by Charity B.
“Cameron is ready to see you, Mr. Fitch. You can go on back.”
It is the weirdest thing in the world to call him that, but it’s what I would call a normal customer, and Cameron can hear us if he’s listening.
He glares at me, nodding his head for his brothers to follow. I don’t move a single inch when they pass by me, and I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I half expect them to spit on me. Though Jacob and Ezekiel ignore me, Zebadiah stops next to me. I can’t force my eyes to meet his, and I prepare for whatever verbal abuse I have coming. He stands there long enough for it to become awkward, making me jump when he speaks.
“Be outside when I leave.” His tone is harsh and low. What happened to the boy I left at the compound?
I give him a quick nod because it’s all I can muster. He steps behind his brothers, and they disappear into Cameron’s office. I double over, grabbing my knees to regulate my breathing. Slipping my hand over my mouth, I feel my pulse thumping in my fingertips.
I can’t believe this. He’s here. Zeb is here. Never seeing his face or hearing his laugh again was a truth I had accepted. He said to wait for him. That has to mean he wants to talk to me. Of what he plans to speak of I have no idea. I just know how I am perceived now. I have to hope that if he hated me or was disgusted by me he wouldn’t waste his time. That if he thought of me as a Philistine, I would be all but invisible to him.
I hurry through the pork with my organs twisting inside me all the while. I log the two pounds of meat that’s gone bad into the computer, cringing the entire time. Using this thing so close to Zeb makes me feel all slimy.
I toss my apron into the hamper and wash my hands before I rush out the front door. The fall wind spins around my hair, blowing it in front of my face.
His buggy sits right out front, next to Cameron’s Toyota, looking lost in a world it doesn’t belong. The horses whinny, and I miss being able to be around them every day. I cross the sidewalk with confident, steady steps so as not to startle them. I’m sure they’re already nervous around all the cars. The black one with a white mane shakes his head and paws at the ground. I hold my hand out, touching his nose with tender, secure fingers.
“You’re sick of being tied up out here, huh?”
I glide my hand down his shiny coat that looks like ink when the chestnut horse does his own show of neighing and pawing.
“Awe, are you feeling left out?”
Petting them both with equal attention, because they will let me know about it if I don’t, I watch the people coming and going. I’ve lived in and around Hobart for the last twelve years, yet it still feels unfamiliar. The only place that has any sense of home is my house, though I’m sure that has more to do with Kaila than the living space. I’ve never really belonged here. Seeing Zebadiah makes that fact rise to the forefront, bright with clarity.
I just don’t understand why he’s here at all. Why is he outside the gates? Maybe the Prophet has given him more responsibility, grooming him for when he takes the title.
“Hey! What are you doing?! Get away from the horses!”
My feet back up at the warning while my mind is still registering who’s yelling at me. Jacob bounds toward me, and Zeb grabs his arm, shaking his head.
Jacob throws his hand out at me. “She’s a Philistine!”
Zebadiah looks at him as if he is a confused child. “She’s Laurel Ann. She can pet the horses if she desires.” His response takes away my oxygen. My heart pumps blood full force through my veins. Ezekiel stands behind them, watching their exchange with crossed arms, and Jacob looks like he’s about to stomp his feet. “Both of you, wait for me in the buggy.”
Jacob’s mouth drops open, and he narrows his eyebrows before obeying. Zebadiah removes his hat and hands it to Ezekiel who follows his brother to the carriage.
“Walk with me.”
He’s slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers, making him appear more relaxed and more like the Zeb I remember. My palms are sweating. I have no idea what I am going to say to him or what he’s going to say to me. I try to keep in step with his long legs, and I smile. Some things never change.
We walk for a few moments in silence, to the point it’s making me anxious. Twelve years is a long time. He turns in the small space between the American Legion Bingo Hall and BancFirst. There’s nothing back here besides a trash bin, though I’m sure that’s the point. He turns to face me; his blue eyes are dark in the shadows as he stares down at me.
“Your clothes…they are appropriate.”
My clothes? Twelve years, and he wants to talk about my clothes?! I ache with the need to wrap my arms around him and press my head to his chest, not talk about my wardrobe choices. Still, seeing the pleased expression on his face makes me proud of myself.
“Thank you. I do still try to follow spiritual law, but it has not been easy.”
His eyes sparkle, and he gives me the smallest of smiles. “I would imagine not.”
I can’t hold it in anymore. I’ve fantasized about this since I was sent away. What if the Prophet comes to deal with the meat next time, making this my only chance to ever speak to him again? Even if he rejects my words, at least I will know I’ve said them. I don’t try to stop the tears. The relief of his presence overwhelms me.
“I have missed you every single day. I should have listened to you and stayed with the Prophet. I am so sorry.”
His eyes flash and his nostrils flare when he says, “What’s done is done.”
The crassness and shortness in his voice takes me aback. “Zebadi—”
His lips press together, making his jaw pulse. “I don’t have time to discuss it right now. I brought you back here to ask you one thing.” He swallows as if he’s scared to continue while I devour his every word like a starved child. “Do you desire to regain your place in the Anointed Land?”
The alleyway closes in, and I can almost feel the wall of the Bingo Hall push against my shoulders. This was always a clear answer before. Of course I want to come home, but Kaila has become like a sister to me. I can’t imagine not having her in my life. If I come home, I won’t ever speak to her again. His irritancy at my hesitation causes me to blurt the first answer that climbs onto my lips.
“Yes.”
His shoulders and eyebrows relax with his nod. “Good. We will speak more of this in one week. Is there a place we can meet privately? Do you have a home?”
It’s difficult to process what’s happening, and I’m shocked by his suggestion. For a man to be alone with a woman in her home, to whom he is not bound, is most definitely a sin.
“That would be inappropriate.” In part I’m teasing him, attempting to lighten the tension, though his narrowed brows say he’s not in the teasing mood. “We could meet at Bedlams bar. Believe me, it will be a lot more private than at my house with my roommate around.”
His lip lifts in disgust. “You share a home with one?”
The reaction is expected, yet it heats up my belly all the same. I would never have wanted them to meet in the first place, and now that feeling just multiplied. They’ll surely not get along. I can’t stand the thought of being torn between them.
“Yes, I do. And she is the only person who has stuck by me in this terrible place.”
I think he’s about to ask me a question until he straightens his jacket and turns to go. Panic creeps up my back that he’s rescinding his question, but when I reach for his arm he adds, “Be at your home a week from today at six o’clock. No later. One Philistine is better than a room full, and I will not step foot into an establishment that serves liquor.”
He faces me, his harsh expression causing me to jerk my hand back. “It’s a restaurant.”
“It’s a brothel,” he snaps.
It’s hardly a ‘brothel’. Their primary clientele are middle aged farmers and their wives.
“All right then, my house is the green one at the corner of Third and Randlett Street.”
“Very well. One week.”
“What about your father?”
With none of the grief I would have expected, he states, “Zaaron has taken him home.”
Wait…Hiram is dead? Then that means…
Oh my goodness.
“You’re the Prophet?”
His nod is curt as he turns from me, his footsteps taking him away. My body sags against the brick wall when his voice floats through the alley. I look up to see his back to me.
“I prayed every single morning and night that Zaaron would bring you home. I’ve missed you more than you could ever know.”
I KEEP MY HEAD HIGH and shoulders straight until I turn behind the first building I reach. I can’t believe this. She’s here. My heart pounds so hard I feel the need to undo the top button of my shirt. This was not a reunion I was prepared for. I all but promised her she could return to the Anointed Land. What the hell was I thinking? While I’ve fantasized about her coming back for many years, it was never really something I actually believed would happen. The words were out before I could stop my mouth from saying them.
Was that you speaking to me?
I chuckle despite the fact that my mind won’t stop racing. Time has done wonders for her. I would have never recognized her as the cute little red haired, freckled-face girl I fell in love with. Her words were just as perfect as she is. She has tried to obey Zaaron’s teachings, and she still wants to come home.
This morning I was dreading this meeting because I despise leaving the compound. It makes my hair stand on end and my skin feel covered in dirt. Who would have thought a few extra pregnant cows would bring me to her? Zaaron blessed us with multiple successful inseminations of our livestock earlier this year, and the calves will be ready for slaughter next month. Cameron Sturgis is the nearest butcher to the compound, and I came in last week to discuss his interest in becoming a buyer. I was under the impression he ran the place himself, so the last thing I was expecting was to come face to face with a very grown up Laurel Ann Henderson.
Seeing her stirred up emotions I would have never dreamed of. She’s absolutely breathtaking. Seeing her again, missing all of those years, awoke the sleeping fury I had for not only my father, but myself for setting it all in motion. Still, I’ll never forget the blast of energy that surged through my body once I realized the girl behind the counter was the one who took my heart with her when she left.
I’m struggling to force my lips out of a smile as I make my way back to the buggy and climb inside.
“What was all that about?” Jacob asks, his nosiness never failing.
“If it’s necessary for you to know, then you’ll know it.”
Zeke snorts and tugs the reins to take us back to the Anointed Land. Leaning back in the buggy, I place my hat over my face. They take the hint, talking amongst themselves and leaving me out of it.
Philistines have machines that give them the ability to trap time into something called a photograph. Her face looking up at me from behind the counter is now etched into my mind a lot like that. If I was being completely truthful with myself, I wouldn’t be waiting to talk to her if Zeke and Jacob weren’t with me. Even though I do really need to think this through.
There is always a period of slight mistrust with a new Prophet, especially one as young as I am. It’s not ever blatant or public disrespect, but there are whispers. I can’t do anything to disrupt the tender balance right now. There’s also no way I’m giving up until I have her back in the compound where I know she’s safe and pure.
We arrive at the gates, and I lift my hat, tapping Ezekiel on his shoulder. “Drop me off at the tabernacle.”
He does what I say, and when I enter the dark place of worship, I light the lamp next to the entrance. I make my way to my office, and even knowing I’m alone, I still lock the door behind me. Kneeling behind my desk, I open the bottom drawer, move the service notes from the previous Prophets, and pull out the bloody piece of torn fabric. I hold it to my nose. It’s long since lost her smell, so I invoke her scent from earlier today, imagining it still on the old cloth.
My cock grows against my leg in my trousers, and I grip it as I inhale again.
Is this what you desire? Did you lead me to her today?
I undo my pants to free myself, stroking at her memory.
Show me. Talk to me! Please, Zaaron, tell me she’s meant for me.
I wrap the scrap of her childhood fabric around my erection, and it instantly makes me throb. My balls rise up at the memory of her womanly curves that were apparent, even beneath her modest skirt.
Tell me, Zaaron. Tell me how to keep her here.
Her little hand would feel so soft wrapped around me. The image has me pushing my trousers down for better access. My thoughts flash to her licking her lips in the alley. How would her tongue feel, moving against my tip? Pumping faster, I close my eyes, conjuring up what she would look like bare, beneath me. In my mind, I enter her body, and the pressure is blinding as I pulse beneath my fingers.
“Oh, fuck, Laur.”
My come flows over my hand and splashes across the long-dried blood of innocence on the cloth.
I use it to clean myself off before rinsing it in the water basin. I sit at my desk and pull out The True Testament along with sermon notes from the bottom drawer to try to come up with a way to make this feel legitimate.
My head falls as I nod off. I don’t know if I’m any closer to an answer. Every ritual I can find that would be hefty enough to make the followers trust her again is brutal. The idea of putting her through any of those things makes me nauseous. I still have five days to figure it out. Maybe Zaaron will finally decide to weigh in between now and then.
Closing the tabernacle door, I walk through the empty common ground and back to the ranch. Everyone is asleep, and I am more than ready for that myself.
Keeping my footsteps quiet, I walk inside my home, and carefully close the door. My eyes are heavy with exhaustion. After removing my shoes and hat, I quietly make my way down the hall. Slipping into my room, I pull down my suspenders and get undressed before sliding into the fresh smelling sheets. I roll over, kissing my wife as I slide my hand beneath her nightgown. She shifts onto her back with a sleepy sigh.
“Hello, husband.”
I get up to hover over her, lifting her night gown and lowering my flannel drawers. When I push inside her body, I pray I will finally get my chance to do this with Laurel Ann.
THE FIFTEEN-MINUTE WALK HOME FEELS more like twenty seconds. I need more time to think about what happened, but it still feels like I dreamed it. Kaila knows all about Zeb. I talk about him all the time though the boy I told her about is quite different from the man he is today. He has hardened and is the Prophet now. That one I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around. It’s difficult to imagine him performing cleansings, bindings, and services. I can’t fathom the pressure that is now on his shoulders. All the people looking to him for guidance.
I may have a real chance at going home. I just won’t know for sure until I speak with him next week, and next week is going to take months to get here. Knowing for sure that I will see him again feels like a feather is tickling my insides.
If I get to go back, I will at last see my family again. I ache to see my mother and siblings. Most of my brothers and sisters will be grown now. I have often wondered if they think of me as I do them, and what has become of them.
With Hiram gone, I no longer have to worry about the consequences of dishonoring our binding. The idea of not having to be forced to use computers and electricity, to listen to the sinful music and see violent television shows, would be like a rope loosening around my chest. Being the onl
y one who cherishes modesty and purity is maddening. Once again surrounding myself with those of my same beliefs would be such a relief to my soul.
If I’m honest with myself, there are reasons I don’t want to leave, or at least not be secluded from it all. There are things about this place and their modern life that I quite enjoy. I fight hard to not like a lot of these things, but Kaila has a way of making me give in. Like when she forced me to watch a movie with her. It didn’t even have people in it. Well, not real people, more like moving drawings of them. Halfway through, I found myself giggling at the snowman that wanted to live in the summertime. Kaila’s smirk was smug, and I would never admit I had fun watching.
It is clear in The True Testament that alcohol consumption is forbidden, and it has never touched my lips. Tobacco is also a sin against Zaaron. Had I known at the time that cigarettes are the same thing, I never would have smoked that day with Kaila, and I haven’t had one since. I do not curse, date, or dress inappropriately, and I’m still surrounded by so much sin on a daily basis. Now, after seeing Zeb today, my desire to cleanse seems urgent.
My front door is a few steps away, the need to purge myself of my weekly transgressions becoming dire. I lift my skirt to run up the steps, my hand digging through my pockets. I grab hold of the two keys on the ring and shove the required one into the lock. The house is empty, yet every single light in the living room and kitchen are on.
I walk through the bottom floor, switching off all the lights before I turn on the faucet for a glass of water. There are little packages of apple chips in the bowl next to the fridge, and I grab one on my way up the death stairs. We call them that because they have never been updated, at least not in our lifetime, and sound as if every step you take is killing them.
Kaila’s bedroom light is on, her door is open, and her room has to be infested by now. I don’t remember ever seeing her clean it. Turning off her light, I close the door.