Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series)

by Melissa Brown

  “Where are we going?”

  “Down the hall. We’ll use one of the interrogation rooms.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Interrogation? I thought you were just collecting a statement.”

  “I am, but my office isn’t very private. I want to give you the most privacy possible. I’ll lock the observation room, and that way we’ll have total privacy. Is that okay with you, Isaac? If you prefer to stay here, we can. I’ll leave it up to you.”

  Isaac returned to his chair and gripped the sides, his knuckles turning a pale shade of white. “I want to stay here.”

  The detective gave a tight-lipped smile. “Suit yourself. I’ll just grab the camera and we’ll get to it.”

  He left the room and I placed my hand on top of Isaac’s. “It’s going to be fine, son.”

  “I know. I just want to get it over with so we can go home.”

  “Now, you know when we get there, you can’t talk to anyone, right? Mother Aspen and I will check on you, bring you food, make sure you’re comfortable. You’ll have to text your mother.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He laughed quietly. “She told me already.”

  “She’s worried about you—wants to make sure you’re okay. But she can’t know you’re in the house, son.”

  “Papa, I know.” For the first time since arriving at the station, he turned to face me. His brow was furrowed and his eyes tense. “I won’t tell her.”

  I patted him. “This will all be over soon.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Detective Cooke returned with a video camera and tripod. After setting it up in the corner of the room, he looked to both of us. “All right, let’s get started.”

  The house was dark save for one lit room, Aspen’s bedroom. Quickly, I sent her a text and was pleased when she responded immediately.

  -We’re here. Is everyone in bed?

  -Yes, coast is clear.

  -Can you make sure? Head down to my study, please.

  -Of course.

  Isaac and I sat in the still air of my truck as we waited for Aspen’s reply. Every few seconds, he’d sniff and wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve. The last two hours had been difficult—for both of us. Even though I knew all the details Isaac gave in his statement to the police, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t eat me up inside. Hearing him describe what happened that night, the way he was treated, the abuse he endured, made my stomach twist and adrenaline race through my belly. I wanted to kill Clarence, make him pay, ruin his life the way he’d ruined my son’s. But my feelings didn’t matter. All that mattered was Isaac—his feelings, his state of mind, his well-being. He had to know I’d never abandon him and that now, more than ever, he had my full support.

  “You did good, son.” I patted him on the leg. “I’m proud of you, prouder than I’ve ever been. I know that wasn’t easy, not in the slightest. I just want you to know how proud I am.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered, wiping his eyes again. “When will it stop?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked softly.

  “Everything. Me hiding from Mom and the rest of the family, the detective and the case. Everything.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Hopefully it’ll all be over soon and the prophet will be put away for a very long time where he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

  “He’s not the prophet,” Isaac mumbled under his breath.

  “What’s that?” I asked, not quite hearing what he said, needing clarification.

  He turned to glare at me. “Stop calling him that. I’ve been thinking about what you said before—about how he named himself the prophet. Besides, a true prophet wouldn’t do what he did. He’s not the prophet.”

  Emotion swept through me and the tears I’d been fighting for days flowed to the surface. I leaned forward and pulled Isaac to me. “You’re right, son. He’s not.”

  He pressed his forehead into my shoulder and sobbed. And for the first time, I allowed myself to sob right along with him. I held my son tight and let my tears flow.

  “I’m sorry, Isaac.” I choked through my tears. “So, so sorry.”

  “Papa,” he wailed, his fingers clutching my shirt in tight fists. “I know you said I shouldn’t hate, but I hate him. I hate him so much I feel sick.”

  “I know, son. I do too. I despise him to my very core. I’ll never let him near you again, do you hear me? You’re safe now, you’re safe.” I pulled him tighter as we cried together.

  For several minutes, Isaac wept and I could feel my shirt grow damp when the familiar ping of my phone echoed through the truck. Isaac pulled away and pressed both of his hands to his eyes. I placed one hand on his shoulder and grabbed my phone with the other.

  -Coast is clear. Come inside now, I’ll keep watch.

  With an exhausted sigh, I turned to Isaac. “Mother Aspen said it’s time to come in. Are you ready?”

  He nodded, biting down on his lower lip. I patted his knee and gripped his kneecap.

  “Deep breaths, my boy. You can do this.”

  “Okay, Papa. I’m ready.”

  In silence, we closed our doors as quietly as possible and walked back to the bed of the truck to retrieve his two cotton duffle bags holding as many belongings as possible. We all hoped this would only be a matter of a few days and the rest of his things would remain undisturbed in his room until we could reveal his true location. Flora would want to clear away the rest of his things, but I would hold her off for as long as possible. I wanted Isaac to return to the room he remembered when all was said and done and Clarence was behind bars.

  Aspen met us at the side door that was a few short feet from my study. She said nothing but nodded as we approached and crossed through the threshold of our home. It was eerily quiet. She closed the door behind us without making a sound and followed us to the dimly lit room. Isaac was the first to enter the closet and smiled as he peered into the small space. Not only had Aspen prepared an inflatable mattress for him, but she’d covered it in fresh linens and a quilt. A few of the framed photos from his room lined a shelf she cleared and an alarm clock was on the floor next to the bed.

  I squeezed her hand. “Thank you. This is . . .”

  “It’s good,” Isaac said with a grin. “Better than I imagined.”

  “Oh good, I want you to be as comfortable as possible. Here, I’ll send you a text from my phone. You can reach me whenever you need anything, understand? Food, toiletries, anything. I signed up to clean this room all week, so no one should bother you. Aside from your father and me, that is. I’ve put fresh towels in the bathroom as well as the soap you like. There’s no shower, so you’ll have to give yourself sponge baths, unfortunately.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll be fine.”

  When Isaac was a little guy, we had to fight him to bathe. There was something about being in water that never appealed to him. He’d grown used to showers and seemed to prefer them to the baths of his toddler days, but part of me wondered if he was secretly looking forward to skipping showers for several days.

  Aspen typed away at her phone. “There, I’ve sent you my number. Don’t hesitate, all right?”

  “Thank you, Mother Aspen.”

  Aspen leaned forward and placed a kiss on Isaac’s forehead before pulling him tight. “Thank you for giving your statement tonight. That couldn’t have been easy.”

  Isaac shrugged within her arms. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  “We’re going to get through this, all of us. And once the prophet is gone, things will be better.”

  Isaac pulled away from Aspen and shook his head. Her mouth opened in confusion. “We’re not calling him that anymore.”

  “Oh.” She turned to me, tilting her head in confusion.

  I stood tall and patted my son on the back. “Isaac believes, and I agree, that Clarence Black should no longer be referred to as the prophet, since clearly he is nothing but a fraud. A wolf in sheep’s clothing who has duped us all for far too long.”<
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  Aspen’s brow relaxed and she smiled from ear to ear. She gripped both of Isaac’s shoulders and forced him to meet her eyes. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard. And I couldn’t agree more.”

  I smiled. “I thought you might.”

  And there, as we stood with my son and watched him unpack his duffle bag, Aspen took my hand in hers for the first time in years. She took my hand and squeezed it, and I thought I might fall apart. She saw the conflict in my eyes and paused for a second before wishing Isaac a night of pleasant dreams. She then led me out of the room, closing the door behind her. We walked back to her bedroom. She closed the door behind us and locked it. She turned to face me. Her face was so beautiful, even when concerned—like I knew she was. She was worried about me since I’d come quite close to losing my composure in front of Isaac. Every emotion I had inside me was threatening to come to the surface.

  I’m drowning, Aspen. Save me.

  “Let it out,” she said, placing one hand on my cheek. “Dear Paul, just let it out.”

  Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I attempted to hold it together. I didn’t want to cry in front of Aspen, the woman who consumed my dreams and captured my heart like no other woman had in all my years. I wanted to stay strong for her, but her invitation to let go took over and the tears formed in my eyes. I placed my hand over my mouth and closed my eyes tight as the sobs overtook me and my lungs shook with worry for Isaac, devastation for my family, and anxiety that Clarence might never be brought to justice despite all our efforts.

  “It’s all my fault,” I muttered. “It’s all my fault. Ruthie, Isaac, all of it. It’s all my fault, Aspen. If I’d just listened to you months ago, none of this would be happening.”

  “You don’t know that.” Aspen slid into me and wrapped her arms around my back, pulling me closer as I wailed.

  “Shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay. You’re okay. We’re all going to be okay. Ruthie, Isaac, me . . . all of us are going to be fine. We’ll get through this. We will.”

  I pulled away from her, wiping my tears away with the back of my sleeve. I shook my head in earnest. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re my husband.”

  “I abandoned you, Aspen. When you needed me most, where was I?”

  She shook her head. “That’s in the past.”

  “No, it’s not.” I raised my voice. “You shouldn’t brush it away so easily. No! Aspen, you should demand an apology. You deserve an apology of the highest order.”

  “Fine, then.” She tipped her chin forward. “Consider it demanded.”

  I cracked a smile—one of those tension-breaking smiles that you do despite yourself.

  “Aspen.”

  She shook her head and placed her hands on her hips. “Look, I was furious with you for such a long time. And you know what? It was exhausting and isolating. I’m done being angry. I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Aspen, I could apologize every day for the rest of our lives and I still don’t think I’ll be worthy of your forgiveness. I deserted you in your darkest hour. I took my love away when you needed me the most. I forced you to seek help from someone else.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “You did. I won’t deny that.”

  “And that someone else knows you in a way that I don’t . . . and that kills me.”

  Aspen was quiet. She glanced down at the floor before meeting my eyes. “I had nowhere else to go.”

  “I know. And I know it’s my fault. If I had helped you, you would never have gone to him. And he wouldn’t have a place in our lives. He wouldn’t have a place,” I hesitated, but then realized it needed be said. This was the time. “In our marriage.”

  Aspen recoiled and shook her head passionately. “He doesn’t.”

  “Aspen, be truthful. Please, now is the time.”

  She paced the room for a moment before speaking. “All right, fine.”

  “Tell me.”

  “He made me feel safe.” She shrugged. “He did.”

  “I understand.”

  “And that feeling of safety, it—it was pervasive. It morphed into a friendship, at first. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t develop feelings.”

  A knife twisted in my gut, but I knew I’d handed her that knife. And not only that, I’d forced her hand to stab my flesh. It was me . . . all of it.

  Aspen’s eyebrows were furrowed as she studied my face.

  “Go on.”

  “But those feelings, they could never and would never compare to how I feel for you, Paul. When we first married, I didn’t understand them. Frankly, I don’t think I understood them until the day you told me I was no longer your wife, that I was simply the mother of your child. That was the day I lost you. And the day I realized why that hurt so deeply.”

  “I’ll hate myself forever for that day.”

  “No, please don’t. It took losing you for me to realize how I truly felt. Jonathan has been a gift from Heavenly Father, he has. He’s a wonderful man who cares for me deeply.”

  “I saw that for myself.” I shook my head. “And it killed me.”

  “But he knows I don’t feel the same, and it hasn’t stopped his desire to help us. He’s a good man, Paul. What he didn’t understand, though, is that no matter what Clarence Black may do, no matter what living hell he may put us through, I believe in Heavenly Father and I believe in you. I know you were the man I was meant to spend my life with. I don’t want you all to myself, and frankly, I never will. My faith and my belief in plural marriage are permanently locked together. Are you okay with that? Can you handle having me as only one of your wives?”

  I paused and thought of my other wives, my other children. There was a time in our relationship when I could have walked away from Flora, Sarah, and all my other wives, my other children. But not anymore. The thought of never seeing Sarah again was especially painful. I answered honestly.

  “Yes, I can. I believe in plural marriage too. I believe in our faith and no one, not even Clarence Black can change that.”

  She sighed with a satisfied nod. “That’s good to hear.”

  “I’ve put you through so much, Aspen. How on earth can you stand there and absolve me so easily? I expected you to be furious with me, to punish me for all the ways I’ve wronged you over the past few months.”

  She shook her head and placed a hand on each of my cheeks, her blue eyes flaring as her pupils widened. “I was furious, but my need for you outweighed my anger. It always has.”

  My eyes grew misty with that statement. I closed them tight and nodded. “I’m so grateful for that.”

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to offer your support, your love, your solidarity. You have no idea just how long I’ve prayed to Heavenly Father to have you back.”

  I shook my head as the shame crept back into my brain. “I can only imagine.”

  “And that, my dear husband, is why I can excuse every sin you’ve committed against our marriage vows. Because I’m so desperate to have you with me again, so thirsty for your support, that I just don’t care. I don’t care about what happened last week, last month, or last year. I just don’t care because my husband has returned. He’s not seeing through me; he’s not ignoring the sound of my voice. He’s present. And he believes me. And he’s going to help me. We’re going to face this together. That’s an unbelievable feeling, and you have no idea how long I’ve waited for it.”

  A laugh escaped my lips and I pulled her close. “I’ll be grateful for your forgiveness until my dying day.” I kissed each of her cheeks and then her forehead, her neck, her chin. Her muscles didn’t tense at my touch and I knew, right then and there, that her words were true. She loved me as much as I loved her. She missed me as badly as I missed her.

  “Until my dying day,” I whispered after placing gentle kisses along the neckline of her dress.

  “Paul?” she asked, her chest heaving beneath the he
avy fabric. I raised my eyes to meet hers.

  “Yes?”

  “Kiss me,” she whispered, her breathing labored. She was turned on by my touch; she wanted more. There was nothing sexier than when Aspen wanted more. “Kiss me the way you used to . . . kiss me like you did when we first . . . when we first—”

  I didn’t need another invitation, in that second I claimed her mouth with my own and wrapped my arms around her tiny waist and pulled her close. With each hungry kiss, I could feel her passion match my own. I savored the feel of her, the softness of her lips and the greedy nature of her tongue. I sighed at her fingertips dancing through my hair as she pulled me toward her bed.

  Her hands slid down to unbutton the top button of my shirt and, stunned, I pulled away slightly. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, licking her lips. “Absolutely certain. I want to give myself to you, Paul. I want to be your wife again . . . in every sense of the word.”

  “I want that, too. More than you could ever know.”

  I watched as Aspen stripped herself of her restrictive clothes, never breaking eye contact with me. It was the most seductive thing I’d ever had the honor of watching. Her full breasts and hips enticed as her braid hung over her shoulder. I motioned toward the bottom of her braid.

  “May I?” I was eager to see her hair outside of its mandated braid. This wasn’t something I generally asked of my wives, but I wanted to see her, all of her, as naked as she came into this world. I wanted to see Aspen in her most beautiful, natural state.

  “Of course.” She nodded and turned away from me. I released the braid from the rubber band that held it in place at the bottom. Gently and deliberately, I pulled the braided hair apart until it hung in waves down her back.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I said, running my fingers through her thick tresses for the very first time. It was softer than I’d imagined, and I loved the feel of it against my fingertips.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, nuzzling my neck as she unbuttoned my shirt.

  Our lovemaking was urgent as we tugged at one another, gasped for air, and cried out in sheer ecstasy. When I found my release, I looked down at my wife as tears spilled from her eyes. “Did I hurt you?” I asked, nervous our urgency had been too urgent. That perhaps I’d been too rough, too unaware, too lost in myself to notice her pain.