“Now you see why we need fresh blood. Why we needed you.” She points at my belly.

Quill shambles forward. Catherine flinches, but he’s not looking at her, only me. That’s when I notice his hand-wound music box. He begins to crank it. A hurdy-gurdy lullaby slithers out. When the music begins to slow, he cranks it again, never breaking eye contact. He’s so close I can feel his heat.

I look away, but not before I see the figure-eight scar on his left arm, identical to mine and Deck’s. Sometimes certain bloodlines will have a similar adverse reaction to a vaccination. It’s uncommon but not unheard of.

All of us Lily children likely have one. It was Kris whose scar was a coincidence.

Quill is cranking the music box faster and faster.

“He played that for you when you were little,” Dorothy is saying from behind me. “Remember? He played with you during your only day at Lilydale kindergarten, visited you in the basement at Dorothy’s.”

I smile a crazy grin, my eyes spinning. I feel a rupture, and then my underpants grow so wet that moisture runs down my legs.

I drop to my knees.

Not now, baby, not now. Please don’t be born down here.

CHAPTER 64

The Mothers hurry me back to the lemon-yellow room. Call Dr. Krause, and then the men. Watch, as he gives me a shot, and then as my sweet baby is born. Cheer like they are watching a football game. Take my child, leaving me behind to drift in and out of consciousness.

As I suspected they would.

But here I am.

Clean. Rested. Hydrated. Fed. Propped up with Geritol and Pop-Tarts.

As strong as I’m going to get.

It’s time for me to join them.

It’s time for me to get my child (Frances, I will call the baby, boy or girl; God, what my mother sacrificed for me) and escape Lilydale, for real this time. Forever.

Barbara is the first person I encounter. She’s at the bottom of the stairs, knitting, but hurries to her feet when she spots me. “Oh, no, dear, you need to lie down.” She tries to guide me back to bed.

I seize her wrist. “Please tell me my baby’s all right.”

She pats my cheek. “Well, of course your baby’s fine, dear.”

I try to smile. “I want to see my child.”

“I’m afraid now isn’t a good time.”

I stagger to the nearest window, the one facing the driveway between this house and Deck’s. The neighbors have gathered. All the Mothers and the Fathers. My eyes devour them, hungry for sight of my child. My plan requires me to appear detached and stable, but I can’t help it. The desperation to hold my infant, to feed him, is primal.

Laughing gaily, Catherine looks over and spots me. She reaches out to Dorothy, who is holding a cocktail. They whisper and then scurry across the driveway and into the house.

“I tried to get her to lie back down,” Barbara says when they appear in the living room.

“I understand the baby isn’t mine,” I say, pleading. I don’t even care about my plan anymore. I didn’t account for this passion, for this consuming need to see my child. I’ll say anything for the chance to hold him, even just once. “Let me serve, to begin to pay you all back. Please.”

Catherine’s nose turns up. “I don’t think you’re strong enough.”

I glide across the floor. The movement costs me so much, but I make it appear effortless. “Are you kidding? I’m ready to have another baby. Just point me in the right direction.” I don’t laugh. That would seem too much. I must keep a tight rein.

“She can’t hurt anyone,” Dorothy says, looking me up and down.

I stand in front of Catherine, staring humbly at my feet. She’s the one who will make the decision.

“All right,” Catherine finally says, her voice cold. “The doctor said it was an easy birth. You certainly deserve to join us. Come on, then.”

I do.

I have crossed the third hurdle.

CHAPTER 65

Clan is the first man at the party to spot me. His face collapses. He turns to find someone, Ronald or Amory, I suspect, so I hurry to him. “Clan,” I say, smiling my widest. “I remember you like old-fashioneds. Do I have that right? Let me mix you one.”

He smiles, though I sense he’s wondering why I’ve joined the group. I slip into the kitchen and make his drink. I make everyone’s drinks. I serve them their favorites, one, two, sometimes three. They’ve never tasted better. I hold the nausea and darkness at bay through force of will. I change my pads every half hour. I’m docile. I will see my baby.

The celebration was starting when I came to, dipped at my arrival, and is now back in full swing, everyone talking too loudly, growing drunk and stupid. After the steaks and side dishes are devoured, I bring them chocolate pudding, which I serve up in Deck’s kitchen and keep moving, always moving.

Hurdle four.

When Dr. Krause shows up, his round glasses like headlights that pick me out in the crowd, I think it may be over. I don’t know if someone called him because they’re worried about me, but I’m certain I can’t recover from another of his injections, not in time. I don’t mix him a drink. He’s not a Mill Streeter. I don’t know what he favors.

“Hello, Miss Harken.”

He isn’t calling me Mrs. Schmidt anymore. “Hello, Dr. Krause. My baby is okay?”

“What? Yes, of course. I’m surprised to see you up so soon.”

“This is my family,” I say, indicating those gathered, their voices loud and animated. “I want to be here for the celebration.”

I must escape before he can insist I lie down. I’m pulling away from him, back into Deck’s house, when I hear the cry. I moan and lean into the doorjamb.

It’s my baby.

The wail comes again, louder. My newborn is in Deck’s house. Upstairs. In the bedroom Deck and I shared? I move toward the noise. My swollen breasts are pulsating, the front of my shirt suddenly drenched in milk.

Deck appears. He’s been at the party, of course, keeping his distance, not letting me make him a drink, but still, celebrating.

“You can’t go up,” he says. “Don’t worry. Linda has the baby.”

I quiet the rage. I don’t know Linda. “Please, Deck. Let me see our baby.”

Dr. Krause appears with his bag. “I have a shot that will dry up your milk and another that will help you sleep.”

I whimper and squeeze my chest.

Barbara appears, wavering slightly. She had only one drink, but she’s a lightweight. “It’s best if she feeds the baby the first week, isn’t that right, doctor? For the colostrum.”

Dr. Krause looks confused. “Yes. Breast milk is best for the baby’s immunity, and then formula is fine, but you requested I bring these injections.”

Dorothy appears behind Barbara, smiling warmly at me. She’s as solid as stone. “We’ve decided to let her nurse, and we’ll keep her on the pills rather than the shots for now, Dr. Krause. Thank you for coming. You’re not needed anymore.”

She turns away from him and takes me by the elbow. I have just seen what she must have been like when she and Stan ruled Lilydale alongside Barbara and Ronald, a woman whose commands were not questioned.