The Virtue of Sin
Page 31
“Who else would be here besides my wife?” Abraham asks.
“Aaron?” Susanna asks, and I have to bite my lips shut to avoid crying out. Why is she lying to them? She knows Aaron has been arrested. She’s the one who told me.
I picture Abraham weighing his words. “Aaron isn’t here. I assume he’s at his own apartment. With his wife.” Perhaps it’s only because of all they’ve told me, but I hear a challenge in his words. “Or maybe he’s already heading to Chapel. Were you interested in speaking with him?”
Susanna laughs, as if she has no worries about lying to her neighbor’s face. “Not at all,” she says. “I just thought as newer citizens, you might have some concerns. So I’ve come to escort you.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Sarah says. “You must be very close to Daniel,” she continues, “for him to send you personally.”
“Daniel didn’t send me,” Susanna says sharply. “I came on my own. Idle gossip is the tongue of the devil,” she adds.
I have an urge to rip her own tongue right out of her mouth.
“Thank you, Sister.” The door creaks open, and Abraham’s voice grows momentarily louder. “We’re grateful for your support. Let me just grab an umbrella.” He sticks his head into the room, glancing back and forth. When I peek my head around the door, he presses his finger to his lips, then drops it and mouths one word: Rachel.
“Let’s go,” he says, turning back to the hallway. “Sarah, darling, are you ready? Such a momentous occasion. Tell me, Sister, what will become of those whose names Daniel doesn’t read?”
Susanna’s reply is lost in the slamming of the front door, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s become evident to me what Aaron has known all along, what I should have seen long ago. The Book isn’t real, because none of this is real.
Daniel is no more prophet than I am.
49
CALEB
Rain is still pouring through the opening above the pit; if it weren’t, I might try to scale the rocks. But they’re slippery, and I’m too weak at this point. Instead, I pace, just out of reach of the rain, and try to think of a plan.
Aaron sits on the dais, his back against the wall, looking tired and defeated.
“Abraham and Sarah will help us,” he says. “Unless they’ve already been arrested. Or worse. Shit. What if he heard me? What if I put them all in danger? Just to help save your ass?”
He keeps blaming me. Repeatedly. And I’m sick of listening to him.
“You did put us all in danger! I didn’t need your help!” I raise my voice on the final word, as if someone might hear and come to our rescue.
“Shut up!” says a third voice, from somewhere above us.
I freeze, my skin clammy and not just because of the water. “Is that Daniel?”
“Well, it’s not God, is it?” Aaron snaps.
How long has he been up there? Is he guarding the pit in case we try to crawl out? In the rain? I can hear him yelling, quoting scripture, but I can’t make out the words over the noise of the storm. His voice fades in and out, as if he’s pacing toward and then away from the opening. Something about curses and dust.
A shower of rocks plunks into the water near my feet as his head appears above me.
“‘And the serpent was more crafty than the other beasts, and he said to the woman—’ Don’t you see? It’s always the woman!” Daniel says, fast and breathless. “For the serpent convinces the woman, and then she urges the man to sin. I am the one who must stop it; I am the one who must open your eyes to the temptation. For I am the One True Prophet, called by God to lead His Chosen People. Don’t you see?”
I don’t know how to answer. As sermons go, this is the most disjointed I’ve ever heard. And his frantic tone is making my skin crawl.
A metallic clang, then, “May your God whom you serve deliver you!”
Something splashes into the water beside me.
“Daniel?”
He doesn’t answer, but whatever he’s dropped is moving. Alive. I can’t make out the shape in the dark, but the rattle is unmistakable.
Fear shocks me like a lightning strike. I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
“Are those fucking snakes?” Aaron asks, his voice so high-pitched it’s almost a squeal.
Something grazes my groin as it slithers past in the water, and instead of answering him, I suck in air and retch, vomit splashing the water beside me.
“They can swim,” I try to say, but no words come out. It feels like there are dozens of them, wriggling and gliding around me. I need to get away, but I’m frozen. Movement might interest them. Or worse, anger them. I cast a frantic look toward Aaron and the rock dais, which seems miles away. Lucky bastard. Not really, though. The snakes probably want dry ground as much as I do.
I back toward him anyway, lulled by the illusion of safety.
“Dude, what are you doing? We need to split up, not give them a single target.”
“Fine. Then you get in the water and let me climb up there!”
One of the snakes swims past, twitching its body through the water as easily as if it had fins. Then it switches direction and slides up on the raised rock in one easy motion.
Aaron leaps off the other end and into the water.
“I don’t think we’ve given enough consideration to scaling the wall,” Aaron says, dragging himself through the water to stand beside me. Wasn’t he the one who said we needed to stay apart?
“Climbing is too risky,” I say. “One slip or scrape and we’ll be adding the scent of fresh blood to the situation. Can snakes smell blood?” They can smell fear. Or is that coyotes? Fear has rendered me as stupid as Marcus used to claim I was.
“So, the tunnel then.” Aaron holds his arms high and scans the water around us. “We’ll swim for it.”
“Drown, or get attacked by a den of snakes,” I say. “God really doesn’t like sinners.”
“Maybe it’s not as bad as we think.”
“Being poisoned by rattlers?” Has Aaron completely lost his reason?
“The tunnel,” he says. “What if Daniel just told us the tunnel floods to keep us in here? That would be just like him, actually. Keeping us prisoner with our own thoughts.”
Is Aaron right? Is Daniel really that manipulative? There’s only one way to know.
As if sensing we’re attempting an escape, more of the snakes slide onto the dais, one after another, like sentries lining up for battle.
Slowly, I turn my back, motioning for Aaron to follow. The soft sound of rain grows louder, echoing off the cave walls. But it isn’t rain. It’s the rattlers.
I shudder, take a deep breath, and pull open the tunnel door.
A wave of water gushes over our heads, dragging us under.
50
MIRIAM
After they leave, I wait, alone, as the rain beats relentlessly on the roof. I don’t believe Susanna had any altruistic motives for coming here. Why Abraham and Sarah? Does Daniel know something about their secret? Is that why Aaron was arrested? Maybe Caleb was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But speculating will get me nowhere. I must do what Abraham asked, and talk to Rachel.
I take the back way to the Farm, keeping to the shadows. I don’t want to run into any of my friends, asking why I’m not heading toward Chapel. I’m hoping Rachel is still at work. While she will obey Daniel’s Call without question, she will need to tend to the goats first.
When Rachel answers my frantic knocking on the barn door, I fall into her arms.
“Good heavens, Miriam. What’s wrong?”
I pat self-consciously at my hair, aware of how I must look. “I’ll tell you everything, but it’ll take some time. Where’s Jacob?” Despite Sarah’s assurances that they only want to help Rachel, I’m putting us all in danger by coming here. Rachel will unde
rstand once I explain about Naomi, but I don’t want that decision in her husband’s hands.
“He’s out in the pasture, trying to round up the goats before Chapel.” Worry puckers her forehead. “Why are you here?”
I don’t know where to start. “I had to see you first. It’s about your mother,” I blurt.
She jerks her head back. “Come in and get warm. I think we have time for a quick cup of tea.”
She gives me dry clothing to change into. When I come out of one of the barn stalls, she hands me a mug and I wrap my hands around it, grateful for the warmth.
“It’s a long story,” I say. “But I have reason to believe . . . that is, someone has recently told me that Naomi—your mother—is alive. She’s alive, Rachel! And she wants to see you!” I pull out the letter I took from Sarah’s house, but she bats it away.
“My mother may not be dead, but she’s dead to me.”
“You don’t mean that. Remember the stories we used to make up about her when we were kids? What if they were true? What if everything else we’ve been told about her is a lie?” I bend over to retrieve the paper, smoothing it on my knee.
“Who would lie?” she asks, her voice high. “Everyone in the community? If you love me, Miriam, if you value our friendship at all, you will never speak of that woman again.”
That woman. Despite the heat from the wood-burning stove in the corner, my skin goes cold. What if Abraham and Sarah are wrong? What if I can’t convince Rachel to come with me? I can’t just leave her here, knowing what I know.
“Now.” Rachel straightens her skirt. “Are you going to tell me why you’re running around in the rain? I have a feeling it has something to do with your marriage.” She closes her eyes and pinches her lips together. I have anticipated her disapproval, along with her disappointment. Rachel always does the right thing, and she expects those she loves to do it, too. I may as well get my confession out of the way. Perhaps my honesty will earn her trust in the rest.
“Aaron and Caleb have been arrested. Susanna says they were trying to leave, but I don’t believe it. I think they were trying to find Delilah.”
“My God, Miriam, what were they thinking?”
“They were thinking she needed help. They would’ve come back. Caleb would never leave New Jerusalem without me.” Though everything else I’ve believed has been proven false, I still trust in his devotion to me. My feelings for him are more complicated, however.
“What are you saying?” Rachel asks. “That you coveted another man?”
“I’m aware of my sins,” I say, grateful she doesn’t know what else I’ve done. “But have you ever really thought about that one? Thou shall not covet. How? How do you stop wanting something? It’s like trying not to breathe.”
“You pray.”
It would be that easy for her. “I tried that. But love doesn’t just go away. And if God wanted me to turn to Aaron, why would he continue to send me dreams of Caleb?”
She goes to the stove in the corner of the barn and opens it, sending a flurry of sparks into the air. “I’ll tell you what you shouldn’t do. You shouldn’t go around arranging secret meetings with your lover.” She shoves a log onto the fire.
“I didn’t arrange— Wait. How do you know about that?”
She goes still.
“Rachel?” I set my tea down on the table. She doesn’t look at me. My mind flips through memories of the last few days, slowly, as if digging under a rock, afraid to unearth a scorpion’s nest. Our first kiss, on the path just down the hill from this house. Our heated exchange under the Pavilion. “How long have you known?”
She makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Please. You didn’t even try to hide it. Have you no shame at all?”
“I believed I loved him.”
“What do you know of love?”
“What do you?” I snap back. “Married to a man only because he picked you? And what if I told you it wasn’t even supposed to happen? That’s right,” I say, as her eyes widen in surprise. “Daniel wanted Jacob to pick Delilah. You were intended to be Marcus’s wife. And you would have just gone along, wouldn’t you? Given yourself to him, at his will, and told everyone it was fine, all because Daniel sanctioned it. How is that better than me and Caleb? He and I making the decision to be together because it was what we both wanted?”
“None of that is true. My marriage is real, and it is God’s will.”
“God’s will.” I snort. “God had nothing to do with it.”
Rachel shakes her head. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not. Have you never noticed that God’s will only functions to keep Daniel happy? What about the rest of us? What about your mother? What if she didn’t want to leave you here?”
Rachel shrinks back as if my heretical thoughts are contagious. “You’re much further gone than I thought,” she says. “Susanna was right. We should have stopped this sooner.”
“What did you say?”
She clutches her chest and takes a step back.
“What does Susanna have to do with this?”
She stumbles against the wall and turns her head from me.
“Is this your doing? Did you say something to Daniel?”
Silence.
I think back to this morning, to Daniel’s cryptic remarks about the Gathering. And the wine. My desire to go out to look for Delilah.
“Answer me, Rachel. Did you tell him about the Gathering?”
Slowly she turns her head back and meets my eyes. “It was Susanna,” she whispers.
“But you didn’t try to stop her. Or warn me.” The heat in my chest burns so fierce, I want to scream but fear if I do, it will be fire instead of sound.
“I did try to warn you. I went to your apartment last night. But you weren’t home.” Her words hold an accusation. “So I went to the Mill. You weren’t there either. But Caleb was.”
I flinch. It seems a lifetime ago that he asked me to meet him. “I was ill, so we spent the night at Abraham and Sarah’s house. But I suspect you already know that.”
Her face turns a blotchy purple. “Someone had to do something. Before you sinned so badly, even Daniel couldn’t forgive you.”
“I thought you were my friend,” I say.
“And I thought you were mine.” Rachel’s fury matches my own. “You of all people know the burden I carry because of my mother. First she is Banished because of her Contemptible ways, and now you?” She shakes her head, fast. “I couldn’t let that happen again. We had no choice. You were past reason.”
Does she believe that her confession will convince me to see it her way? But I know the truth about Daniel, and my eyes are open wider than hers will ever be.
“You didn’t go to Caleb, and Daniel knows that. He will understand,” she continues. “You must confess and repent now, though. For coveting. Before he opens the Book.”
She reaches for me, but I just stare at her hand. “Because that’s all it would take? I confess a sin I am not sorry for, and take my punishment? Because you can accept me being a sheep, but not a woman with desires.”
“Listen to yourself.” Her voice turns cold. “You sound like a harlot. Clearly all you care about are your carnal desires. I’m telling you, as your best friend, you need to go to Daniel right now, get down on your knees, and beg him for forgiveness. If you’re lucky, he’ll let you stay.”
“Stay, and be Shamed. Only you would think a lifetime of suffering a fair penance.”
“That’s because I know from experience.”
“And that experience is based on a lie. We all accepted Daniel’s story about your mother, about her sinning with Azariah. Him running away and her abandoning you. But what did we really know? Nothing but what he told us. It was all a lie. Daniel is your father, Rachel. Not Azariah. And your mother is still out there. Alive. Trying to get to y
ou.”
“No. No no no.” She presses her hand to her throat, perhaps to hold back a scream. It’s a gesture I’ve made myself, a thousand times. But even as she denies it, I can read the doubt on her face. The quivering of her lips, the tears shining in her eyes. They belie the shaking of her head. She knows I’m right. And she’s weakening.
“Just read what she’s written,” I plead. “Then if you still don’t believe me, I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Her hand trembles as she reaches out and slowly takes the paper from me. But instead of reading it, she turns and tosses it into the open stove.
“Rachel, no!” I jump to my feet, but it’s hopeless. The flames have already consumed it.
“Please, Miriam,” she whispers. “You mean more to me than some woman I can’t remember. Just repent. For me.”
“It’s that easy, is it?” I ask, watching the fire as tears run freely down my cheeks. “Repent, and everything will be all right?”
Relief floods her face. This is a question she’s been taught how to answer. “Of course! It’s Daniel. Don’t you think—”
“No, Rachel.” I turn away, from the fire, and from the girl I love like my own sister. “That’s the problem. None of us think. Your father won’t allow it.”
51
CALEB
I thrash about in the water, coughing and choking, as I try to regain my footing.
“I don’t suppose you get much chance to practice swimming here,” Aaron says as he pulls me to my feet. The water is almost waist deep now.
“I can’t swim,” I manage, once I spit out the rest of the dirty water. A gritty residue still coats my mouth.
“Daniel knows that, I’m assuming?” Aaron slaps me on the back. “Of course he does. Between the water and the snakes, we have got to get out of here. Pronto.”
Above the dais, a gush of water splashes onto a pile of snakes and they scatter, their rattling a violent hiss that raises the hair on my arms.
“Where’d that water come from?” Aaron asks, scanning the wall. We spot it at the same time. A thin opening, maybe shoulder height. Tucked into the darkened corner. “Is that another tunnel?”