That morning at the hospital Jane had asked her, “How did it happen?”
Her mother had looked up at her and lied.
“I slipped on some grease,” she’d said.
“No, you didn’t.” Jane hadn’t even tried to pretend to believe her. “You know that isn’t true. It was a Friday night. Dad came home in one of his tempers like he always does. You must have said something he didn’t like, and he hit you.”
“It was an accident.”
“It’s never an accident.” Jane bent closer to study the swollen face, trying to judge it objectively despite the nausea rising within her. “He must have hit you on the left side of the jaw and knocked you down. You hurt your hip when you landed. I can’t believe none of the doctors have wondered about those bruises and all that swelling.”
“I hit the table.” Ellen Rheardon spoke so softly that at first Jane couldn’t be sure of what she was saying.
“I can’t hear you, Mom.”
“I fell into the table,” her mother said more loudly. “I slipped and fell, and my face went into the edge of the kitchen table.”
“You couldn’t have fallen forward. If you had, you’d never have broken your hip. You had to fall backward to do that.”
“I tell you, that’s how it happened.” The woman on the bed gazed up at her with pleading eyes. “I told that to the doctors, and they didn’t question it. Why are you trying to hurt us, Jane?”
“Trying to hurt you?!”
“It’s between your dad and me, so you just stay out of it. It’s not for you to pass judgment. He’s sorry. He’s living in hell, he’s so sorry. See those flowers over there by the TV? Those roses? Aren’t they beautiful? He must have gone out to a flower shop in the middle of the night and made them open up special so those would be waiting for me when I woke up this morning.” She grimaced as the effort to talk became too much for her. “I need—to rest a little.”
“Yes, you rest, Mom. I’ll come back when you’re feeling better.”
Her mother’s eyelids fluttered, and she gave a deep sigh. They had given her a shot of something to control the pain. She was struggling against it, trying to keep her thoughts in order so that she could convey them.
“And—Janie?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“He can’t help what he is, you know. Dad’s father—he used to use a horse whip. Your daddy told me about it once. When he and his brother were naughty, his father used to go out to the garage and get that whip.”
“That has nothing to do with you and me,” Jane said.
“Maybe—it could help you—understand better.”
“I will never understand him,” Jane said softly, “and I never want to.”
And now, staring at the man in the easy chair, she said again, “I simply can’t believe you. You’re—unreal.”
“I seem to be real enough when it comes to paying the bills around here,” Bart Rheardon said. “I’m ‘real’ when you want a new dress or curtains for your room or a movie ticket. How many kids do you know who get an allowance the size of yours?”
“You’re an asshole.”
Jane spoke the words slowly and clearly, enunciating each syllable. They shot into the air between them and hung there, so sharp and strident that they could almost be seen. Her father’s eyes widened with shocked surprise.
“An asshole,” Jane repeated with satisfaction. “Mom won’t say it, but I will, I’ll say it for both of us. And when she gets out of the hospital, she’s not coming back here. I’m not going to let her.”
“I don’t think you’ll have much to say about that,” Mr. Rheardon said.
“I think I will, Dad.”
“I say you won’t. End of story.”
“This isn’t the Dark Ages,” Jane said. “Women don’t have to let themselves get beaten up, and they don’t have to watch other women get beaten. I’m going to the police.”
“And accomplish what, Jane? It will be your word against mine and your mother’s. She’s not going to back you up.”
“She doesn’t have to. There’ll be the doctors at the hospital. They’ve seen her bruises. Not just her face right now, which is bad enough, but the others. She’s got them all over her.”
“Your mother has had several unfortunate falls,” Mr. Rheardon said in a tight, controlled voice. “She herself will testify to that if she is forced to. Nobody is going to listen to a kid like you, especially when the person you’re supposedly defending calls you a liar.”
“They will listen to me! I’ll make them listen!”
“You can’t make anybody do anything,” Bart Rheardon said with a short laugh. “A little piece of chicken fluff like you has about as much clout as peach fuzz.”
“You’d better think twice before you say something like that, Daddy,” Jane said in a burst of anger. “You know what your sweet little ‘chicken fluff, peach fuzz’ daughter was doing this afternoon? She was chopping up office furniture with an ax!”
“You don’t even own an ax.”
“It came from Paula’s house. Her brother Tom takes it with him when he goes hunting. We all got to use it! We chopped up the desk! You should’ve seen it!” The words came pouring out of her in an uncontrollable rush. “Mr. Shelby’s desk was this big, mahogany thing; now it’s like firewood! And the cabinets and the bookshelves, we did the same to them! We burned all the books! That was Kelly’s idea. We had to rip them up to start with because they were too thick, but that didn’t matter. We had the whole afternoon!”
“You’re making this up.”
“I’m not making up anything! Every bit of it’s true!” His refusal to believe her drove her to greater fury. “I’m nobody’s ‘chicken.’ I’m a woman, and women are powerful! We can do whatever we want when we band together! You lay a hand on my mom again and you’ll find out how strong we are! We’ll make you sorry—even sorrier than Peter!”
Her voice was rising higher and higher, a shriek of desperation. Far and shrill, she could hear it screaming out words she never meant to say. Stop, she cried to it silently. Stop! Please, be quiet! But it wouldn’t obey her.
“We’ll get you! We’ll punish you!” the voice screamed.
Jane saw her father rise from his chair and come toward her, but she didn’t take in his full intent until she felt the blow. His fist struck her on the left ear and sent her reeling backward across the room into the bookcase. The wooden shelves behind her kept her from falling, and she stood, leaning against them, stunned into silence.
Her father said, “Come here.”
No! Jane mouthed the word, but no sound came. Terror drained all strength from her body. She lifted her left hand and pressed it against the side of her face.
“I said, come here!” Bart Rheardon said hoarsely. “Do you hear me, daughter?”
Numbly, Jane nodded. She managed to get her feet aligned under her and took a tentative step forward. The world spun dizzily around her. She took another step, and her father’s hand closed hard on her shoulder.
“Now, you listen to me,” he said, “and you listen good. Number one, you’re resigning from that Daughters of Eve club. I don’t know what’s going on there, but whatever it is, it’s turned you into a vicious, smart-mouthed troublemaker in just a couple of months. Number two, you’re not moving out of here until you graduate. This town would have a heyday gossiping about ‘that Rheardon girl who left home to live with one of her teachers.’
“Number three, you’re going to shape up and behave yourself. You raise your voice to me one more time, and you’re going to find yourself sharing a hospital room with your mother. Do you understand me?”
Jane made a second painful attempt to nod her head.
“You tell me, ‘Yes, Dad.’ ”
“Yes, Dad.” She brought the words out in a whisper.
He released her shoulder, and she took a quick step backward.
“You’re not leaving this house. You’re here to stay awhile.” Bart Rheardon went back
to his chair and seated himself. He picked up the glass, which he had set down on the coffee table, raised it to his lips and took a long swallow. “That teacher was with you, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you girls were in Shelby’s office axing up his furniture, your friend Ms. Stark was right there with you. She had to have been or you’d never have been able to get into the building.”
“I thought you didn’t believe me,” Jane said in a cracked voice.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. We’ll see. If it really happened, it’s all going to be in the papers. And let me tell you, if it did happen the way you said it did, that Stark woman isn’t just going to be out a teaching job—she’s going to find herself behind bars. We’ve got enough trouble with our kids today without having people like that around to influence them.”
“You won’t say anything?” Jane asked wretchedly. “Please, Dad, you can’t! Irene’s been so good to me!”
“Don’t you try telling me what I can and can’t do.” He picked up the newspaper, which had fallen to the floor beside his chair, and opened it to the sports section. “Go fix us some dinner.”
Jane stood, staring at him. “You want me to cook for you now?”
“Damned right, I do. With your mother out of commission, you’re the woman of the house. You might as well start learning what woman’s work is all about.”
Jane didn’t move for a moment, and then she slowly crossed the room.
In the kitchen, her mother’s heavy iron skillet stood in the drying rack. Jane picked it up and held it a moment, testing the weight of it. Then she went back into the living room, moving quietly, and stood behind her father’s chair.
She lifted the skillet as high above her head as she was able. She closed her eyes. The smell of lemon-scented hair tonic filled her nostrils, and beneath it there was the faint, lingering odor of pipe tobacco. There was nothing of her mother. Nothing at all.
The left side of her face twitched violently.
With her eyes still closed, Jane braced herself and brought the skillet down with all her strength onto the top of her father’s head.
FOR THE RECORD
Three years later.
Erika Schneider is a first-semester senior at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor, working toward a Bachelor of Science degree in biochemistry.
Ann Whitten Brewer is a housewife in Modesta, Michigan. She is the mother of two sons, David Jr., two-and-a-half years, and John, seven months. Her watercolor paintings have won prizes in two state fairs, and she has started selling them online.
Tammy Carncross is a junior, majoring in English at Hillsdale College, Hillsdale, Michigan.
Kelly Johnson is a junior, prelaw, at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor.
Holly Underwood was killed in an automobile accident the summer following her high school graduation. She was returning from a party celebrating her scholarship to New England Conservatory in Boston.
Paula Brummell is a saleswoman for JCPenney in Adrian, Michigan.
Madison Ellis is a fashion model who works for a prominent agency based in New York City.
Kristy Grange Brummell is a housewife, and works as an administrative assistant for an insurance agency in Modesta, Michigan.
Laura Snow Keller is a housewife in Cumberland, Rhode Island. She is the wife of an insurance salesman and the mother of a daughter, Mona Irene, four months. Her mother lives in a condo two blocks away.
Jane Rheardon is a patient at the Forest View Psychiatric Hospital in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Irene Stark is the assistant principal at Modesta High School. For the fourth consecutive year she is sponsor of the Modesta chapter of a national sorority called Daughters of Eve.
Q&A WITH THE AUTHOR
Malinda: First, I just want to say, Lois, I’m such a big fan of yours. I read all of your books that I could find when I was a teen!
Lois: Thank you.
Malinda: DAUGHTERS OF EVE is an incredible book. When I read the original version I thought it was really an amazing portrait of a specific time in U.S. history: the late 1970s, when the women’s movement was pushing so many boundaries everywhere in our culture. I don’t believe that sexism has been totally vanquished today, but now it’s often a lot more subtle than it was back then. So when you were updating this story, how did you deal with the differences in sexism between now and then?
Lois: This was the hardest one of my novels to revise. As you say, the original version has to be viewed in the context of the time in which it was written. DAUGHTERS OF EVE was published in 1979 when the feminist movement was just taking hold, and girls of that generation, including my own teenage daughters, were very confused about what was expected of them, and what their rights were, and what they really wanted out of life. Men and boys were equally confused about the new social roles that women were trying out. Everything was in chaos and people were acting out their fears and resentments in sometimes inappropriate ways. That’s what the story portrayed; it was a slice of social history. In revising it I had to keep making reference to the fact that this little rural town was sort of a throwback. In the words of Irene Stark, it was a town that was “stuck in a time warp.” That’s the only way I could handle the situation.
Malinda: Everybody’s actions in this book are so complicated, and nothing is black or white, not even the ending. I’m really curious to know what inspired you to write this book, since it’s really quite different than the other suspense novels you’ve written.
Lois: It is very different, and I was inspired to write it because I wanted to write something different. I don’t like to write the same book over and over again. The idea I got was that I would have a fanatical, charismatic adult exerting influence upon vulnerable kids who looked up to and respected that adult. I wanted it to be in a setting where other adults, such as parents, wouldn’t be aware of what was happening. So my first idea was to have it be a church youth group with a charismatic, male Sunday school teacher. I actually wrote five chapters and it was going pretty well, and then I thought, Oh, my lord, this will be banned everywhere. School librarians will be afraid to put it on the shelves because all the fundamentalist parents will be furious. You have just got to stay away from things having to do with religion. So I started over and I used the same theme, but I made the adult a vehement feminist female.
Malinda: It’s funny that you say it would be banned everywhere. Did this book get any sort of push back like that when it was published?
Lois: Oh, yes. I keep being informed by kids that it was banned here and there. But the author is the last to know when a book is banned.
Malinda: Did they tell you why it was banned?
Lois: I think all the feminists think it’s antifeminist, and all the antifeminists think it’s feminist. I was trying to walk a nice gray line, but people who feel very strongly about a subject don’t want a nice gray line. They want it to be all black or all white.
Malinda: I felt that in the original edition, Irene Stark really did walk that gray line, but for some reason setting it in 2011 seemed to turn her into more of a caricature of a feminist—like a feminazi. Do you think changing the setting changed Irene’s character a little bit?
Lois: I think it might have, yes. I can’t pinpoint how. But I think it did and I think she became nastier in the second version. But also, I think her cause was justified; she had been misused by a man she trusted and by an employer she trusted. But she took it too far and went over the edge.
Malinda: How do you feel about Irene as a character?
Lois: I think Irene is a very bitter woman and has reason to be, but is also probably unstable. And when she becomes a fanatic, she goes all the way.
Malinda: Well, another one of the really interesting changes you made when updating this book was that you really intensified the actions the girls take when they assault Peter and when they break into the science lab. The things they do in the newer version are much more violent, I
think. Why did you choose to do that?
Lois: My editor wanted me to do it. Today’s teens are so conditioned to violence from movies and video games that she thought they would find the acts of vengeance in the earlier version of the book ridiculously tame. So I made those changes reluctantly, and then I realized she was right. But I didn’t go so far as to have real physical violence. What was done to Peter was worse than what happened in the first book, but nobody did him any real physical harm.
Malinda: It was really chilling, though, to see these acts intensified.
Lois: There’s a mob mentality here, too, and that applies to women as well as men.
Malinda: In one particular instance you changed one word that I thought was very, very telling. You changed the word “communist” to “terrorist,” and it really made me think that the more things change, the more things stay the same.
Lois: I think you hit it. That’s exactly what it is. You can always find villains in any era—or people who are regarded as villains. One group might be regarded that way in one era, but somebody else takes their place in the next one.
Malinda: How do you think women’s roles have changed, or not changed, since you first wrote DAUGHTERS OF EVE?
Lois: I think women today have a lot more opportunities than women did at the time I wrote DAUGHTERS OF EVE, as far as careers go, but there has been a painful trade-off. There is one indisputable fact that can never be changed, and that is that women are the ones who have babies. That triggers women to want to build nests and to see to it that those babies are well cared for and happy. So women are torn, because they have only so much energy to give, and to invest yourself full-time in a demanding career and at the same time be a fully devoted mother is very hard. So in some ways women’s lives have changed for the better, and in other ways they haven’t, because so much more is now expected of them than used to be expected of them.