ROCK RIVER BRIDGE

"Mrs Putnam," Mark Tuello said as he navigated this dimly lit, rural road in southern Quebec. "It's usually at this point when I ask people like you, 'are you sure?'. Yet at this dark hour, it is literally too late."

I told him I understood. Me, I would soon be walking by myself south, unaccompanied on the bridge.

Two marthas and my dear, dear Angela would be walking north.

I asked Mr. Tuello, "You're sure. You're sure that Janine Lindo has not got wind of this." He said he'd been dealing with the 'Little America' community in Toronto ever since the Waterfords, so, as he said, "in this business, there are no guarantees."

He added, "But, Mrs. Putnam, it is a done deal. I imagine it'll be emotional for you, seeing Angela on the bridge. You can stop, maybe have a hug, but that's it. There's no telling what Gilead will do from the south if you deviate, or even linger - but I do know what Canada will do if it goes off script."

I'd been told that Angela, she would be literally tethered to one of the marthas. Mr. Tuello had advised me that if when seeing her, that I reversed course back to Canada, "you can guarantee that Gilead will respond, don't give them that satisfaction, please. Please, Mrs. Putnam, please do not put your daughter's life in danger like that."

Breaking the silence, about 'that other thing', he asked me once more, "How certain are you?"

I knew what he was asking. Me, I was trading myself for my daughter so that she would be raised in Canada. Truly, I preferred her to be raised in Gilead as a righteous young lady, I had always wanted her to take her place as a Wife. But I remembered my Dad's wisdom, 'don't let perfection stand in the way of the possible'.

Who knew, maybe one day Angela will choose for herself, just like I had done. To return to Gilead, to accept the fate and blessings that God had ordained.

The only concession I had brokered was the ability to keep up on these diaries. In writing. Time would tell if I would be allowed that.

"Mrs. Putnam?" he had to repeat, since I had never answered his question.

"Mr. Tuello, I sincerely thank you for all the effort you have put into securing the location of my daughter. All of this is worth knowing where she is, or at least where she will be." I reiterated my wish that Janine Lindo not be informed about all this.

"I don't mean to pry, Mrs. Putnam," Tuello said, "but you're taking a big chance. For yourself."

"'Chance' has nothing to do with it, Mr. Tuello," I answered. "It is God's will that guides us." He questioned, with a chuckle, that God must be willing that women be allowed to write!

The flood-lights of the bridge began being visible in the distance, in the otherwise dark and foreboding forest ahead. I'd heard about it, that place had been where Fred Waterford had crossed back into Gilead.

"But if you're asking if I am accepting what lies ahead for me, I am." I pondered the many possibilities which lay beyond the bridge. I occupied myself with the one that I believed had been God's plan.

"Soon, Mr. Tuello, I hope to be a Commander's wife once more. If we ever meet again, I hope you can address me by my new name…."

I finished, "Mrs. Lawrence. Praise be, God is good."

DECISION DAY

Was that Ofwarren's voice? Why did I have those experiences - me completely zonked, and hearing voices above me.

Well, it wasn't Ofwarren. It was Ms. Waeger-Monster, she was asking if I could hear her. What a stupid question. Of course I could hear her.

But as more senses returned, 'hearing her' hadn't been the whole point. My throat felt like someone had drilled down it. But that wasn't it, I had trod this path before, so give me a break - the voice last time had been Ofwarren's.

As I started to sense light, I felt my head pounding. It joined my throat, screaming for attention. Ms. Waeger-Monster asked, "do you need more pain killer?" I probably did. Yet back in Gilead one had always been encouraged to just endure. God tests us in many ways.

I then heard the voice of the young lady who had been my 'minder'. I had a brief memory of her pounding on our bathroom door at the hotel. I had been collapsed on the bathroom floor, struggling to get the second pill bottle open. It had all taken effect so fast.

Right now, in my listening to Ms. Waeger-Monster, I heard the young woman's voice a few feet off. She was crying. She was frantic, "I'm sorry, ma'am, she'd locked the door. I didn't know what to do."

Later when I was alert and sitting up, I found myself arguing with the Calgary, American Consul-General. No, Ms. Waeger-Monster, it had not been a suicide attempt. People from Gilead trust in God. Most certainly a Wife of Gilead accepts her station, her place as a role model for women. Aside from endangering a child, no woman would rob our Holy State of a vessel to repopulate the earth.

Women's bodies were like the Ark, repopulating the earth after flood. That's what I told Ms. Waeger-Monster. Yet she continued insulting me, being all 'pastoral' with someone she viewed as fragile.

I must have been getting through to her. As an American, she right now was not arguing. Just looking at me.

She hadn't even opened my file, albeit right in front of her. She was just content to stroke my hands, being careful to avoid caressing my missing fingers.

She then said something strange. "Naomi….." was how she addressed me. Up until then it had always been a respectful, "Mrs Putnam."

"Naomi," she said softly, "they've located Angela. Charlotte."

ANOTHER DAUGHTER

I wasn't going to be in Trenton for long. Tomorrow I was leaving with Mark Tuello for Montreal, then south to Phillipsburg, Quebec, to wait for the 'go ahead'. If good, Tuello would escort me that night to that legendary bridge.

Then I would be home.

I'd flown via military aircraft from Calgary to what they called CFB Trenton. I was to have the day at that latter place.

Only to be greeted by an old friend. A woman I had once respected, and had felt awe at her presence. Not so much now.

Serena Joy Waterford, in handcuffs accompanied by female RCMP. Our venue? The Colonel's office at the air force base.

When I arrived she was sitting, sharply turned her head when I was ushered in. I exclaimed, "Serena Joy, by His hand! It's you!" She did not stand, she maintained a very neutral look. A legendary 'Serena Joy' look.

One of the Mounties placed a chair knee-to-knee with her, so I sat and extended my hands. She did not reciprocate.

"Hello, Naomi," she finally volunteered. "It's nice to see you again." She then said that she did not know whose 'idea' this had been, all she knew was that that morning she'd been in her cell at the ITWC facility in Toronto. Now she was here.

I was more than disoriented so I stumbled for words. "Serena Joy, it is so good to see you. No one would tell me where you were, not after Fred had….." my words trailed off.

"Naomi," Serena Joy asked sternly, "are you really going back?"

I answered confidently, "I'm going home to Gilead, Serena Joy." I said that I had no idea how much she had known about things, ever since I'd seen her - her quite pregnant - back at the ITWC facility. I said, "it's been a nightmare, Serena Joy. Warren ended up on the Wall, me I went to the Colonies. I ended up in Canada, way out in Calgary of all places." I was leaving so much out - about Ofwarren or Q Appelle - but I left it at, "I'm just tired, Serena Joy. I just want to be surrounded by God's love in Gilead again."

Serena Joy looked at me icily. I could never read that woman. It had been better when we had been Wives, both of us in elite homes - able to sway the opinions of the other Wives. We'd had common cause, as well as husbands as senior Commanders.

She looked at my hands. She said, "Canadians don't take fingers, Naomi. So I assume these were courtesy of Chanceries and Commanders and the like."

I sat up straight, "Isaiah 53:5, By these stripes we are healed, upon Him was the chastisement that brought us healing, you know that. I bear these wounds with pride, Serena Joy. As should you yours."

The silence between us only intensified my need to ask. I assumed it was here.

"Where's your baby, Serena Joy?"

She placed her hands limply on her lap, and looked to one side. She then said, "You mean, my pregnancy?"

I did not need to feign excitement, but I wish I had. I asked if the baby was here in Trenton, and could I see it?

Serena Joy got hard-faced. "I told them to take her. I didn't want her."

"What? Her?" What had happened to the talk about a 'son'? I immediately regretted my joy.

"I'm not sorry, Naomi, I'm not." She turned stone-faced to the side, "the Canadians and Americans brought in all sorts of psychologists, it was a real tug-of-war. But the bottom line, I hated everything to do with having a daughter. It was why I gave up Nichole."

She related how after Fred's death - his particicution no less - the conversation with her captors - then still-pregnant - was to arrange some sort of exchange with Gilead. "That conversation subsided," she continued, "but it occurred to me that I could not be that child's mother. I'm not sorry, that's just the way I felt."

I asked, "Is that not succumbing to sin, Serena Joy?"

She answered with an icy stare at me. "Naomi, you tell me. You're the one retreating back to Gilead. You can judge me there. You've already been to the Colonies, how do you think you're going to be 'welcomed'?"

I figured I would find out soon enough. But I did not tell her, not then. How I would be 'welcomed' was solely up to the good Christian graces of widower Joseph Lawrence, Commander of the Faithful in Gilead.

But I had to know. "Serena Joy, all of this is a shock. Where's your daughter now?"

She said sternly, "I presume somewhere in Toronto. But truthfully, I don't know and I don't care."

THE WEIGHT

It was cold standing at night at the north end of that long expanse of the Rock River Bridge. Way off on the south side, some vehicles had come and gone, but so far nothing. Nothing for me.

Beside me, Mr. Tuello said, "Mrs. Putnam, would you like a blanket? We could wrap it around you until things start happening?"

I turned to look at him. I said sincerely, "Mr. Tuello, please know that I bear you no ill will. You'll understand that you are an enemy - my enemy. An honourable one. You have treated me well."

He turned and offered, "No, I get it." He paused, "I just have to ask one last time." He paused again. "Are you sure?"

I said, "I thought you'd covered that, that it was far too late for you to be asking me that?"

He sighed, "Forgive me for putting it this way, but we're all Americans - some of us only work in Canada. You may not appreciate it, but as an American, I am bound to play by the rules." He paused, "I'm concerned that Gilead often makes it up as they go."

Seeing a van pull up at the south side, where two marthas and a young child got out, I told him, "But Mr Tuello. You've told me the rules. I have to cross that bridge or Angela disappears again. Please promise me you'll watch over her." I reminded him that in Gilead, children were the number one concern.

Mr. Tuello promised, "I'll watch over her." He then added, "Maybe not me, but on behalf of the United States of America, we care for our own."

He added further, "Commander Lawrence should be over there somewhere. Do you really trust him with this deal?"

As the two marthas started north, holding the child, I turned to Mr. Tuello and said, "He's a Christian man, Mr. Tuello. He has different demons than my Warren." I paused, "Besides, he promised in Eleanor Lawrence's memory."

So it was, I started my own pilgrimage south, eager to at least glimpse Angela as we passed.

The voice behind me said, "God's speed, Mrs Lawrence."

-the end-