I couldn’t see straight knowing that every week for months, Flora had gone behind my back to update the prophet on the events of our household. The one person who didn’t need to know the ins and outs of my home was informed of everything. Everything.
“Paul, speak to me.”
“I can’t even look at you.”
“Oh for goodness sake,” she said in her all-too-dismissive tone. No one’s concerns mattered as much as her own. The rage in my gut mounted. All I could see was red. “You’re overreact—”
I stepped toward her and pointed my index finger at her, inches from her nose. “Stop right there. You’re lucky you’re a woman . . . otherwise, I could not be held responsible for the damage I might do,” I seethed.
“What?” she said, taking a step back. “How could you say that?”
“What you did . . . what you’re doing is unforgivable. Don’t you understand that? Can’t you get that through your head?”
“But, I—”
“Stop talking!” I yelled, my fists clenched as I stepped toward her. She cowered in fear and I caught myself. I took a step back, opening my hands and forcing myself to breathe deeply. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest, I thought it might jump right out of my throat. I needed to get away from her. “I have to go.”
“Paul, wait.”
“And you can tell Clarence all about this conversation when you check in. Tell him that I hope he burns in hell.”
“Paul! That’s our prophet.”
“He may be yours, but he’s not mine.” I shook my head. “And the fact that you can’t see how deplorable your actions are speaks volumes. Shame on you, Flora. Shame on you.”
Her mouth dropped open and I turned away from her, walking back home, my cheeks flaring and adrenaline coursing through my veins. Just when I thought I had everything under control, the rug was ripped out from under me. All conflict led back to Clarence and it made me sick. This diabolical man had to be stopped.
Quickly I sent a text to Aspen.
-We need to talk. Now.
And then I sent one to Detective Cooke.
-How close are we to a warrant?
Aspen met me at the front door, concern stretched across her face. “What is it?”
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Verbal diarrhea spewed from my mouth as we walked away from the house, and Aspen’s face grew pale as she listened to my account of Flora’s meeting with the prophet. When I finished my diatribe, we walked in silence.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m surprised.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No, I mean . . . why didn’t she let him reassign me?”
“What?”
“That woman has despised me for years. Why didn’t she seize the opportunity?”
“I have no idea. But I’m worried about Isaac. What if she knows he’s hiding? She would tell Clarence, if she hasn’t already. I don’t think he’s safe in the house.”
“Should we send him to stay with Jonathan?”
“Absolutely not,” I snapped and felt bad as soon as the words left my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Aspen waved my apology away. “I understand your hesitation. He’s still an outsider.”
“Exactly, but I think I know where he could stay.”
“Where?”
“With my mother.”
Aspen raised her hand to her mouth and bit down on one of her fingernails. “I know your mother means well, but—”
“We can trust her, Aspen. In fact, I think she may be the only person we can trust. Clarence hates her with a passion and no longer visits her house.”
“But she has caregivers. Won’t they see Isaac and report back to him?”
“I think it’s worth the risk. He’s not safe in my study. Someone is bound to find him, I can feel it in my gut. Something is telling me we have to move him.”
“There’s something else we should discuss.”
A knot formed in my stomach. I didn’t think I could handle any more conflict. I was getting dangerously close to exploding from the current load of conflict on my shoulders.
“When I was working with Jonathan, Clarence’s wife Holly volunteered to help us.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. It was satisfying to hear one of his own wives was conspiring behind his back. Quite satisfying, in fact.
“Yes.”
“Can you trust her? Or do you think Clarence put her up to it?”
“No, I do. I didn’t trust her at first, but she’s had months to rat me out and she’s done nothing of the sort.”
“Okay . . .” I was waiting for the punch line. Why was Aspen telling me about this now?
“She knows about Isaac, though. And she’s been texting me to ask what happened. And I haven’t responded. In fact, I’ve been avoiding her for almost a week and it’s eating at me. I don’t want her to think I’m evading her.”
“I see.”
“And so I had to speak with you first, I had to know if it was all right to involve her.”
“I don’t want her to know what happened to Isaac. That’s his story to tell, not mine.”
She nodded. “I understand. I’ll just tell her what we told the rest of the family. He was caught disobeying the rules of our community and has since been asked to leave.”
“Thank you.” I took her hand in mine. “I know it’s difficult for you to be dishonest, but we owe it to Isaac.”
“Don’t say another word. Everyone will know the truth soon enough, right?”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “I can’t wait for that day.”
“Then I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s go see Jorjina.”
My mother sat with bated breath as we told her everything that was happening with Clarence. We told her about Isaac sleeping in the walk-in closet and she cringed.
“Of course he can stay here. Don’t give that another thought.”
“What about your caregivers?”
“He stopped sending them after our . . . confrontation.”
“Confrontation? What confrontation?”
“Let’s just say your brother and I are no longer speaking. And frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t sent me away to live in the outside world.”
“What are you talking about?”
Mother waved me away. “The details aren’t necessary. We had an argument that turned ugly. I’m banned from his home, and he’s banned from mine. Your son will be perfectly safe here.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Aspen leaned into Mother’s arms, hugging her tight. “Thank you, Jorjina. Thank you.”
“Of course, dear. My heart is breaking for Isaac, for you, for little Ruthie.”
Aspen pulled away. “Well, little Ruthie has gotten too big for her own britches as of late.”
“Ah, royalty is calling.” Mother gave a nod. “It happens with most of his young brides. Unfortunately, it’s perfectly normal.”
“Well, that may be, but it’s unacceptable to me. It’s giving her quite the attitude, and she expects everyone to bow at her feet. It’s mortifying to watch her behave this way.”
“The sooner she’s out of his clutches, the better,” Mother said. “How long do we have until the wedding?”
“Just shy of three weeks. We’re down to the wire.”
“Detective Cooke should have a warrant soon, though. And when that happens, she’ll never have to marry him.”
Aspen nodded. “Exactly. Just a few more days, we hope. Thank you for helping us, we’re so grateful.”
“Of course, bring him this evening and I’ll be ready.”
Mother nodded, attempting to look strong, but instead her eyes looked pained, as if this discussion alone had aged her several years. Clarence’s evil wasn’t just affecting my family, it was killing my mother. His shame was a plague on her body and on her soul as she was the one who raise
d this abomination of a human being.
“And if there’s anything else I can do, don’t hesitate. I may be an old woman, but I still have my wits about me. Maybe I can be of some use. Justice is calling Clarence’s name and I’m more than happy to aid in that call.”
Aspen and I left my mother’s home feeling a slight rebound of morale after my argument with Flora. That night, we would move Isaac to my mother’s home where he would be safe from prying eyes. As we opened the gate, a text came through to both of our phones.
“Interesting,” I said as we reached for our respective cells. Aspen glanced at hers first, then met my eyes with a smile. I looked down and my smile matched hers.
It was from Detective Cooke.
-With the judge now. We should have the warrant within 48 hrs. Hold tight, we’re almost there.
Chapter 26
Isaac’s stomach growled with an intensity he wasn’t used to. He squirmed beneath his quilt and stared at the tiny pieces of popcorn on the ceiling, attempting to count them. But they were terribly unorganized and didn’t follow any sort of pattern, which frustrated his brain that craved order and reason.
Growl.
There it went again. He wasn’t used to waiting for his meals like this. In fact, he was usually the first child to enter the kitchen each morning at six thirty on the dot, the very moment it was officially “open” per Mother Flora’s house rules. Today it was past seven o’clock and he was waiting for Mother Aspen to bring his breakfast. He knew she had to wait for cleanup to begin, that it was the only safe time to sneak away with food in her pockets, but his stomach wasn’t communicating well with his brain. He wanted to eat. Badly.
Where did I leave off? he asked himself as he returned his focus to the ceiling, trying in vain to find the last popcorn piece he’d counted before his stomach interrupted his concentration.
Eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five . . .
He heard the door to the study open and close and his stomach jumped for joy. Mother Aspen had brought him food. As instructed by his father, he climbed from under the covers and stood against the wall where the door would swing open. Again, just in case.
Those words, just in case, were three words he’d almost never heard during his first seventeen years. However, in the past few days, they were used dozens of times. Thirty-seven, to be exact. Isaac loved counting, keeping track, making note of obscurities and differences to his routine. His mother said one day he might be an accountant for the prophet.
“He always needs someone with a sharp mind,” she’d say to him on the regular. But not anymore. Those days were gone.
Still, Isaac loved numbers and hoped one day he’d be able to use them in his career. The thought of working construction like his father, his older brothers, and most of the men on the compound didn’t appeal to him. No, he wanted to wear a suit to work, to have his own computer, and to focus on the numbers.
Numbers were easy, people were harder.
The door swung open. “Isaac?” Mother Aspen whispered, and he slipped out from behind the door and raised one hand, his lips pressed together in a polite smile.
“Good morning,” she said, reaching into her deep pockets and pulling out two small clementine oranges, his very favorite fruit. She winked as she placed them in his hand. Isaac watched to see what the other pocket held. Mother Aspen removed a bagel wrapped in a cloth napkin. Isaac could smell the cinnamon and raisins. Again his favorite. He loved that Mother Aspen took the time to not only keep him fed, but made sure to bring the foods he preferred.
“Thank you.”
“I wasn’t able to get a drink this time, but you still have a cup from yesterday, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, I’ll fill it up in the bathroom. Sit tight.”
Isaac sat cross-legged on the floor and dove into the bagel. His teeth pierced the crunchy exterior and he sighed with satisfaction as he tasted the melty cream cheese and warm raisins. By the time Mother Aspen returned, he’d finished half of it.
“Oh for goodness sake, I forget what an appetite you have. I’ll try to bring you a snack in a couple of hours, too. I don’t want you losing weight; you’re skin and bones as it is.”
“Thanks. That would be nice.”
Mother Aspen smiled then retrieved her phone from her pocket. A look of dread formed on her face. Isaac wasn’t the best at reading people’s expressions, but Mother Aspen’s were always more animated than any of his other mothers. He could always read hers, and this time was no exception. She was upset.
“What is it?” he asked between bites.
“Your father needs to see me right away. Will you be okay?”
“Is that all it says?”
“Yeah.” She nodded, biting down on her lip. “Your father made a mistake last night, after we got you settled, and Mother Flora is pretty furious with him. They went for a walk a bit ago and he probably just wants to vent.”
“But you look scared.”
She shrugged and released an uncomfortable laugh that made Isaac squirm. “That’s an emotion I’ve gotten quite accustomed to these days.”
Isaac nodded as he took another bite and washed it down with his water. Even though he was quite skilled at reading Mother Aspen, knowing how to respond to her was something else entirely. He didn’t have a clue what to say. Luckily, Mother Aspen usually let him off the hook.
“I’m going to find him.”
“All right.”
“I hope I didn’t worry you,” Mother Aspen said, her eyebrows pulling together.
Isaac shrugged. “Nah, I’m fine. I’ll just eat my food.”
“Okay, sweet boy. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Isaac drained the cup and took another bite of his bagel as Aspen quietly left the room. The cream cheese stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he knew it was time to refill his cup. He grabbed the plastic cup, hopped to his feet, and opened the door of the closet. As soon as it was open, however, he wished he could turn back time, to slink back into the closet and hold his breath.
There in the doorway of the study stood Aspen’s daughter Ruthie, and her mouth was agape as she stared at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you got kicked out.”
“Shh,” Isaac said, panicked. His heart was racing beneath his T-shirt, and his hand trembled as he gripped the knob of the closet door.
Quickly, Ruthie closed the door of the study and stood with arms crossed in front of her, glaring at Isaac. “You’d better tell me or I’ll rat you out so fast your head will spin.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t.” She rolled her eyes. “My mother toasted a bagel, spread cream cheese on it, and then wrapped it up and put it in her pocket. She hates bagels, never touches them.”
“So?”
“So, I knew it was for someone else. And since she was acting so weird, I followed her down here. She thinks I’m organizing the pantry with Mother Pennie.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Isaac whispered, terrified someone else would find him as well. Ruthie was just a kid, so normally he wouldn’t be too concerned about her discovering him, but since she was due to marry Clarence Black, just the sight of her made his heart pound in his chest.
“I do what I want,” Ruthie said, moving her hands to her hips and cocking one hip to the side.
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
“The prophet wants you gone. So, why are they hiding you?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Didn’t you hear me? If you don’t tell me, I’ll march right over to the prophet’s house this instant and I’ll tell him exactly where you are.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, wouldn’t I?” She glared at Isaac and his stomach flipped. His hand was forced; he had no choice.
“It’s a long story, but . . . but they’re hiding me until . . .”
“Until what?”
“Until the w
arrant is ready.”
“What’s that?”
Isaac shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Ruthie raised a wicked eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”
Isaac looked around the room, attempting to stall, wishing he’d stayed put inside the closet. Wishing his little sister wasn’t such a spoiled, rotten human being.
“Isaac, tell me or else.”
“Fine, okay, we went to the police.”
“The police? Like the actual police?” She looked horrified. Her eyebrows pulled tight just like her mother’s.
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked, then pressed her eyes closed and waved her arms in front of her. “They’re trying to keep me from marrying him, aren’t they?”
Isaac weighed his options. He could spill his guts and tell her what his uncle had done to him at the temple or he could allow her to jump to her own conclusions. He decided, in the short amount of time he was given, on the latter.
“Yes.”
Ruthie threw her arms in the air and groaned. “Why is she doing this? Why can’t she let me live my life?”
“I don’t know.”
She stalked toward him, invading his personal space. He took a step back as her rant continued. “It was a revelation, Isaac. Do you know what that means? Heavenly Father wants me to marry our prophet. He wants me to be part of the chosen family. Why can’t she just be happy for me? Why does she have to make everything about herself?”
“I don’t know,” Isaac said, his hands still trembling at his sides.
“Are the police going to tell the prophet he can’t marry me? That I’m too young?”
“I think so,” Isaac said with another shrug. “I don’t really know.”
“So, why are they hiding you? What do you have to do with any of it?”
“Papa’s trying to protect me from the outside world.”
Ruthie’s face softened slightly. “That makes sense, but you deserved to be kicked out, didn’t you? I mean, if the prophet thinks so, then you must have done something bad. Like, really bad.”
“That’s what he says, but I didn’t. I promise you.”
Just Keep Sweet (The Compound Series) Page 21