Chapter 70

Savannah

When Savannah was herded into the back of the SUV, the nip in the air told her summer was over. Of course, she wasn’t wearing much of anything, but one of the men threw a blanket over her and Jenny. They needed it. The sky was inky dark, and she had no idea where they were, except that they were barreling down a highway. After what seemed like a long time, the driver turned off, and a fresh, piney scent replaced the gritty smells of the city. The smell made her feel oddly optimistic, although there was no reason to be.

They turned off a two-lane road onto a narrow lane thick with woods on both sides. Rolling down the uneven road, they eventually reached a patchy driveway, which led to a farmhouse well recessed from the road. An unattached barn lay farther away. The men parked the SUV and motioned for Vanna and Jenny to get out. Floodlights mounted to the walls of both house and barn illuminated the surroundings, but all Vanna could see were bare branches waving in the wind.

Inside, the farmhouse was unusually clean and neat. No dirty dishes lying around, no trash piled up, worn but comfortable furniture. The kitchen looked good enough to cook in.

An older woman, round, with dark hair piled on top of her head and the faint trace of a mustache, motioned them to a set of stairs.

“Where are we?” Vanna asked.

The woman didn’t answer. Had she not heard or did she not speak English?

“Who are you?” Vanna said.

The woman shook her head, still not talking, and started up the steps. About halfway up, she stopped, turned around, and gestured for Vanna and Jenny to follow. The second floor contained four bedrooms. Vanna peeked in one as they passed. The room contained not much more than a bed and dresser, but like the rest of the place, it looked clean. At the end of the hall was a bathroom with older fixtures, but again, it was cleaner than most of the bathrooms she’d seen since she left Colorado.

The woman turned on the shower above a claw-footed tub. She opened a chest of drawers, handed both girls a washcloth and towel, and gestured to the water. Vanna didn’t need any more encouragement. She peeled off her clothes and stepped into the tub; it was the first real shower she’d had in months. As she lingered in the hot, steamy water, she wondered if she could scrub away the past few months as easily as the grit from her body.

After they showered, the old woman led Jenny to one room, Vanna to another. A faded green bathrobe lay on the bed. It wasn’t new, but the terry cloth was soft and comfortable. The woman beckoned her back down to the kitchen. A few minutes later, Jenny came down too, also wearing a bathrobe, but hers was white. She flipped up her hands as if to say, “What the fuck?”

Vanna shook her head. She didn’t understand either. The cleanliness and concern were a universe away from the way she’d been treated. All she knew was that she didn’t want it to stop.

The older woman busied herself at the stove and minutes later set down two steaming cups of tea in front of the girls. Vanna sipped hers, wondering whether she was dreaming or whether this was real. She felt herself smile wide enough that her lips curled.

It would be her last for a long time.