The Virtue of Sin
Page 20
Daniel intends these Gatherings as a time for fellowship, a time to bring us closer. But right now, I feel further from these people than I ever have. I once thought this life was what I wanted. Dinners with friends. Gathering wool. Together, we weave a tapestry, sharing our stories and our lives. It’s what I was taught to work toward my whole childhood. Could it still make me happy? All I have to do is give up my foolish fantasies about Caleb, and the hope of ever experiencing true passion. Like my memory of that kiss. If I want to end this . . . whatever it is I’ve been doing, all I need to do is take my husband’s hand. Make a silent declaration that I choose him. It’s that easy.
Aaron shifts and tucks his hands under the table before I can make up my mind. “You’re working at the Farm now, right?” he asks Rachel. “I heard it used to be Daniel’s home.”
“Yes. When Daniel first received his dreams of—” Rachel stops herself mid-lecture. “Actually, Jacob probably knows the story better than I. Jacob, why don’t you tell him?”
Susanna drops her fork with a clatter. “Why should Jacob tell the story? Marcus lived there, up until our marriage. Why doesn’t he tell it?”
“He’s our host, Susanna,” Marcus mutters, staring at his plate.
“What has gotten into you?” she asks. “You’ve been acting strange. Ever since that stupid thing with Delilah.”
Marcus makes a noise somewhere between a cough and a swear.
She furrows her brow. “What? No one said I couldn’t talk about it.”
“Talk about what?” I don’t mean for it to come out so loud, or so sharp. I lower my voice. “What ‘thing’ with Delilah?”
Susanna twists a blond curl. “I suppose you wouldn’t have heard yet.”
“No one’s heard yet.” Marcus sounds like he’s chewing a mouthful of glass.
“What’s happened to Delilah?” I ask, and this time I’m begging.
But before anyone can answer me, the door slams against the wall, and Caleb fills the doorway, his chest heaving with exertion. In one breathless moment, I am beneath the tree again. Caleb’s body pressed against me. His lips on mine. My heart stops beating, and in the silence I hear a sound like screaming. I hope it isn’t me.
He looks confused. And then determined. Like a hawk that has spotted its prey. He rounds the table, and for a second, I think he’s here for me—to declare his love, or take me away. Instead, he grabs Marcus by the arm. “We need to talk.”
Marcus stands so quickly he nearly knocks over the bench, and Susanna has to jump to her feet to avoid being thrown to the ground. “Not here. Outside,” he says.
They leave so abruptly, I can’t find my voice in time and when my questions finally do come—“What’s happening? Where is Delilah?”—they are left to linger in the silent room, unanswered.
29
CALEB
Marcus paces beneath the spindly pinyon trees that protect the Picnic Pavilion, the moonlight casting a snakelike shadow behind him. He’s agitated, angry, but so am I. And my temper has had a full day to build. In addition to assigning the men to combat training, Daniel also called for increased security. So instead of looking for my brother first thing this morning, I spent most of the day patrolling the fence line. When Thomas finally arrived to relieve me of duty, I headed straight for Marcus’s apartment, only to be told by Eve, through the window next door, that he was at a Gathering.
I’ve had a lot of time to interrogate my brother in my head, to deliberate on his imaginary answers and find them lacking. It feels like we’ve already been arguing for most of the day, and I’m out of patience. “What the hell happened out there?”
“You have no idea what it’s like.” Marcus twists his mouth in distaste. “Do you know how many cars there are on the road, all at one time? It’s so loud. And filthy.”
“I’m not interested in cars! What about Delilah? Where is she? And where were you last night? Why did you allow Abraham to come to the Council House and speak for you?”
“Abraham said it would be better if he talked to Daniel.” He must read the disbelief in my face, because he adds hastily, “We knew Daniel was going to be mad. Abraham said he could handle it.”
Marcus is supposed to be the smart one. Why is he being so dumb now? Doesn’t he know how weak it makes him look, to need another man’s protection? “Of course he did. But what if he’s involved? Did you ever think of that? Where was he, anyway? While you were with the van. Could he have taken Delilah?”
“Taken her where?” Marcus frowns and flicks his wrist. “He was inside. Paying for the gas. There is no Exchange. They use money for goods.” He curls his lip.
For love of money is the root of all evil. That’s a verse even I remember. Though I can’t tell you who said it, other than Daniel. “Marcus!” His name comes out like the cry of a wild animal, sobering us both. “This is important,” I say. I speak slowly, trying to hold back my temper. “What. Happened. To. Delilah?”
“I don’t know! She must have crawled out the window, though how she managed I have no idea. It was seven feet off the ground and tiny. I’m surprised she didn’t get stuck trying to wiggle through. She probably wasn’t gone more than a minute or two when we noticed.” He slams a fist against the tree. “We could have caught up to her. But no. Phoebe had to call Daniel first, and he ordered us to return without her.” He rubs his hand, his breathing as hard as mine. “If anyone is to blame, it’s Phoebe. Why don’t you talk to her, instead of yelling at me?”
Temper is a family trait, and I’m reminded of the bruise on Susanna’s cheek.
“Did you . . . do something to her? To Delilah?” I lower my voice. “I’m your brother. You can tell me.”
“How can you even ask me that?” He narrows his eyes. “Is that what Daniel thinks? And Father? They both blame me. For everything.” He kicks one of the picnic tables, the wood shrieking against the concrete floor. “Daniel is just looking for some excuse to punish me.”
I hesitate. If I agree with him, does that make me disloyal to Daniel? But the fact is, Daniel does blame him. Both for Delilah and for whatever happened at the Matrimony.
“Daniel says we’re in danger. Because of Delilah. So if you know something—”
Marcus turns, and though he’s shorter than me, I take a step back. “Daniel says. Daniel says. Do you hear yourself?” He shoves at my chest. “What about me? About my feelings?”
“Daniel says”—rage simmers in his eyes, and I hurry—“anger is a worthless emotion.”
He mumbles a word that sounds like hypocrite, and I know what he’s thinking. Daniel does say this—a lot—but Daniel also gets angry. Though his behavior is excusable; the only times he’s truly angered is when one of us strays from our Path. It’s Daniel’s job to keep us faithful. When we fail, he fails. And this is a huge failure.
“You should have talked to him. Right away. Explained yourself. Why didn’t you?”
“I went home,” he says, so quiet I can barely make out the words. “I needed to see Susanna.” He looks toward the Dining Hall. “I was . . . worried. About what might happen to her. While I was gone.”
“Worried? She was safer than you were.”
“You’re not married. You wouldn’t understand.”
He knows me well enough that he can deliver a blow without even using his fists. But so can I. “It wasn’t because you’d hit her? Earlier?”
“Hit her?” His stare pierces me. “Please. I’m not Father. Or you.”
He’s practically daring me to punch him, but I don’t. I may not be as clever as him, but I’m no fool. I need to keep my head if I’m to get any answers out of him. “I saw her. In the abandoned bathhouse. Just before you took Delilah Out.” I swallow. “She had a bruise on her cheek.” I lift my hand to my face. “She was scared, Marcus. Of you.”
He grabs the collar of my shirt with both hands, twisting it tig
ht against my throat.
I’ve never considered my brother a threat. He may best me in an intellectual test, but usually, there is no physical contest at all. Tonight, love—or more likely guilt—has made him strong.
He shoves his face close to mine, his breath hot. “Neither of us were in the bathhouse. So I don’t know what you think you saw”—he twists the fabric—“but I suggest you forget it.”
The fury growing inside me is as familiar as my brother’s voice, though his words are foreign. Is he threatening me? I gather all of the heat of my anger into my fists, tightening them. But I don’t hit him.
“You promised.” I struggle to form the words, to speak instead of exploding. “We both promised. We’d never be like him.”
“We were kids then,” he says. He loosens his grip, and I take a gasping breath. “What did we know? With our stupid ideas about love. And loyalty.”
“What are you saying? Love and loyalty are—”
“You want to talk about loyalty?” he interrupts. “That’s rich. Fine. Answer me this. Who killed a quarter of humanity?”
As usual, I don’t know the answer. I also have no idea why he’s picked now, of all times, to ask me a riddle.
“Give up?” He shoves me as he lets me go. “It was Cain. When he betrayed his brother, he took out one of the four people on Earth.”
“I’m not trying to betray you.” I yank on my shirt to straighten it.
“They are making me out to be a devil. And you’re helping them.”
I don’t know what to say. I’ve been so focused on finding answers, I haven’t stopped to consider what my questions might mean. Do I really believe my brother is a monster? That he would hurt his own wife? Do worse to Delilah?
I want the answer to be no. But I hear the echo of our father in his show of temper, and it does nothing to calm my fears.
30
MIRIAM
WINE IS A MOCKER, STRONG DRINK A BRAWLER, AND WHOEVER IS LED ASTRAY BY IT IS NOT WISE.
—Proverbs 20:1
“Delilah’s gone,” Susanna finally says, as she peers out the window into the darkness after Marcus and Caleb. Is she . . . smiling?
“Is that what Caleb is so angry about?” Aaron asks.
Normally, any discussion about Caleb would command my full attention. But I need to know what’s happened to Delilah. “Forget Caleb. Gone where?” I slap my hands on the table.
Susanna turns and smiles, enjoying my discomfort. If I could reach her, I’d slap her. Ironically, if Delilah were here, she’d know exactly what I was thinking, and she’d try to stop me. But only so she could hit her first.
The silence drags on, until Susanna finally says, “Out somewhere. Only the Lord knows at this point,” just as I am about to scream and launch myself over the table.
Aaron lays his hand on my arm. “She wasn’t chosen. At the Matrimony, right? So she’s been sent Out. But she will return?” He means to reassure me, but his questioning tone does not.
Susanna shrugs. “She did go Out. Marcus and Abraham went along. To chaperone.” She leans forward, eyes flashing with excitement. “But when they stopped, she jumped out and ran. Just took off.” She snaps her fingers.
I don’t dare look at Rachel, because if I do I’ll burst into tears. “So she’s missing?” The thought makes me weak with fear. The room swims, and I close my eyes. A mistake, because now all I see is the grinning, gap-toothed Delilah of my childhood, the little girl with even more curiosity than she had freckles.
“Jesus,” Aaron says softly, gripping my hand.
I open my eyes and gulp back a sob.
“Who wants lemonade?” Rachel tosses down her napkin and jumps to her feet.
“After all this drama, I’d rather have wine.” Susanna brandishes a green glass bottle from the countertop behind the table. “Who’s with me?”
Everyone stares at her. Susanna likes to stir up discontent. Over the years, we’ve all learned the quickest way to stop her is to ignore her or change the subject. But for once, I want her to keep talking, since she seems to be the only one who knows anything about Delilah. Jesus turned water to wine. Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea after all.
“I’ll take some,” I say.
Rachel carefully tucks her fork next to her plate. “Wherever did you get wine?”
“Commodities Exchange,” Susanna says, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Only I’ve never tasted wine, and I don’t think anyone else here has either. Except maybe Aaron. Do they drink wine on the Outside?
“I don’t know where we’d find wineglasses,” Jacob says.
Susanna puckers her lips and scans the room. “Aha!” She points to the china cabinet. “What about those?”
“Those are Daniel’s goblets,” Rachel says. “I think they belonged to his mother or something. No one ever uses them.”
“Then tonight seems like the perfect time to start,” Susanna says. “Daniel told us to Gather, after all. Didn’t your parents ever serve cactus wine at a Gathering?” She throws open the doors to the cabinet. The intricate cut glass catches the candlelight and scatters tiny rainbows across Rachel’s tablecloth as Susanna pulls the goblets out.
“I don’t think . . .” Jacob begins, but Susanna ignores him and passes the goblets around the table. Then she holds the bottle over Aaron’s glass. He covers it, and Susanna leans in between us, as if maybe her nearness will entice him. But he ignores her with a determination I can’t help but admire. There are many things I could like about him, if I only had the heart to try.
Susanna shrugs and dangles the bottle neck between her fingers. “Anyone else?” She fills Rachel’s glass along with mine, then sits down and takes up her own, clearly more interested in wine than in her husband’s fight with Caleb, or Delilah’s fate. But I’m not letting the subject go that easily.
“Delilah is one of our Sisters,” I say. “Someone must be looking for her. Abraham?” I turn to Aaron, but he shrugs and shakes his head. If Abraham was sent out to find her, he didn’t tell Aaron.
“Fine,” I say, taking a deep breath. “If no one else will go after her, I will.”
Susanna laughs, long and loud. “Please, Miriam. No one likes a martyr.” She swirls the pink liquid around her glass. “I’m tired of Delilah. Let’s talk about something else.” As if she weren’t the one who brought up the subject in the first place, knowing the distress it would cause the rest of us. And now that it has, she’s bored and ready to move on to another topic. “Jacob, weren’t you going to tell us how you and Rachel ended up tending the Farm?”
Her strange inflection on Rachel’s name makes Aaron wince, while Jacob coughs and shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Jacob was going to share the history of the Farm. For Aaron.” Rachel’s withering glare silences us all.
“The history. Right.” Jacob folds his hands. “Well, the Farmhouse is where Daniel and the founders lived when they first arrived. Out of all the buildings, it was the only inhabitable one.”
We’ve heard this all before, in our history Lessons, though I can never picture New Jerusalem looking any other way than it does now.
“Makes you wonder what happened, doesn’t it?” Aaron’s question sounds like a challenge, and for some reason, he seems to be issuing it to Rachel. “To the people before you, I mean. Who abandons a place like that? And why?”
Jacob manages a thin smile. “I imagine there was a time when people found New Jerusalem too isolated. It was once preferable to be closer to the rest of the world. Before it all went bad.”
“And you guys were just lucky enough to find this place when you did.”
“Daniel saw it. In a dream.” Rachel echoes the words in my head—the way we’ve heard him tell it so many times—exactly as if I’ve said them. Exactly the way we’re all thinking them. All of us but Aaron.
“It wasn’t a prison,” Jacob snaps. “It was a health facility. People came to partake of the waters and be healed.”
It’s Aaron’s turn to choke. He covers his mouth with his napkin. His eyes water and he grabs at his empty wineglass, then shoves it aside to get at his water. After gulping down a swallow, he asks hoarsely, “Health facility? Do you mean Zzyzx?”
The hair rises up on my arms. “How did you know that?” I ask.
“‘Zzyzx. The last word in health and vitality,’” says Susanna, raising her glass. Rachel shudders as the pink liquid sloshes dangerously close to the top.
“What infomercial did that come from?” Aaron snaps. “Zzyzx wasn’t a health facility. It was a scam.”
Susanna gulps her wine, slopping a few drops onto the tablecloth. Rachel stares at the stain, her jaw tight, then flushes and looks away when she sees me watching.
“What’s a scham?” Susanna asks, slurring the word slightly.
“The owner was a fraud. He took their money—those poor, sick people—and gave them nothing but bottled water.” Aaron reaches over and slides Susanna’s glass out of her reach. “That’s what scam means. He cheated them.”
“He healed them.” Susanna leaps to her feet. It might be the quickest I’ve ever seen her move, though she knocks over the bench. “For my reason returned to me! And my faith and my splendor were restored!”
I don’t believe it. She’s quoting Daniel, or at least she’s trying to.