A different social worker named Denise ushered Patty, Susie and me into her car. Patty sat up front while Susie and I climbed into the back. The car headed in the opposite direction. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe and still my frantic mind.
As the car drove towards Oswego, I stared out the window. I knew this route intimately, as Mom took us regularly there to shop or get groceries. But we didn't stop in Oswego. We continued, going through farmland that I'd never seen before. The further we went, the more my heart began to sink. I had no clue where we were. How would we ever get back home?
As our ordeal began to sink in, I began my escape plan. I'll run away. I can wait until we are settled and then sneak out into the night, follow back roads and hide during the day. Plotting my escape helped me deal with the pain of separation and detached me from reality. I could look at it as though it were happening to someone else, as though it were a story I was reading in a book.
Denise tried to make conversation with us, but we were too broken by what had just happened to talk. Patty asked where we were going, and she replied we were headed to Fair Haven. I didn't know where that was, but I knew we'd been in the car for almost an hour.
Around 7:00 pm we arrived at a community of homes. It was dark out so I couldn't tell much. Denise parked the car in front of a two-story cottage, and when I looked over I could see the silhouette of a stout figure blocking the front door entrance.
It was Mrs. Lyons, who watched us climb out of the car. As we neared the door, she remarked, "I wondered what took you so long. I delayed going into the factory."
The three of us didn't answer, as it seemed the comment was directed to Denise. Mrs. Lyons stepped aside and motioned for the three of us to go in, where we found a thin and frail-looking Mr. Lyons. He smiled but did not speak. I immediately got the impression that Mrs. Lyons ran this household.
Denise sat in the living room and told Mrs. Lyons we needed to be registered for Red Creek school in the morning. Mrs. Lyons assured her that we would be, and Denise left. Mrs. Lyons turned around at the door, told us there was food in the fridge if we were hungry, and that she had to get to the factory.
"Mr. Lyons will show you your rooms," she said as she closed the door.
I looked about the home. There were toys scattered across the floor and dishes in the sink. Homemade pies and cakes covered the counter tops.
"I can get you your supper," Mr. Lyons offered.
"Thank you, but we're not hungry," Patty responded.
I thought of our conversation last Friday over dinner, where we laughed as we said we would fast if they took us. Now that it was real, I didn't feel so sure of my promise. I'd made it glibly because I was sure the judge's threat was empty.
Mr. Lyons took us upstairs and showed us two bedrooms, one with a single bed and the other with a full. After he left, I told Patty and Susie that I couldn't sleep alone in the single bedroom. They agreed we would stay together in the double, despite it being tight.
Mr. Lyons had given us each a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb and a brush. We put them in the shoe boxes Mr. Ramsey had given us and placed them on the floor against the wall. We didn't put anything into the dresser. That would make our stay seem too final. We wanted to believe we would not be staying long.
That night, as the three of us lay squashed together on the bed, we remained silent, each in her own thoughts. I thought back to the cider mill, to my parents sitting in the living room, to the kitchen counter where we gathered every evening to eat supper as everyone talked at once. Mom and Dad's fighting, the stress over the restrictions, all the extra prayers now seemed unimportant. I craved to be back home, in what was familiar, among my siblings, on the farm I loved to roam. A tear escaped as I realized our predicament. We had no one to turn to but each other and we had no clue how long we would be staying.