by Bex Dane
Affection shone in his eyes when he peered down at Takoda and gave her head a pet. "She's good at it, and she loves her job."
Takoda stood squarely on four legs and peered up at him with eager faithfulness on her face. Her ears flicked as he entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
"Wow, Takoda. You are a hero." She came to me and arched her head to get my fingers behind her ears. "But please be careful out there. I'd hate to lose you."
Her eyes squeezed tight as she relished my head rub.
***
Ten minutes later, a misty cloud preceded Rogan out of the bathroom. He'd changed into a royal-blue T-shirt and black cargo pants that hugged his trim waist.
I leaned against the arm of the couch and eyed him as I sipped my protein drink. His sandy brown hair spiked up in dark points as he rubbed it with a towel. He'd shaved his beard. Tiny red dots peppered the sharply angled line of his jaw.
Wowza, they sure didn't make men like him back on the compound. I'd never been in the presence of a man with Rogan's staggering build and rugged handsomeness.
A hint of humid air hit me when he sat next to me on the couch. "You need to choose a new name. Vanity Barebones died in Afghanistan."
"She did?"
"Don't pick anything that will lead them to you."
"Give me a minute to think about it."
"Alright."
How should I choose a name for myself and this new life? I needed a secular name, something meaningful.
"Harlow," I said.
"As a first name?"
"No, a last name."
"Could they trace it to you?"
"I don't think so. It's a name I saw in a book."
"What kind of book?"
"I babysat for a family in town. The Jensens. They had old encyclopedias I liked to read. Harlow was a scientist." Rogan's eyes had unfocused while I was talking. "Would Harlow work?"
"Sure."
"What first name would you pick for me?"
He slid his gaze from over my shoulder and studied me. I hadn't seen his eyes before in the daylight, but oh my, gold and brown whorled in them like wheat in a summer field.
"Sunshine," he answered solemnly.
"Sunshine? Why?"
"Found you in the desert." He pointed at Takoda. "My dog smiles at you like she's looking into the sun."
"Oh."
He cleared his throat. "But how about Tessa?"
"Why Tessa?"
"It's a name a pretty girl like you would have."
I pressed my hands to my cheeks to hide the warmth growing there.
"It's also common enough it won't draw any attention if someone is looking into you."
"Um, okay. So could I be Tessa Harlow?"
One edge of his mouth turned down, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. "Yes, you can be Tessa Harlow."
"Oh my goodness. Thank you."
"No problem." He strode to a card table in a breakfast nook beside the kitchen, opened a laptop, and sat down to type.
No problem. Who was this gorgeous man who marauded across the globe without sleeping and could make me Tessa Harlow with no problem?
A new identity terrified and excited me at the same time, but it was the first step in fighting for my joy, so I'd embrace it and make the best of it. Like Rogan said, Vanity Barebones died in Afghanistan.
I finished my drink and rested my head on the arm of the couch.
***
My father's weight dipped the side of the bed. I shrank deep in my sheets and curled in a ball, trying to become invisible. But it didn't matter. He always found me and slithered in behind me whether I welcomed him or not. With his reptilian arms snaked behind my back and knees, he hauled me from my hiding spot and carried me to the edge of a raging fire pit.
"In you go," he snarled as the flames of the burning inferno licked my shoulders and legs.
"No! No! Let me go!" I pounded my fists on his chest and swung my feet to break free.
"Hey, hey. It's alright. You're safe."
The jagged voice speaking to me sounded nothing like my father's monotone drivel.
"It's just a dream, Tessa."
When I opened my eyes, my hands clutched Rogan's T-shirt as he held me in the air.
"A dream. Oh yes. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
"Nothin' to forgive." His nose crinkled as he squinted at me. "There's only one bed in this place. I'll be on the couch."
As I peeked down at the bed, he stared at me as he waited for some kind of reply. My awareness shifted to the heat where my side touched his rock-solid torso, and under my legs where his powerful arms supported me.
"Uh... Thank you."
Rogan lowered me to the bed and stayed close for a split second longer than he needed to before straightening.
"Okay, then. There ya go." He turned and left the room in a blur, like a vortex of fine sand in a windstorm.
Chapter 4
Tessa
Rogan's immense body spilled over the edges of the narrow couch in the living room. One foot rested on the floor, the other hung over the arm. His hands were folded on his chest. Rogan half opened his eyes but didn't move.
"I don't mind taking the couch. That can't be comfortable."
"Trained to sleep on rocks, Sunshine. A couch is a fuckin' luxury." His gravelly voice rumbled from his throat.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes before walking to the kitchen. "Coffee?" he asked as he filled the pot with water.
"Yes, please."
After we watched it brew, he handed me an Army mug and took a sip of his own. "No limits on coffee on the compound?"
"No. When my father took over he lifted the ban. His wives needed the caffeine to get all the work done with so many kids."
"Still doesn't sit right hearing you talk about one husband with many wives."
"I grew up in a plural world. They tried to convince me it was normal, but I always knew it wasn't the way the outside world lived. Hey, at least we had coffee." I savored my first taste of life juice in months.
He leaned his hip against the counter and peered at me over his cup. "When did you fly to Pakistan with your church?"
"Beginning of March."
"And when did you get captured?"
"The first week."
He gulped down a sip, and his sleepy eyes popped fully open. "Shit. They had you ten weeks?"
"Yes."
"Did they hurt you?"
I took a deep breath and told Rogan the truth. "They called me dirty. Seemed like it was the only English word they knew. Dirty."
"Go on."
"This man with a white turban... He beat me the first day. They took pictures of my battered face and sent them to my father."
Rogan gripped his cup so tight his fingertips turned white. "And your dad didn't even pretend to negotiate with them to keep you alive?”
"He said no and disconnected the call."
"And we know he didn't call the government to send a team for you."
"No. He wouldn't do that."
"Fuck." His cup clanked on the kitchen counter.
"I'm just telling you how it happened."
He rolled his hand for me to continue.
"The women kept me on the bottom floor of the house with the kids. I thought for sure I'd die there. I'd never see my family again or get a chance to say goodbye."
Rogan pressed his palms to the top of the sink with his elbows straight. "They rape you?" he asked gently as he peered out the kitchen window.
"No. The man with the white turban tried, but..."
"What happened?"
"I fought and screamed dirty and pointed to myself here." I pointed to my crotch.
"You did?"
"Mmm-hmm. And I told the one woman who spoke some English that I had a disease. If anyone raped me, his manhood would turn green and fall off."
His eyes crinkled when he grinned. "That was... creative."
"I had lots of time to think."
"It wa
s also risky. They could slice your head off for that."
"Luckily they didn't."
"Yeah." He shifted his gaze to the window again. "I'm gonna set you up with a doctor to check you out."
"No. I'll be okay. My body's not broken." My head spun with all the challenges ahead of me, and my heart fractured at the thought of abandoning my family, but at least I had my health. "I'll be fine."
"Do it anyway. As a precaution."
"Okay."
He rinsed his cup in the sink and placed it in the dry rack. "You have a cell phone back home?"
I nodded. "My father gave some of us cell phones. It was too difficult for him to communicate with all his families without them."
"Did you have access to the internet?"
"No. But I worked at the drugstore in town and could get WiFi access at the library on my breaks."
"I'm surprised your dad allowed all that."
"He didn't know I had internet. I cleared my history every day."
"So, you babysat and worked at a drugstore?"
"We needed money so we worked wherever we could."
"But the drugstore was outside the compound? Sold the things an ordinary drugstore would sell?"
"Yes, they sold magazines, alcohol, cigarettes. We shopped at the Costco in Boise City. We weren't Amish. We were exposed to the outside world, just taught to reject the excess and gluttony or we'd go to hell."
"But you didn't believe it?"
"No. I was fascinated with the outside world and always wanted to be a part of it. The possibilities were endless. So much color and music and art. I didn't see the harm in it."
"Follow me." Rogan walked to the living room. He dropped a shiny rectangular box on the coffee table. "For you."
I picked up the box and opened the packaging. I lifted out a thin cell phone and earbuds.
"It's a smartphone registered to Tessa Harlow. No limits on data. My cell is programmed under R. Don't give out any personal information. Trust no one."
Wow. "Okay."
"No contact with your family."
No contact? But my little brother Milo would be waiting to hear from me. I agreed with a nod of my head. "Thank you so much. For all of this. If you hadn't rescued me—"
"And you can stop thanking me." His voice hardened like I'd offended him.
"But I'm so grateful."
"Got that. Just accept it and make the best of it." He sat down at his card table and opened up his laptop.
I tucked the phone under my armpit and strode toward his bedroom.
"One more thing." Rogan's voice stopped me mid-step.
"Hmm?"
"There's a shit ton of ebooks loaded in the reading app on your phone and a credit at the bookstore website. Get whatever you want," he said casually and looked back at his screen.
Get whatever you want. For him, this was probably a normal thing to say. For me, it meant the world. Never in my life was I allowed to get what I wanted. I'd only heard no, you can't have that.
I plopped on his bed and opened the reading app. Romance novels, mysteries, classics, and memoirs. So many memoirs.
How I Escaped Polygamy
The Scarlet Sister
Life on the Outside by Gracelynn Jeters
Gracelynn Jeters! Ervil's ninth wife had written a book? I'd met her once on the compound in Utah. I flipped to the foreword.
With this book, I hope to reach the thousands of religiously oppressed like my former self. Never give up on seeking freedom from the emotional and physical captivity of polygamy. There is light on the other side. And it's beautiful.
The room grew darker until the glow from the screen projected an isolated cloud on my sheets. The rolling hunger in my tummy finally roared so loud it couldn't be ignored.
I placed the phone next to me on the bed and wept. I was no longer alone and invisible. I had sisters in spirit who'd fought for their right to be seen and heard. Other women had gone before me and made it through. They were scared. They'd feared the isolation, the loss of their family, the threat of eternal damnation. Yet they'd stood strong and risked their lives to escape.
A soft rapping on my door interrupted my sobs. "Come in." I wiped my cheeks, and my muscles protested as I moved from the position I'd sat in all day.
Rogan poked his head around the door and held up a white paper bag. "I brought you Roxy's."
"Sounds good." Whatever Roxy's was, I'd eat it. "I'll be right there."
I washed my face and met him in the kitchen. Takoda sat at his feet, her tail wagging double speed, her nose pointed at the food Rogan arranged onto plates.
"Koda, down."
She lowered her chest and rested her nose on her paws.
Rogan handed me a plate loaded with a hamburger wrapped in white paper, a pickle, and a heaping mound of thick-cut potato fries.
"Oh my gosh." A full plate of food. Another thing I'd never take for granted. "It smells so good. No wonder she's begging. Can I give her some?" I picked up a fry, ready to hand it to Takoda. Her ears perked up and she began to rise to all fours, but Rogan pointed one finger at the floor and gave her a stern look. She settled back into her down position.
"No. She's on a special diet." He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table for me. "If she sits quiet while we eat, I'll give her a treat at the end. But you give her a fry now, she'll be begging at every meal."
I set my plate on the table and sat in the chair Rogan offered me. "Sorry, Takoda. I can't share."
Rogan took the seat next to mine. "What'd you eat there?"
"Rice. Some fruit. I wouldn't touch their rancid meat."
He looked from the food to my face. "You think your stomach can handle this?"
"I think so."
"Take it slow."
My first bite was so delicious, I moaned through a full mouth. "Mmm!"
He pointed to a cup and straw on the table. "Triple chocolate shake."
I gulped down the food in my mouth. "Triple chocolate shake?"
"You wanna put on weight, Roxy's is the way to go."
I managed to eat half the burger, a quarter of the shake, and a few fries. Rogan collected the plates and tossed the uneaten food in the can.
"Shouldn't we save the leftovers?"
Seemed so wasteful to throw away all that good food.
He looked at the can and back at me. "Fast food doesn't keep well. I'll fetch Roxy's for you anytime you like."
"Oh, okay."
He pitched a jerky treat in the air. Takoda caught it in her teeth and scarfed it down.
My chair scraped across the floor as I stood and tucked it back under the table.
"So, the books helpful?" he asked me.
"Yes."
Rogan leaned with his back against the counter and focused on me as he crossed his arms over his chest. "How many wives does your father have?"
"Thirty when I left for my mission."
"And your mom is?"
"She was his fourteenth wife."
"She pass away?"
"Yes. Diabetes."
"Diabetes is usually treatable."
"We had no medical insurance."
"So, what? He just let her die?"
"Yes." My eyes stung and filled with tears. "He said God was calling her to him."
He stared out the kitchen window over the sink. "Your father is a piece of shit."
"He says he's God's messenger."
When his gaze returned to mine, a stone-cold hardness filled his eyes. "You know that's not true."
"Before she died, my mom said she'd changed her mind about the plural life and keeping sweet, like they tell us to do. She warned me my father misled us, and I should escape."
"And what'd you think?"
"I believed her. She was never happy. Always pregnant and struggling to feed us. It's hard to go against what you're taught, but my heart always knew it wasn't right. She told me to fight for my joy."
The stern line of his lips softened. "Is that why you were crying?"
"No. I cried for my siblings. I have to get them out too."
"How many?"
"There were eight of us total. Five are still at the compound. Three girls, two boys. The oldest, Temperance, is sixteen." I swallowed back tears, thinking of them there without me. "Milo is six now. He'll be devastated when he hears about my death." I buried my face in my hands. "I have other half-siblings and cousins... I need to go back."
"You can't."
The finality in his voice ripped a sob from my throat. I couldn't move on and leave them behind.
I gasped as his arm encircled my back and pulled me to his chest, enveloping me in his sculpted frame. Rogan was hugging me.
He smelled like buttermilk biscuits. I tucked my forehead into the planes of his solid pecs. His palm skimmed over my head and warmed my back as he smoothed my braid along my spine.
I hadn't been held like this since I was eighteen and Zook hugged me under our oak tree. He'd caress my back in the same loving way Rogan was doing, although his hand was a lot smaller and more tentative. Rogan's touch was confident and reassuring, as if comforting a crying woman was second nature to him.
The two precious years Zook was my boyfriend were a long dead memory. The only joy of my childhood killed by my father when he caught us kissing and sent Zook away forever. After that, confusion and misery reigned when my mother died and my father started sneaking into my room. I forced my brain to halt the memories and focus on the present.
Right now, Rogan Saxton held me in his arms. How long he held me was my choice. No one would stop us and call us sinners. My life had changed. The embrace of a man could be meaningful and good again like it had been with Zook. My long-forgotten dream of being someone's only wife could come true now. Probably not with Rogan, since he was larger than life and merely helping me get on my way, but I would meet new men. They wouldn't even know about me and my messed up past. It could all work out, like Zook had promised me.
"Please let me go," I whispered.
"It's not safe for you to go back."
Rogan thought I was begging to go home, oblivious to the vivid maelstrom of memories his touch had incited and the shocking revelation that my life was open to love again. I stiffened in his arms and lifted my shoulders, raising my shaking hand to his pec.