“I believe you,” she said softly. She handed them each a piece of toast, and they ate in silence.
Evan considered what would be expected of him in this situation. He should report them. That’s what anyone else would do. It was unfair to them that they had to live on their own. They were just girls—two young girls. They shouldn’t have to live like this. In the dark. So poor. Clara taking on responsibilities that should be reserved for adults. But they weren’t frightened, he noted. In fact, they both appeared well-adjusted and healthy. And then he realized what could happen if he did notify the authorities. They would be taken away, perhaps to two different homes. How could he be responsible for that?
No wonder Clara was so resistant. The realization was like a slap in the face. She didn’t want him getting close. She didn’t want him to know anything. No wonder she acted so reserved and nervous around him. He started believing that she truly didn’t like him. Now he realized that wasn’t the case at all. She was just being protective of herself and her sister. She was a good sister to Beatrice—responsible and loyal and kind—and he felt a rush of admiration for her. Clara was a good girl, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her in that moment of discovery, that moment when his heart grew with what he thought could be love for her. Real love.
“What can I do to help?” Evan asked.
“Nothing,” Clara replied. “It’s not your job to help.”
“I know it’s not my job, Clara,” Evan said patiently. “But I’m asking you because I want to.”
Beatrice could stand it no more. “We really just love yogurt, and maybe you could take us to get some again.” She instantly regretted her words as she looked over at Clara.
Evan looked at Clara, too, and shook his head. She drew her mouth tight fighting the urge to rebuke her sister.
“I would love to take you for yogurt anytime,” Evan said. “What do you say we clean up your yard and then treat ourselves afterwards?”
“Well, that’s the only way to do it!” Beatrice said. “You can’t give yourself treats until you do something to deserve them, right Clara?”
Clara shrugged and looked down at her feet. Only then did she get a glimpse of her nipples pressing firmly against the material of her shirt.
“Oh my God,” she said to herself, and hurried to her bedroom. She slammed the door and pulled open her top dresser drawer. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she said grabbing a bra and tossing it on the bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered tearing off her shirt and securing the bra.
She heard a knock on the door.
“What?” she asked alarmed. “Don’t come in!”
“What’s wrong, Clara?” Beatrice asked. “Are you coming out again?”
“Yes. I’m just changing,” Clara replied.
“Oh.” Beatrice sounded relieved. “I’ll change too and meet you outside.”
Clara did not respond. She sat on the edge of her bed feeling horrified, staring ahead at her closet door, wearing only her bra and cotton pants trying to muster the courage to emerge from her bedroom. Once she was fully dressed.
“Okay Clara?” Beatrice pressed. She wouldn’t leave until Clara acknowledged her.
“Yes Beatrice. I’ll meet you outside.”
She did emerge from her room eventually, and she was dressed in an old pair of jeans that were too short and a long sleeve T-shirt, her breasts nicely secured in a bra with no nipples showing. She pulled her hair up in a high ponytail, and Evan liked it immediately. He’d never seen her wear her hair like that. She wore ponytails at school, but they were always low, hovering about the nape of her neck. Understated or serious. Not this one. This one was flirty, and it wanted him to look at it. His desire for her intensified the longer he stared.
He walked with her to the back yard and Beatrice soon followed. The three stood in the center of the yard and considered the work ahead.
“Maybe assigning tasks?” Evan offered.
“I want to push the lawn mower,” Beatrice said.
“Absolutely not,” Clara replied. “It’s dangerous and you can slice your feet off. Is that what you want? No feet?”
Evan grinned. “I’ll mow the lawn,” he offered. “I’m sure there’s no gas in the mower, so I’ll need to run to the station to get some.”
“I’ll give you money,” Clara said.
Evan ignored her. He was not going to take money from Clara, not after what he saw. He was shocked to learn the girls had been living the past seven weeks with no electricity. They didn’t live in shambles, but he could tell from the moment he walked inside that everything was worn and old. The furniture looked like it needed to be retired. He noticed the wallpaper peeling in the corners of the kitchen, and water damage in various spots on the walls. Still, the girls kept the house clean. It was slowly falling apart around them, but it was clean.
“I’ll rake then,” Beatrice said. “Even though it would be much more fun to mow.”
Clara helped her sister with another rake she found shoved in the back of the shed. There were so many leaves, all of a sudden she noticed, when just yesterday she swore that the trees were full of them. Now the trees stood naked, shed of their colorful clothing, and Clara felt embarrassed for them.
The girls only got a portion of the back yard raked when Evan returned with gas for the mower. He readied the equipment, checking this and that—Clara had no clue—then approached Beatrice.
“I’ll finish this,” he said taking the rake from her. “You start picking up all those sticks. And if you come across big rocks, pick those up too. I’d like to keep my eyeballs while I mow.”
“Where do I put everything?” Beatrice asked.
Evan looked around. “In that back corner,” he said pointing to the dead honeysuckle vines.
“No!” Clara said. She hurried over to Beatrice. “Not there, Bea. Over there,” she suggested, pointing to a spot on the opposite side of the yard.
“I know, Clara,” Beatrice replied. “Evan doesn’t understand.” And she went to work.
“Special spot?” Evan asked as Clara began raking again.