“Hello, sweetheart.” Faye advanced slowly toward the bed, almost afraid she'd frighten her away, like a wounded bird, and Anne gave a soft moan and huddled further into a ball as she turned away again. She was coming down from the hallucinogens she had taken on and off for so long, and Lionel and John had been feeding her orange juice and candy bars to keep up her strength. And a while before they had forced her to eat a hamburger they had brought in. She had immediately thrown up after eating it, but she looked better now, at least to John and Li. They had seen what she looked like when the police first picked her up several hours before, and Lionel had cringed at the thought of his mother seeing her then. He looked from her to his parents now, and he was stricken by the look in his mother's eyes. He didn't dare look directly at Ward. It was the first time he had seen him since that terrible day when he had walked in on him with John. But at least he had come, if not for them, then for Anne.

“She's not feeling too hot, Mom.” He spoke to her in a soft voice and Anne didn't turn around as John handed her another candy bar and she took it in a trembling hand. She felt hungry and sick all at once, and she didn't want to be here. She wanted to go back to them … to the Haight … to Moon … to the ritual … she belonged with them…. Tears choked her throat as she tried to swallow a bite of the candy bar, and she lay back and closed her eyes.

“Is she sick?” They spoke of her as though she weren't there, and Lionel hated to explain it all to them.

“She's just coming down from some of the stuff she's been on. She'll be all right in a few days.”

“Can we take her home tonight?” Faye was anxious to get her home, to have her seen by the doctor who had taken care of her for years, and to get her to Dr. Smythe before it was too late for him to take care of that. She hadn't seen Anne from the front yet and didn't know how far along she was, but she assumed that it wasn't too late. There was no reason to think it was. But Lionel was shaking his head in answer to what she had said, and Faye frowned.

“I don't think she's up to traveling yet, Mom. Give her a day or two to adjust.”

'To what?” Faye looked shocked. “To us?”

Ward stepped forward for the first time, and avoided his son's eyes while speaking to him. “Has she seen a doctor yet?” Lionel shook his head. “I think she should.” He walked slowly around the bed, and looked down at his youngest child. She was still filthy, caked with dirt, her face stained with tears, and the eyes were huge in her face, as he gently sat down and stroked her hair, feeling tears sting his own eyes. What had brought this child to that? How could she have run away from them? “It's so good to see you again, Anne.” She didn't shrink from his hand, but she watched him like a frightened animal, and then he let his eyes rove slowly down her limbs, and they stopped midway and moved on. He tried not to register the shock he felt. It was much too late to do something about that. And he turned toward Faye with a look of despair and then stood up, and glanced at Lionel again. “Do you know a doctor in town?”

“The police gave us a name. He thought they should examine her anyway. And they want to talk to you and Mom.” Ward nodded, at least he was able to speak to the boy, but he couldn't bring himself to look at John. The room's only bed, a double that looked barely that wide, on which Anne lay now, spoke for itself and he tried not to think of it. One drama was enough, and he wanted to speak to the police now. He took out his pen and jotted the names down of the men who had cooperated in finding her, and particularly the two who had brought her in. Lionel said they would have all the details, and Ward shuddered at the prospect of hearing them. But he knew they would have to know eventually.

Faye went over and sat on the bed next to Anne, as Ward had, but this time the girl flinched. It was like having a desperately sick child and visiting her in the hospital. Faye's eyes were riveted to her face and Anne started to cry.

“Go away … I don't want to be here …”

“I know, sweetheart … but we'll all be going home soon … to your own house … and your own bed …”

“I want to go back to Moon and my friends.” She sobbed. She was a fourteen-year-old girl and she sounded like she was five. And Faye didn't ask who Moon was. She assumed that he was the father of the child. And as the thought came to mind, she glanced down at Anne's belly, assuming it would still be flat, and she gasped in shock as she saw it sticking out. Faye knew from experience she was four or five months gone. And she decided to ask right away, much to Ward's chagrin. He didn't want to push her yet. Lionel was right. She needed time to adjust to all of them again. She had gone far, far away, and she had been away from them for a long time.

“How pregnant are you, Anne?” She wanted her voice to sound gentle when she asked, but she instantly knew it did not. It sounded nervous and harsh and sharp and Lionel looked at them in despair.

“I don't know how pregnant I am,” Anne answered her with closed eyes. She refused to look at her anymore. She hated her. She always had. And she hated her even more now. It was her fault that they had taken her away, her fault they wouldn't let her go back. She had always ruined everything for all of them, pushing them all around, doing everything her way. But she wouldn't this time. They could take her anywhere, and she would escape again. She knew how easy it was now.

“Haven't you seen a doctor yet?” Faye sounded shocked. Anne shook her head again, her eyes closed. And then slowly she opened them.

“My friends took care of me.”

“How long has it been since you had a period?” It was just like talking to the police, only worse, Anne thought. At least they didn't ask her questions like that. She knew she didn't have to answer her. But she always did. Faye just had that kind of way about her. As though she expected everyone to do what she said, and Anne did now.

“Not since I left home.” Faye knew only too well that was five months before, and she cringed at the thought. It must have happened almost as soon as she left home.

“Do you know who the father is?” It was an outrageous thing to ask so soon, and Lionel glanced at Ward, wishing he would stop Mom from asking her those things. Anne wasn't ready to be pushed, and he was afraid she would run away again before they got her home. And maybe this time they wouldn't find her. Lionel was afraid of that, but Anne only smiled at the memories.

“Yes.”

“Is it Moon?”

Anne shrugged. But Faye was in no way prepared for what came next.

“Yes. It's all of them.”

Faye's breath caught. That couldn't be right. There had to be some mistake. “All of them?” She stared uncomprehendingly at the child who was a child no more. She was a woman now, a twisted, broken one, but nonetheless she was no longer a little girl, and she was expecting a baby of her own. And suddenly Faye understood as a look of horror came into her eyes.

“Do you mean to tell me that the entire commune fathered this child?”

“Yes.” Anne looked sweetly at her, and sat up for the first time, and as she did the room reeled, and she looked to Lionel for help. He came to her and supported her as John handed her a glass of orange juice. They had both suspected something like that from what the police had told them about the sect, but Faye and Ward were not prepared, and now that Anne was sitting up, she looked even more pregnant than she had lying down.

Ward took over now, thinking of what had happened to his innocent child. He looked firmly at Lionel, ignoring Anne. “I'm going to call those inspectors now.” He had every intention of seeing all those sonsofbitches in jail, and Faye was crying softly as they left the room. She clung to Ward when they got downstairs, and she didn't care who was looking at them now.

“My God, Ward, she'll never be the same again.” He was as afraid as she, but he refused to admit that to her. He was going to help her now, just as Faye had helped him so long ago, given him a career he could never have found himself, taught him everything he knew until he could fly on his own. He would do everything he could, and if she still wanted a divorce afterwards, he would accept it gracefully. She had a right to that after what he'd done. And he still felt shaky now, looking at Lionel and John, but he couldn't allow himself to think of that now. They both had to stop blaming themselves, he for Lionel's homosexuality, and Faye for what had happened to Anne. He knew that they were both consumed with guilt, but to what end? It did neither child any good. “She'll be all right, Faye.” He wished he believed his own words, but above all, he wanted to convince her.

“She's got to get rid of that child, and with the drugs she's been on, God only knows what it will be. It'll be a vegetable.”

“Probably. Do you think it's too late for an abortion?” He looked at his wife hopefully and she laughed bitterly through her tears.

“Did you see her, Ward? She's five months pregnant, at least.” It suddenly dawned on her that she might have even been pregnant when she left home. She didn't think she was, although who knew anymore with Anne.

They went to the police station at Bryant Street immediately, and then went upstairs to speak to the juvenile authorities. There were apparently hundreds of cases like this one now. Children were migrating from all over the States, coming to the Haight-Ashbury, and some of them did a lot worse than losing their virginity, some of them lost their lives. There were stories of eleven-year-olds overdosing on heroin or jumping out of windows on LSD. There were illegitimate children being born to thirteen and fourteen and fifteen-year-olds, delivered in hallways as their friends sang. One girl had bled to death only six weeks before, and an ambulance had never been called. As they listened, Faye was deeply grateful they had found her at all. And she steeled herself to hear the tale they told about the sect Anne had been living with. She wanted to kill them all when she'd heard all of it, and Ward was insistent that he wanted the entire sect put in jail, but the police were discouraging. It would be difficult to bring charges against all of them, and it was impossible to accuse an entire tribe of statutory rape on one girl. And above all was this what they wanted for Anne? Wasn't it just easier to take her home, get her good psychiatric help, and let her forget the whole thing, instead of subjecting her to a lengthy trial, which wouldn't even come up for a year or two, if not longer than that, and which they probably wouldn't win? The kids would have disappeared by then, their own families, many of them moneyed and influential, would bail their children out. It just didn't make sense. In a year or two, it would all seem like a distant dream, the police said. A nightmare she would soon forget.