The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  The clouds had blown away, revealing a clear, black sky so filled with stars that it glowed sliver. A tiny sliver of a moon rose over their heads, the merest hint of light that was dwarfed by the majesty of the Milky Way. They danced in the billowing grass, and the more the music drifted into their hearts and minds, the more they both felt that this moment was right, that they should be here together, under the glowing sky, in the quiet of the music, feeling the rhythms of each other’s bodies. John felt a shudder run through him. This was not supposed to happen, but he did not care. Sally Beth was in his arms, and nothing before had ever felt so perfect.

  Sally Beth felt nothing but love. Her heart had melted the moment her lips had touched his, and all she wanted was more of him. She even found herself thanking God for bringing him here, although when she remembered that He would surely frown on what they did this night, she still felt grateful for the gift of love, for the gift of desire, of young bodies that could respond like this even in the face of danger and horror and death. She pushed that thought from her mind. For tonight, she would not think about it. She would only let herself feel the fireworks spiraling inside her, the warmth of John’s body as he moved with her and with the music.

  He had planned what he would do. He had told himself that he would keep himself aloof so that he could concentrate solely on her pleasure. He had not had high hopes about that: he had been with a virgin once before, when he was inexperienced, too, and it had ended in disaster—pain, tears and regret. Knowing Sally Beth’s strong moral code, he feared the same from her tonight, when she remembered how cold his heart was.

  But he forgot to be aloof; he forgot he could not love her, and he felt himself falling, as if from a great height, into a well of peace and happiness, into a pool of warm desire. As soon as the last notes of the last song faded away, Sally Beth took his hand and led him into the downstairs bedroom, where she gently pushed him onto the bed, then eased herself beside him, pressed herself against him, and kissed him with such passion that he had to keep telling himself that he must be slow and careful. He peeled off the robe, then the summery dress, and he felt his breath quicken when he saw the snowy perfection of her body.

  After that, he forgot everything except that a beautiful woman—no, not just any woman—Sally Beth, a woman whose heart was as beautiful as her body, who loved him, who wanted him, was in his arms, and she was kissing him with such yearning he could not stop his own desire blooming through his heated blood. The perfume of her clean skin mixed with her own feminine smell, the freshness of her innocence mingled with her longing for him, the taste of her flesh—oranges and honey—all these things rose up in a heady mix, and he felt himself falling into an abyss of sweet yearning. He felt the hammering of her heart, and then realized that his own matched it, beat for beat, and he lost himself in the bliss of their touching.

  She could not believe how beautiful this felt, this unbearable sweetness suffusing her body, the waves of feeling building and crashing over her that made her cry out with the unbearable pleasure of it. The perfection of his touch, the way he made her grow and blossom, made her want so much to give herself to him, to be a part of him, to connect on every level. She gasped, then breathed out with a cry, “Oh yes! Oh please, John!”

  He nearly wept with joy, knowing not only that he had pleased her, but that she so unabashedly gave into her pleasure without inhibitions or restraint. Dizzy with desire, he almost could not think, but then, remembering that he had promised himself to ask her once again if she was certain this was what she wanted, he pushed back for a moment, hope of her assurance surging through his heated blood. He could not believe how much he wanted her, how much he needed her, how he ached for her. He drew breath to ask, looking into her eyes, large and luminous. They gazed back at him with naked adoration, then she blinked and said simply and clearly, “John, I love you.”

  Shock ran through him, and all manner of alarms rang in his head as he felt the sudden weight of his responsibility, heavy as a building leaning on him. He held her love, all of it, fragile, beautiful, in his hands, and he was stunned to realize that he was not worthy of it. Taking a sharp breath, he hesitated, floundering, and before he could recover, a tremendous KABOOM! resonated all around him, shaking the house and rattling the window panes. They both sat up, disoriented, still in the grips of their passion. Another blast broke through the haze, and they knew the war had come to them. They both jumped up, throwing on clothing with trembling hands. Sally Beth cast aside the summery dress, jumping into the jeans and shirt she had worn earlier.

  John did not have a gun with him; there were two in the plane, but he knew they would not be able to make it to the plane and be aloft in time, even if he unloaded both of them into the enemy. They ran to the window as they dressed and looked out into the ravaged night.

  Soldiers were just to the north of them, perhaps half a mile away, over a line of trees, sending rocket grenades toward a target they could not see. Nor could they see the soldiers, only the flaming rockets and the fires they started as they landed.

  “We can’t chance taking the plane. They’ll see us. We’ll have to try to get away in the van,” he said, wondering if he should take the time to run to retrieve his guns. She was already out the door, yanking the blanket off the van, and had leapt into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The firefight seemed to be growing closer and louder, and he decided not to take the chance to go for the pistols, but jumped into the passenger seat as Sally Beth gunned the engine and careened away. She drove like a demon, sobbing into the steering wheel, “Oh, Prissy!”

  Twenty

  There was no fighting, not even any noise of battle at the mission when Sally Beth and John came to the gates. They honked the horn until Red came running to receive them. Recognizing Alethia’s van and Sally Beth’s face, he did not hesitate to unlock the gate.

  “There’s a splinter of the army blowing things up just southeast of here,” John told him as he leapt out of the van. “I think we’d better be prepared in case they decide to come here.”

  They all ran to Pastor Umbatu’s apartment, banging on the door until he opened it. He was wearing a robe. Lyla stood behind him with a blanket wrapped around her.

  “So sorry, Pastor, but I’m afraid the Ugandan army is back in this area. They’ve been shooting rocket launchers about five miles from here.” John stopped. A distinct Boom! wafting in on the breeze sounded closer than that. The sky lit up with flames.

  Pastor Umbatu spun around to Lyla. “Get dressed. Help them wake up everybody and meet me in the sanctuary. God help us if they decide to take the mission.”

  He rushed to the bedroom with Lyla while Red, Sally Beth, and John ran to the rooms where the others were sleeping. Sally Beth found Prissy in Falla’s room. She woke them both as gently as she could before she whispered urgently, “Get dressed, and hurry! We may be under attack any minute,” she said as she stuffed Priscilla’s sleepy arm into a blouse and held up a skirt for her to step into.

  Everyone arrived at the sanctuary at about the same time. Pastor Umbatu stood just inside the doorway. “Quickly,” he said. “Go to the pulpit. Lyla will show you.

  Lyla motioned to them from behind the pulpit. As they made their way to the front of the sanctuary, they saw her holding open a small door at the base. A narrow set of stone steps led down into the foundations of the church. She pointed with a flashlight. “Go down. There’s a shelter there.”

  One by one, with Red leading the way with a flashlight, they stooped under the pulpit, onto the cramped stairway, which led them into a room about the size of the clinic waiting room. Benches lined the walls. A row of lockers stood at the far end. Within minutes, they all, Red, Lyla, Sally Beth, John, Dr. Sams, Priscilla, Falla, Jenna, and Pastor Umbatu were standing, trembling under the low stone ceiling.

  “I did not have the opportunity to radio for help; the signal seems to be jammed,” said the pastor in a grave voice. “No doubt our friends will know of our plight s
oon, if we should be attacked. We must remain here, even if we hear any disruption above us. Now, all we can do is keep quiet and pray.”

  They spread out on the benches around the room. Sally Beth clutched at Priscilla. John sat on the other side of the child, holding Sally Beth’s hand. Together, they formed a protective circle around her. Pastor Umbatu stood beside Lyla, his hand on her shoulder. They all bowed their heads and prayed silently.

  Sally Beth no longer knew how to talk to God. She was not angry at Him, not now, and she no longer felt like the pitiful wretch who had lain in the bathtub hours earlier and contemplated His capriciousness and her own misery. Now, she felt calm. Prissy was in her arms and John’s warmth suffused her. She wondered if she was supposed to feel guilty for disobeying God’s commandment for purity, but she did not. Rather, she felt like a part of her had been restored, and it gave her courage. She simply held on to Prissy and John, open, waiting to see if God would speak to her.

  He did not. Instead, there was a loud explosion directly above them, and a few of the stones above their heads gave way, landing with a crash in the middle of the room. Everyone jumped, but no one screamed. They gasped and looked at each other through the dust in the lone beam of light from Red’s flashlight. Another explosion rocked them again, and more stones tumbled down. “We have to get out of here!” said Pastor Umbatu urgently. The floor above us could cave in! Women, come with me. You can hide behind the stairs to the balcony,” he whispered. “Men, wait until the women are hidden before you follow.” He opened the door and hurried out.

  John pushed Sally Beth and Priscilla up the steps into the choking, swirling dust. Huge holes gaped darkly from the ceiling and one of the walls, a betrayal of the promise of the sanctuary. Glass from the windows lay upon smoking pews. She stopped for a second to look, but Lyla, Jenna, and Falla pushed her forward, rushing her toward a hidden alcove under the balcony stairway. Pastor Umbatu stood aside, motioning for them to hurry.

  Suddenly, another missile came soaring through the wall, breaking another beautiful stained glass window. Sally Beth saw it shatter, saw the incendiary bomb come through, saw it land directly on the hidden place below the sanctuary. There was a sickening, crushing sound, and pews flared with a brilliant light before sliding sideways into the hole that appeared. Smoke and flames poured out of the hole, but when another piece of the ceiling caved in, the stones that fell smothered the fire in a cloud of dust and mortar. She stifled a scream as Pastor Umbatu shoved her into the alcove then wedged himself tightly in with the women.

  “Do not make a sound,” he warned, his voice low and menacing, or you will give us all away, and I do not need to remind you what Ugandan and Libyan soldiers do to women and children.”

  Sally Beth felt the oxygen being pressed out of her lungs. She gasped for breath in the dark, crushing stillness as she held Priscilla tightly, one hand over the child’s mouth, the other one over her own. They waited, silent as dust, for many long minutes, but they heard nothing more. No more explosions, no more tinkling glass, no angry feet marching into the sanctuary, turning over pews and searching for victims to torture and murder. Her heart hammered steadily, and she could feel its rhythm matched beat for beat underneath Priscilla’s thin blouse.

  After a very long time, Pastor Umbatu slid open the secret door a tiny crack. There was nothing there. Carefully, he stepped forward, motioning for the women to stay still, and eased the door closed again. Again, they waited in silence, in fear, their blood thrumming in their ears as they waited for horrors they dared not think about. The scent of fear was strong in the tiny room, and Sally Beth forced herself to breathe regularly, in and out, in and out.

  Pastor Umbatu returned. “All the men were safe on the steps under the pulpit. No one was hurt, but the space is too small for them all. Come out and I will give you directions.”

  They filed out into the sanctuary and huddled together behind the pulpit. John put his arms around Sally Beth and Priscilla, pulling them close.

  “There are several hiding places. In the kitchen pantry behind the door, where the brooms hang, there is a secret door. You cannot see it, but it is unlocked, so you just push it open. Once you get inside, you can bolt it closed so that no one will notice. There is room there for a few of you. John, you take Sally Beth and Priscilla. Dr. Sams, go with them. Red, Falla, and Jenna, there is room in the stairwell under the pulpit for the three of you. It is still intact, and should be safe, barring a direct hit, and the soldiers won’t be able to find the entrance unless they tear out the pulpit. If they find you, shout out that you are all Americans. Falla and Jenna, try to speak with an American accent, and let Red do all the talking. Lyla and I will stay in the alcove under the stairs. Go quickly, and God bless you all. If I do not see you again in this life, I will embrace you in the next.” He touched John’s shoulder. “Now go, but be careful.”

  John, Priscilla, Dr. Sams, and Sally Beth raced across the sanctuary, leaping across fallen pews and stone rubble. They ran to the back entrance, stood breathing as quietly as they could for a moment while John peered out into the darkness. Then he motioned for them to follow and sprinted across the courtyard to the kitchen. There were no soldiers visible, but they stayed under the shadows of the trees, opened the door to the kitchen as quietly as they could, and ran for the pantry.

  The kitchen was still intact: the pantry stood solidly cheerful, bright with aprons and a few provisions on the shelves. Dr. Sams made his way to the back and reached for a jug of water sitting on the top shelf while John found the secret door behind the brooms, pushed it open, and shoved Sally Beth and Priscilla into the room behind it. But before he could step inside himself, the wall opposite exploded. Shelves fell, dumping pots, pans, kitchen appliances, and food on John and Dr. Sams.

  Sally Beth leaned against the door, holding Priscilla behind her for the space of five breaths while the air stilled and a heavy silence descended, then, her heart pounding in her head, she opened the door slightly. Although the room was dark, the light filtering in through the open door of the pantry allowed her to see a huge hole in the wall. Plaster, shelves, food, and appliances lay strewn over the floor. Dr. Sams had disappeared underneath the debris in the back. All she could see of John was one foot sticking out from under the wreckage.

  She wasted no time, heaving aside heavy boards and appliances. Priscilla joined her, digging through the rubble furiously, but they did not make much headway before they both sensed a shadow blocking the dim light coming into the room. Sally Beth looked up. A man wearing army fatigues, a rifle slung over his shoulder, stood very still in the doorway. She could not see him well, but his smell formed a palpable bulk of dirt, sweat, smoke, and evil. Pushing Priscilla behind her, she straightened, facing the dark menace. “Americans!” she shouted, her voice sounding shrill and inhuman as it rasped its way out of her throat. “We are Americans!”

  He laughed. She could see the gleam of his teeth and the flash of his eyes. The rest of his face was invisible in the dark. She did not have time to cry out again before his fist flew forward and everything went blank.

  John felt himself floating through a sea of boulders that banged his head and bludgeoned his shoulders, and then he felt nothing. He was surprised to look up and see that he was sitting at a table on a warm summer evening, the early gloaming just beginning to settle around the blue mountains all around him. Across from him sat Geneva. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the breeze lift her golden hair and goose bumps appear on her bare arms. She leaned toward him, a smile playing on her lips.

  “So, what do you want now?”

  He knew she was toying with him, and he wanted to make her understand how important this was.

  “Reality. Living a real life and not just an advertisement of one.”

  She ran her fingers along the stem of the wine glass, then leaned toward him. “So what is reality for you, Mr. John Smith, god of fire and iron, visionary, beloved of Christ?”

  He saw the uncertainty in he
r face, heard the faint disbelief in her voice, and he pushed his way past her mockery. “Reality is knowing God. It’s working with your hands. It’s walking the ridges as the sun comes up. It’s the love of a good woman.”

  She startled, then smiled gently, as if she knew some deep secret. “That’s just what Sally Beth said.”

  Her face wavered for an instant in the last rays of sunlight, and he felt his own confusion growing. “No, wait. I was wrong. What I really want is the challenge of you. I want adventure, I want the wide sky and the whole world, and I want to save you from the path you’re on.”

  “Oh? But I have been saved already. It’s Sally Beth who will give you the sky.” She smiled again as the sun surrounded her, a golden halo of sun and hair engulfed her face, and she said, “John, hear me. John. John!”

  Then he felt a dull throbbing in his temples, heard his name called out again in a different voice, and he awoke to find himself on the floor, covered in flour, stones, blenders, and mixers. He groaned.

  “John,” came Dr. Sam’s voice nearby. “Are you all right?”

  “What?”

  “Are you alive? Anything broken? I’m back here. There’s a heavy board on top of me.”

  John pushed aside the rubble and sat up. Looking around, he could see only the mess on the floor. “Where are you?”

  “Here, behind you. I can see you.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Not much,” Dr. Sams gasped in pain. “I think I’ve hurt my leg. But you have to go.”

  John pulled himself up to try move the shelves pressing down on Dr. Sams, but he spoke urgently again. “Go now. I’ll get myself out.” He stifled a moan.

  “Go?” He looked around for Sally Beth.

  “They have her. Priscilla, too. They took them out the back.”

  John struggled to his feet, grasped a remaining portion of the wall, and stood unsteadily.