by L. J. Wilson
At the time his parents’ plane was lost, Alec had been on the other side of the world with his SEAL team, about as distant and detached from home as a person could get. He didn’t even know they’d taken a trip. Not until the stateside call came, informing him that while he stood in a warzone, his parents’ plane had disappeared. In a mind-numbing haze, Alec had soaked up the support of his SEAL brothers while packing his gear to return to Nickel Springs—emergency family leave.
After hearing all the stories he could absorb, Alec ditched his translator. He wanted to pursue his other lead alone. By the time Alec made it to the gate of the school it was late afternoon. He thought no one was there. But a door was open and he went inside. Alec counted off ten classrooms. They were abandoned, adding an eerie vibe to the scene. It put Alec on guard. He turned a corner and peeked into the last classroom. The walls were painted minty green, the room filled with desks. The woman he’d seen earlier sat behind a larger one. He knocked.
She didn’t look up but reached into a drawer. A second later the woman was pointing a gun at him. “What do you want?”
“Whoa!” Alec said, both hands flying up. “I was just looking for whoever’s in charge.”
“Because?” she said, the gun aimed steadily, like she’d have no trouble firing it.
“I’m from the States… New York. I’m looking for information.”
“What kind of information?” she said, rising, though the gun didn’t lower.
“About my parents. Look, could you put the gun down? I just want to ask few questions.”
“You may be new, gringo, but I’ve been here long enough not to take strangers at their word.”
“Isn’t that kind of crazy, keeping a gun in your desk drawer… in a school?”
“It’s safer than what these children face day-to-day out in the streets.” She shrugged, still holding a steady aim. “I keep it locked during school hours. Feel better?”
“If you’d put it down I would. I just wanted to ask—”
“What’s your name?”
“Alec Clairmont.”
“Alec—” Her expression changed.
“Yes, Alec,” he repeated. “Why? Does it mean something to you?”
She didn’t reply but lowered the gun, which Alec took as permission to inch forward. He did but mapped a line of defense if needed: desks, chairs, and a globe. He noticed that it said USSR, not Russia, an indication of the classroom’s age. He proceeded in slow motion, taking a mental inventory of the teacher. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, definitely younger than him. She was pretty enough with fair eyes and caramel colored hair. Her round nose was freckled from the sun or maybe just the effect of no makeup. “Like I said, I’m just looking for information—my mother, Evie Neal. Sebastian Clairmont,” he said, going on a hunch. “Do those names mean anything to you?”
She shook her head, but her eyes never left him, her hand still gripping tight to the gun.
“I saw you earlier this morning. What, um… what’s your name?”
“Kiera… Blyth.”
“Kiera,” he repeated. “You’re from the States?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a teacher here?”
“The teacher,” she said. “Though today was the last day of school. I’ve been on mission here for nearly two years. I was sent… Well, my parents thought it best if I… What exactly is your question?”
Maybe it would be better if he got right to the point. “The way you’re dressed… It reminded me of something from my past. As a kid, I visited a place where the women were dressed like you. That’s a huge coincidence for a three-thousand-mile span, wouldn’t you say?”
“We believe in a modest appearance.”
“Who?” he said, cocking his chin at her.
“The Fathers of the Right. My community, my people.”
“A religious group?”
“It’s one way to describe us. La Carta has been part of our mission for years. There used to be many of us. Now… now it’s just me.”
“Just you? They sent you to a place that requires you keep a gun in a drawer… alone?”
“I can take care of myself.”
He doubted that. She might be packing heat, but he didn’t sense the survival skills that came with someone like Jess. “That doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here alone?”
“Our mission leader has diverted more and more funds over the years. But I’m not privileged to know his specific agenda. The school was once a priority. Not anymore.”
“Mission leader? Who’s that?”
“Our Reverend… Well, he’s not the sect’s reverend any longer. He coordinates mission trips abroad, charitable work.”
“His name wouldn’t happen to be Kane, would it?”
She didn’t reply, her small brow furrowing.
“Look, I’m just trying to find out what happened to my parents. They were on a plane that crashed on an island off La Carta about a dozen years ago. My mother might have been associated with the group you mentioned, the Fathers…”
“Fathers of the Right. I don’t know anything about your mother.”
Alec took that as a direct lie. “But you do know a Reverend Kane.” He also suspected her silence was an admission. “On the side of the plane there were names, initials. Most of them belong to my family, my brothers and sister—my parents. One set of initials was different. E.K. Does any of that mean anything to you?”
“E.K.… written on the side of a plane wreck?” She paused. “E.K. That… well, it could be Ezra Kane, the elder Kane’s son. He’s our current sect leader in Good Hope—in Pennsylvania. He pleaded my case with my parents, my father in particular. The younger Reverend Kane didn’t want me to come here. He thought it too harsh a punishment.”
“Punishment for what?”
“I don’t see how that’s your business.”
“Just trying to get a feel for your Fathers. Are we talking grand theft auto or drinking moonshine behind the church?”
“Again, not your business. Just things that aren’t tolerated in Good Hope. And it’s not a church, it’s a meeting hall.” She hesitated. “Regardless, you’d be caught in a heartbeat if you drank behind it. However, there is an alcove in the basement where they keep the old, high-back piano. A bottle of Wild Turkey is easily hidden in the top.”
“In other words no one’s found it since you were sent here.”
And they were back to silence.
“So, Kiera, this Ezra Kane, is it possible that he knew my mother? Maybe they were friends… neighbors?”
“Friends?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe ‘ friends’ describes what they were to one another.”
April 1979
Good Hope, Pennsylvania
Outside Our Daily Bread, Evie bounced a fussy baby on her hip. She rummaged around the interior of a carriage, looking for a hat. The spring air was chilly and growing damper. She didn’t want to cause him more discomfort—baby Benjamin had been an irritable red-faced, fighter-fisted infant from the moment he was born. Hannah, who’d worked the Wednesday afternoon bakery shift, joined Evie. She reached to the hat and secured the ties in a firm bow. The baby continued to cry. Evie was about to ask if her friend had pocketed a bakery treat when the rare sound of a car engine interrupted. The community station wagon turned the corner. It was followed by a second car—a van.
“What in the world,” Hannah said. “Reverend Kane, he insisted the brothers wouldn’t be back for another week.” She looked perplexed, glancing between the wailing baby and vehicles.
“That’s what Adah told me. It’s what Ezra’s last letter said.” Evie shuffled a few feet forward, boosting the baby. Ezra had been gone nearly two months this time. Shortly after their marriage, Reverend Kane decided the time had come for his son to take up missionary work on a more regular basis. Evie shifted the inconsolable baby to her other hip.
Men poured like holy water from the station wagon and second vehicle. Dressed
alike, it was hard to discern one from another and Evie strained her eyes searching for Ezra. Colum Ott, Timothy Yeager, Daniel Pruitt, Jonah Neal, Evie’s own brother, all came into focus. On this mission, the Reverend had sent the majority of the sect’s younger men on a ship that sailed to South America, even those who didn’t normally partake in outside mission work.
Evie determined Ezra was not among them and the usual mixed emotions snaked through her. They were feelings that had followed her back down the meeting hall aisle and into her new life. Being Ezra’s wife meant being aware of what she did not feel. She’d prayed that would change. It had not. In the past eighteen months, she’d told herself, again and again, it didn’t matter—a good friend made a better husband than most. But living in Good Hope without Ezra was equally strange, like the loss of a limb—or perhaps a crutch. Evie had become increasingly dependent on her husband’s warm smile and what he felt for her to carry them through. The men filtered toward the women. Watching them, Evie reassured herself that she’d done the right thing for everyone on that numbing October day.
As months, then a year passed, she’d caught snippets of conversation not meant for her ears. Snippets that had validated her choices. Ironically, Sebastian Christos sailed aboard the same ship as her husband. Under Reverend Kane’s protection he’d been kept safe from harm—just as Brother Creek had promised. And marrying Ezra, it appeared to have given her young husband what he wished for most. Both men had benefited and Evie tried to be satisfied with that. The baby she held cried louder and she shushed him, jiggling Benjamin in vain. He grabbed tight to her braid with his pudgy hand, the snappish tug reminding Evie where her attention belonged.
“I wonder why they’re back so soon,” Hannah said, touching the baby’s cheek. She walked alongside Evie, pushing the baby buggy.
“If something were wrong, wouldn’t Reverend Kane have alerted us?”
“I’m sure all is well,” Hannah said. She smiled, moving past Evie as Tobias Blyth came toward them. Hannah had married him only a month after Evie’s own wedding. His proposal had been imminent. Evie guessed he’d been waiting for her and Ezra’s marriage to pass—the fuss of their conscript marriage overshadowing anyone else’s news. Hannah had been ecstatic on her wedding day, beaming up and down the aisle. Evie had sat alone in a pew, wallowing in feelings of envy, the touching ceremony so removed from what she’d felt during her own. Days after Hannah married Tobias she confided to Evie that their wedding night was everything she’d dreamed of. Everything Evie’s was not.
In fact, Evie had gone from playing along to outright pretending, feigning the emotion her husband could not evoke. She smiled at the baby who’d quieted to gulping hiccups and tucked his bib tighter. Evie glanced around a suddenly bustling Good Hope—while there was a burst of energy, nothing in it seemed to belong to her. Such was the life of Evie Neal. Evie Kane… No matter how hard she tried, Evie could not get comfortable with the name. It was like an ill-fitting blouse, the constricted feel cutting into her, forever present.
Hannah hurried to her husband as Reverend Kane approached Evie. He moved like a thunder cloud, his dark vestments and looming frame rolling in. When he left earlier in the day, he’d made no mention of returning with the men. Of course, it would not have been the Reverend’s prerogative to share his plans. He stared disapprovingly at the baby, who’d begun to wail again. “I see he’s not improved.”
“Not hardly,” she said, thinking things she shouldn’t—like how Benjamin might benefit from medical intervention.
“He’ll outgrow it,” the Reverend said, cupping the baby’s red cheek. “The Lord will see to better health, I’m sure of it.”
“It would also be nice if He could see to a full night’s sleep for his mother’s sake.” The Reverend’s gaze pierced Evie and she changed the subject. “Ezra?”
“He’s not with us. His mission was going well, and it continues. Another matter disrupted the efforts of the men. It was God’s will that I bring them home ahead of schedule. They flew in a few hours ago.”
“Flew?” she said. “On an airplane?”
“No, on eagles’ wings. Yes, on an airplane. It was, uh…” There was an unlikely hesitation. “A necessary evil,” he finished. “I thought you’d want to know that Ezra is well. He’s in a completely different part of the country—far from where the brothers were carrying out their mission. The political climate called for an expedited retreat.”
“Expedited retreat?” she said. “Is it unsafe? I know the area is unsettled, but you never said anything about the mission work being dangerous.”
“All mission work comes with risk. Don’t be foolish, daughter. And I’ll ask you to hold your tongue there.”
Evie skirted back at the Reverend’s sharper tone. She recalled the sting of his hand the night her mother died.
“You won’t question Fathers of the Right work, and you needn’t be concerned. Ezra will sail back in a few weeks, on schedule.”
Evie didn’t speak. She only jostled the baby harder, his cries conveying her frustrations.
“Go. There’ll be many hungry men for supper. We’ll eat together in the fellowship hall. It will enhance our sense of community, women seeing their husbands, sons and brothers safely returned by my hand.” He brushed past Evie, his arm knocking against her shoulder. “And add one extra.” The collision had spun Evie halfway around. She turned, facing the Reverend. His gaze burned past her head, in the direction of the vehicles. “Circumstance dictated I return the mission as well—I suppose we’ve no choice but to feed him.”
Evie whirled the other way, swinging the infant so hard he spat up. Looking toward the van, a last man exited. Through the cool evening breeze, the scattering men embraced their wives and mothers. Evie saw through the physical matter as if it wasn’t there. Her gaze picked up where it left off a year and a half ago, locking on the forbidden frame of Sebastian Christos.
It was done.
It was long over.
It had barely happened.
These had been the thoughts Sebastian repeated over an ocean and more recently as he was shuttled onto an airplane bound for the States. Upon arrival at the cabin, Brother Ott had left him at the door with a lantern, a note from Reverend Kane, and more freedom than he’d ever been allowed in Good Hope. The note said to come to the fellowship hall if he wanted to eat. He hadn’t eaten since the day before. But his stomach had quieted on arrival, filling with an ache that crushed emptiness. It was there the second Sebastian saw Evie. Evie and a baby. At first he had no intention of going to any fellowship hall; surely he wouldn’t be missed. He’d eat tree bark or squirrel. He’d starve. He crumpled the note and threw it at the cold fireplace.
A rising moon shone outside the cabin window. Thinking of Evie had been one thing. Reality was too much—or so he realized as old wounds split wide, bleeding out at the sight of her. On the ride from the airport, Sebastian convinced himself that avoiding Evie was the best way to handle the situation—he’d only be in Good Hope a few days. Sebastian snickered, his head bowing to the moon. Avoid her? How fucking stupid. How about having to face Evie and the crying baby attached to her hip? “Maybe the good Reverend does have divine insight to punishment,” he said to the moon.
Sebastian turned away from the window. In front of him was his former prison—hell, clearly it still was. He opened the leather duffel bag and dumped its contents onto the bed. Touching a clean T-shirt, he could think of nothing but the day Evie had turned up there, the fear and wonder in her face. He could still feel it. Those same fears had collapsed days later, igniting into binding heated passion. Now, looking at the fireless hearth, Sebastian knew he needed to bury his feelings with the rest of the spent ashes.
He headed into the bathroom and took out the mirror, which was precisely where he’d left it. He stared into his tanned, seaworthy face, and a full beard. “She’s probably forgotten it happened… or is just damn sorry it did.”
Enough. This wasn’t him. “To hel
l with her,” he muttered.
Sebastian pressed his arms into the cool, ceramic sink, his lips pursing. He didn’t mean that. He wished her nothing bad. Not even her fair-haired boy of a husband who’d spent his first sail south with his head hung overboard. Thankfully, it was a large ship and Sebastian stayed with the crew. It had allowed him to steer clear of Ezra as well as the brothers that sometimes made the journey.
Staring at his bearded reflection, Sebastian was pissed off to find himself still stuck in this mess—the Reverend’s web. But if his plans worked out, things would soon change. Keeping that end game in mind, he got out a razor. If he wanted to eat—and Sebastian decided he did—basic needs were a priority. Nothing would keep him from functioning, not even Evie Neal. Evie Kane… Evie Kane who now had a child… Even if her feelings for him had been real, that mind-blowing fact made her marriage irrevocable. Evie would never leave the father of her child. Sebastian was sure of it.
He absorbed his unclean appearance and features turned rugged by whipping winds and the lurking dangers of his job. Get over it… You’re not that man—not to her…You never had a chance… It’d been nothing but a crazy, fucked-up fantasy—one he’d made the mistake of living off for more than a year. It was time to let go. Sebastian ran water in the sink and started scraping away the rough exterior. He’d get through the evening, clean shaven, and with a decent meal. Fuck the obstacles. He’d prove to himself he was that much of a man.
Compared to the cabin, the comfort level in the fellowship hall dropped considerably. What did he expect? Anyone who wasn’t a card-carrying member might as well glow green. Women physically avoided him while the men begrudgingly acknowledged him. Lively conversation turned to a dense hum, the way you might whisper about lurking evil. Sebastian ignored it. He’d come for food and he headed straight for it, taking a plate and reaching blindly for whatever was in front of him.