Beyond the Cabin

  “I know, and I’m sorry.” She had put all of herself on the line last night, had shown me everything in her heart. And I had left.

  She hated me.

  “Please, open the door. I’m so sorry I left.”

  She cracked the door. The eye I could see looked puffy and red. I wanted to slam myself in the head with a hammer. “You left. You actually left.” Without the door muffling her voice, it sounded raw.

  I pulled my hand from my pocket. “I know. I know I hurt you. I hate that I did that. I want to go back and not do it.”

  “You can’t. You’re a jerk.” She pushed her door to close it. I put out my hand and pushed back.

  “I know. And you probably hate me,” I said. “But can we talk about it?”

  She glared at me. “I don’t hate you. That’s the problem. I should though.”

  Hope flared. Please say the right thing. “You should. You deserve to be treated better.”

  The pressure on the door eased.

  “I—“ My mind went blank. I’d hurt her and words weren’t going to fix it. I dug in my pocket again and pulled out the small paper. “Here. Happy Birthday.”

  She took the paper, letting the door open so she could reach for it. I watched as she flattened the small rectangle and finally understood what it was. “A ticket to Pittsburgh?”

  I nodded. The red around her eyes felt like a knife in my chest. I needed to be better. “Yeah. I bought it so I could get away, but you make me want to stay. So it’s for you.”

  She looked from the ticket to me, then back. When her eyes met mine again, something had changed. She scrubbed her face with her wrist and seemed to study the ticket again. I let the silence grow.

  “I make you want to stay?” Her question squeezed my soul.

  “Yes. And I choose to stay here. With you.”

  The corners of her mouth turned up a little. “This is for me?” She waved the ticket.

  “Yes.”

  “What if I use it and leave?”

  The way she looked at me made my heart skip. “I will follow you.” I took her hand that held the ticket. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

  Her eyes met mine. Her hand tightened on my fingers. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  The End

  Important Notes

  Beyond the Cabin is inspired by true events and circumstances. I did indeed grow up in a cult that splintered off of Scientology. I was born in it and left when I was seventeen. I grew up with upwards of twenty kids. I did have two brothers with whom I share a mother. I have done my very best to depict life in this cult accurately. I have also included many events that truly did happen, although in Beyond the Cabin, these events have been compressed in time and space for the purpose of the story.

  All of that said; this book is a work of fiction. I have created characters that are a combination of people from my childhood and characteristics needed for the story. Those characters, both kids and adults, do not entirely or exactly depict people from the cult. What’s more, the dramatic arc of Josh is not my arc as a person; it is a story.

  This book was written to tell a story, not to cause problems for the people who belonged to this cult. I wanted to write this story and have it be about love, family, hope, and the power of choice—hence, I wanted to write a positive story.

  I am not interested in retribution. I am not interested in bad-mouthing the people who took part in my childhood. Forgiveness of those whom I needed to forgive has been a hard-fought, years-long process. I bear these people no ill-will.

  Acknowledgements

  This book is neither a culmination nor a dream fulfilled. It is a dream in action. It is also the beginning of more.

  This dream coming to pass in your very hands and maybe on your lovely, already obsolete device, is a result of thousands of hours of work, labor, tears, sacrifice, and lots of sugary snacks consumed. Not all of that stuff was done by me. And my part in all of that was only possible because of some extraordinary people whom I love and for whom I will be eternally grateful.

  My wife, Annemarie, gets first billing. She has been patient, tolerant of my expanding waistline, supportive, and encouraging. This book and the ultimate hope at its heart are only possible because of her. Next, I have to acknowledge my sister, Emma, my father, Bruce, and my ex step-mother, Susan for their support and love. Matthias, my brother, and his family also deserve my gratitude for their love. My mother, Magdalen, long passed now, in her unique way, is a part of this story. Miriam is not modeled on her.

  I also want to thank Melinda Morley, Kristi Stevens, and Kaye Hansen. They were my first writing group and they helped me understand that making the cult experience accessible, detailed, and accurate was critical to the success of this story. My second writing group, Suzanne Gale, Randy and Rebecca Tayler and Mark Holt, deserves great thanks for workshopping this book so it told a real story.

  Three more. One is Katherine Paterson. She wrote Bridge to Terabithia and changed my life. It broke my heart. It made me want to break other people’s hearts through story telling. When I wrote her a letter outlining my undying love for her and how she changed my life, she wrote back. I had described my childhood in my letter to her and in her reply she referred to it as Dickensian. This description was astonishing and it helped me take the story to the next level.

  Of course I acknowledge and thank the Foundation Faith of God, the cult that I grew up in. I would not be who I am without my childhood. I would not have this story to tell without this group. To be sure, I spent six solid years of my teenage life deeply unhappy and intermittently angry, but oh how much I learned!

  Last, thank YOU for reading. Now go buy more copies of this book and give them to everyone you know. Heck, buy some copies for people you don’t know too.