Familiar Face

• Jessica Magee
• Short Story
• 2009

The young woman stumbled along the overgrown path as the rain poured down, splashing at her feet. The moonlight was playing tricks on her eyes: she looked over her shoulder constantly, in fear that she was being followed, but saw no one in the deep shadows that surrounded her. The woman carried a small bundle wrapped in a white cloth, holding it close to her to shield it from the cold. She stopped and pulled back the cloth. The baby inside it was still sleeping.
The woman looked up. In the distance, a warm, yellow light shone out of the window of an old building. The light was reflected on the surface of the road, which was now flooded by rain. Again, the woman looked behind her, but saw no one, and kept walking.
Eventually, she reached the edge of the town. ‘Almost there,’ she whispered, leaving the path to avoid walking where she would easily be seen. The woman became aware of several cheerful voices coming from a nearby road. She ducked behind an abandoned building and remained very still until the people had passed. When she was sure that they would no longer be able to see or hear her, the woman relaxed slightly and stepped out from behind the tree. She continued to move swiftly towards the other end of the town, keeping to the shadows and listening carefully for anything unusual.
The water that covered the ground caused problems for the woman, something she had not taken into consideration. Not only did the splashing of the water deny her ability to move in silence, every other sound she made carried much further over water than it would over dry ground. The woman paused often, fearing that she would be heard.
By the time the woman reached her destination, the sun was beginning to rise, and the sky was streaked with red and yellow. The storm had ended, but small, steady droplets of rain continued to fall from the sky. Wearily, the woman gazed up at the stone building in front of her. She climbed the steps at the front of the building and lowered the baby onto the concrete before the door. Somehow, the baby had remained asleep throughout the night, but she was now awake. Her olive green eyes narrowed into a frown, as if she knew exactly what was happening. A tear slid down her mother’s cheek.
There were voices in the street now, and the woman knew she had to leave. Despite her pain and exhaustion, she stood up and knocked on the door loudly. She waited until she could hear footsteps coming from the other side of the door, then ran back down the steps and around to the side of the building, unnoticed. The woman waited. She heard the creak of the door opening, followed by a similar creak that meant the door had closed. The woman sighed, relieved, and slowly inched backwards until she reached the path. As she got further from the building, she began to walk faster, until she was running, away from the orphanage, and away from the child who would grow up to call it home.

* * *

Fourteen years later, the woman walked the path again, although the circumstances were very different. It was a cool autumn morning, and the ground was covered in orange leaves that crunched under the woman’s feet as she walked. The woman was no longer scared or apprehensive. This time, she did not care if anyone was following her, or if she was recognised, as it did not matter anymore. The woman had only one purpose for returning – to find out what had become of the daughter she left behind.
Arriving at the orphanage, the woman did not hesitate. She ran up the stone steps and knocked on the door loudly. After a few moments, a girl opened it. She frowned at the sight of the unknown woman. ‘Can I help you?’ the girl asked.
The woman did not hear the question. She smiled in astonishment as memories came flooding back to her, because she recognised the straight black hair, and the olive green eyes, and the frown that had not changed in fourteen years.