Pink Heart Nails
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“I’m sorry,” the woman said, “but this is a nail salon.” She handed her card to him. “My name is Mrs. Hensley. You can call me Mary.”
Mary was tall and slender with long, blond hair pulled back from her face and tucked into a clip on the side of her head. Her brown eyes seemed to be everywhere at once as she examined everyone in the room for signs of trouble.
The other women wore blue aprons with pink hearts embroidered on them. It was hard to imagine these were the same people who had been terrorizing her husband when they’d entered the building.
She turned to the woman next to her. “How about you, honey? What color will it be?”
The redhead shook her head, her eyes glued to her hands folded over her lap like she’d never felt dirtier than she did right now. When the redheaded woman stood up to follow Mary out of the room, the blonde woman whispered to her, “What’s your name?”
“Bethany.” Bethany hesitated before saying anything more. “We’re just going to talk here. If anyone comes in, I’ll tell them we’re having a little meeting.”
Mrs. Hensley glanced down at the young girl sitting in the corner with a toy truck between her feet. “You, honey,” Mrs. Hensley called to the young boy, “come over here.”
He walked over slowly and sat on his knees beside where he had been playing. He didn’t move until his mother pulled her chair closer. “This is my son, David. He’s five years old. Now, how about you?”
“I’m Amy,” said the young girl as she looked up at Mrs. Hensley with big, hazel eyes. Then she pointed to herself again.
“Amy,” said Mrs. Hensley. “That’s nice. And what else would you like your friends to call you?”
“Maggie.” Maggie nodded.
The women laughed. They were obviously enjoying each other’s company. “Well then,” Mrs. Hensley said to the redheaded woman, “we should start by painting your nails.” She picked up a bowl from her tray and poured some pink polish into it. Then she dipped two large brushes in the paint and began applying it to one of Bethany’s fingers. “There.”
The redhead touched her finger. It took a moment for her to realize she’d been painted with pink polish. It was hard not to stare at the color. This was nothing like the bright red nail polish she’d seen in salons.
Mrs. Hensley handed her another brush to put on her other hand. “Come on, Bethany. Let’s do your toes while the polish is still wet.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bethany stood up and followed Mrs. Hensley back to where the rest of them waited.
“I think I want to change mine,” Amy whispered to her friend as soon as they got back into their chairs.
When Bethany returned to sit next to her, Amy leaned close. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Bethany smiled at her. “I just feel like changing it after seeing the colors you’ve already picked.”
A few minutes later, Mary finished with Bethany and moved on to the next member of the group. After that, she started working on Amy. “So, Maggie,” she asked the young girl, “what do you like to read?”
The young girl shrugged. “Anything.”
Mrs. Hensley smiled. “That’s good, honey. Anything can help us understand what makes a man tick.”
Maggie looked at all the women in the room. There were seven other women with three men. She hadn’t seen any children. She wondered why no one wanted kids. Did they have something against them or maybe they’d lost them in battle?
Whatever the reason, she could see how happy the children were. She also noticed how kind each of them was to the children who were part of the group. It made her wonder if there really were such things as angels in heaven watching over people who were hurting.
Maybe she was mistaken about that. But even so, it was easy to believe when the people around her showed kindness to strangers.
Mrs. Hensley handed Maggie a small book to read aloud to the others.
“It’s a picture book.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
The older woman rolled her eyes. “Let me check it out for myself.”
Mary glanced down at the open book in front of Maggie. “See? The author wrote under his name.” She tapped the title and flipped through a couple of pages. “Yep, it’s a picture book. You’re reading a picture book to an entire roomful of people, and you don’t know what you’re holding in your hands?”
“I thought we were supposed to read it to everyone,” said Bethany.
“Oh,” said Mary. “We are.”
“Then you’ll have to show me again.”
“Sure,” said Mary as she held up the book for Maggie to see. “And I think you’ll enjoy it once you get the hang of reading aloud.”
While Bethany was being read to, Maggie turned to Amy. “What did you pick out?”
Amy pulled up a chair near her and sat down. “It’s an adventure story.”
Maggie smiled as she tried to keep track of the many characters in the novel. By the time Bethany finished reading, most of the members of the group had left. Mary and Bethany were helping each other clean up the messes in their area and putting away supplies before heading off to bed. Only Mrs. Hensley stayed behind to watch Bethany sleep and make sure she was safe.
As soon as she was alone with Maggie, Mary reached into the pocket of her apron and came out with a small envelope. She placed it on her lap and opened it carefully, taking care not to spill the contents onto her apron. She didn’t look up when she spoke.
“I’m sorry we haven’t gotten along since I’ve come here. I never meant to hurt anyone. I only wanted to do the right thing.” She sighed. “I guess my conscience has finally won out.”
She looked up at Maggie and gave her a sad smile. “After all this time, I know now that you weren’t the enemy.” She shook her head. “But you’re not my sister. We couldn’t be sisters because of our different fathers—you being a soldier and me a doctor.” She hesitated for a moment. “You’ve been nothing but helpful around here, and you don’t deserve what happened to you.”
Maggie stared back at her without saying a word. Mary knew exactly what she was thinking.
“I wish there were more I could say to you, Maggie, but that would mean telling you everything. I hope one day you will forgive me.” She stood up and walked out of the room. As she closed the door quietly behind her, she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.
She had no idea what the future might bring. If things got too complicated, she’d tell Bethany to leave. But if there was any way possible, Mary hoped she’d stay.
***
When she returned to her room, Maggie sat at her dressing table looking at herself in the mirror. A tear fell from her eye and dropped onto her skin where it slowly dried and cracked.
Why did I let her get to me so easily? She didn’t understand why Mary was trying to hide who she really was. Maggie had known the minute she met her that Mary was hiding something. What bothered her the most about what Mary had told her was that it was so easy for her to talk about killing someone.
It was just like Mary to keep things hidden until it became impossible to hold in anymore.
Did I really believe her? Did I really buy into her lies? It seemed so strange hearing Mary talk about killing people as if she hadn’t done anything wrong. Was she really that good at hiding her guilt? And how much worse would her past actions be than mine? Had she killed people?
How many women had she raped? Would it surprise her if I told her I had? Maybe not. She was probably already expecting it. She might even feel bad for doing it because of what she’d become.
There was a knock at her door. “Come in,” said Maggie as she wiped away another tear that fell unnoticed by the others.
Bethany opened the door and came inside. “Are you okay?”
Maggie looked up at her friend. “Yes, why?”
“Your nose is red.” She pointed to the spot where Maggie’s hand was resting against her cheek. “What did you do?”
“Oh.” Maggie realized she must have wiped her tears with her hand and forgotten to wash it. “Nothing. Just some dust or something got into my face.”
“Well, wipe it up,” said Bethany. She leaned closer to her friend and lowered her voice. “Do you want to go outside with me for a while?”
Maggie hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded.
They went downstairs to join everyone else in the front yard, where they found Bethany holding her favorite book.
Mary and Amy joined them. Mary took Maggie’s arm as they walked through the yard to the fence surrounding the pasture. They climbed over the top and headed toward the trees on the opposite side.
“Can I ask you something?” asked Bethany. “If you don’t want to answer me, that’s fine. I won’t push.”
“Okay,” Maggie replied cautiously, not knowing where Bethany’s question might lead. “Ask.”
“Why are you still living here? Don’t you ever plan on going home?”
It was an innocent enough question. But Maggie didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Bethany. The fact was that she didn’t feel at home anywhere anymore. Why should she return to Boston where she would have to deal with the stares of everyone in town, where she’d have to live under constant surveillance, always looking over her shoulder?
Where she wouldn’t have access to medical supplies or be able to help anyone? In San Francisco, she could work alongside doctors and do research, helping the community as well as the soldiers. She knew this was true. This was the place she belonged.
The problem was her relationship with her husband. He was a good man who loved his daughter dearly and cared for her deeply, but he was so set in his ways, she wondered how much longer they could stay married.
“I can’t go back.”
“Why not?” Bethany asked. “You’re a smart woman and you’re doing great. You know your family is proud of you. They’d love to see you again.”
Maggie looked around for Amy. She saw her sitting in a swing next to the barn with Ben watching her. There was nothing to be gained from discussing this further. She couldn’t even talk about it to Mary, whom she trusted the most, without worrying that it would somehow end up hurting them both.
She tried to avoid Bethany’s eyes, but then realized she wasn’t avoiding them. She was trying not to look at them. She glanced away, pretending she didn’t notice what Bethany was doing. If only Bethany could understand. She’d been there.
She’d seen what happened when she lost her ability to trust others because of what she’d done. No one would blame Bethany for not trusting her. Maggie wanted her to understand so badly that sometimes she wished Bethany wouldn’t come near her.
“Is it that obvious?”
“No…”
Maggie stopped in mid-stride. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me! I’ve been around long enough to know when people aren’t telling me everything.” Bethany’s tone turned cold. “Are you ashamed of yourself? Do you think I’m judging you for what you’ve done?”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie stared at her in shock. How could Bethany possibly know what she did? “How could you—?”
“I know about your sister. I’ve heard rumors.” Bethany’s voice rose slightly, and she started walking again. “So tell me, are you ashamed of yourself for killing him?”
“Stop!” Maggie gasped and stepped between them.
“Answer the question,” snapped Bethany. She reached out and grabbed Maggie’s shirt, pulling her close until their faces were inches apart.
For a moment Maggie thought about pushing Bethany aside or hitting her, anything to get rid of her, but she didn’t. It had never been like this before. Usually she could ignore Bethany. Now Bethany was standing directly in front of her, breathing hard, glaring at her angrily.
“No, I am not ashamed of myself,” she said softly. “But I’ll admit I wish I hadn’t done it.”
Bethany released her suddenly and backed off.
Maggie stood there for a minute, wondering why Bethany acted this way. Had she done something to upset the other woman?
They walked back across the field toward the house in silence, passing the other women sitting on the porch. Mary and Amy exchanged glances, while Bethany’s gaze followed them both, but she quickly turned away when she saw them watching her.
Back in the kitchen, she and Mary continued talking to each other quietly, not wanting to distract the cook. But Amy was too curious. She wanted to know more about what happened last night. As soon as the conversation ended, she walked into the living room, where Mary was sitting at the piano playing an old song.
Amy jumped onto a chair next to her mother and stared intently at the sheet music resting on the keys. “Who taught you how to play that?”
Mary glanced at her, startled by the abrupt change in subject. “That’s a very beautiful piece. Did you write it?”
“Nope… My teacher wrote it.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, she’s a composer. She writes all kinds of songs.” Amy picked up a pencil and began sketching notes on the paper resting against her leg. “What is that?”
“A piece she wants to use someday.”
“I’ll bet it will be beautiful.”
“It is beautiful.” Mary smiled at her.
“Will you play it again for us?”
“Yes, of course.”
When the song ended, Bethany entered the room. The cook and the girls went back to preparing dinner, leaving her alone with Maggie. They stared at each other without saying a word, neither knowing what to say to the other now that Mary had been present.
The rest of the day seemed to drag by slowly. By three o’clock they were all ready to leave.
As Mary helped Maggie pack her things, the other women gathered to bid her farewell. Mary gave Maggie her blessing, and Ben came over to hug her briefly. He kissed her cheek, then whispered, “Be careful,” in her ear. Then he turned to his wife and held her hand.
They sat on a bench near the window. Maggie watched them silently, wishing they could have had some time alone together to talk about whatever was troubling them.
Bethany stood beside her, staring down at her feet, not looking at anyone else. At last, Mary asked everyone if they had any other questions, and the conversation turned to the weather, the crops, and how long Bethany planned on staying.
After Bethany left with Mary, Maggie returned to her room to collect the few items she needed from the bureau. A moment later Bethany appeared at her door.
“Do you need help?”
Maggie hesitated. What exactly did Bethany want? Did she still care about her? No… Maggie shook her head and answered, “No, I can handle it.”
She closed her suitcase and locked it, then went out of the room. Before going down the stairs, Bethany waited for her on the landing, waiting until the others had passed by. Once again Maggie tried to ignore her, but after several minutes, Bethany took hold of her arm and pulled her close. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
Maggie looked up at her, shocked by the forcefulness of her tone. She tried to pull away, but Bethany held on tightly.
“Let go, Bethany. You don’t understand…”
“I do understand. I know exactly what happened between you two.” Bethany’s eyes blazed with anger, and she leaned closer. “Don’t try to lie to me. I know the truth.”
“No, we didn’t—” Maggie stopped. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much. How could she explain? Why would Bethany act this way now? And why did it matter to her anyway? It wasn’t like either one of them loved the other. They simply shared a passion. Wasn’t that enough for them?
But she found she couldn’t deny it. Her heart still belonged to someone else—a man who was no longer hers. She felt Bethany’s lips brush her earlobe and then her neck. “Tell me the truth,” Bethany whispered hoarsely. “Did you love him?”
“Yes, I did!”
Bethany let go of her. “Then come with me.”
“Come with you where?” Maggie shook her head, trying to stop herself from asking that question. But she knew she had to tell her. “Where are we going?”
“We’re going to find your husband. I’ll take you to the man who killed my sister.”
The End