The Mission (Clairmont Series Novel Book 2)

by L. J. Wilson

  “Not if you don’t want it to be.”

  He barely braced her elbow, and all Evie could think was how it might feel to have that strong arm around all of her. She confessed a smaller desire. “I wanted a store-bought dress, from a shop in town. It’s one of the few things we’ve disagreed about, Ezra and I. He’s a sweet soul, kind, different from his father.”

  “Good to hear that much. And even if you don’t really love—”

  “You’re wrong!” she insisted. “Of course I love Ezra.”

  “I meant the dress.”

  “Oh,” she said, feeling her face flush. “Why would you think I don’t love Ezra?”

  “I didn’t… I don’t think that. Like you said, it’s not my business. But since you walked into the cabin, odd things have been on my mind. Things I’ve never considered.”

  “Like what?” But Evie spoke again before he could. “Don’t answer that. I ask too many questions. It’s a terrible habit. My wandering mind, it gets me into trouble. I’m always thinking of things I shouldn’t.”

  “Like what?” She hesitated and Sebastian prodded. “You can go ahead and answer.”

  “Aside from dresses?” Evie glanced at the one that hung over them like a dowdy chaperone. “Sometimes I dream about places other than here. Have you ever been anywhere, besides your home and here?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’ve sailed to Greece, a few other ports in Europe.”

  “Greece? Good heavens.” She swallowed hard, Sebastian fitting so snuggly into her fantasy. “You mean all the way across the ocean?”

  He smiled wide. “Yeah. I guess I’ve traveled a good bit for someone my age, seen more than most.”

  “You do seem older—I’ll say that. It sounds as if the life you’ve led has aged you.”

  “Maybe it’s the old soul in me.” They smiled and Evie glanced away. “Guess it’s safe to say I’ve had a worldly education so far, if not a rough one.”

  She listened, unsure how to follow his thinking or his life. He’d experienced things, been to places Evie couldn’t imagine. Her knees began to ache, but she didn’t dare move. Not with Sebastian’s face— his exotic life—so close to hers. “Reverend Kane doesn’t approve of women traveling. Even so, I’ve thought about it… dreamed about it. But I couldn’t really picture leaving here.”

  “If leaving here is what you want, maybe you ought to be shouting it.”

  “Honestly, as outspoken as I am, I’m surprised Reverend Kane still wants me to marry his son.”

  “Why should it matter what he wants?”

  “Because… Well, Reverend Kane is our leader—he’s anointed. He and my father, they agreed ages ago that…” And Evie stopped. She was making more the Reverend’s point than her own. “How else would a life be lived, if not by the wisdom of elders? You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand anything about this place. No doubt you’d feel the same way in my neighborhood. I don’t suppose we’d have much in common in the real world.”

  “And which one of us do you believe lives there?”

  He grinned again. “You’re incredibly smart.”

  “For someone who’s never been around the corner.” She smiled back. “And in either place, I believe the one thing we’d have in common is bullheadedness.”

  “Another good point. But if you’re asking about marriage, kids— having them or not—even what radio station you listen to, I don’t think a person should have those things dictated to them. Not in the twentieth century.”

  “Not everything about this century is good.”

  “Like what? Doctors and retail?”

  He surprised her, Bash zeroing in on the two things Evie had been openly bullheaded about. Yet his lack of belonging stuck out like a red dress in the meeting hall—something else Evie had seen in her dreams. Sebastian’s presence made her too aware. The talk, the proximity, the lengthy conversation. The crouched position finally gave way and Evie dropped to her knees. She let go of the sweater. Sebastian held it for a moment, also easing onto his knees. She felt fringes of her hair breeze back as he draped the sweater around her shoulders.

  “You look cold.”

  “On the outside… maybe.” Her gaze moved from his bent knees, trailing up muscular thighs, past the waist of dark dungarees. She hesitated, looking at his leather belt, the buckle. But her line of vision narrowed as Sebastian’s body drew closer. An urge to bite her bottom lip was strong. But it was too late, too busy, as Sebastian’s full lips closed around hers. A tentative kiss turned to certainty—like the act had been waiting years to happen. Evie sunk her fingertips into the corduroy shirt—softer than she’d predicted—dead-ending into the solid mass of his shoulders. For the first time in Evie’s life it felt like a wish had been granted—perhaps a prayer answered as Sebastian’s arms encircled her.

  Quick as the sweater had caped her shoulders, it slipped back onto the floor. From midway up, Sebastian’s body pressed into hers, Evie feeling the parts of him that wanted to penetrate her. She gulped for air between kisses, glad to be on her knees. All of her felt wobbly—short on breath and good sense. But she didn’t pull away as he moved his hands lithely over her, a heated sensation smoldering. She hadn’t thought it was true—assumed Hannah had lied—that anyone could evoke such staggering emotion.

  Evie indulged, hearing a hungry hum erupt from him. The sound caused her heart to pound and her body to demand. She felt his hand through the thick gather of her skirt, cupping around her bottom. An achy moan escaped her own throat as a desire beyond sunlight and air consumed her, drowning her in the moment. She was lucky to hear the kitchen door slam, her soon-to-be husband’s voice cutting into a feeling entirely devoid of Ezra.

  “Evie, are you here? My father was so busy blessing the Yeager twins he didn’t see me sneak out the back. Evie?”

  “Oh God,” she said, detaching herself from Sebastian. She grabbed anxiously at the side table, steadying herself as surprise and passion nearly knocked Evie Neal to the floor.

  In the week that followed, Evie spent more time in the meeting hall than she had her entire life. She sighed, thinking that wasn’t exactly true. But sitting in a pew with her hands in a prayerful vise, she guessed this time had been the most meaningful. She’d asked for forgiveness and she’d asked for guidance. She’d asked for time to turn back. On the evening before the day of her wedding, Evie concluded that God wasn’t partial to providing last minute answers. Not to someone who only came calling when things got tough.

  Had they gotten tough?

  It wasn’t as if she’d been caught red-handed kissing Sebastian Christos. Naturally, Ezra had been surprised to find Sebastian in Evie’s living room. But the spilled box of pins had painted a credible picture about what they were doing, inches apart, on their knees. Ezra also accepted Sebastian’s half-truths and reasons for being there: Brother Creek had fallen asleep. Sebastian had gone out walking. He’d decided to look for a phone. On that particular Sunday morning Evie was the only person in Good Hope Sebastian found at home. She’d been glad for irrefutable facts, continuing with the story: “We were on our way to the Wheaton’s house… He only wanted to make a phone call… I grabbed my sweater and knocked over the pin box… It was so clumsy of me…” she’d said, the taste of lies and Sebastian in her mouth.

  Perhaps Ezra hadn’t questioned it because he’d been fine with the possibility of removing Sebastian Christos from their cloistered lives. As they rose to their feet, Evie kept brushing her hand across her mouth. In the mental midst of swearing she’d never look at Sebastian again, he’d caught her panicked glance. The look said “Stop… Calm down. You’re giving yourself away.” Evie was amazed at what a cool liar she could be. The only off part seemed to be her crookedly buttoned blouse, which Ezra never noticed. Evie had hurried toward the kitchen, away from them both. If Ezra had known his fiancée was dressed in little more than a slip when she’d answered the door… Or that only seconds before arriving at the Neal
house, Evie had been locked in a kiss that felt as if it could will the earth to spin the other way… Well, their story might not have gone as smoothly. In the end, the only hiccup came when Sebastian said he no longer wanted to make a phone call, causing Evie to stifle a gasp.

  Sitting in the front pew now, Evie sucked in another anxious breath. There didn’t seem to be any air that would let her breathe easy. It was the least of what she deserved. The impending punishment would be rich, she guessed—God and man’s.

  “Here you are.” Hannah broke into Evie’s thoughts and nudged her way into the pew. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

  “I’ve been here for a while.”

  “And you find it surprising that the last place I’d look for you is the meeting hall?”

  “Don’t say that!” Evie turned, confronting Hannah’s surprised expression. “I’m not a bad person. I’ve as much right to sit here as any of us.”

  “Of course you’re not a…” Hannah leaned forward, her fair eyes and tiny features peering into Evie’s face. “You look as if the weight of the world is sitting here with you. What in heaven’s name is wrong?”

  She couldn’t. Evie opened her mouth and clamped it shut. “Ezra,” she finally said. “I think it’d be better if he married Rachel Pruitt.”

  “What?” She laughed. “Oh my, wedding jitters from Evie Neal. Who would have ever thought? You’ve been betrothed to him since you could walk. My goodness,” she said, her voice dropping to the tiniest whisper, “you’ve even slept with him. How can you not marry him?” She shook her head. “Granted, there’s his father. I don’t envy you that. But Ezra, he hasn’t an unkind bone in him. And most important, Evie, he loves you, so I—” Evie reached, grasping Hannah’s hand. “Evie?” Any lilt vanished from Hannah’s voice.

  “I’m not sure I feel the same about Ezra.” She turned toward her friend. “I know I’d be a fool not to marry Ezra. He’s everything you’ve said. He loves me—which is more than I can say for a lot of marriages in Good Hope.”

  “But?”

  Hannah reached with her other hand, sandwiching Evie’s in between. Surely she had to feel the cold tremble. Evie’s brown-eyed gaze inched from their tangled hands. “I kissed him,” she said as if she’d committed murder. “I kissed the mission… Sebastian.”

  “The mission.” Hannah’s tone dropped to meet the gravity of the confession.

  For the first time in a week, Evie didn’t have to fight the thought. She kept going. “Last Sunday, in my living room. We were alone.” She swallowed hard, a mix of spit and guilt.

  “Evie, no.” She tightened her grip around Evie’s hand.

  Why shouldn’t Hannah be shocked? She’d been stunned to learn that Evie had had sex with the boy she was to marry. Until now, it was Hannah Wheaton’s best-kept secret. A tentative nod picked up speed. Then, like any good friend, Hannah took up the cause. Her words brimmed with plot, as if deciding where to bury the body.

  “All right. If you did kiss him, then he must have forced himself on you. That was it, right, Evie?” Evie’s stark blink indicated the error in her assumption. Hannah didn’t give up. “Ah, well, then, I know exactly what it was.”

  Evie leaned closer, anxious for an explanation other than the one her feelings offered.

  “The devil. Pure and simple.” Hannah nodded more deeply, motioning toward Reverend Kane’s pulpit. “It’s proselytization in the flesh—temptation delivered through the mouth of the mission,” she insisted. “Think about it, Evie. The devil’s made himself known, tried to make you trip on your way to the altar. Reverend Kane may be overwhelming at times, but this is what he’s warned us about. Can’t you see that? The guilt, the regret, the shame—”

  “Hannah,” Evie said, removing her hand from her friend’s grasp. “Don’t you think I’ve considered that? Guilt and shame, even fear. They’ve haunted me all week. And well they should.” Evie looked from the solid wood pulpit to the stained glass window. “But the reason I’m sitting here…. What’s not right, what makes no sense,” she said, now wringing her hands tight, “is that I’m not the least bit sorry it happened.”

  Hannah left a short time later. She was expected home to watch her younger siblings—Mrs. Wheaton was going to sit with Nan Pffefer. Nan suffered a malady that grew worse by the day, some of the women in the bakery saying they didn’t believe the once robust Nan would live out the week. Evie turned to the stained-glass window, which was an anomaly in Good Hope. The shiny, manmade object was the one thing Reverend welcomed into their plain lives.

  Late afternoon sun shone through like a prism, but all Evie could see was the green of Judas’s robe. It was the same green in Sebastian Christos’s eyes. Evie closed hers, feeling tears between lids and lashes. What more did she need in the way of a sign? Betrayal, it seemed, came color coded. With fresh determination, Evie left the pew and headed toward the cabin.

  Her mission was clear. This distraction would be confronted—swift and final. Nolan Creek sat outside the cabin whittling a hunk of hickory. With the harvest behind them, Brother Creek spent his winters making sweet carvings that they sold in the bake shop—crosses, decorative boxes shaped like leaves and doves. Evie stopped, smiling willfully at Brother Creek. And because lies were never spoken in Good Hope, Nolan easily believed hers—Reverend Kane wanted to see Brother Creek. Brother Ott would be along shortly to watch the mission. She knew Reverend Kane had gone to North Good Hope. Nolan Creek would wait obediently for his return.

  Evie kept on her way, walking toward the potting shed and saying something about planting fall bulbs. One step closer to the shed than the cabin, Evie glanced over her shoulder. Nolan Creek had disappeared into the curve of the path. She scurried back, knocking lightly on the cabin door. No one answered. Evie pushed back her shoulders. Nonsense. What would be the odds of catching him twice in a towel? Yet, her shaking hand—one that Evie could hardly believe was her own—turned the white metal knob.

  “Bash,” she whispered, looking around the empty room. She heard feet hit the floor. Evie moved farther into the space, past the fireplace. At the edge of the bed, there he was, like a ghost. A ghost with no shirt.

  “Evie. What are you doing here?”

  “I, um…” For someone who’d come to say her piece, Evie was speechless. He was stunning, the sight of him seizing her senses. It made sense. Temptation was the problem. She was there to defy it. She took a deep breath. Evie hoped urges would pass, like a sneeze—necessary but quickly forgotten. Evie tried to recall the last time she’d sneezed. See that… She had no idea. This will be the same… I’ ll soon forget him. “I see you’ve not contacted your friend... yet.”

  “I, uh… I thought I’d wait out the week. Besides, to call someone I’d have to ditch my constant companions first. Where’s Brother Creek?”

  “Gone for now,” she said. She cocked her chin at the book he held. “You’re reading?”

  “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

  “You don’t strike me as the studious type.”

  “I was never much for classrooms, but books, they’re… I don’t mind reading. Nolan… Brother Creek brings them. Most aren’t too interesting. But some are… fascinating. Kind of like other things in Good Hope.”

  “Other things?”

  “Things I never thought of before here. Things I didn’t know existed.”

  “I see.” Skimming her gaze across his chest, Evie wondered about the scars. She wondered about so many things—like why being near Sebastian seemed to overshadow the rest of the world.

  “Is that why you’re here, breaking rules again to ask me what I’m reading?”

  “No. Not exactly. Although reading…” She wrung her hands together. “It seems a discussion of the Spanish Armada would be a safer subject than any I might take up with you.”

  “French Revolution,” he said, tossing the book onto the bed and stepping toward her.

  Evie didn’t move. But the closer he came, the more eve
rything pulled her toward him. It was insanity. She barely knew him, and yet she felt safer—more alive—in his presence than with any other person.

  “So if you’re short on topics,” he said, “let me pick one. Are you still marrying Ezra?”

  “Blunt, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not much for f—No. If I’ve got something to say, I say it.”

  “And I can understand why you’d ask. What happened between us, at my house… It was…” Evie hesitated. The explanation sounded more rational when negotiating with God. “Hannah says it was the devil—in you or in me.”

  “In my pants, maybe.” Green irises widened. They were an odd second to his smile, the divot in his chin.

  “In your… I don’t… ” Evie wanted to say she didn’t understand. But, in fact, she did. She dropped her gaze from his chest to an even less appropriate place.

  “Evie.” She flicked her eyes to his. “I can’t explain what happened in your living room either. But in fairness, know I’m not that guy.”

  “What guy?” Evie wasn’t sure she’d ever used the word.

  “The kind who goes out of his way to kiss a girl—not like that. Not like you were the only one left—or maybe the only one I wanted. So as surreal as that whole scene was for you, know that it was just as crazy for me.”

  “Because I’m not that girl.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I’ve seen those girls—the one I’m not. They come into the bake shop from North Good Hope—painted faces and fingernails, more skin showing than you’d find on a stewed rabbit.”

  He cleared his throat. “Damn, you know how to take a visual down a notch.”

  But she kept talking, fingers flitting lightly over the collar of her blouse. “And their clothes—cut off dungarees and top-halves that expose… well, more than I would have thought the law allowed. That’s the kind of girl you’d want to kiss in such a way.”