Looking for Cassandra Jane (The Second Chances Novels)

by Melody Carlson

  During that week following Christmas (while I was enjoying Sky’s “attentions” and playing coy and hard to get) a strange and unexpected visitor came to “The Promised Land.” By then we had locking security gates so that no one could just drive right in (although we didn’t have the barbed wire or guard dogs yet—these would come later). But this visitor just parked his car right out there on the road and somehow (I’m still not sure how) scaled the front fence and walked right up and knocked on the front door.

  I remember hearing the commotion from where I was working in the kitchen, and with dish towel still in hand and my long gingham apron tied snugly around my waist, I came out to see what was going on. And there, to my utter amazement, stood my dear old friend Joey Divers.

  Twenty-one

  “Joey!” I cried out in delighted surprise. But then I stopped myself as I noticed how Sky was scowling darkly at our unexpected “guest.”

  “Cass!” exclaimed Joey, a big smile breaking across his face. Then he turned to Sky. “I thought you said she wasn’t here.”

  “I said she wasn’t here,” Sky waved his hand around the room. “I didn’t say she wasn’t in the kitchen.”

  “Whatever,” said Joey, turning his attention back to me. “I came to see if you’d like me to take you home.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You know, break you free, get you out of here.” He turned and grinned defiantly at all the faces now staring at him. I could see Mountain sizing him up, probably taking in his slight build, his leg brace and cane. Joey was dressed neatly, collegiate as usual, and I’m sure the brothers and sisters thought he looked like an establishment nerd. “Hey, Mitch. Hey, Cindy,” he said as he noticed River and Breeze standing over by the sofa. “How are you guys doing?”

  “Their names are River and Breeze,” said Sky in a serious, almost seething, tone.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about your name-game thing.” Joey turned back to me. “What’s your name now, Cass?”

  “Her name’s Rainbow,” said Sky, taking a step toward Joey. “And I’d like to ask you to leave. Maybe you didn’t notice, but we have our road gated for a reason, and you’re on private property.”

  “I didn’t see a warning or a sign or anything stating that,” said Joey in a matter-of-fact voice. “However, I did see the sign that said The Promised Land,’ and I thought, hey, that sounds like an open invitation to any believer. Besides, I wasn’t planning on staying on, Sky. I just thought I’d drop by and say hey.”

  “How did you find this place?” asked Sky with narrowed eyes.

  “Sara told me all about it.” I sensed by the crease in Joey’s brow that Sara had told him a lot. “And she gave me directions. She’s doing just great, by the way.”

  He turned and studied me again. I could tell he was curious about our strange homemade dresses and bare feet. (We never wore shoes in the house, and only wore them outside during the cold months.)

  “Maybe I could just take you for a ride, Cass. Maybe we could drive into town and get a burger or something—and just chat.” He looked hopeful.

  “Well, I—”

  “Rainbow,” said Sky in a calm but firm tone, “you know you are free to do as you choose. But if you choose to leave us right now, even to take a little ride, then you are choosing to disobey. And as a result you separate yourself from our fellowship. And you know what that means.”

  Then he stepped over and placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. It was the first public display of affection he had shown to me (or any other sister, for that matter—besides Moonlight, that is) and I suppose in some way it felt like a small victory to me. Okay, a very mixed and messy sort of victory.

  “I appreciate you coming, Joey…” I stopped, finding myself staring into his earnest and familiar brown eyes. It was funny how they looked just slightly bigger behind the lenses of his wire-rimmed glasses. And suddenly I couldn’t even remember what I’d been about to say.

  “…but why don’t you just be on your way,” finished Sky in a cold tone.

  “Is that what you want, Cass?” Joey’s eyes locked with mine.

  I’m sure I must’ve looked like that old proverbial doe who was caught in the headlights just then. Should I run to the left or to the right or freeze and take whatever was hurling in my direction? Which way should I go?

  Then Sky gave me a gentle squeeze and spoke in an understanding tone. “It’s okay, Rainbow. I’m sure that this visit is very upsetting to you.”

  I swallowed and nodded, searching for words.

  “Cass?” said Joey again, still standing his ground, although I could see that Mountain was moving in closer to him, a show of force perhaps, or maybe just getting ready to escort him out the door.

  “This is my home, Joey,” I said in a small voice that didn’t even convince me.

  “Then why don’t you just come out and take a quick little ride with me?”

  I felt tears in my eyes then, and I seriously considered accepting his offer. I could bolt out the door with him… but when it was all said and done, where would I really go? What would I do? Joey was still in college, had a life of his own—did he think he could take care of me and continue his schooling? “Thanks anyway, Joey—” I choked on the words and looked down at my bare feet.

  “Which means, ‘No thanks,’” said Sky firmly. “Now we won’t keep you any longer.”

  And that’s when Mountain pushed open the door and escorted Joey outside and down the path and onto the road and past the gate and into his blue car, which finally drove away.

  It only occurred to me much later that evening, as I cried silently in bed, that Joey had driven a very long way just to come and find me here. I knew he must be on his Christmas vacation, home from college for a couple weeks.

  To think he had wasted his time and gasoline on a useless cross-country trip, and on me.

  Twenty-two

  Just before the New Year, Sky made an announcement. “All sisters must be present during the birthing process,” he told us as we gathered around him one evening. “For this is God’s way of showing each one of you what you can expect when your time comes.”

  All the sisters nodded in agreement, and all seemed fairly convinced that their time would indeed come. All except for me, that is. I wasn’t sure about the idea of having a baby just yet, and besides that, I knew how my own mama had died as a result of childbirth, and according to the natural childbirth book, daughters often had birth experiences similar to their mother’s. That alone was enough to put the fear of God (or was it man?) within me.

  As a result of my diligent study of the natural childbirth book (I knew it both forward and backward by then) I was deemed the “official” midwife shortly before Moonlight was due to go into labor. I felt a mixture of emotions about my new responsibility. Part of me wanted to run screaming in the opposite direction, but another part was just slightly curious as to what an actual human childbirth might be like. (During my short stint at the Crowleys I had witnessed the birth of a calf and had found this experience grotesquely interesting and somewhat exhilarating.) Naturally, I knew it would be different with humans, but sometimes I almost forgot that Moonlight was human. Now this is not to suggest I wished her any ill during her birthing process, and I did try to control my thoughts when I would unexpectedly envision her dying during childbirth (this is what jealousy can do to a person).

  Moonlight’s contractions started around four o’clock. “Just strong enough to interrupt my afternoon nap,” she told us nonchalantly at dinner. As usual her appetite was unaffected. Shortly after dinner her water broke and the sisters gathered in her room, ready to witness the special event. Some of us sat on the bed, others on the floor, but an air of excited anticipation filled the air. Even Breeze, although she seemed uneasy, participated in the pre-birth chatter. After only a couple hours of what seemed only mild discomfort accompanied by some general groaning and complaining, Moonlight said she thought it was time to push.
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  “But you haven’t been in labor long enough to start pushing yet,” I argued.

  “Look, Rainbow,” she said between clenched teeth, in the midst of a strong contraction. “I’m the one having this baby—” She took in a breath and glared at me with fiery eyes. “And if I say it’s time, then it’s time to push!” And then she let loose with a whole string of expletives and swearwords that I hadn’t heard used in almost a year. I wondered if she’d have to get down on her knees and ask forgiveness afterwards.

  “Let her push,” said Venus, as if she knew all about birthing babies.

  “Fine,” I snapped. “Go ahead and push. Just don’t forget to do your breathing when you’re pushing. And don’t blame me if you get yourself all worn out before it’s really time.”

  Moonlight was wearing an old flowered housedress that I’m sure Sky must’ve picked up at some thrift shop in town. When she started to push she hiked the dress up in order to grab hold of her knees, thus exposing her enormous rotund abdomen to all. I don’t know about the other sisters, but I’m sure my jaw must’ve dropped several inches when I saw that huge, white belly come out—why, it looked just like a full moon! And I suppose that’s when I began to giggle.

  “Shut up!” screamed Moonlight as her eyebrows came together and her face went from red to magenta. Then she gave another big push. Breeze punched me in the arm, and I immediately got control, reminding myself that this was serious.

  Focusing my attention on the contractions, I continued to coach Moonlight, trying to get her to wait until each contraction was at its peak before she pushed. And just before nine o’clock, with Moonlight now screaming and crying and cussing like a sailor, she managed to push out a slippery, wet mass of life that proved to be an actual living baby!

  I’m sure I was in shock as I caught the infant in the towel that I had ready for it, and my hands trembled as I wiped the squirming baby’s mouth and nose clean with a damp washcloth. But when the baby began to howl with what sounded like a fairly healthy set of lungs, I must admit to just totally losing it. My earlier cool was completely lost as tears poured down my cheeks. Maybe it was pure relief or emotional exhaustion or just plain amazement. I think we were all crying by then, and it seemed a natural reaction. I reckon it’s just something about the birth of a baby that gets to you like that. To this day, I still cry at a birthing, and I still believe it’s one of God’s most amazing miracles in life.

  As I was wiping my hands it occurred to me that, fair or not, Moonlight had once again been “blessed” with a relatively easy labor and the uncomplicated delivery of Sky’s firstborn son. Just another one of those many injustices of life, I thought to myself as I observed Breeze staring blankly at the healthy newborn.

  And so, on the second of January, just one year to the day since we’d first embarked upon our journey to “The Promised Land,” the first child of the second generation was born into our unusual family.

  I felt almost light-headed as I left, relieved to escape that metallic smell that permeated the birthing room. I discovered Stone and River sitting nervously in the living room (a world away from the claustrophobic confines of Moonlight and Sky’s bedroom) both anxiously awaiting the news. With pride I told them Moonlight had just delivered a healthy baby boy and they both lifted their hands and praised God. I saw River’s face visibly relax, and I felt sure that (like Breeze) he’d been reliving their unfortunate birthing experience only two months earlier.

  “Where’s Sky?” I asked as I glanced around the corner and into the empty dining room. I’d expected to tell him first.

  “I think the rest of the brothers are working on something out in the barn,” said Stone. Clearing his throat, he returned to reading his Bible.

  And so I went out in search of our new “daddy,” anxious to share this good news. But when I pushed open the barn door, I noticed a blue cloud of smoke in a dimly lit corner and I was about to scream “Fire!” when I heard Sky’s voice calling to me.

  “Rainbow?”

  I peered through the haze to see Sky and Mountain and our two new brothers all sitting on hay bales in the smoke-filled corner. A kerosene lamp barely illuminated their shapes. “What’s going on?” I asked as I cautiously moved toward them. “It looks like there’s been a fire or something.”

  Then they just laughed. And I mean, really laughed. Like I had said something outrageously funny. But as I got closer I could see they were smoking! And I immediately recognized that almost putrid, sweet, green smell. It wasn’t tobacco, but marijuana! At first I felt confused like maybe I’d just gone back in time, but then I realized where I was and who I was with, and then I felt betrayed—like another part of my little world had just been drop-kicked and was now spinning totally out of control.

  “You—you guys are smoking pot,” I finally said.

  “Yeah,” said Mountain. “Want a drag?”

  I shook my head. “Isn’t that sinful?”

  Sky stood now, waving me over to him. “Come here, little one.” He looked slightly off-balanced and placed his hand on my shoulder, probably to help steady himself. “Listen, Rainbow,” he said slowly, as if I were a half-wit who might not fully understand. “We’ve studied this. And marijuana is not a sin. You see, there’s a verse in the Bible that says everything that grows on this beautiful earth has been put here by God and is to be used for our benefit.”

  “Yeah,” said Mountain, “and we happen to think grass is pretty beneficial.”

  Everyone just cracked up over that. Everyone but me. I didn’t know what to say or even to think. It’s as if everything had just been turned upside down. Finally, I remembered why I had come out to the barn in the first place. “Sky,” I said soberly, hoping to get his attention. “Moonlight just gave birth to a healthy son.”

  Then they all began to whoop and congratulate themselves, as if each one there had been personally responsible. I just shook my head and left. I don’t know when Sky finally came into the house to see his newborn son that evening, but I knew I’d had enough for one night. I sneaked off to bed without waiting up for devotions (which were already running late anyway due to birthing babies and pot parties).

  As I lay in my bed that night, I still remember being unable to say my prayers. And for the first time in a long time, I seriously began to doubt God. At first I doubted that he really cared about any of us. Then I doubted that he had actually led us to the farm. And finally I began to doubt that he even existed at all. It was a dark, sick feeling, taking root inside me, invisible perhaps, but real just the same.

  I’d like to be able to say that it was then and there—at that particular moment—when I came to my senses. That I finally woke up and realized that coming to “The Promised Land” had been nothing but a great big stupid mistake. But unfortunately, some of us don’t learn our lessons quite that easily. And the life I’d lived as a young child may have instilled a certain stubborn quality into me—a downright bullheadedness that wasn’t too easily knocked out. Besides, where would I go anyway? No Joey Divers was going to show up to rescue me now.

  Had it only been a week ago that he’d come by? Had he really even come, or had I just imagined the whole thing? And if he had come, why hadn’t I been smart enough or strong enough to go with him, despite what Sky had said? What if Joey really had been God’s escape route for me? What if I had blown it?

  Suffice it to say that I lived and moved in something of a trance during the next couple months. Perhaps it was simply a survival mode, a remnant of those ever-important skills I’d learned so early in life: Do your chores, keep a low profile, don’t rock the boat—and maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it through this thing called life. Or not. And so I became the great pretender, working hard in the kitchen to placate Venus and Sky and putting on phony “spiritual airs” whenever necessary, but the cold, hard truth was, I was dead inside.

  It was during this era that I began to really fear Sky—or maybe the power he seemed to hold over me and everyone else. And I kn
ew that I’d somehow fallen down in the pecking order. For whatever reason, I was low woman on the totem pole now (and women were already so much lower than men at the farm).

  By springtime, he had a whole houseful of women to choose from. And unlike me, none of the others seemed to mind the way things were going. I guess that was my main problem—when you got right down to it, I minded.

  Perhaps our most unlikely member came in the form of a has-been movie actress by the name of Helen Knight. To be honest, I’m still not completely convinced she’d ever really been an actress (at least not on the silver screen) but she assured us that she’d been quite a hit in her time, and there was certainly no disputing that this woman had a certain theatrical flair about her.

  Her name was quickly changed to Star (fitting, since she’d supposedly been one once). Star reminded me of Bette Davis (in her later movies) with her exaggerated mouth and sagging expressions. And contrary to Sky’s early decree in regard to women’s modest adornments and appearances, Star was allowed to wear whatever she pleased, including flashy costume jewelry and garish makeup that I’m sure she must’ve salvaged from the stage. And to be honest, I liked her a little at first. She seemed the odd exception to so many of our ascetic rules. In a way I suppose she gave me hope. But of course it was short-lived.

  We immediately began to experience Star’s more spiritual side, always cast in a flamboyant and dramatic package. And she in turn became Sky’s closest confidante and, I’m sure, biggest influencer. Yes, it finally seemed that Sky was under the spiritual influence of another. Star was what some might call a “spiritualist,” meaning that she was (or was supposed to be) greatly in touch with the spiritual world. She had been to India to study under gurus, to the Himalayas to converse with Buddhist monks, and claimed to have once dined with John Lennon (I highly doubted this). Without warning, Star might go into a trance right in the middle of oatmeal at breakfast time. She would moan and groan, rocking to and fro, as she held her wrinkled hands, palms up and trembling so much that her rings would clink against one another like finger cymbals. It was so unsettling (the first time I witnessed it) that I was unable to finish my meal. But as time went on it became more of an everyday occurrence.