by T. K. Chapin
Once inside, I downed a large cup of water and then took the informational packets from Lighthouse off the counter and took a seat at the kitchen table. Placing my reading glasses on, I began to read over the first packet.
"You, Just Better . . ." I read the title aloud, followed by a true but saddened laugh. The new age thinking that the world was feeding people these days was wrong. Opening the brochure, I began poring over the information. How the one source of all life feeds each living being on earth and how if we tap into this power of knowledge and understanding, we can tap into the true power of oneness, the true power of ourselves.
Rolling my eyes, I set the pamphlet down, bowed my head, and clasped my hands together. Lord, I don't understand how I could raise her in the church and she fell away like she has done over the last year. She knows You, Lord. She shouldn't be off in this cult. It breaks my heart, just like I know it breaks Yours. Please help. Thinking of how she had given up her job at the firm, more sadness weighed my soul down. I'm sorry, Lord. I failed so much along the way. I’m sure this is somehow my fault.
Then, like a whisper into my soul, I heard the words. Free will.
A knock come from the front door the next moment, causing me to jump. Standing up, I hurried to answer it.
It was Teresa.
Surprised to see her, I let her inside. "I thought you were in Utah for another week?"
She walked inside and kissed me on the lips. "Nope. The conference got cut short." She saw the distress written all over my face. "What's wrong?"
"Emily called."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
Nodding, I led her into the kitchen and we sat down at the table. I explained to her all that had happened. Handing her the pamphlet I was just reading, I watched as she looked it over and then opened it.
"Why didn’t you call me, Ron? I’m always available for you if you need me. You know that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I haven’t been thinking clearly.” Rubbing my forehead, I let out a sigh. “I should’ve called.”
“It’s okay.” She set the pamphlet down and leaned in slightly. “How'd she seem?"
"Miserable . . . kind of. She looked happy, but like in a brainwashed kind of way."
"Yes, it makes perfect sense."
I thought of telling her about that moment where it seemed as if Emily came alive, but I decided against it. It sounded crazy. Glancing at Henry’s face on the front of another of the pamphlets, I looked up at Teresa. "Henry is bad news. I just know it. He's one of those wolfs in sheep's clothing like we heard Pastor Clarkson talking about a couple of weeks ago. Remember that?"
She nodded, glancing down at the pamphlets on the table. "The confusing part is that she was so scared last night, and now today, she was fine when you saw her."
"Right?" Crossing my arms, I shook my head as my heart wanted to break apart. "I'm just afraid they're doing stuff to her in there. He's sick. He has all those women walking around in that compound and he’s the only guy I saw. Gross. By the time she finally gets out of there, it might be too late for her."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
LATER THAT DAY, I RECEIVED a phone call from a man interested in the old Chevy truck. We agreed to meet the next day and did so at a diner on Francis. I parked the beauty outside as we enjoyed a cup of coffee together inside. He was in his early sixties, and I couldn't help but have respect for the guy. He seemed wise and full of life. I loved hanging out with people older than me. It had a way of making me feel young again. We talked price, but we also talked about the good ole' days. We discussed how gas prices were once reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders. All things that have since seemed to vanish.
"You still got a lot miles ahead of you, Ron," Chip said, lifting his cup of coffee up to his lips for another swig.
Smiling, I took a sip of my black coffee and set it down. Rubbing the rim of the cup, I glanced up at him. "It sure doesn't feel that way some days."
"These bodies are dying, but we are growing eternally in Christ daily. God is always in the know, Ron. You must remember that always, and daily. The Bible says, 'do not be afraid' 365 times. That's once for every day in the year."
I smiled. "I didn't know that it said it that many times."
We went out to the parking lot, and I sat in the passenger seat as Chip took the truck for a spin around the block. Chip had seen my ad in the newspaper and said he was taken back to a time much more pleasant and enjoyable. He had just married his wife, Patricia, and had a baby on the way when his father gave him the same year and model of truck as a gift. Sadly, Chip had totaled the truck one nasty winter a few years ago and hadn't been able to find another until seeing my ad.
Turning the key over, the engine hummed and Chip’s eyes glowed. I could tell it meant the world to him—the memories it stirred, not the truck itself.
After the test drive, we got out and drew up the bill of sale. Handing over the keys, we shook again and the sale was over. As I got into my truck, I watched as Chip took the Chevy instead of the beat-up old Buick he drove to the diner in. Smiling, I watched as those red taillights exited the diner parking lot.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
THAT EVENING, I CAME INSIDE from working in the shop and tossed the frozen lasagna in the oven for dinner. Not more than five minutes later, as I was sitting in my recliner, a knock came on the front door, followed by Teresa walking in.
Glancing over my shoulder and around my chair, I saw her with a white plastic sack from a Chinese restaurant, and I smiled. “Did we have plans?”
She laughed and kicked the door shut behind her. “No, but I know you, Ron. I know you’re over here thinking about Emily and feeling bad about not being able to do anything.”
I smiled and flashed her a confirming nod. Standing up, I took the Chinese food from her, and she went into the kitchen to get us forks and drinks.
Sitting down on the couch, I set the food out on the coffee table and popped open the boxes. The sweet smell of the chow mein arose and mingled with the kung pao chicken and brought a smile to my face. My sweet Teresa knew me well.
When she returned into the living room with a large glass of ice water garnished with a slice of lemon, I beamed a thankful smile. Thankful that she knew me well enough to know that staying in for dinner was a treat far better than going out.
“Thanks for doing this and surprising me,” I said as she sat down beside me on the couch.
“Thank you, Ron. You’ve been the best thing to happen to me, and I just want to make you happy.”
“And you do.” Leaning over, I kissed her and took a fork from the coffee table. After I said a brief grace, we ate.
Teresa went home after dinner to pack for the day trip she had tomorrow in Colville. She was going to consult another real estate agent.
Feeling a desire for a bowl of ice cream, I went into my kitchen and to the freezer. There was only a freezer burned container of vanilla bean. Yuck. Knowing the Yokes grocery store was still open down the road, I decided to hurry down there and grab a tub before they closed.
When I came out from the store, I set the bag with the ice cream in the bed of the truck and got in. Sitting for a moment, I rested my eyes as I thought of Emily. I prayed for her. Suddenly, a knock came on my window, pulling me out of my prayer. It was a woman.
I rolled down my window and looked at her. “Yes?”
"Remember me?" she asked.
Her words jogged my memory, and I realized she was the woman I caught staring at me in the community. "Yeah. Who are you?"
"Detective Gloria Jackson."
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
DETECTIVE GLORIA JACKSON SAT ACROSS from me in the dimly lit park next to Yokes grocery store and explained to me how she and her team of investigators were investigating the Lighthouse community group for almost two years now. She also informed me that my beloved Teresa had at one time been in the community group, but she wasn't sure of her status now. It was hard for
me to believe Teresa could have been with the group at all. It didn't seem like the type of thing she'd be caught up in. I was a bit skeptical of her involvement.
"Let me get this straight. My girlfriend is or was in this cult, and you're telling me this all because . . .?"
"I recognized you when you came to see your daughter. Your face showed up about a year ago when you and Teresa started dating. Look, there's something coming called the Cresting coming up, Ron. It's not been spoken of directly to me, but everyone in the community is a bit on edge about it. They're all working sixteen-hour shifts in their duties at the various businesses to help the ‘Cresting’ go smoothly, whatever that means. All I know at this point is it involves the original pack of women, known as the Sandrosa, and your girlfriend is part of that original group."
"You've been lead detective for two years and can't figure this out on your own?"
She blinked rapidly, obviously annoyed at my words. She cleared her throat. "I've only been in the community for a couple of months now. I joined up after—" She caught herself, not revealing what was going on.
"After what?" I pressed, leaning forward.
Shaking her head, she dipped her chin. "You don't want to know, Ron."
Slamming my fist against the top of the table, my eyebrows furrowed as my blood boiled. "You don't have the right to tell me what I do or do not want to know, detective!" My tone was explosive, maybe a tad overreactive, but not only did my daughter have ties with this cult, but my girlfriend could too now. I sighed, letting my nerves settle and my muscles relax. I looked directly at the detective. "My daughter's in there. Please tell me what's going on."
"Okay." She adjusted in her seat at the picnic table and folded her hands together. "There's been twenty-seven deaths at the community total, the most being a few months ago. My going in was dangerous, but we're worried this Cresting event coming up could be another round of death, maybe bigger than ever before."
I thought of Emily. I became nauseated as fear grabbed hold of my whole being. This wasn't just any old new age cult. This was one that took lives. Those deaths Charles came across were no suicides. This cult was the type you read about in the paper or heard of on the evening news where innocent lives were lost at the hand of one delusional individual. My heart trembled along with my lips as I dared to ask the question I didn't want to really know the answer to. "How many died last time? The one from a couple of months ago?"
"Twelve."
Worry for my daughter clouded my mind. She could have died then. The thought made me shudder. This cult wasn't just brainwashing my little girl into believing lies. They were quite possibly going to kill her.
"There's no proof yet that the deaths were homicides, Ron. Technically, the coroner’s reports all have come back as suicides, but we're investigating."
That’s exactly what Charles found, I thought to myself. "Why didn’t I see this on the news? Especially the last one."
"It's being covered up, Ron."
Standing up from the picnic table, I planned to go straight to the community and kick the living snot out of that kid Henry. Gloria stood up though and followed after me, finally pulling my arm to flip me around. "You can't go there."
"Watch me."
She grabbed my shoulder again, this time forcefully digging her fingers in. "No. You don't get it. I’m warning you not to go back there again. They'll kill you. Also, I need your help."
"Why would I help you? You hid this from me and countless others who have daughters in there. The world needs to know the truth."
"Because Emily’s life depends on it."
CHAPTER FORTY
ARRIVING IN TERESA'S DRIVEWAY THE next day, I parked and prayed, then took a moment to do a few breathing exercises to calm the shakes down which had moved from just my hands into my whole body. The trembling that came with my nerves had come about after I had suffered a terrifying and almost deadly hiking trip into the mountains years ago. I had to undergo intense counseling and classes after I was eventually found, but I was diagnosed with PTSD from the week-long state of being lost in the wilderness. Some of those days were the worst days of my life. It was a miracle of God that I had survived. Through the techniques I acquired in the classes that followed, I learned how to manage myself down to a state of calmness, thus sometimes removing the trembling altogether.
Once relaxed, I peered up the cobblestone walkway that led up to Teresa’s house. I prayed, "God, give me strength to do this." I had to keep strong for Emily, for all those daughters, sisters, and mothers who were stuck inside that Lighthouse community.
Getting up to the front door, I gave a couple of knocks just in case she was home and her car was parked in the garage. As I waited, I thought about the day trip she had gone on. I knew she shouldn't be back until five this evening. Checking my watch, I relaxed a little seeing it was barely nine o’clock. I glanced over my shoulder as the memory of her arriving at my house a week early pushed to the surface. She had a tendency for showing up early. My hand began to shake, and I grabbed it, taking a deep breath.
Satisfied with no answer, I let myself in with the key she gave me at our six-month anniversary. Maneuvering quickly through the foyer, I headed up the stairs to her bedroom. As I went through each drawer at her desk, I felt a layer of dirtiness settle across the skin of my soul. This doesn't feel right, I thought to myself as I moved aside a picture of Teresa and what appeared to be her mother from some twenty or so years ago.
Coming to a purple envelope, my eyes widened as I saw the symbol for Lighthouse on the front of it, the small white beacon. I had been skeptical to believe the detective's words. Now, I knew they were true. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, my heart raced.
Grabbing the envelope from the drawer, I pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a heavy weighted paper. Pulling it out, I unfolded it.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
THE FONT WAS GOLD AND the paper's color was beige. As I began to read, clarity for the truth began to set into my soul, uncomfortable as it was.
The Cresting
With Death Comes New Life
Sandrosa women are to be present on July 24th for the opening ceremonies. It's through the sacrifice of a few that the greater majority can grow in greatness.
Sincerely yours forever,
H
My heart pounded as disgust and horror filled me. My stomach flipped. Sacrifices? The twenty-fourth? That was in only a week. I was about to turn and run for the door when I realized there was still something more in the envelope. Another note. Pulling it out, I saw this one was written on a small stationary, and in ink, hand-written for Teresa directly.
The progress you have made with Mya's father is brilliant. You make me proud. Keep up the good work and please do not let him interfere with the coming Cresting. Once a Sandrosa woman, always a Sandrosa. Remember that.
Forever,
Henry
My legs were like Jell-O, and I quickly took a few steps to Teresa's bed nearby. I sat. She wasn't only a part of this cult. She was one of the originals. Just how much of our relationship was fake and for Henry? All of it? The thoughts began to swirl in a violent storm within me as I became angrier as the betrayal set into me.
Recognizing it said Mya, not Emily a moment later, I thought for a second, then I remembered. Back at the courtyard in the community, that woman. She called Emily Mya. Tears started to fall and splash against the ink on the second note. My heart felt like it was in a vice, and my throat burned as if it were on fire. Suddenly, I heard the front door shut.
I froze.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“RONALD?” HER BETRAYING VOICE CARRIED up the stairs and into my ears.
My heart raced with adrenaline as I felt both hands begin to shake. Shooting off a few breathing tricks, I tried to calm myself as I looked around, confused as to what to do.
"I saw your car parked outside." Her voice weakened as it sounded as if she went into a different room downstairs.
Fumbling with the notes, I quickly shoved them into the envelope and then into my back pocket. I closed the drawer carefully and quietly. I could hear her feet now coming up the wood steps and I trembled. Turning, I saw the window. A part of me wanted to dive right through it, but I knew if I did that, I'd not only jeopardize myself but Emily too.
I took another deep breath, relaxing that final nerve-racked part of me, and said, "Yes, dear. I'm in here." Quietly and with speed, I tiptoed over and climbed onto the bed, crossing my legs just before she entered the room.
"There you are." She smiled. "You know we aren't supposed to hang out in here."
I smiled as I felt confused to why she'd care about my beliefs when Henry was, in fact, her lover. Church and my God had to be all just a silly game to her. My eyes fell to hers, and it hurt to look upon those once precious gems. She was my betrayer. It took almost a constant flow of prayers and pushing the thoughts of the notes from my mind to keep calm, to keep myself from freaking out and telling her what I knew.
"I know we're not supposed to be in here,” I finally said. “I just stopped by to take a nap because I was missing you after such a lovely time last night."
She came over to the bed and curled up next to me, a smile on her face. Snuggling up to my chin, she came in close and let her lips gently touch mine. The sweet smell of her scent and the feeling of her lips against mine were both pleasure and pain. I kissed her back, forgetting for a moment of the letters I had found. Maybe a part of me wanted it to not have really happened.
Soon, I couldn’t help but think of Henry, think of Lighthouse and the notes. Nausea filled me as we continued to kiss. Stopping, I gently pushed her away. "Honey, my stomach hurts. I think I might go home and lie down for a bit."
"Oh, okay." She sat up, letting me free.