by L. J. Wilson
Evie was surprised but unaffected when her father and brothers turned up at the Blyth’s door. “I couldn’t very well not tell them you were coming,” Hannah admitted. Her father and two brothers, Christian and Jonah, sat like ducks in a row on the sofa. Evie felt a modicum of sadness—her own flesh and blood evoked no more than acquaintance-like emotion. “You look well, daughter,” Gideon said, as if he’d seen her yesterday. They never mentioned Sebastian or offered condolences. Gideon Neal did not acknowledge his grandsons, other than to glance peculiarly at the boys. Even with a more peaceful life, Evie understood the strict rigors of the Fathers of the Right doctrine. She was an outcast, as were her sons. Cruelness would not be permitted but acceptance was forbidden. It was the gray lens through which the Fathers of the Right responded to interlopers.
Still, the time with Hannah was a good thing. Evie had only planned to stay two days, but two became four and four nearly a week. Hannah and Tobias had three children now—Benjamin, the eldest, still sickly—thin and pale, intolerant of most foods. More than once Evie had to bite her tongue, tempted to take the boy to a doctor herself. She wondered if she stayed long enough, perhaps she might broach the subject with Hannah. Thankfully, their two younger sons were healthy boys, making fine playmates for Alec and Aaron. Tobias was tolerant of Evie, but she suspected it was in deference to his wife. Hannah had likely put serious effort into coaxing her husband into the civil behavior. Pleasant as it all was, Evie knew it couldn’t last.
At the week’s end, it was time to move on. Two women from the sect had come by under the pretense of baking Hannah a peach cobbler. They spoke to Evie, but it was as if they were testing the waters, as if they might consider allowing her back into the fold. Evie wanted nothing to do with that. She wasn’t sure about Nickel Springs, but she was certain Good Hope was not where they belonged. Evie was folding the boys’ clean wash, preparing to pack when Hannah tried to convince her otherwise.
“Summer has almost a month left. The weather is beautiful. We could fix up the cabin. Why not stay a while longer?”
“I can’t,” Evie said. She’d thought of the cabin—she was ambivalent about seeing it. “I need to figure things out. I need to do what Sebastian would have wanted.”
“Perhaps he’d want you to stay somewhere where people care about you.”
Evie smirked. “Here? In Good Hope? You think this is where Sebastian would like to see us? I doubt that. I, um… I was thinking of contacting Sebastian’s friend, Bim. It’s what he asked me to do if anything ever…” Her words trailed off. “I mean, it would be difficult. I don’t know Bim.”
“A stranger? Seriously, Evie? You’d consider turning to a stranger before trusting people you know. Those who’d look out for you.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch. I’m a curiosity, someone to whisper about… I’m not one of you.” Evie folded another small T-shirt. “Besides, other than you, who in Good Hope truly cares about me?”
“Your husband, I would think.”
She’d said it so fast, like an unexpected gust of wind. “You promised, Hannah. You swore to me you would not bring Ezra up.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t see you leaving here with two boys and no one to care for you. I think Sebastian would agree with that much.”
“And you think he’d want Ezra to be that person?” It was an absurd conversation. No one could take Sebastian’s place. She wouldn’t dare let anyone try. The suggestion only heightened Evie’s determination to leave, and she continued with her preparations. Begrudgingly, Hannah helped—packing suitcases, packing the car. During Evie’s visit, Hannah had done a poor job of hiding her awe over her friend’s capable qualities: driving, single parenting, and the willingness to be on her own. As Evie counted the cash in her wallet, Hannah watched curiously—women of the Fathers of the Right carried none. It was one of many markers that denoted the discrepancies between Evie and Good Hope. Tomorrow she would go back to Nickel Springs, to the caretaker’s cottage. From there… well, from there Evie didn’t know.
As it often did, fate decided what came next—without warning and sooner than Evie expected. At two o’clock that morning, she found herself at Hannah’s bedroom door, calling out. A dizzying fever had gripped her—a stabbing pain in her side. The next few hours and into daybreak were a blur of cool cloths and vomiting, Evie begging for the keys to her car. Even in her hazy state, she knew Good Hope was the last place an ill woman should be. She called out for Sebastian. The only reply was Hannah’s strained voice, reminding her he was gone. The pain—physical and emotional—was ravaging, as if one were battling to outdo the other. Evie’s last lucid thought was to wonder which one might kill her first.
From there she’d slipped into an unlikely childhood memory, maybe a dream, running through a high, back field in Good Hope with Ezra. The two of them tumbled down a giant hill. The light was dim, the weather fall-like. They tripped and rolled, their bumpy descent safer with Ezra by her side—a side that pulsated with an angry pain as they careened to the bottom. With a jaw-rattling thud, they’d landed on tree roots. Evie forced open her eyes. There was no hill, only the blue of Ezra’s eyes staring down into hers. She blinked, assaulted by light and odd beeping sounds. The sharp pain was gone. “Ezra,” she whispered. “What… where are we?” She tried to sit up but made no progress. Ezra touched her shoulder.
“You shouldn’t move.” He looked jittery, eyes darting like an animal out of its habitat.
“The boys…” She struggled against his hold.
“They’re perfectly fine.” His grip grew firmer. “They’re with Hannah. It’s you I’m worried about—though not near as much as last night.”
“Last night? Ezra, tell me right now what’s…” Evie drew her hand to her forehead and saw an IV in her arm. Her gaze moved right to a blood pressure cuff. A woman walked around Ezra to the other side of the bed. She wore a white coat.
“Excellent. You’re awake. I’m glad to see it—and a little relieved. I can’t fathom why you’d wait so long to seek treatment. Another five minutes and… Well, I don’t mean to be maudlin, but we might not be having this conversation.”
Evie heard Ezra’s voice. “I… I went as fast as I could the moment… well, as soon as I knew I needed to bring her here.”
“Yes, but a hundred miles an hour down the interstate? You’re lucky that cop was sympathetic. It’s why we have ambulances,” the woman scolded.
“I didn’t think of it,” Ezra said.
Evie tracked her gaze to him, seeing him swallow hard.
“She had a fever of 104, vomiting, and a stabbing pain in her right side.” The woman shook her head. “Did you think she was going to miraculously recover from appendicitis without medical intervention?”
Evie crunched her forehead and pounded her fist against it. She looked at the woman. “I… he brought me to a hospital?” She looked incredulously at Ezra.
“Lancaster General, in the nick of time. Your appendix nearly burst.” She glanced at Ezra. “Reckless and heroic as it was, you can thank your husband for saving your life.”
1984
Good Hope, Pennsylvania
After the fog of anesthesia wore off, Ezra remained at Evie’s side. She was convinced he was a dream. Finally, she asked her reverie a question: “Ezra, a hospital? The Fathers of the Right, more than anything, you don’t believe…”
He appeared shaken by his own actions. Ezra’s eyes—edged in tiny crow’s-feet—though just as blue, moved around the foreign setting. “God help me, you have that power over me, Evie. Clearly, I would do anything to keep you alive.”
She blinked, tears running down her face. “Even after… After all that happened between us?”
Ezra reached, covering her hand with his. “Vengeance isn’t mine. You should know that. I can’t say I know how to explain it to my parishioners, but that doesn’t seem to matter much right now.”
Evie turned her head, looking out the hospital room window, but she didn’
t let go of Ezra’s hand. It was too soothing and she was too grateful.
After being released from the hospital, Evie agreed to return to Good Hope. There wasn’t much choice with two energetic boys and her body still on the mend. Initially, she stayed with Hannah, where Ezra visited every day. But as soon as Evie was up and about she asked to move to the cabin. She’d been hesitant before, but now she felt sure. It was more fitting than anyplace she’d been since Sam had delivered the devastating news about Sebastian.
As she recalled, the cabin was rugged but manageable. The boys thought it was a wild adventure and the aura inside brought Evie some peace. It coaxed a smile from her, watching Alec and Aaron dart about, repurposing the place where she’d fallen completely in love with their father.
Hannah and Ezra were her only visitors, Gideon Neal coming by once. It was an uncomfortable social call, her father remarking as he left, “I don’t know what it is about you, daughter. I understand that you never fit comfortably here—especially after your mother passed. But your presence in Good Hope, must it always result in such an upheaval to our lives? First, there was your inexplicable desertion—a cross I’ve had to bear. And now your ability to get a good man like Ezra to turn a blind eye to a core belief. I still cannot grasp that he took you to a hospital.”
Evie didn’t reply as he left. She supposed Gideon Neal was incapable of making the connection: his ability to have a conversation with his daughter was only thanks to Ezra’s blind eye.
While seeing Hannah was easy, Ezra’s visits took more effort. At first there were serious subject matters, Evie saying she planned to tell the boys about Sebastian soon. Ezra nodded. “It will be difficult. But when you do, if you want me here, you only need ask.” Evie thanked him and switched to small talk. Soon wasn’t today. She listened thoughtfully as Ezra spoke about his rise to the role of leader, and how he felt oddly comfortable in that capacity. Evie said she wasn’t surprised at all. Ezra had a gift with people—reverent in his beliefs but compassionate, something his father had sorely lacked.
It was the bridge to a lengthier conversation about his father. On his next visit, Ezra told Evie that after he’d returned to the States, he’d confronted Duncan about Evie’s accusation. “I asked him, Evie, if he ever touched you… if he ever said it was his divine right to…” Ezra went on to say that his father had vehemently denied every word. But he’d brought it up without malice toward Evie, which told her that Ezra doubted Duncan Kane’s innocence.
As for his father’s role as missions’ leader, Evie assumed Ezra didn’t know any more than the next person in Good Hope. He only spoke of the “fine work” and “benevolent efforts” his father now coordinated in South America. Evie nodded at his simplistic impressions. She decided it best that those thoughts be Ezra’s truth. He didn’t believe her back in Octava, and he wouldn’t now. He certainly wouldn’t believe that until Sebastian and Sam thwarted Reverend Kane’s efforts—drugs to gun-running—his father’s actions were criminal and insolently unholy.
Ezra also did not need to hear that it was Sebastian who kept tabs on Reverend Kane’s activities. Sitting outside on the cabin step, Evie inhaled a shaky breath. Reality had slithered back in. Of course, Sebastian would no longer be able to make certain of Reverend Kane’s doings or anything else. Ezra went on to tell her about the subtle ways in which he’d changed the Fathers of the Right. It was still a strict doctrine, though more tolerant with telephones in almost every home and certain jobs outside Good Hope permitted. “My father has done well since going abroad. In turn, I seem to serve the people of Good Hope to their satisfaction.” He hesitated, prayerfully folding his hands. “It’s to this end, I’ve been thinking… Well, since you’ve come back… I mean nearly from the dead, I’ve been considering other changes in Good Hope.”
“What sort of changes?”
“It has to do with… for example, the Yeager’s daughter. Her vision isn’t good—she’s been to the prescription specialist—you know seeing glasses are permitted.”
Evie nodded.
“They say glasses won’t correct the matter, though apparently drops to her eyes would. And then there’s Benjamin Blyth—ill since the day he was born, which you know.”
“I do,” Evie said softly. “I’ve often thought how treatment might help whatever his lingering illness is.”
“And that’s just it. I’m no longer sure God wouldn’t allow an earthly hand in those matters. I’m considering advocating… encouraging,” he said as if trying the words on, “some medical intervention.”
Evie didn’t speak, treading carefully. “I can’t disagree with you, Ezra. But I realize what a huge decision that would be.”
He smiled at Evie’s healthy, sun-kissed appearance. “Seems I’ve already made the decision. Continuing to let others suffer would be the travesty of the lesson.” Ezra changed the subject, talking about the four marriages he’d officiated that year, the seven babies due before next spring. Numbers were up in Good Hope. But as Evie listened, she did wonder about his happiness.
“Ezra,” she said, interrupting. His mouth closed midsentence. “I want to know something. Are you fine with this life? I mean, yes, you have the community, but you’re such a good person. Well, I wonder… Don’t you ever get lonely?”
Anguish flashed across his face, and Evie guessed he understood what she meant. Tell me, Ezra… Did it ever repair itself, the heart that I smashed into a million pieces? And for a moment, Evie couldn’t make eye contact, wondering why he would choose to sit on the same step with her, never mind save her life.
He spoke with great care, in a way that defined Ezra. “It’s not that I don’t have regrets. It’s not that I’ve forgotten.” He looked toward Alec and Aaron. They were immersed and unaware, sailing a plastic boat in a nearby mud puddle. “But since you left… this life, I’ve done my best to have one. What were my choices?” Then he laughed, which felt terribly out of sync to Evie. “Can we agree that you would have made a woefully poor minister’s wife?”
“But all this time, there’s been no one else? You haven’t wished…”
“Ah, you know better than to ask about wishes. And no. There’s not been anyone.”
She nodded, tucking her knees tight to her chest.
“While sect members don’t speak about it—at least no one does to my face, it’s become a symbol of sorts—the strength one person can muster, even in the aftermath of complete devastation, utter loss.”
“Well,” she said, staring at her sons. “I can appreciate what you mean.”
After a month in Good Hope, Evie made new plans to leave. She felt stronger, more so than when she’d arrived. Evie focused on the artificial mindset she lived in when Sebastian was gone. It was methodical and mechanical. Sometimes she’d move forward a day at a time, sometimes only an hour. Now, it would just be forever. Waves of longing continued. Sadness scratched at her like a million grains of sand. But with Alec and Aaron as her priority, Evie was compelled to go forward.
On her last night in Good Hope, she built the first fire of the season. The temperature had dipped like it sometimes did in September, and the boys had complained of the cold cabin. She’d let them go to Hannah’s for the night. But Evie admitted it was also selfishness. She wanted the space to herself. She’d gone into North Good Hope earlier that day to buy a few things for the trip back to Nickel Springs. She’d also bought a bottle of tequila, the kind Sebastian drank. She hated the taste and the nasty sting at the back of her throat. But one sip also had the power to deliver Sebastian to her—even if it was just for a few seconds.
Evie took a bath in the tub where she’d made love to Sebastian, the water cooling twice as fast with one body resting in its cast iron embrace. She put on a simple, white nightgown and climbed into the feather bed. Rain began to fall, hitting the tin overhang. It was too reminiscent. Alone there, Evie felt more sorrow than she thought one person could bear. She’d made a mistake. She threw back the covers and got out of bed. She nee
ded to get Alec and Aaron—it didn’t matter if it was close to midnight. She wanted them with her. But as she stepped into the fire lit path, on her way to the door, it opened. Ezra was there, not wearing vestments but tan trousers and a button-down shirt. He was soaked.
“It’s raining.”
“I heard. What are you doing here? It’s so late.”
“I need to talk to you. In the morning you’ll be in such a rush to leave. Evie, I’ve held my tongue. So much time has passed. I understand that nothing can be the same.” Evie thought she should get him a towel, but he seemed unaware of his dripping state. “Let me say that again. Nothing was ever what I thought, so ‘the same’ doesn’t come into question here.”
“Ezra, are you all right?”
He was speaking fast, odd for Ezra. “No, Evie, I’m not—and I need this said before you go. I know you’re not a big believer in God’s plan, so I won’t try to force any such idea in your path. I’m all too aware of how that can backfire. But I want to suggest something, and I want you to hear me out.”
“I have to get the boys…” She started past him. He grabbed her arm but released it immediately. “I need them with me.”
“It’s late. You’ll only frighten them. Haven’t they been tussled about enough?”
“Why would you care about… They’re not your sons.” They stood back to back, a half step apart—as if reprising some childhood game.
“No, they’re not. But I could love them as if they were. You know that, Evie. I could be a good father to them.”
Evie stepped back, looking Ezra in the eye. “They have a father,” she said steadily. “I’ll see to it they never forget him.”