by Kate L. Mary
I jump to my feet and grab my plate.
“Where do you think you’re going?” George grunts out.
I tighten my grip on my plate and bite back the venomous words threatening to spill out of my mouth.
Keeping my eyes on the floor I say, “I need to use the bathroom.”
He grunts again then jerks his head in a gesture that I take for permission, not even giving me enough consideration to speak.
I head to the back of the dining hall so I can clean my plate, and to my utter terror—and confusing joy—Jared follows.
He should have stayed where he was, but I’m glad he didn’t. I desperately want to steal a few minutes of conversation, but I’m scared someone will notice. I also find myself wanting to pull him close and push him away at the same time, and the warring emotions are dizzying in their complexity.
Jared grabs a clean plate from the stack outside the kitchen and comes to stand next to me as I wash my own dish.
“So, you fell down?” he says out of the corner of his mouth as he scrubs the already clean plate.
“You knew I didn’t really fall down,” I say quietly. “You didn’t have to see my mother’s eye to know that.” I can’t look him in the eye, but I’m not sure if it’s shame or just the heat of his nearness.
Jared glances over his shoulder before saying, “True, but I wasn’t sure who did it. I thought it might have been David.”
My head jerks up.
He thinks David is capable of that? Everyone loves David. It’s that plastic smile of his. He has them all fooled, just like his father does. I’m the only one who knows what lurks in the shadows, or at least that’s what I thought.
“No, he’s never hit me...”
The comment hangs in the air between us, dragging with it the implications of the other things David has done to me.
Will Jared notice? Can he possibly understand what has been done to me and how much it has affected me?
Wrinkles form where his eyebrows pull together, and he opens his mouth to say something but stops suddenly and turns his body away from me.
Someone is coming.
I lower my head and go back to washing my plate.
Fingers brush my waist, and a shudder runs through my body while every muscle in me tenses. Even before I look, I know who it is. No one else would dare touch me this way, and only David can cause this kind of repulsion.
“I’ve been looking for you.” His hot breath sweeps over my neck.
I cringe but force myself to turn toward him anyway, catching Jared’s eye for just a second in the process. His gaze flits to David’s hand, resting on my hip, and he frowns. He doesn’t even try to hide it.
My fiancé seems to notice Jared for the first time, and his mouth morphs into a smile. “Willow and I are betrothed. We’ll be married in less than three weeks.” He tilts his head toward me. “Why don’t you give that plate to Willow, Brother Jared? She’d be more than happy to clean it for you when she does mine.”
My gaze goes to the dirty plate in David’s hand, and I take it before holding my hand out for Jared’s. He passes it to me, and when I take it, the tips of my fingers brush against his, sending heat shooting up my arm and through my body. It’s something I’ve never felt before, like a jolt of electricity, only pleasant.
“Thank you, Sister Willow. That’s very generous of you,” Jared says, holding my gaze in a way that’s more intimate than anything I’ve ever experienced. At least consensually.
He doesn’t look away, pushing the boundaries of propriety by holding my gaze, but I savor it. Years from now, when I’m tucked away in my prison at David’s side, I’ll remember this look.
David is still at my side, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to Jared and me, so I take a risk and allow myself to smile. Then I bow my head and turn back to the sink.
Behind me, David and Jared chat while I wash our dirty plates. Jared is at ease here. Natural, even. No one would ever suspect that he’s different. Even I have a hard time remembering it right now, listening to him talk to David.
Having them both here confuses my senses. Every move Jared makes is enticing, but David’s nearness has my skin crawling and my body begging for escape. There’s such a flurry of emotions soaring through me by the time Jared excuses himself that it’s actually a relief to have him go. Even if it does leave me alone with David.
“What happened to your eye, Willow?” David reaches up to touch my face.
I want to pull away, but as usual, I can’t make my body cooperate around him. His fingers caress the edge of the bruise, and a shudder moves through my body. What do I say? Will he even care if he finds out George hit me?
“I had an accident,” I say, lowering my gaze.
“An accident?” I peer up to find him frowning.
He doesn’t believe me, but what will he do about it? He must have noticed my mother’s eye, and it wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Jared did it in seconds, and David, as much as I hate him, isn’t a fool.
His lips purse as he studies my face, then he glances over his shoulder, back toward the dining area. “As long as it’s better before the wedding,” he finally says, as if that’s the only thing to be concerned about.
I’m at the hospital earlier than usual on Monday morning. The rain finally stopped sometime yesterday evening, and even though the ground is still wet, I fully intend to meet Jared under the willow tree the second work is over. I just hope he doesn’t forget.
There isn’t much that could dampen my hopeful mood, but the first patient of the day happens to be one of them. Angela. We haven’t spoken in three years, not since before my betrothal, and coming face to face with her in the exam room brings up a surprising amount of regret. When I look back on my life, there are so few bright spots that it makes the time spent with her almost feel like it’s glowing in its brilliance. I’m not sure how friendships work in the outside world, but in here the sparse amount of free time makes it difficult to form bonds. We managed it, though, spending reflection time together, whispering tales about the outside world we created together or conjured up in our dreams. Like me, Angela knew nothing about that world since her parents had come to the Children when she was just a baby, but together we were able to weave an image of what it would be like that was rich and vibrant.
Eventually, we got caught whispering those stories. My mother locked me in my room for almost an entire day, but the punishment Angela got was much worse. The spanking she received, in the name of trying to save her soul, made it impossible for her to sit down for almost an entire week.
We never talked about the outside world after that, and instead our betrothals stole our attention. The ceremonies had made it seem so special. The way the girl stood in front of everyone, wearing a pretty dress as Father David spoke about how blessed she was. Inside the commune, the betrothal ceremony was the closest we got to a fairy tale, so Angela and I spent our early teens discussing who our future husbands might be. I never thought about what happened after the girl was led from the worship hall, and it never once occurred to me that I would be matched with David. I remember more than one occasion when Angela mentioned him, though. The wistful tone of her voice as she talked about the attractive son of our leader and what a huge blessing it would be if his name was called at her betrothal ceremony told me she was doing a little more than weaving stories, but I never gave David more than a cursory thought.
When I was brought back to the ranch and she wouldn’t even look at me, let alone talk to me, I couldn’t help wondering if that was part of the reason. If she was jealous, or if she thought I was ungrateful for running away after being matched with David. I’ll never know for sure, but the questions haven’t gone away.
Now, standing next to Dr. Jones as he examines Angela, I do my best not to look up. It’s hard when I remember how close we once were, even now when I feel less alone than I have in years.
The doctor exits the room once he’s diagnosed h
er sniffles as nothing more than allergies, leaving us alone. It’s clear by the way Angela averts her gaze that she has no interest talking to me, which comes as no surprise, so I go about the business of straightening up the room while she slides off the table.
To my surprise, though, she doesn’t leave, but instead stands silently staring at me until I’m forced to lift my head and meet her gaze. Angela is only a few months younger than I am but she seems older. Maybe it’s because the last time we were this close to one another we were both fifteen. She’s shorter than I am, and darker, her skin a bronze color that I can’t achieve even after hours in the sun. Her brown eyes study me intently as she pushes her dark hair out of her face, but I say nothing, holding my breath while I wait for her to speak.
“You and David will be married in less than three weeks,” she finally says.
I swallow, trying to find my voice, but nod when nothing comes out of my mouth.
Angela presses her lips together like she’s thinking something through, but after a moment shakes her head.
Then she turns without uttering a word and walks out, and I’m left standing in the middle of the room trying to decide what to make of it all. Was she considering telling me how ungrateful I am? How she would have been a better Wife of David? Maybe, but it didn’t seem like that’s what she was thinking. Her mood almost felt like a reflection of my own. Sad. Regretful. Trapped.
After my interaction with Angela, the morning seems to drag on forever. There are no more patients, so Dr. Jones naps in one of the exam rooms while Mother Ruth cleans the others. I can’t sit still, so I go back to the delivery room and work on organizing the medical supplies.
I’m busy rolling bandages when someone walks into the room behind me, and I turn. Mother Ruth stands in the doorway, and she has her head up and her jaw set in a way that makes her look like a totally different person. Someone strong and determined. Someone who has a say in her own life.
“We don’t have long, Willow. Dr. Jones could wake up any time,” she says, shutting the door behind her.
Something in her voice makes me get to my feet. The bandage falls from my hand and rolls across the floor, unraveling in the process. I’ve only heard Mother Ruth speak a few times, and she’s never sounded like this. Sure and strong and determined.
“You need to get out of here while you can,” she whispers. We’re alone, but she still glances over her shoulder while she talks.
Something in me jumps, almost like her words have pumped a fresh dose of hope into me. It’s useless, though. Hope is a dangerous thing, especially when you’re likely to drown in it without ever making progress. That’s what happened to me before, back on Abe and Annabel’s ranch. I allowed hope to flood my life, but when the dam broke and the water swept in, it carried me away for good. There’s almost nothing left of me now, and the little bit that remains is cracked, held together by frayed ends that are likely to break at any moment.
“I tried,” I say after a second of silence, “and I failed.”
“You have to try again,” she hisses, stepping forward, closing the gap between us and gripping my shoulders in her hands. She squeezes them hard enough that I wince. I never would have believed this woman could have enough strength left in her to hurt me, but she does. “Don’t let yourself turn into me. This is no way to live.”
The intensity in her eyes makes me hesitate, but only for a moment, and then I shake my head. “I can’t. Father David said he’d kill my mother if I left again.” My eyes sting when I remember the conversation, and my punishment.
Mother Ruth’s eyes burn into mine, and her fingers dig deeper into my shoulders. “She chose this life, Willow, you didn’t.”
She’s telling me to leave anyway, to let Father David kill my mother if that’s what it comes to. Save yourself, her eyes scream. The familiar lump is back in my throat, and I swallow around it. Maybe she’s right. Maybe choosing myself wouldn’t be wrong.
No. She’s still my mother. No matter what happens, no matter what she’s done, I can’t just walk away and allow Father David to hurt her.
“I can’t,” I say, and I try to tell myself it wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I have anyone to run to. “Besides, where would I go?”
Mother Ruth’s grip on my shoulders loosens a little, but she doesn’t let go. “You have family, Willow. There are people who would be happy to see you. Even after all these years.”
“What do you mean?” Other than my father and brothers, who were all killed before I was even born, my mother never told me about her family, and it never occurred to me to ask.
“Only a few weeks after you were born, some people came to the commune in Texas looking for your mother. It was your grandparents, your mom’s mother and father, along with your aunt. They tried to get your mom to leave, but she wouldn’t. She was too taken with this place, and with Father David. She thought she’d found a life that would give her peace and comfort…” Mother Ruth’s voice drops when she says, “We both know how that turned out.”
I stare at the floor, allowing the information to sink in while she continues to grip my shoulders. I have family. My mother has stolen so much from me, so much more than I ever imagined. I cross my arms, trying to ease the ache in my chest, and Mother Ruth’s hands finally fall away. My shoulders throb, and I look up to find her staring at me. The pity has returned to her eyes.
“What about you?” I ask. “Why don’t you leave?”
“It’s too late for me, Willow. I have nothing left inside me to fight with. Even if I did make it out, there’s no one on the outside for me. My parents died before I married David, and I was an only child.” She exhales slowly, and her body slumps. “I am all alone in this world.”
Not once can I remember anyone referring to our leader as David. This woman must have more rebellion left in her than she’s willing to admit, otherwise she never would have dared call him by his first name. Even in privacy. And she wouldn’t be talking to me right now.
Footsteps pound in the hallway, and my heart speeds up. Fear flashes in Mother Ruth’s eyes, and she glances toward the door before turning to look at me.
A split-second later, we both move. I sweep the bandage I was rolling up off the floor and kneel in front of the storage closet while behind me Mother Ruth busies herself with some other task. My hands are shaking, but I do my best to slow my breathing. To act normal.
The door swings open, and I turn my head slightly, careful to maintain my façade of submissiveness. Dr. Jones stands in the doorway, his eyebrows pulled together as he looks back and forth between Mother Ruth and me.
“What are you two women doing in here with the door shut?”
I had no idea it was possible to convey that much hate with just one word.
After all these years of being looked down on, I still can’t stop the heat that floods my body. Defiant words build inside me, and I have to sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stop them from coming out. My fingers curl around the bandage in my hand. Right now, I’d like nothing more than to throw it at the doctor. Maybe even spit in his face so he can understand how it feels to be treated like nothing. Like less than nothing.
Mother Ruth takes a timid step forward. The woman I was just speaking to has disappeared, replaced by the ghost that usually inhabits her body. “We’re just cleaning.”
Dr. Jones purses his lips and looks back and forth between the two of us before once again turning away. “We have a patient. Sister Willow, get the wheelchair and go to exam room one.”
I keep my head down as I follow the doctor out of the room. Mother Ruth’s head is also lowered, but just as I pass, she looks up. Our eyes lock once again, but this time there is no pity. There is only pleading.
My chest constricts the way it did the first time I spoke to Jared, blooming with fresh hope. It’s almost painful in its intensity.
It’s gone in a second, though, replaced by sorrow that squeezes my insides until I feel like it will suffocate me. I won’
t be getting out, and trying to fool myself would only make the end more painful.
The door to exam room one is cracked when I park the chair outside. I knock lightly before stepping in, not waiting for a response.
Jared looks up, and when our eyes meet, my heart stutters.
My gaze goes from him to the man lying on the bed. His father looks even more washed out than he did the day before, and the whites of his eyes have a sickly yellow cast I’ve come to associate with death. He’s deteriorated since yesterday, and the pinched expression on Jared’s face tells me he’s aware of his father’s imminent end.
“Sister Willow.” Jared stands.
Before he can say anything else, Dr. Jones interrupts us. “We’re going to do a quick x-ray, Brother Jared. It sounds like your father’s lungs may be full of fluid, and I want to rule out pneumonia, or even something more serious. Get the chair, Sister Willow, and help Brother Michael into it.”
I glance toward Jared before getting the chair. He watches me move, and the expression in his eyes is almost like a caress. The hair on my arms stands on end, and the air between us sizzles with intimacy. His father notices, it’s clear by the way his gaze moves between us, but Dr. Jones is such an arrogant man that he can’t see the way Jared and I can’t stop looking at each other.
He takes his father’s left arm while I grab hold of the right one, and together we help the sick man into the chair. He’s so weak that I can’t help wondering if Jared carried him to the hospital. Although it’s possible Brother Michael used every ounce of strength he had just walking here.
Once he’s settled into the chair, I kneel so I can lower the footrests, and Jared does the same on the other side. I’m about to stand when his hand brushes mine. I flinch, but only slightly, and a shiver runs down my spine.