Ivy of Our Hearts

Thirty-five

"I'll go clean up," I said, turning away from them to the bathroom. The bathroom had the only other door in the cabin that could lock. I locked it and sat on the toilet; my knees burned as I did. I lifted my dress to inspect them.

Both of my knees had been scraped in the fall, but the wounds weren't deep enough for bandages. I pulled my dress down over them. A bit of alcohol would be all I needed, a bit of alcohol and enough luck to take me away from here.

I fought the urge to scream as I buried my face into my hands. Today was a day like any other. The sunlight made the bathroom bright, and in its brightness, I wished, like Simon had, someone would find us here and recognize us as the girls who'd disappeared that August night. But there'd be no escape. There'd be no one arriving to take us home, but I wished for it. How I wished for it.

"Ivy." Margaret knocked on the door. "Are you decent? Can I come in?"

I stood right away. "Hold on." At the medicine cabinet, I took down the alcohol and some cotton balls, placing them around the sink to make it appear like I'd been busy. I smoothed my hands over my hair, which didn't help, and unlocked the door.

Margaret came in. She closed the door behind her. "Are you okay?" She eyed the contents around the sink. "Do you need help?"

"I'm okay," I said, scratching my forehead which itched or maybe I needed to distract from my lie. "It's a scrape."

She moved around me and sat on the toilet. "Are you sure?" She wore the rubber band she used to tie her hair back around her wrist. She pulled on it and let it go against her flesh. "You don't seem okay."

I studied her to see if she'd found out the truth on her own. She couldn't have because if she had, I hoped, like me, she would want to leave him.

"You've been quiet these past few days," she said, the rubber band smacking her flesh as she let it go.

This conversation had nothing to do with Phillip. It had to do with me not wanting to talk to either of them. I wasn't mad at Margaret, but whenever I spoke, I feared I might say something that might give me away. I sat on the edge of the tub, staring at the brown tile. Margaret pulled and let go of her rubber band. For a while, it was the only sound between us.

"I'm okay," I said. "I've been..." I searched the tile for the words. When I saw none, I searched the ceiling. I had to be careful about the words I chose. "My birthday is coming next month," I said. "I don't want it to be a big deal and I'm worried Phillip might make it one. You know how he is." I smiled at her.

She let go of her rubber band. "Is that it?"

No.

Digging my nails into my palm, I nodded.

Please believe me, Margaret.

She stood. "I can tell you now," she said, hand on the doorknob, "Your birthday will be amazing." She pulled open the door, but before she left, she said, "Don't tell him I told you." She winked.

The grin, the one I'd plastered on before, spread across my face. I felt like the Cheshire cat, smiling at everything. "I won't," I said, because if we were lucky, we'd be gone long before then.

***

Whenever I didn't need to be around them, I kept to the bedroom where I paced back and forth, trying to come up with a plan to escape him. It was after lunch. I'd paced back and forth maybe a hundred times and hadn't come up with anything, until I heard Manderley's frantic scratching against the door. I had a moment of clarity.

If she could bring me things, maybe I could give her things to give for me, a message, or a letter to my parents. I went to the nightstand where I kept her gifts. On top of Nora's copy of Jane Eyre was my notepad. I tore a sheet out of it and took up the pen. Writing the note would be the easy part. Getting Manderley to send my letters would be difficult. Even though she'd grown fond of me, she belonged to him. He wouldn't like any of this, which was why I had to do it. I scribbled onto the slip of paper and folded it up. It had three words on it. I am alive. And underneath my name.

I kept it hidden in my fist as I left the room. Phillip had already opened the door for Manderley and now lay across the couch; his feet propped up, his arm over his eyes. The radio played something rocking roll and classic. Margaret, at the table, flipping through a magazine Phillip had bought in attempt to make us keener towards him, hummed along to it. My stomach churned at the image of them together. They were like a couple who'd been so wrapped up in their relationship they didn't realize how wrong they were for each other. How wrong this was.

"Do you think she'll be gone long?" I asked. I ran my fingers along her scratches on the door. The note tucked away in my other hand gave me a slight thrill I hoped didn't show on my face.

Phillip raised his arm. "She should be back soon. I wouldn't wait though. She likes to wander." He sat up, making enough room for me on the couch. He didn't ask me to sit, but he wanted me to. Before I would have cared if Nora had slipped into his thoughts, but now I didn't.

I opened the door. "I'll be outside."

"Without a coat?" he called after me.

I waited at the fence for Manderley. Sometimes, I'd catch a glimpse of a bird in the sky or hear a birdcall I thought came from her, but it was dusk by the time she came back and by then I'd grown so weary I almost went back in, telling myself I'd try tomorrow. But every day I let slip by became another day here. We'd been here for long enough. Three months.

Manderley landed near my feet. I bent down. "Hello there," I said, plucking out a weed to give to her. She ate it. She would eat anything, maybe even my own heart if it had been offered to her. "Can you do me a favor?" I asked. I held up the slip of paper. "Can you deliver this for me?"

She angled her head. I'd become rather good at deciphering Manderley's body language. The note had piqued her interest. She nipped it from me. I thought at first, she'd swallow it, but she kept it in her beak.

"For my parents," I said, stroking her wing. "At 52 Terrace Street."

She hopped away from me as I petted her. "Please, Manderley," I said. "You brought me that ribbon. You helped me remember."

She cawed, gave me a displeased look, and took off into the air.

"52 Terrace Street," I said, more hopeful than I'd been for the first time in days.