I glance at the empty coffee table, and Sarah stifles a sad smile. “He means we’re going to tell you the truth.”
“We’ll help you, even take you to Delilah if you want. But we need something in return. We need you to help us get a message to Rachel.”
“Rachel?” I couldn’t have been more surprised if he had named Daniel himself. “Why Rachel?”
“Naomi wants her daughter back,” says Sarah.
“How do you . . . ? Naomi’s dead.”
Sarah is shaking her head before I finish. “She isn’t dead. She’s living right here in California. Healthy. But sick with worry about Rachel.”
I can’t comprehend what she’s saying. Daniel told me Naomi— But of course. Yet another lie. Still. “That doesn’t make sense. When Rachel was a baby, Naomi committed a sin so Contemptible, Daniel had no choice but to Banish her. But he offered to keep Rachel and raise her in New Jerusalem, so Rachel had a chance at being Saved, despite the stain from her mother’s sin.”
They stare as if I’m speaking in tongues.
“That’s the story Daniel told you,” Sarah says.
“To cover his own ass,” Abraham adds.
I look from one to the other, bracing myself on the couch against another wave of dizziness. “Prove it.”
They exchange a look. Finally, Abraham ducks his chin, and Sarah stands to retrieve one of her netsuke, a tall woman holding a vase. She turns it over and uses her pinky to retrieve a tightly wrapped piece of paper from the bottom.
When she hands the roll to me, I smooth it out across the table. It’s actually two pieces of paper. A note addressed to Rachel and signed “Mom,” and a photograph. I study the photo. But I’ve never seen Naomi, and I don’t know what she looks like. “This could be any woman,” I say, my throat so tight it burns.
Any woman with Rachel’s dark eyebrows and the same dent in the bridge of her nose.
So it’s true. Rachel’s mother is alive? That means Daniel lied to me. And then I realize. Everything I’ve been told—everything Daniel has ever said—it’s all lies. My vision blurs, and I’m not sure if I’m going to faint or throw up.
“What about Azariah?” I whisper his name from habit. “Is he alive too? He and Naomi sinned. And then Azariah ran away. He was too cowardly to face his punishment. He left his wife behind, as well as Naomi and Rachel.” Even as I repeat the story, I recognize this must also be a lie.
Abraham frowns. “We don’t know what happened to Azariah. Naomi’s looked for him, but she hasn’t been able to find him. The thing is, Azariah had no reason to run.”
This is the first thing he’s said that I don’t believe. “Sometimes men are weak.”
Sarah makes a choking sound. “Oh, Miriam. I see why Aaron likes you. You’re feisty.”
I don’t know what that means, but I think it might be a compliment.
“Everyone is weak, sometimes. But in this case, there was nothing to run from. Azariah didn’t sin. He isn’t Rachel’s father,” Abraham says. “Daniel is.”
My head shakes of its own accord, and scripture jumps unbidden to my tongue. This time, instead of reciting it, I choke on it.
Sarah jumps up to get me a bowl, then holds it while I gag and spit. She rubs my back, whispering soothing sounds. I thought I’d looked all the way down into the darkness, that I’d discovered the depths of Daniel’s deceit. But I was wrong.
Rachel’s father. He had relations with Naomi and then threw her Out. Worse, he let Rachel bear the burden of his own sin. All that “sins of the mother” crap that followed Rachel her whole life. What about the sins of her father?
Finally, I settle weakly back on the couch.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she says.
Abraham hands me a glass of water and sits on the edge of the table. “We don’t have much time,” he says. “We don’t know what happened to Azariah. What we do know is that when Naomi gave birth to his child, Daniel kicked her out and forced her to sign custody of Rachel over to him.”
Sarah adds, “She entrusted Rachel to your mother, thinking it would only be a small amount of time before she could get her baby back. But she had some problems. And Daniel made things complicated for her. Legally speaking. She’s been trying for years to get custody of Rachel. But she left here with nothing. She doesn’t even have a birth certificate, so she can’t prove she’s Rachel’s mother. That’s why she hired us.”
“Hired you?”
“We’re private detectives,” Abraham says. “We specialize in helping families who’ve lost loved ones to cults.”
I thought I was done being sick. But now, my head spins and my stomach drops. “Wait. So . . .”
“We didn’t come here to be saved. We came to save Rachel.”
47
CALEB
I hear a splash, and in the second it takes me to react, Aaron is on me, punching and kicking. He may be small, but he’s stronger than he looks, and he manages to land a few blows before I throw him off.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Aaron says, struggling to his feet.
Daniel wasn’t kidding about the flooding. As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I see water is flowing in under the door like someone turned on a faucet. The water is up to our calves now.
“What I’ve done?” I say. “You’re the one who came after me! You probably led him right to us. If you had just minded your own business—”
“If I’d minded my own business, you’d either be here by yourself or dead behind the wheel of the van, you self-righteous bastard,” he hisses. “Now you’ve put not only us but my whole family in danger. Including my wife.”
“Don’t call her that!” I lunge at him, fully intending to throttle him until he dies or at least passes out, but he moves out of reach and this time I end up in the water.
“How long was Daniel standing there?” Aaron asks as he stares down at me. “Think. This is important. Did he hear me tell you that Delilah was safe?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I don’t think so? How can you be so sure about her, anyway?” The icy water gives me sudden clarity and I remember what Father said, that night in Daniel’s office. “You were with her. Before she disappeared. Was I right? You were who she was afraid of? Were you . . . lovers?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, Caleb! Get a grip. I’m gay,” Aaron says, crouching beside me. “And since you’re probably not up on the lingo, I’ll break it down for you. I like dudes. Present company excluded.”
A wave of water hits me in the face, and I roll to my side, coughing and retching. Gay? That can’t be . . . Is this the secret Miriam was willing to keep? I won’t sacrifice him, not even for my own happiness.
“Miriam knows,” I say. It isn’t a question—more like a desperate plea for him to deny it.
“Miriam’s a good person. She was protecting me.”
“You aren’t worthy to say her name.” But I’m too weak to put any force behind the words. It takes all my strength just to stand up.
“Neither are you. But I know she cares about you. So there must be something decent I can’t see.”
I’m forever grateful for whatever she sees in me. But she also sees something in Aaron.
“And what about you?” I ask. “How does she feel about you?”
“You’d have to ask her.”
Our gazes lock, then skitter away.
“Look, we don’t choose who we love. But we do get to pick our friends. Miriam and I are friends,” Aaron says.
“Friends,” I repeat. “And you only like guys. Not girls. Not even Miriam? So why’d you choose her, then? Did Daniel tell you to pick her?”
“I picked her because I thought she was a good person. And because I didn’t have a lot of options at that point.” He rubs his chin. “How long have you known? That it’s Daniel and not God doing the choosing?”<
br />
I shake my head, fast, so that my vision blurs. “What? No. That’s not what I . . . I don’t know why I said that. I just meant, did Daniel tell you your dreams were about her?” But that isn’t what I meant. I was thinking of the voice, at my own supposed Matrimony. The voice that whispered “Delilah.” It was the voice of God. Wasn’t it?
Aaron is silhouetted beneath the faint light filtering down from the opening of the pit. He stops digging his knuckle in his ear and tilts his head toward me. “Lame, right?” He deepens his voice. “Yes, Marcus. I understand you’ve dreamt of only Susanna. But I’m telling you it means God wants you to choose Rachel. Why? It’s a mystery only God and I understand.” He shakes his head, then tips his ear to the floor and says in a normal voice, “I can’t believe he thought that shit would work.”
“But . . .” I have so many questions. “It did. It does. I mean, it works if we all listen. I dreamt of Miriam. That wasn’t a lie. We were supposed to be together. And you were supposed to . . .”
“Haven’t you figured it out yet? There was no way everyone was going to be happy. Daniel got a little too power-hungry, and he fucked the pooch, as we say on the Outside. He overplayed his hand,” he says, when it’s apparent I have no idea what he’s talking about. “He tried to maneuver all of you into the marriages he wanted you in. But let’s face it. There was no way that was ever going to work. Someone was going to walk away from that Matrimony unhappy. Daniel was just gambling on it being someone who wouldn’t complain too loudly. Or someone he could call out as a sinner so he could shut them up if they did.”
My mind is reeling. This can’t be true. Only . . . hadn’t I said almost the same thing to Phoebe? Only I’d said that having the girls choose would have left someone unhappy. But maybe Aaron is right. Maybe someone was always going to be married to the wrong woman. Or not married, in my case. Because if Aaron and Marcus hadn’t switched, Marcus would be as unhappy as I am now.
Doubt floods me like the rainwater in this cave, which is steadily rising. “Oh my God. Is that why he’s so angry? Not because you switched, but because . . .”
“Because we showed everyone he wasn’t the ‘Living Prophet’?” He shrugs. “Maybe. But we’ve got other problems now. Like getting out of here. And I’m worried about my parents. And Miriam. You know Daniel better than me. Will he go after them? Punish them for whatever he thinks we’ve done?”
I rub my face with numb fingers. “I don’t know.” It’s so cold. Temperatures drop suddenly in the desert, but we’re hardly ever out of doors when it happens, and never far from shelter.
“Does he know about you and Miriam?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat. “How did you . . . Never mind. I don’t think he does. Except, when he saw you in the van, he seemed surprised. Like maybe he was expecting someone else.”
“Shit. She isn’t safe. Daniel is escalating. It’s only a matter of time—”
“Escalating?”
“I don’t have time to slow-walk you through this, so try and keep up,” Aaron says. “Short version—you’re living in a cult. Daniel has you all brainwashed into believing the world outside is some kind of lawless wasteland. It’s not. Miriam was starting to understand, and to have doubts of her own, so that makes her a threat to Daniel. He’s going to use us, our attempt at escape”—he makes a weird clawlike gesture with his hands—“to try and reassert his dominance. Regain control. At our expense. Trust me. I’ve seen it before. This isn’t gonna end well for us.”
I resist the urge to cover my ears with my hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if this is what you’ve been filling Miriam’s head with, it’s no wonder—”
“Screw it. Don’t believe me. I don’t really give a fuck. I’m getting the hell out of this cave, then I’m going to find Miriam, and we’re leaving. You can do whatever you want.”
I want out of this cave, too. The rest—but I can’t do this now. I’ll think about the rest later.
“We need to stop the water, or at least slow it down,” I say. “It’s coming in from both directions. We can’t do anything about the opening to the pit, but maybe we can stop the water from the tunnel if we stuff something underneath the door.”
Aaron pulls at his wet shirt. “Clothing?”
I’m not comfortable with the idea of being naked alongside another man, especially one who doesn’t seem to care that his choices are going to get his name excluded from the Book. But the bigger problem is I don’t think the clothes will stop the water. I shake my head. “The fabric is too thin. We’re going to have to use sand.”
We drop to our knees, side by side, and scoop handfuls of wet sand and gravel from beneath the water. Push it against the crack under the door, over and over, until it’s covered.
I crawl up onto the stage, exhausted. Aaron sits on the edge, then flops onto his back and breaks the silence. “Daniel’s unstable. But would he really leave us here for the rest of our lives? Too many people would question what happened to us.”
I can’t answer him. We’ve been taught to live our lives in service to God, and at the end he rewards us with Salvation. As promised, it sounds glorious. The problem is, if I believe any of what Aaron has told me, we might’ve been promised a lie. In which case, there won’t be Salvation for anyone, sinner or not. There may not even be a tomorrow.
48
MIRIAM
“I don’t know what you mean, ‘private detective,’” I say. “But Rachel isn’t the only one who needs saving.” I struggle free from the blanket cocoon Sarah’s wrapped me in. I thought I could trust these people. Does no one tell the truth anymore? “What about the rest of us? What about your son?”
“Aaron isn’t our son. He’s working with us. Undercover. As a teenager,” Abraham says.
I fall back onto the couch. “What? Not your . . ? Then who am I married to?”
“No one,” Abraham says. “Daniel doesn’t want the government involved in his dealings here, so he doesn’t file certificates with the state. None of these marriages are legal.”
Though I don’t understand half of what he said, I latch onto his final words. None of the marriages are legal. Days earlier, hours, even, this would have been joyous news. Now, it’s too much for me to comprehend.
“Is anything Aaron said true? About you living in a cult once before? His boyfriend? How old is he?”
“He told you about Tucker?” Sarah asks, at the same time Abraham says, “Twenty-four.”
They exchange a look I can’t decipher, then Abraham continues, “Aaron lived in a cult as a kid. With his parents. I’m not sure what he told you, but it messed him up pretty good.”
“We had reservations about bringing him along for this,” says Sarah. “Given his past.”
“But his past is what makes him good at what he does.” It sounds like an argument Abraham’s made before, and he waits for my reaction, arms crossed, occasionally looking out the window.
I try to put the pieces together.
“So . . . you said ‘detective.’ What does that mean?” I ask. “Do you detect danger?”
“Sometimes. Mostly, it’s work for hire. A client pays us to find information. Or people,” says Abraham.
“Did someone hire you to save Delilah, too? Is that why you helped her escape?”
“That wasn’t a planned operation. But after Daniel told me where he was sending her, we were obviously concerned about her safety. So I followed my gut and had Aaron tell her the truth about Daniel. After that, she wanted to leave, and we helped her. You can join her. If you help us.”
“Miriam,” Sarah interrupts, “let me explain. Naomi is very concerned about Rachel’s well-being. She knew Rachel would be forced into marriage once she was old enough. We tried to swing the Matrimony so she’d end up with Aaron. When that didn’t work, we needed a plan B.”
“Plan B?” I sift throu
gh her words for something to grab onto, but none of it makes sense.
“You’re plan B,” Abraham says. “You’re her best friend. She trusts you. If—when—you tell her the danger you’re in, she’ll listen.”
“I still don’t understand. If Naomi has been trying to reach Rachel since she left, why is this all just happening now?”
“We’re not the first people she’s hired. But Daniel is pretty adept at covering his ass. Combine that with his pathological suspicion of outsiders, and it’s all but impossible to get information about this place,” Abraham says. “We’ve been working on this operation for over a year.”
We hear raised voices outside the window, though I can’t make out the words. Abraham presses himself against the wall and peers through one of the window-blind slits. “Council Members. On their way to Chapel.” He takes a step forward and pulls me to my feet. “You need to talk to Rachel,” he says. “Convince her you both need to get out of here.”
The knock at the door renders us all mute and immobile. Before I can react, Abraham shoves Naomi’s letter into my hands and pushes me down the hall. I slip inside Aaron’s old bedroom and behind the open door.
“Hello.” I recognize Susanna’s voice. “Daniel has called us to Chapel.”
Abraham is the first to recover, impressing me once again with his ability for deceit. In New Jerusalem, we welcome any intrusion, however annoying. “Welcome, Sister. How nice to see you,” he says, stepping into the living room and blocking her view of the hallway. “We were just discussing this unusual summons.”
“It’s time to open the Book,” Susanna is saying. “For the truth to be known, for the names to be revealed. Is anyone else here with you?” she asks, and I imagine her trying to crane her neck around Abraham, though I can’t see from my position, pressed into the corner.
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