Please don’t cry. Not yet. Not here. Everything’s going to be okay, but we have to play this smart. Don’t let anyone see. I promise I’ll take you home. God, I promise with all my heart.
“I think we can take care of that.” Cain interrupted Jude’s impulse to run to his little girl. The prophet’s long, bony hand landed on his shoulder again, but Jude only had eyes for his namesake. She’d pinched her lips. Even across the room, he saw her questions. Her loneliness. She needed him. Now, damn it.
“Let us sing the closing hymn.” Cain rattled off a hymn number that Jude could no longer hear. Or sing. His heart and soul were at the rear of the chapel, dancing with his beautiful daughter on their way out of this hell.
The congregation stood, and Jude strained to keep Judith in sight over all the bobbing bonnets and heads. Don’t go, Judith. Please stay put. Let me talk to you.
At last the song ended, Jude fled the stand, but wily Jerusha still caught him at the first row. “Very well done, Brother Clark.” She nodded as if she approved. “It isn’t often we get a marriage proposal from the stand. Do you have a certain young lady in mind?”
He shook his head, peering past Jerusha for another glimpse of Judith, and still looking for Rachel. “Just an honest woman will be good enough for me.”
The prophet’s good friend latched onto his arm. “My, aren’t you the accommodating gentleman? Another good answer. Free choice isn’t allowed in this church anyway.”
“Works for me,” he lied. He knew who he’d remarry, only it was Cassidy’s face that flashed into his nervous head. What? No! I’d marry Rachel, if she’d have me again.
He had yet to see her though. A frission of fear blossomed in his heart. What could be so important that Rachel had left Judith to fend for herself?
“I’ll speak with Prophet Cain this evening,” Jerusha assured him. “We’ll have you betrothed and married in no time. It will be good to hear the sacred vows of the marriage ceremony again, won’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am. It will.” Damn. I’m going to hell for lying while I’m living in hell.
“Looking for someone?” Jerusha asked slyly.
“Tucker,” Jude lied again. His gut filled with acid as Cain stalked past him, Hank and Greg in close pursuit. Jerusha needed to buzz off, damn it.
“Brother Chase?” Her lips twisted with disgust. “What on earth for?” She turned to the back of the room, too.
For some reason, Judith and her girlfriend were now talking with the man in question. They kept a distance of two seats between them, which was proper etiquette in this crazy church for an unmarried man in the presence of women. The only ones exempt were the Elite. Of course. People like Cain, Hank, Greg, and Jerusha definitely needed to be able to reach out and touch.
“Why would a man of your noble position need the likes of Brother Chase?”
So now I’m noble? Alarm bells rang loud and clear in Jude’s head for the first time. That was why Tucker kept a low profile. He was the leper, the guy no one in their right mind was supposed to see, much less stop and talk to. Much less seek out. He was one of the Censured.
Damn. Jude thought fast. “He, umm... he had a few ideas on fire prevention. We worked side by side putting that fire out, and—”
“You may speak with him,” Jerusha interrupted him with a sideways glance at Tucker. She still watched Tucker and the girls. “Just keep it brief. He doesn’t deserve your company.”
What a farce. “Thank you, Sister Jerusha. I will.”
Finally free of her clutches, he beelined to Judith. The minute Tucker lifted his head, Jude knew. The man wasn’t who he pretended to be, either.
“Hey,” Tucker said quietly. “I should’ve said something before. I’m supposed to warn you I’m—”
“I know. I know.” Jude cut him off. “You’re Censured. Got it. Consider me warned.”
Tucker shrugged, the brim of his ball cap wrung tight in his hands. “Yeah. Whatever.”
“We need to talk,” Jude said, “but not now.” He turned to Judith. Every ounce of his heart yearned to reach out and gather her into his arms. He read the same desire in hers, but her little friend stood watching, and he had to be careful. He had to stay focused, proper and distant, worthless traits for a father who had finally found his lost child. “May I escort you young sisters home?”
Judith nodded, her eyes aglow with little girl adoration. “Yes, please.”
Her friend sniffed. “I guess. If you have to.”
“Ladies.” He bowed slightly and made a small flourish toward the door.
“Why are you crying?” the girl at Judith’s side asked sharply.
He wiped his face, not even realizing his cheeks were wet with his joy.
“I... I...” There were simply no words. The tender expression of overwhelming love was not only forbidden, but also indescribable.
“I believe you’re overcome with your new prospect of marriage,” Judith spoke up, the knowing light on her face saving him from looking like a fool.
“Be careful,” Tucker muttered under his breath, the brim of his cap pulled low as he stood to leave. “You’re playing with fire again.”
Jude glanced sharply at him, not sure he’d heard right. This guy acted as if he knew an awful lot about him. Why? Jude hesitated, but Tucker had already turned away, the proper cult etiquette for a Censured man. He had no business looking at Jude, much less talking face to face with anyone except the Elite.
“A war’s coming. Grab your kid and go.” With those few words, Tucker tipped the brim of his cap again, walked to the far side of the chapel and out the opposing exit.
“Brother Clark?” Judith waited. “Is everything okay?’
Jude couldn’t answer. Tucker’s words were not the desperate words of a Censured. He’d spoken with authority, like he really knew something. A thousand questions flooded Jude’s mind, but now wasn’t the time. He had his daughter within reach. Finally. Judith came first. Tucker could wait. Cassidy, too.
“Everything’s fine,” he lied again. “Let me walk you home.”
“I would like that,” Judith said shyly. And the sun came out. The minute she smiled, Jude remembered what it felt like to be a father, to be loved perfectly and unconditionally. There was no better gift in a lonely man’s world than to see the adoration in his daughter’s eyes.
He held the chapel door for the two young women and kept the appropriate distance from them while they walked. Across the yard, Greg marched briskly toward the barn. Jude pulled his gaze off Greg, stifled the nagging panic in his head, and glanced sideways at Judith.
“I assume I’m taking you to the family building?” he asked.
“No. Of course not.” Judith’s friend spoke up. “We live with Sister Jerusha, if it’s any of your business.”
“Why?” God, why her? That made everything more complicated.
“Because she’s our mother,” the girl snapped. “Why else?”
“But...” Jude stopped in his tracks. “Where are your real mothers?”
A shadow darkened Judith’s face. Her lips pinched the way they used to when she was a little girl, right before she’d burst into tears.
“My mother was nothing but a dirty Gentile,” Judith’s friend announced tartly. “She had her chance at redemption, but she threw it away.”
“Saffron.” Judith scowled, swiping her eye. “You don’t mean that. You miss your mother. I know you do.”
“No, I don’t,” Saffron’s haughty nose tilted a fraction higher. “Jerusha says I’m better off without her.”
Judith shook her head. “No, you’re not. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do, and you’re better off without yours, too.”
“Where is your mother, Sister Judith?” Jude had to know. A parent who didn’t follow the teachings and commandments of the prophet was swiftly dealt with, maybe removed from the cult. Cain couldn’t have non-believers polluting his congregation. Gentile was another dirty wor
d, as bad as Censured. Both destroyed families. Both bred nothing but lies. But God, not Rachel.
“I am no longer called by my birth name,” Judith said softly as she walked, not answering the real question and her eyes on the ground. “You must call me Chloe from now on.”
Jude couldn’t speak. His heart stopped beating as anger spiked hot and fast in his blood. Not the blessing. Hell no!
“It’s okay.” Judith must have seen the anguish he couldn’t hide. “It’s time. Most young women are blessed on their twelfth birthday. I’m ready.”
He met her eyes, the same color as his, filled with the same strength and love. The same depth of foolish compassion for others. It was all he could do to not take hold of her and run. How did a father conceal his fury and fear in the face of such an awful pronouncement? Good God, she had no idea what she was talking about or had agreed to. Damn this wretched cult. Damn Lucien Cain!
“Where is your mother, Sister Judith?” he asked again, refusing to use the name the prophet had given her.
“She passed over,” Judith whispered simply, swallowing a gulp that registered all the way down her slender neck. “Her grave is in the cemetery. I would love to show you sometime.”
His heart sank. “When?”
“Before Christmas.” Her eyes brimmed and he could’ve cried with her. Wanted to. The need to take hold of his flesh and blood and tell her that everything would be okay mounted an aching tsunami in his heart. God! My poor baby’s been at the mercy of these wolves for months.
But there was nothing to be done, though, not without endangering Judith more. He clenched his fingers into fists, each wooden step forward another step farther away from the child his soul craved to protect.
“Come on, Chloe. Let’s go.” Saffron pulled Judith into step with her. “We’re home. We gotta go in.”
Jude looked up, surprised they already stood at the door to Jerusha’s private dwelling. He had so much more to say, so much more to ask. “No. Wait. I... I...” No wise words came to him when he needed them most.
There was no reason for a strange man to linger at their doorstep once they’d arrived—Home. The insane notion that Jerusha’s private quarters could ever be called a word that evoked love and shelter choked Jude. This was nothing but a spider’s den, filled with a web of lies and false teachings. He couldn’t leave Judith there one more night.
She reached for his hand, wrapping her fingers around his, tucking her palm to his, the same way she’d done since she was ever so tiny. Their pinkie fingers interlocked. Even this simple act of childish love put her at risk. According to this warped church, she’d just sinned. “I’ll be okay. Honest I will.”
“Chloe!” Saffron’s disapproval snapped out of her, but Judith didn’t release her father’s finger and neither did he release hers. One little pinkie. He clung tight, their joints locked in love and despair.
Jude looked into the sweet gray depths that used to make him cry when they cried, that made him laugh when they laughed. How could he let her go? But the girl he once knew didn’t look back at him. Instead, a very mature fourteen-year-old woman who had his eyes and Rachel’s beautiful nose offered a grave smile.
A heavy door slammed behind him. He looked across the yard to see Greg marching from the barn. They know.
“How did your mother die?” Jude asked again, ignoring the adrenaline coursing through his head. Despite the commotion he knew was headed his way, he had to know what had happened to his ex-wife. Rachel might have hated him, but he still cared.
“Penance,” Judith whispered sadly. “She had to atone for her sin of arguing with the prophet in front of the congregation. He sent her to the fields.”
“To pull wagons?” Jude asked in disbelief. “In the winter?”
Judith squeezed her father’s hand tightly and nodded. She wiped the tear out of her eye without Saffron noticing. “He made her carry rocks.”
“What sin?” He heard the anger snap out of him. Rachel hadn’t deserved to die. Yes, she made for a stubborn adversary, and yes, she had made poor choices, but to die in the service of this godless cult for rocks?
“Jerusha’s coming.” Saffron tugged at Judith’s arm. “We have to go inside. Now. Come on, Chloe.”
“She wanted to go home,” Judith said sadly. She straightened her pinkie and let him go.
“And still you will be blessed?” he asked softly. “By him?”
A shadow flitted over Judith’s lovely features. “I must. There is no other way.”
He couldn’t even blink. This isn’t right! I can’t let it happen! No!
“Thank you for your kindness, Brother Clark,” she said, goodbye in her tone, the last thing he ever thought he’d hear from his one and only child. “Maybe I’ll see you in the garden. I’m the keeper of the watermelon patch, you know.”
He nodded like a big dumb dog, his heart in his throat as she climbed the three steps away from him to Jerusha’s door. Watermelons were part of the summer crop and summer was months away. If Jerusha caught wind of his interest in Judith, she might send his daughter away. He couldn’t take the hint and just leave, not if it meant losing her all over again.
“Thank you, Brother Clark,” Saffron said, her dander up. “I’m the other keeper of the watermelon patch. Now, will you please leave so we can go inside?”
He looked at Saffron for the first time. Of slighter build than Judith, she had white-blonde hair and the same self-righteous tilt to her chin as Jerusha. He saw it in the depths of her sharp blue eyes. Too immature to realize what she was doing, Saffron was one of those members, the kind willing to spread half-truths and innuendo if it served their purpose. The way she’d just informed him that she’d be with Judith in the watermelon patch, proved it. She’d tell Jerusha everything that had just transpired. Maybe more if it sounded good.
Jude took a step back to protect what little was left of his cover and to safeguard his daughter. He broke eye contact and forced his gaze to the burned field and the yard. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
“Peace be with you, Brother Clark,” Saffron said quickly. “Now let’s go.”
“Peace be with you, Brother Clark,” Judith repeated softly, holding her position. “It was good to meet you.”
He couldn’t speak the customary and prophet commanded response. He couldn’t just say, ‘And with you,’ and leave, not with his heart stuck in his throat. Not when every fatherly instinct screamed: Protect her. Save her. Run like hell.
Only when Saffron huffed and stomped inside did Jude turn to the child he adored. Judith stood there waiting for him, using the door as a shield between her and Saffron.
I love you, Daddy, she mouthed.
Tears flooded his vision. His fist went to his breaking heart. “I love you, baby girl,” he whispered. Forever, he thought.
And then she was gone.
Chapter Six
“Damn it, Rourke.” Cassidy woke up grumpy, not unusual for a woman with a splitting headache, who smelled like cow shit, and who now had a botched mission to live down. The guys back at the office would give her hell once she made it back. If she did.
After stretching her achy body all the way to her toes, she sat straight up, and right away knocked her forehead on the stair joists overhead. “Ouch! Damn it!” she muttered, angry that Rourke hadn’t yet contacted her. She knew she was being unreasonable. There was no logical way he could contact her, but still. It was his job to come looking for her. Was he?
She was rested and ready for action, only there she was, trapped in a hole in the ground that really did have spiders in it, thank you very much, Miss Judith. Friendly, beneficial or not, Cassidy didn’t like creepy little insects dropping into her hair while she napped.
It aggravated her that she didn’t know what time it was, not that it mattered. She was ready to get out of this insane cult. Back at camp, she’d grab another pistol, maybe two; load up on ammo, and return to extract the real Melissa. Maybe that guy, Jude, and his daughter, too. Ma
ybe a little payback while she was at it. Greg sure had one Cassidy-sized kick in the ass coming.
Keeping her head low, she crawled out from beneath the staircase on her hands and knees. Time to get back to being her over-confident self and investigate. By the time Jude returned, she intended to be the expert of this dark little kingdom.
Ten minutes later she plopped to the fourth step, still just as aggravated and smelly, but not a whole lot smarter. It didn’t take long to become queen of a dirt room. The heavy door overhead was wide and slanted. Solid wood. No knob or latch. She’d pressed her weight against it. It didn’t even creak. Damn. Locked on the outside.
The crates and bins offered a few shriveled fruits and vegetables, all inedible. The only thing odd about the place was the boarded section of wall under the steps where she’d been sleeping. Could it conceal another room? A tunnel? An oddly medicinal odor wafted between the cracks in the boards. It prickled her over-active curiosity. A tunnel might mean escape. Or more trouble.
Cassidy hated waiting. She opted for positivity. A little adventure wouldn’t hurt, either. Leaving the stairs behind, she walked carefully with her hands forward, feeling through the darkness for the edge of the steps so she wouldn’t hit her head again. Helen Keller jokes popped into her head.
What is Helen Keller’s favorite color? Ha! She knew the answer to that one because right then her favorite color was—burlap. It didn’t make sense. Didn’t have to. The real answer to the silly question didn’t make sense, either. Corduroy. As if a color was in any way tangible.
Another joke prodded. How do you make Helen Keller mad? Answer: Move her furniture. Honestly, how could people joke about a blind person’s unfortunate situation? Not very funny, when you were the one who couldn’t see. All this darkness sucked.
She knelt on her burlap bed beneath the steps and smoothed her fingers over the boarded-up wall, her next target. A definite draft flowed through the cracks between the boards from the space beyond. Nails edged the wooden perimeter, not the middle. “I can do this,” she muttered out loud. “I can get in there. I know I can.”
Cassidy Page 6