all the rules.

I would look for company in the kitchen, where Mariah is still baking, but I know she will put me to work. So I go out to the backyard rather than getting roped into the next batch of whatever she’s making.

I sit on the tire swing and nudge the ground with my toe to start a soothing sway. My brown canvas shoes are covered in faded pen-ink doodles, childish enough to be embarrassing while comfortable enough to still be my favorite shoes. I feel like someone is watching me. I am careful to keep my eyes on the garden at the back of the property so I don’t accidentally make eye contact with anyone who pops back into the house.

The garden reminds me of home, of summers with Mom, and further back, with Patty. My memories of Patty are faint; I know her better from summer vacations when we came to the Coast or when she travelled to Nelson. Seeing her again under these circumstances isn’t how I would have planned our reunion, but it was good to see her. I’m certain that if Mom and I had stayed here in the lower mainland, Patty would have been a big part of my life.

When Mom moved us to Nelson, I was four and a half. At first, I’d thought we were going on a big trip to have a grand adventure. I remember being so angry when I realized we weren’t going back to Vancouver. I had made up my mind to hate Nelson and our house and everything about our new life. And then I met the boy who lived two doors down from me. We were friends almost immediately.

Bryce had a bicycle, albeit with training wheels. I’d never had as much as a tricycle. Mom and I had lived in a small apartment and she didn’t want the clutter. But in Nelson, our home had three bedrooms and two floors. The only worry for Mom was the steep slope of the hill leading into the city center. We made a deal that, if I only rode my bike on the horizontal stretch of our block, I could get one. Bryce promised my mom that he would teach me and make sure I stayed on our block. I remember the story because Mom told it so often in the years afterwards. She had thought it was so cute that Bryce wanted to be my protector and teacher. My friendship with Bryce had that guardian-and-ward dynamic, even as we grew into the boys-and-girls-don’t-mix years, and even when I came to resent the idea of a boy looking out for me. With high school on the horizon — and my crush on Bryce not successfully squashed — I wonder if our friendship was doomed even before he moved to Vancouver.

I look up at the house, wishing I had ignored Jane and invited Bryce to be my first visitor instead of Mom. But it’s Rayanne’s tired, pimple-spotted frown I see in the window. She beckons at me furiously and shouts that Jane is calling for me, so I hop off the tire and head inside.

I am back in Jane’s office, which is really just a con-verted garage at the far end of Arbutus House. She is running late, so I have time to re-read the motivational posters around the room. They feature sayings like, “SUCCESS Is A Journey, Not A Destination,” and “CHALLENGES: Always Set The Trail, Never Follow The Path.” The more I read them, the less they mean. I understand we are supposed to feel inspired and think positive thoughts. I think about the meaning of each poster, and then I think about motivational posters in general. I decide they are nonsense. I won’t tell Jane this conclusion; if she put them up on her walls, I’m sure she likes them.

“Sorry I’m late, Katelyn. I know today is an important milestone for you, so I’m sure you’re raring to go,” says Jane as she sweeps into the room, flustered.

“That’s okay. I’ve got nowhere else to be,” I say as sincerely and cheerfully as I can. I twist my hair back, ready to pay attention.

“Still, it’s important to be on time. It’s how we tell others we value them.” I want to sarcastically ask her why she doesn’t value me. I leave that comment mentally filed with the verdict on her posters.

“So, I saw my mom this morning.”

“And how did that go?”

“She brought my former nanny, Patricia. I called her Nanny Patty, just like I was still four years old.” I wonder if Jane will chastise me for having two visitors.

“How did it feel, seeing your mom and your nanny?”

“Great. I was kind of worried Mom was still mad about me taking off on her in Surrey, but I think she was more uncomfortable than anything else. It’s weird that I’m here; we were just coming to Vancouver for an evaluation, not an extended stay.”

“But how did you feel when you spoke with your mom?”

“I feel like … I can remember a time when I wasn’t worried so much. It was nice seeing my nanny too. It made me think about being a kid. I remembered when I moved to Nelson and I met my best friend. He’s not really my best friend anymore. You can’t have a boy for a best friend at my age.” I say the words as though they’re common knowledge.

“Why would you think you can’t have a friend that’s a boy?”

“It’s complicated.” I will not be telling Jane I developed a crush on my best friend. The deeper I bury that information, the less real it is. “And besides, his family moved to Vancouver, so that sort of put a stop to us really knowing each other. His parents don’t really like him hanging out on social media too much. Or online at all for anything other than schoolwork.”

“Hmmmm. It’s hard to lose a friend.” Jane looks down at her clipboard and flips up the top page. “Bryce is the boy whose house you went to when you slipped away from your mom. Had you asked your mom if you could visit while you were in Vancouver?”

“Yeah, I didn’t run just to see Bryce. I wanted to see …”

“See what?”

“Isn’t it there on your clipboard?”

“I’d like to hear your words.”

“I wanted to see if I could find any evidence that proved Akasha, my past life, was real. If I found something that proved she’d been here, then Mom would have to listen to me, right?”

“Would you say you feel strongly about your dreams and writing about Akasha?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. What I was saying was —” I stop short of clarifying for Jane that it is Akasha’s distinct writing in my diary, not my speculating about a dream, that drove my search for proof of a turn-of-the-century stowaway. Arguing isn’t going to get me any day passes. I might even be asked to hand over my diary. I need to strike a balance; stay at Arbutus House, but get some slack in the leash and access to the city center.

“What I meant was that I understand it’s all in my head. I was going through a rough patch, not just being lonely, but freaked out about high school coming in the fall. I honestly can’t tell you why I got as worked up as I did.”

Jane nods thoughtfully and makes notes on the top sheet of her clipboard.

“Well, Katelyn, I think we’re ready to set you up with your day passes,” she says. I am tingling with excitement. Precious freedom!

“That’s awesome! I mean, I know I need an escort, but it’s great to know I’m moving in the right direction.”

“I think you are making progress, but let’s not get carried away. Your mother still feels there may be a neurological issue involved in your case and we may yet pursue more testing. I want you to take it easy.” Jane searches for something buried under a few pages on her clipboard. Is she reconsidering? Second-guessing my trustworthiness? Her attention returns to my face. Jane smiles at me.

“The way passes work here at Arbutus House is that you get three day passes per week. You can turn a pass in with Mariah and you’ve got six hours of free time out-side the house. To be allowed out on your own, you need to be at least fifteen years old, so in your case, yes, you require an escort. It will need to be someone vetted by myself or Mariah in advance of your outing. I’m assuming your escort will be your mom, or possibly your nanny.”

“My friend Bryce has a brother who’s sixteen. Does that count?”

Jane frowned. “That wouldn’t be our preference, but it would be up to your mother. She’d need to consent on paper.”

“She will; she loves Bryce and his family. Mitchell, that’s his brother, is really responsible.” It sounds less convincing out loud than it had in my head.

“We’ll make sure it all checks out. But regardless of who you go with, remember what I said about being on time. Wherever you go, make sure you’ve got time to get home before your pass expires. If you’re late home once, we confiscate a pass. Twice, two passes. Three times late means we pull you back to supervised house outings only. Does that all make sense?”

“I’ve got it, loud and clear.” I don’t need to go far to feel free at the moment. I know six hours will become an unbearably small window once I get used to freedom again. Now, though, six hours of unrestricted roaming seems like bliss.

I wake up the next morning to the sound of “Born to Be Wild” crooning from my phone. Bryce! I reach for the phone and pause mid-air. My diary! MY DIARY! Why is it out? Did that sketchy Rayanne girl touch my stuff? I look over at her bed. It is empty and crudely made. Could it have been her? I can’t think straight. Panic surges through me, clouding everything.

Okay, I need to calm down. My diary is still here. The worst case scenario is that Rayanne read it. Well, worse than that would be tearing pages out, but that’s highly unlikely. I grab the book and stuff it under my mattress. I don’t want it to see the light of day until I know what to do.

I check my phone. Bryce wants to hang out next week. Fine, that can wait. I pace slowly at the end of my bed, holding my phone. I look back at my diary. What if Akasha wrote in it again?

The idea that a new message is waiting excites me. I plunge my hand under the mattress and flip to the section of empty pages towards the back.

I now know I am in real danger. Sanjay is never coming for me. He has mourned me as lost. Or he has returned to India, married there, or left again for unknown shores. I will never know. Even if I find a way to mail my letter to Laura, it will make no difference. This man is evil. He will simply kill me if he thinks I am trying to escape.

He took me for a walk in the woods. He offered to show me the splendor that is the coastal rainforest in British Columbia. We walked along a trail not far from the city. It did not take long for him to drop hints that his girls stay with him until he decides to release them. None of the other girls are much older than I am. What causes him to release them, I have no earthly notion.

At the end of the trail, we reached a viewpoint of the ocean. How beautiful it was! I could not watch the surf crash into the rocks below without feeling fear. Then he softly mentioned how a girl had died at this point last year in an accident. He said no more, nor did he need to. I fully understood his meaning.

Reading Akasha’s latest confession leaves me chilled and covered in goose bumps. I admit to myself what I’ve pretty much known all along. Akasha wants me to help find her killer and bring justice to her memory. But how can I possibly do that?