Winter Break

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

The warm spring sun beams down on me, hurrying my feet along. School felt like it lasted forever, and I can’t wait to meet my friends to show them the scooter Grandma got me for my twelfth birthday yesterday. It’s purple with silver tassels on the handlebars.

My home is only three blocks from school, and I jog nearly the whole way, making plans in my head.

First, I’ll eat a peanut butter sandwich, then I’ll ride my scooter to Stacey’s house.

It’s Friday and that means I can stay out until the streetlights come on.

No school tomorrow. I have the whole weekend to hang out with my friends.

I’m surprised to see Paul’s old truck parked in front of my house. My stepdad always stays at the bar down the street until dinner. Mom’s little brown Chevette sits in the driveway when she should be at work. What’s going on?

Mom comes out of the front door as I run up with my backpack jostling on my back.

I hope she doesn’t make me do my homework before I can go out.

I hate math. “There you are. We’ve been waiting for you,” Mom says, struggling with a suitcase in her hand.

“Go use the bathroom because we aren’t going to stop once we’re on the road. ”

What? “Where are we going?”

“Just do what you’re told,” she huffs, dragging the bag to the trunk of her car.

I know better than to keep asking when she’s in a mood. I do have to pee, so I obey while I try my best to think back. Did she say we were going somewhere and I forgot? We never go on trips.

Mom glances at me when I return to the living room. “Grab a book or something. It’s a long ride and I don’t want to hear you whine about being bored.” Paul hangs up the phone and gives me a look that gets me moving instead of asking any questions.

I dump my backpack out and throw some of my books inside. I’m glad I have a new book from the library to entertain me. Mom hustles me into the backseat of the car as Stacey rides up on her bike.

“She can’t go out today!” Mom calls, shooing her with her hand.

We wave at each other as she pedals away. I hope we’ll be back by morning so I can go out with my scooter first thing tomorrow. “Isn’t Paul coming with us?” I ask when she pulls out of the driveway.

“He’ll be following in his truck.”

“Where are we going?”

“Wisconsin. Don’t start with your constant questions. I have to concentrate on driving.” She shoves her favorite cassette tape into the player that Paul got her after she caught him cheating with the woman at the laundromat.

Mom always hates my questions. It’s because I’m annoying.

I like to know everything. I want to learn everything.

I know where Wisconsin is, but I don’t know why we’re going there.

Maybe we have family to visit? Mom told me that Grandma is our only family ever since Dad died in prison when I was six.

I guess I’ll find out when we get there.

We turn onto the highway, and I settle back in my seat to watch the scenery go by while John Cougar Mellencamp sings about living in a small town. Hours later, we finally pull off the highway and onto a country road. Mom stops once to look at her map, then makes a left.

The tires crunch as we turn onto a narrow gravel road with a wooden sign at its entrance.

I sit up a little straighter so I can read it in the failing light.

Hearth and Vine Farm. Honoring Nature’s Design.

The letters are painted in dark green, alongside a stalk of wheat with vines curling around it.

There wasn’t much to see other than the forest for miles but now the trees fall back to reveal large fields filled with low bushes that run on and on into the distance.

“Are those berries?” I ask. “Are we going berry picking?” We went berry picking on a school field trip once and it was fun. We even got to bring a container of strawberries home.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Mom says.

We keep driving until the berry fields end, and the road opens into a wide clearing. Mobile homes are scattered across it. It seems like an odd place for a trailer park.

They look lived in, with little wooden steps leading up to the doors. A couple have small porches built onto the front. I see a clothesline stretched between two poles with shirts hanging from it, and toys scattered over the yard.

There are other buildings too. Bigger ones that are long and plain with windows along the sides.

One of them has picnic tables outside with a group of people gathered there.

A large three-story brick house sits at the end of the road, but Mom turns to park at one of the long buildings before we get there.

A woman steps out of the building and walks quickly toward us. She looks older than Mom, maybe around Grandma’s age. Her gray hair is pulled back tight, and she’s wearing a long skirt and a plain blouse. She stands very straight with her hands folded in front of her.

“You must be the Kemps. Welcome to Hearth and Vine Farm,” she says.

Mom smiles at her. “Thank you. I’m Donna and this is Sybil.”

“I’m Matron Judith.”

She looks down at me. What kind of name is Matron? It’s not one I’ve ever heard before.

“I help look after the children here,” she says. “I’ll take care of Sybil while you get settled in.”

Mom nods like she expected her offer and hands me my backpack. “Go with her while I get unpacked.”

All the questions I’ve tried not to ask come pouring out. “Go where with her? Where are we staying? What is this place? Are we on vacation?”

Mom sighs as if I’m being completely unreasonable. “Yes, I need a break. Now, don’t argue. I’ll come and find you later.”

It’s a warning I know well. I’ve learned to go along with things because no amount of arguing ever changes anything. It just gets me in trouble.

“Come along,” Matron Judith says. “You must be hungry. Let’s get your dinner.”

I’m starving since I didn’t get an afterschool snack and Mom didn’t want to stop to eat during our drive. “Thank you,” I reply, nervously. Something just doesn’t feel right.

I follow her down a dirt path, and when I look back at Mom, she’s accompanying a woman toward a group of trailers.

That must be where we’re staying. Ms. Judith takes me to one of the buildings.

The room looks similar to my school cafeteria, just a bit smaller.

Two long tables are occupied by kids eating.

They all stare in my direction until a woman says something to them.

Their eyes instantly return to their food and their low conversations resume.

It occurs to me that I don’t have any money. My free lunch card from school won’t work here. “Ms. Judith, my mom didn’t give me any money to buy dinner.” My voice comes out small and embarrassed.

“Please call me Matron or Matron Judith, Sybil. And there’s no reason to worry. You don’t need any money.” She stops at a counter and signals to another woman behind a cutout in the wall. The woman nods and emerges from a door holding a tray of food.

“Sybil, this is Matron Ruth. She cooks all of our meals and cares for the kitchen.”

Oh, Matron is a title not a name. Matron Ruth is older and round with red cheeks. She slides the tray of food across to me with a kind smile. “Welcome to Hearth and Vine.”

“Thank you, Matron Ruth,” I reply, picking up the tray.

Both women seem pleased with me. Matron Judith escorts me to an empty table and sits across from me while I eat. “I’m happy to see that you have good manners,” she says as I shovel in the food. It’s chicken stew with lots of vegetables.

I eat with one eye on the door we came through. “Thank you. Will my mom be coming to eat soon?”

“This is the children’s dining room. Your mother is getting settled into her new home.”

My hand freezes halfway to my mouth with the last bite. “New home? We don’t live here.”

She nods with a patient look. “You will be living here now. Your mother didn’t make that clear?”

I sit up straight, and the little cup of pudding I was looking forward to on my tray suddenly loses all appeal. “I think there’s been a mistake. We live in Indiana. I have to be at school on Monday. We’re just taking a little trip.”

Matron Judith’s head shakes back and forth slowly.

“There’s no mistake. Your family is joining our collective.

You’re now a daughter of the Guardians of His Natural Order here at Hearth and Vine Farm.

Your stepfather will be moving the rest of your things.

” She smiles at me. “This is a lovely place to grow up. You’ll be happy here once you’ve adjusted. ”

Fear washes over me and I leap to my feet. That can’t be true. “No, no, there’s been some mistake. I want my mom. I’m going back to my mom.”

She grabs my wrist before I can run off. “You can’t go by yourself. Calm down and I’ll have your mother brought to meet us.”

All eyes in the place are on me, and another woman quickly walks over to us. Matron Judith nods at her. “Matron Helen, would you please have the new wife, Donna, brought to meet us at Dorm B? It seems she hasn’t explained things to our new daughter.”

“Certainly,” Matron Helen says, rushing off.

My face hardens and I snap, “I’m not your daughter.”

Unfazed, she smiles, “Female children at Hearth and Vine Farm are daughters until you become a wife. Male children are sons until they become a steward. I know you don’t understand now, but you will. Come along. Your mother will join us in the daughters’ dorm.”

It’s fine, I try to tell myself as I’m taken to another building with two rows of beds. This is just a misunderstanding. We’re only here to visit. Mom will straighten things out when she gets here.

The sight of my suitcase on the last bed in a row makes my stomach drop. Why is that here? Mom enters and marches over to the bed. “Are you causing problems already?”

“I, no, they think I’m going to live here. Tell them they’re wrong.”

She sighs and sits down, patting the bed for me to join her. “They aren’t wrong, Sybil. I can’t afford our rent anymore and this is a nice place to live. You’ll see.”

What? “No! I have school! And my friends! I don’t want to move. My sixth grade graduation is next week!” The little cap they gave me to wear with our school’s name and the year 1985 stamped on it is waiting on my dresser at home.

“I know, but it’s done. This is our home now. You’ll stay here with girls your age. Think of it like summer camp. I’ll be right up the road and—”

Panic is a wild animal in my chest. “No! Let me stay with you!” If I have to be torn away from everything I know, I can’t do it by myself. “I’ll be good, I swear. I won’t ask questions or get on your nerves. I’ll stay quiet. Please.”

“I’m sorry. That isn’t how things work here.” Her voice has become hard and distant as she gets to her feet. “Listen to the matrons and do as you’re told. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before I can argue, Matron Judith intervenes. “We prefer to give the new daughters two weeks to settle in without parental visitation. It helps them adjust quicker.”

Mom nods her agreement instantly. “I understand.”

“No! Mom!” I scream as she walks away. Matron Judith holds onto me, and another woman joins us as I fight to get away from them. “Let me go! I want my mom. I want to go home!”

Matron Judith’s voice is as calm and even as ever. “You are home.”