“Everything's so pretty,” Zamatryna said. After the bleakness of the camp, she felt as if she could taste every color here.
Lisa nodded. “Yes, it sure is, isn't it? This is a beautiful part of the world, and I thank the Lord every day that I live here. It eases the hurt in your heart, to come outside and look at those mountains.”
Finally they went inside, to have sandwiches for lunch. Timbor blessed the food in their own language, and Stan blessed it a bit more loudly than necessary in his, and then they ate. Halfway through the first sandwich, Stan said, “What does that mean in English, that grace you say, old man?”
Timbor smiled. “I don't know how to translate it into your language.”
“Could your daughter tell me? Zamanina, can you say it in English?”
“Her name's Zamatryna, honey.” Lisa passed Timbor a plate of cookies. “And she's had too much work to do translating things. She's only a little girl. Let her be, Stan, all right?”
“I justâ”
“These folks have had too many people yammering at them with questions, Stan. They need a rest. They only got out of that camp with their lives yesterday, remember?”
“Thank you for bringing us here,” Harani said quietly. “Thank you for everything you've done for us. Both of you.”
“You're welcome,” Lisa said. Stan mumbled something and looked away, his jaw set. Lisa gave him an unreadable look and said, “We watched the news last night. When we went home. It's bad, what happened at the camp. They still didn't have the fire out this morning; they didn't get rain there last night, like we did.” Her voice was thick with tears now. “A lot of people died, refugees and Americans both, over a hundred. And now they're trying to find out who snuck in the truck bomb. It looks like somebody in the Army who was working with the Nuts.”
Erolorit shook his head. “Why would anyone do that? Why do those people hate refugees so much?”
“Lots of reasons.” Lisa wiped her eyes. “Some folks just don't like anybody who doesn't look like them, or anybody from somewhere else, especially after what happened in 2001: the big attack, and all the scares after that, anthrax and smallpox and those crazies who got caught smuggling a bomb into Cleveland. Never mind that everybody here is from someplace different, unless they're Indian. Some folks are scared of disease, since a lot of the refugees are from Africa and places like that where so many folks have died of HIV. A lot of people who can't find jobs think the refugees will take all the work if they stay here, and some people are just upset that anything the rest of the country doesn't want gets dumped in Nevada. There are folks who think the refugee camp is as bad as Yucca Mountain, where all that radioactive waste is. I don't think it's anything like that, because I don't think people are poison. But we've still got more open room than any other state in the country, except Alaska, and some folks just don't want to share it.”
Stan looked back at them now. “People are just full of evil,” he said quietly, but he sounded sad, not angry. “It's hard to withstand Satan, yes it is, and a lot of people just never hear Jesus knocking at their hearts. Or they hear him and slam the door in his face, give in to the Tempter instead. I'm sorry if I've been unkind to you. I'm a fallen man, and I have my own struggles, and I just pray to the good Lord to set my feet on the right path.”
Timbor and the rest of the family just stared; Macsofo raised his eyebrows at Zamatryna, who had no idea how to translate any of what Stan had just said. But Lisa looked happy. She wiped her face again, and leaned over to give Stan a hug, and said, “Bless you, honey. You surely are a comfort. Now, listen, it's getting on toward two. Do you think you could run those errands we talked about, while I stay here and get these folks settled more comfortably?”
“Sure,” Stan said with a sigh. “I'll be back in a few hours with more food and some clothing for all of you. Lisa, I still think you'd be better at the clothing than I'd be.”
“Never mind, honey, get a few things, whatever you can, at Kmart and Costco and the Salvation. We'll do it bit by bit. These folks can't go downtown until they have American things to wear, that's all. It would draw too much attention. You need money?”
“I have money.”
“We'll pay for it out of Mama'sâ”
“Never mind that,” he said gently, and bent and kissed the top of her head, and waved to the rest of them, and was gone.
When the door had shut behind him, Lisa rubbed her eyes and said, “All right. I need to talk to you. Macsofo, Aliniana, can your little ones play outside by themselves, without folks watching them? No, of course not, it's too dangerous with the riverâcan they play in the other room by themselves, nicely?”
“Yes,” Macsofo said, his voice chilly. “But why can't they stay here?”
“They're little, that's all. I have to talk about grown-up things. Children shouldn't be burdenedâ”
“We share everything as a family,” Macsofo said tonelessly, and Lisa bent her head.
“Of course. You're their daddy. Zamatryna, sweetheart, I may need you to translate again if I say things your folks can't understand. I'm sorry.”
“It's all right,” Zamatryna said.
“Good,” Lisa said, and took a deep breath. “Thank you. All right, now, there are things I haven't told Stan about you. He knows you don't have papers, but he doesn't know that nobody knows where you came from. I didn't tell him that part. Stan likes things set and settled, you know; he doesn't do well with anything that doesn't fit into what he already knows. And he has this way of thinking the worst about anything he doesn't understand: if there's a hole in something, you know, he plugs the Devil right in there. And you folks don't need to deal with that. You've had enough trouble already.”
Timbor shook his head. “Who is the Devil, please?”
“The Tempter, the one who makes evil in the world. The opposite of God and Jesus, who make everything good in the world. The Devil's where all the bad things come from.”
“Is the Devil a Nut?” Jamfret asked, and Lisa laughed.
“Oh, sweetie, yes, the Devil's a Nut! The first Nut, the one who gives all the others their nasty ideas. That's very good. Stan would like that, but we're not going to tell him we had this conversation, all right? Stan's a good man, but there are things he doesn't need to know. And he doesn't need to know that you know what I'm about to tell you.” She took another deep
breath, and said, “Stan met me when I was in jail. I ran with a bad crowd when I was young; I went wild after Daddy died, and Mama couldn't do anything with me, though the good Lord knows she tried. I fell in with a motorcycle gang, and I drank too much and got into drugs, and for ten years, from sixteen to twenty-six, I had nothing in my heart but hate and despair. I don't know why I didn't die: that's a miracle, I'll tell you the truth, that I didn't OD or get HIV from a needle or ride with somebody who drove his bike into an embankment somewhere, because believe me, I knew people who died from all of those things. And some of them were bad people and some of them were just, well, lost, you know: they wanted to be better and didn't know how, and I still pray for all of them every day, even though it's been twenty years since then.” She sniffled and took a drink of juice, and said to Zamatryna, “Do you understand that, honey? Do I need to say it differently?”
“We understand enough,” Harani said kindly, and reached out to pat Lisa's arm. Zamatryna didn't understand anything, except that Lisa was upset, but her mother would explain it to her later.
“Thank you,” Lisa said. She squeezed Harani's hand, and went on. “So I wound up in jail on a drug possession charge. Now I can say that it was the best thing that ever happened to me, because I got off drugs in there, and I met Stan when he came in to do prison ministry, and that's how I found the Lord. But at the time, all I knew was that I was cramped up and wouldn't see the sun again for years, and I'd never valued fresh air until I didn't have it anymore, and I missed my mama and hated how I'd hurt her, though I'd spit in her face often enough when I was free. I didn't think anybody could love me, and I was amazed when Stan did, and when he asked me to be his wife when I got out I said yes in two seconds, although he was the kind of man I'd laughed at before. Stan didn't mind how many men I'd been with before that: he just cared that my heart was washed clean in the Lord, and that I accepted Jesus as my Savior.” She stopped for a minute, and swallowed. “Stan's an awfully good man, really he is. He's better than he knows, I think. All he sees is his own evil, which everybody's got, and he thinks he has to fight it to the death, that he can't ever relax. And that's why he's so scared about breaking anybody's rules, God's or the government's. He talks about God's grace and forgiveness, but I don't think he believes it. He believes it for me and for everybody else, but not for himself, not really.”
“And that's why you didn't tell him more about us,” Harani said. “Because we don't fit the rules.”
Lisa bobbed her head up and down vigorously. “Yes, that's right. Thank you for putting that so clearly. And because Iâwell, I'm going to
break some more rules. To help you. I don't see any way around it. You folks need papers, and if you don't have them, we'll have to buy them. And if you're not from someplace the government knows about, we'll just have to say you are, that's all. We'll just make up a place you're from, because you're here now, and that's more important than wherever you came from.”
“And how,” Erolorit asked, “will we do this?”
“Illegally,” Lisa said, and made a face. “When I was who I used to be, twenty years ago, I knew people who sold fake papers. I can find them again, if I have to, or people like them.”
“We have no money to buy these papers,” Timbor said.
“No, of course you don't. I have money: the money Mama left me.”
Timbor raised an eyebrow. “Stan would not like this. The money is for his church, is it not?”
“Some of it,” Lisa said crisply. “But it's my money, like it's my house. We were saving some of it to adopt an orphan baby: well, I'm adopting all of you instead. And no, he surely wouldn't like it, not the illegal part. But he isn't going to know, is he? Because none of us will tell him, right? Right, Zamatryna? Right, Jamfret and Rikko and Poliniana?”
The children just stared at her. Zamatryna, her hand over the pocket where Mim-Bim traced its constant pattern, hunched her shoulders, all happiness fled. She felt oppressed by pleas for silence; the burden of the beetle, combined with Lisa's secrets, was more than she could stand. Knowing nothing that was safe to say, she said nothing,
Harani frowned. “Lisa, if we get these papers after having none, will Stan not know what has happened?”
“I don't think he'll look into it. I don't think he'll want to know. He just wants everything to be all right; he doesn't want trouble. He wants everything to be normal. So we just won't tell him about anything that isn't normal, will we? We won't show him any holes he can plug the Devil into.”
Macsofo shook his head. “I do not understand. Why are you doing this? It is dangerous for you, and hurtful to your marriage. A little while ago you did not even know us, and now you are lying to your husband and being illegal. You could go to jail again, yes?”
Lisa sighed. “It sounds bad when you put it that way, I have to admit. I wouldn't lie to Stan if he asked me something straight out, but I'm not going to say anything until he does. It's what lawyers call a technicality. You know that word, Zamatryna? No, sweetie? Well, now you do. Technicality. It's a white lie, which is better anyway than a black one. And as for why I'm doing thisâwell, I've been praying on this for a long time, ever since I found out that you all couldn't leave the camp. Everybody deserves a second chance.
That's what grace and forgiveness mean: that's what Jesus came to teach us. I got my second chance in jail, when the good Lord and Stan Buttle handed me a fresh start on a platter, and now God's given me a chance to do the same for you. So it's my way of saying thank you.”
“You are very kind,” Timbor said, but then he shook his head. “Stan will want us to worship this Jesus, yes? And if we do not, he will plug in the Devil?”
“Well now,” Lisa said, “I hope you'll find your way to the Lord, of course I do. Stan does too. But nobody can force that, and Stan knows it, even if sometimes he acts like he doesn't, and I'd do what I'm doing anyway. I think what matters is what's in your heart, not the words you use.” She laughed suddenly and said, “That's another thing I don't talk to Stan about. So listen, is everybody with the program here? What Stan doesn't know won't hurt him, right?” They nodded, not knowing what else to do, and Lisa said cheerfully, “Well then, if we've got all that settled, let's talk about rooms. You'll have to stay here for a while, until you can all start working and get your own place, and I want you to be comfy. So we need to talk about who wants which rooms. Have you thought about that?”