Page 50 of Counting Backwards

The author of the article seemed to like the idea of sterilization, explaining that Mr. Laderdale found a way to measure the size of heads and arms to know who should be considered “unfit.” He also figured out how to arrange qualities of the feebleminded into “pedigree charts,” which the author said was one of the best pieces of support for the new law. The reporter said medical experts could use the charts to stop people with bad traits from making babies and passing on whatever it was the scientists didn’t like.

I started to read the article over again from the top so I could make better sense of it, but Ma interrupted me.

“Well,” she said, “we’re waiting. What’s your friend got to say for himself?”

Only then did I remember to check for a note from Billy. It was there inside the envelope, in his neat, tight cursive. My hand shook as I unfolded the paper.

Dear Carrie,

I’ve been holding on to this article for many weeks, unsure whether to send it to you. But knowing as I do what happened at the county courthouse soon after you went away, I thought this was something you should see. I hope it doesn’t frighten you unnecessarily, since by now, everyone in that awful place must know that you are not of feeble mind. Even so, I decided you should read it so you can continue to take great care.

Always your friend,

Billy

When I finished reading the letter aloud, Ma asked me to read out the article too.

“He’s right,” Ma said. “They know you here now. You got nothing to worry yourself about.”

It took only three days for me to learn how very wrong she was. Thirty minutes before I was meant to start the breakfast shift, Nurse Bradshaw arrived at the door of our dormitory with two large orderlies behind her.

When she called out, “Carrie Buck!” from the entry, the other ladies in our shared room started hooting the way they always did when a girl was about to get punished for breaking one rule or another.

I knew why they’d come for me though, and it was for a lot worse than a scolding.

I looked all around me for another way out, as if I didn’t already know that the windows were barred.

The nurse called for me again, now sounding angry. “Miss Buck!”

I sat down on the scratchy blanket atop my cot, searching my brain and calling on God to help me think of what to do.

“You better go, Carrie,” Gerty called from her bed. “You’re just making it worse.”

But nothing was worse than what they wanted to do to me.

17

Jessa

April 2022

Two days had passed since I discovered I was pregnant, and I still hadn’t told Vance. It should have brought us closer, this happy news, but if anything, I was retreating from him even more.

Now I was at Dr. LaRusso’s office, lying on the exam table, staring up at the ceiling, a paper sheet draped over my legs. I hoped with all my heart that the doctor would say the pregnancy was real. I had taken two more tests to confirm the positive result. But still. I’d read all about chemical pregnancies, faulty test batches, early miscarriages. I was afraid to get too excited.

“Go ahead and sit up,” the doctor said, rearranging the sheet so I was more fully covered. He removed his latex gloves and rolled a few feet back from me on his little round chair. “So Iamseeing early signs of a pregnancy.” He smiled and I felt myself grinning back. “We’ll confirm everything with the bloods and also make sure your hormone levels are where they should be.”

At the wordshormone levels, I felt another burst of panic.

“What if they’re not right? My hormones?” I asked.

“Then we supplement what your body is already doing with synthetic hormones to support the pregnancy. I know you’re concerned, Jessa, but I see no signs indicating you’re at any particular risk for miscarriage.”

“Okay.” I nodded, trying to absorb the doctor’s words, trying to believe them. “Then what should I do now?”

“Other than taking the prenatal vitamins and cutting out certain foods, there’s not much else I would recommend yet. Mostly, just try to avoid undue stress, alcohol, lifting anything particularly heavy. No scuba diving,” he added with a chuckle. “That’s about it.”

I let out a heavy breath, unsure whether it was a sigh of relief or concern.