Her question was answered after pie when Jonathon checked his day calendar and announced his intention of spending the night. “Happy Birthday, Eleanor.”
Eleanor’s smile was beautiful, her joy at having Jonathon remember her birthday unmistakable.
The display made Angel want to gag. “Brother,” she muttered under her breath.
“Did you say something, Sister Angel?” Ruth asked, her eyes round and innocent.
“I started to say, Brother Jonathon, what a lovely sentiment. I wasn’t aware it was Eleanor’s birthday.”
Jonathon beamed at his wife. “Her special day.”
Angel got a mental vision of Jonathon presenting himself buck naked to Eleanor, a big red bow tied around his—
“Are you all right, Angelina?” Matthew touched her shoulder. “You look a bit pale.”
“I’m, um, fine.” As long as she could get that vision out of her mind. “I’d like to retire early tonight. The walk and fresh air today made me tired.”
“Certainly.”
“A few of the elders noted your absence at lunch these past days.” Jonathon’s smile faded. “Many have matters to discuss with you. Perhaps it would be best if you curtailed your visits home during the lunch hour.”
Angel felt Matthew stiffen. This had apparently been a bone of contention between the two.
Personally she would be disappointed if their picnic lunches and midday walks were discontinued. Not only did she enjoy the time outdoors, but she also enjoyed Matthew’s company and the opportunity to talk to him without the threat of being overheard.
“Uncle Jonathon, the elders will have to find another time to approach me.” Matthew sipped his water. “I can stay late after the meeting if necessary.”
“They have commitments themselves, families of their own to return to. Sometimes a man must surrender his own will for the good of the brethren.”
And how often did Jonathon surrender his will for the good of anyone? Not very often, she’d bet. Oh, how Angel longed to fling the accusation in his smug face. But she couldn’t. As a good celestial wife-in-training, she lowered her gaze to the floor, pretending she had no opinion.
“I am a newlywed, Uncle. My place is at my bride’s side as much as possible. By sharing my lunchtime with her, I’m able to ease her transition to our way of life.”
“There’s no need to coddle her. She must learn her rightful place from the start. She is a strong woman. She’ll adjust. And make you a fine wife, as Eleanor has made a fine wife for me.”
“But—”
“You’ll lead us in the evening Bible reading and prayer, won’t you, Jonathon?” Eleanor tucked her hand under Jonathon’s arm, her attempt at changing the subject obvious.
Angel held her breath, doubting the ploy would work.
Strangely enough, she thought she saw a glint of relief in Jonathon’s eyes as he accepted Eleanor’s offer. “Yes, I’ll lead. Matthew, you and Angel will join the family this evening.”
Matthew nodded curtly. “Of course.”
In his way, Jonathon had allowed Matthew to stand firm in his conviction but made it seem as if Jonathon had won. All facilitated by Eleanor, who smiled innocently.
MATTHEW CLOSED THE bedroom door behind them. He’d never been so glad to plead fatigue in his life. And it had absolutely nothing to do with his lovely bride, as Jonathon’s knowing wink had seemed to suggest. Rather, staying under the same roof with his uncle had brought emotions to the surface he would have rather left buried.
Angel sat on the bed. “I thought his prayer would go on forever. And all that end-days apocalypse stuff is creepy.”
“It seems to be his focus.”
“He sure is passionate about it.” She stared at him. “You okay, Matt?”
“Yes. Fine.”
“You look flushed.”
“It is warm in here, don’t you think?”
“I guess so.”
“This room could use some ventilation. Too bad there’s no window. I’d give my left arm for even one of those small windows with the bars over it.”
“It’s not that bad, just a bit stuffy. I hope you’re not getting sick.” Angel pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. “Nope. No fever.”
“I’m just feeling kind of closed in.”
“Yeah, I imagine Jonathon has that effect on a lot of people. Seems to suck the air right out of a room.”
The accuracy of her statement struck him. That was exactly how he felt. But he didn’t dare allow Angel know he was affected so intensely. “I can handle Jonathon. No big deal.”
“Still, this must be like old home week for you. Probably takes you back to those ‘Stepdaddy dearest’ days.”
Matthew swallowed hard. Memories were clamoring for attention. Memories he didn’t want to revisit. Ever.
“Like I said, I can handle it.” His tone was harsh, impatient. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just on edge.”
Angel shrugged. “No big deal.”
“It’s not like I’m a fifteen-year-old kid anymore. I’m strong. I’m smart. I escaped and built a new life. He has no power over me.”
“Not as long as you stayed away, he didn’t.”
“He has no power over me now.” He wiped sweat from his brow. His sport shirt clung to his back. But the moisture gave him no relief from the searing heat.
“Only if you hand it to him on a silver platter. Only if you let what happened before get all mixed up with what’s going on now. If you do that, he’ll win. Like you pointed out to me, he’s an expert at mind control.”
Matthew wished he could escape. Run out the door, past the guard shack and the iron gates and simply run till he couldn’t go any farther.
Somehow he managed to present a calm facade long enough to make his pallet on the floor, get ready for bed and slide between the blankets.
But then the heat enveloped him again. He kicked off the covers but was still bathed in sweat. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours.
Then someone was shaking his shoulders. “Matthew, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
He sat up, his heart pounding. He glanced around wildly, panicked and not knowing why.
“You’re okay, Matthew,” Angel crooned. Kneeling beside him on the floor, she smoothed the damp hair from his brow. Her hand was cool and reassuring. He leaned his face into it for a moment while he regained his equilibrium.
His breathing became less labored and his heart stopped thudding against his ribs.
“Good. That’s better.” Her voice was soft. Funny, he’d never expected Angel to have a maternal side. It suited her.
“I’m okay.”
“Yes. You’re fine.” But she didn’t move away.
“You can go back to bed.”
“I will in a minute.”
“It was just a nightmare. I can’t even remember what it was about.” That much was true. He rarely remembered the dream. His only impression was of hot flames melting his flesh and Satan’s laughter ringing through the pain.
“I don’t believe you. But unlike some people, I’ll allow you to keep your issues private.”
“I don’t have iss—” He caught himself in time. “We’re more alike than we think, huh?”
“Could be. I distinctly remember telling you I didn’t have issues.” She grinned. “And what was your response?”
“We all have issues.”
“It would appear so.”
“You’re enjoying this.” If he were really lucky, maybe he could distract her from further prying.
“Am I enjoying turning the tables on calm, cool, collected Matthew Stone? You bet. Do I take pleasure in your pain? No. I’ve had too many of those nights myself, buddy.” She patted his arm and rose. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”
Her sudden departure left him wishing she’d pressed for details. Maybe it was time he talked to someone about it.
A few minutes later her voice came from the direction of the be
d. He could visualize her leaning on her elbow in the dark, her brown hair spilling over her shoulder. “When did these dreams start?”
“I thought you weren’t going to pry.”
“I’m asking a very general question. That’s not prying.”
“You’re walking a fine line.”
“So humor me. When did they start?”
“When I was sixteen.”
“And you were how old when you left Jonathon’s Arizona compound?”
“Fifteen.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“If your dreams were connected with your life at the settlement, I would have thought they’d have started immediately after you left. But there’s a gap.”
“So it’s probably not connected.” He was testing her. Why?
To see how perceptive she really was. And how hard he’d have to work to keep her from discovering the truth.
“If you told me your whole story, I bet we’d find a connection there somewhere.”
“But we agreed I’m not going to tell you my whole story.”
“I agreed not to press. There’s a difference.”
He smiled in the dark. “Yes, a world of difference.”
Which meant Angel would go through the back door to get the information she wanted. But her usual information sources wouldn’t be any help, even if she could contact them. The root wasn’t on record anywhere as far as he knew. He doubted there was even an official death certificate.
Matthew clamped down on his mental wanderings. Nothing good would come from speculation. He needed to know straight from the source what had happened the night his father died. His mother had only discussed it once, leaving more questions than answers. He’d have to confront Uncle Jonathon. What were the chances he’d tell the truth?
Slim to none.
Unless, of course, he was given the right incentive.
A familiar sense of purpose stole through Matthew’s exhausted body and troubled mind. And along with it came the power he’d temporarily relinquished to his uncle. Things would be different this time. Very, very different.
ANGEL STUDIED JONATHON across the breakfast table the next morning. He was downright ebullient.
Eleanor hummed under her breath as she set a plate of pancakes in the center of the kitchen table. She’d been absolutely glowing throughout the meal preparations. The birthday sex must have been hot stuff.
“Smells wonderful.” Jonathon inhaled deeply. “You’ve outdone yourself, ladies.”
“It’s nothing.” Eleanor’s smile dimmed a bit. Probably from having to share his praises with Ruth and Angel.
Angel didn’t blame her. Eleanor had to share too much as it was without her birthday afterglow being up for grabs, too.
“Aunt Eleanor’s a fabulous cook,” Matthew added. “She’s the only one besides my mom who can make pancakes as fluffy as these.”
Eleanor blanched.
Jonathon flushed.
Oops. Major faux pas, Matthew. His heart was in the right place, but the guy’s sense of timing was atrocious.
Angel rose from her seat. “Eleanor, I almost forgot those lovely peaches you wanted me to set out. Where are they again?”
“In the root cellar. Do you remember where it is?”
“Yes, I do. I’ll be back in a sec.”
Eleanor nodded, the color returning to her face.
When Angel returned with the preserved peaches, everything seemed much as usual. Which meant Eleanor was back to her micromanaging self.
“Here, I’ve got bowls and spoons. Angel, you dish those out and Ruth can see that the children have some later for a snack.”
“Yes, Eleanor,” Angel and Ruth murmured in unison.
When Ruth and Angel were seated at the table again, Jonathon said the blessing. It wasn’t nearly as long-winded as his dinner blessing. Maybe he wanted to get breakfast over with so he could leave. One evening under Eleanor’s roof would last him for weeks—or so she’d heard.
“At church, someone mentioned a baby had been born last week. That’s wonderful news.” Angel hoped they’d talk about some of the other residents of the compound. As it was, she rarely saw anyone outside Jonathon’s immediate family—sixty strong or so as it was—unless it was at church. Eleanor’s sister wives seemed to avoid her. And Angel and Matthew rarely saw folks out and about when they took their afternoon walks.
“Yes, Leah blessed Brother Jamison with a good, healthy boy,” Jonathon said. “She has stayed true to the principle and set an example for other young women to follow.”
“I remember Brother Jamison from when I was a child. He seemed old as Methuselah then,” Matthew commented.
“Matthew,” Eleanor admonished. “Great wisdom is bestowed on our elders.”
Great wisdom and a pinch of horny dust. Angel kept her eyes lowered demurely. She hid her smile behind her napkin.
Jonathon ate quickly, cutting his food in precise bites before shoveling them into his mouth. At last, he pushed his plate away. Eleanor jumped up to clear it from the table.
Angel opened her mouth to protest but shut it again. Eleanor should have finished her own meal while it was hot. But it was none of Angel’s business.
When Eleanor returned, Jonathon cleared his throat, sitting straighter.
“I received a vision last night.” He paused for effect. His voice took on a booming, godlike quality. “It is time for Matthew to take a second wife.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANGEL’S BLOOD WENT cold. She tried to catch Matthew’s eye, but his attention was focused on Jonathon.
“I just married, Uncle. I want to spend time with Angel before we bring in another wife. And don’t you think I should have my own home first?”
“Eleanor has room here. The bedroom next to yours is vacant, as a matter of fact. That will do until we can find housing for you.”
“No, Uncle, absolutely not.”
Jonathon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you don’t believe in the principle of plurality?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Perhaps it was a mistake to bring you here, Matthew. You don’t seem to be embracing our way of life. First you defy the elders and leave our fellowship at lunch. Now this.”
“I need time to adjust.”
“You’ve had time to adjust. I’m the spiritual leader. I’ve never been questioned when I received a prophecy.”
“I’m not questioning your prophecy. I just need more time.”
Angel shifted in her chair, wanting to help. As it was, she had to simply sit by and watch.
“There is no time.” He leaned forward, his eyes flashing. “The marriage will take place tomorrow morning in my study or you will leave Zion’s Gate.”
Matthew sighed. “May I ask who’s been chosen as my bride?”
“Ruth will make an excellent addition to your household.”
Angel gaped. Jonathon discussed adding a wife as if she were nothing more substantial than a new sofa. “Don’t I have a say in this?”
“We’ll discuss this later,” Matthew warned.
“Of course you have a say in the choice of a sister wife.” Jonathon’s smile was tight. “However, a woman sets aside her own desires for the family’s best interest. It is the husband who knows how the growth of the family will meld with the growth of the community.”
I’m royally screwed. She glanced helplessly at Matthew.
Later, he mouthed.
“WHY DO YOU REFUSE to talk about it?” Angel demanded, peeling an orange.
“I’m not refusing to discuss it. I simply suggested we wait till after we’ve eaten.”
“You’re stalling.”
“No, I’m not. I had enough tension with Jonathon at supper and breakfast. I’d like to have one meal where I can relax while I eat.”
“Looks like you’re done to me.”
Matthew eyed the apple core and crumpled wax-paper wrapper on the blanket before him. Not a morsel left.
He reached into the canvas bag and withdrew an orange. “See, I’m still eating.”
Coward. She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to.
“Maybe I am stalling. But don’t you think you can give me this one reprieve? I promise we’ll talk before we go back.”
“I guess so. Besides, there’s nothing left to eat once you’re done with the orange.”
He peeled slowly.
“Here, let me do that.” With her oval nails she removed the fibrous skin in a matter of seconds.
“Um, thank you.”
“I live to make your life easier.” Her grin was wicked.
“Sure you do.”
Matthew picked up the wrappers from their lunch and put them in the bag. Then the orange peels. “Have you noticed we’ve started to sound like a married couple? You prodding me to talk, me retreating. Pretty cliché.”
“Yeah, except most couples don’t argue about bringing another wife into the family. What are we going to do, Matthew? Besides being morally reprehensible, it’s illegal and beyond the scope of our cover. The government tends to frown on that kind of stuff.”
“I’ll think of something. It’s really a pretty smart tactic on Jonathon’s part. Tie us to the group and test my sincerity. And, of course, I’d be breaking the law, too.”
“Possibly several laws—I doubt Ruth’s over sixteen. Yes, Jonathon’s intelligent and dangerous. Do you think he actually has visions?”
Shrugging, Matthew said, “From what I understand, Jonathon’s visions usually further his agenda. That includes taking any woman he fancies.”
“Like your mother?”
He nodded. “And Rebecca. He didn’t care what effect his actions had on any of us. He wanted my mother because she and my father were deeply in love and he couldn’t stand it. He wanted Rebecca because she looked so much like my mother when she was younger. Jonathon doesn’t believe rules apply to him.”
“You’re describing a sociopath.”
Hesitating, he said, “Yes, I guess I am.”
“And yet you agreed to come back?”
“There are things you don’t know about. I didn’t have a choice.”
“So tell me about those things.”
Carrie Weaver - Count on a Cop Page 10