Original Sin

by Lydia Michaels

  As she opened the door to her apartment, boxes from her old home greeted her with things she no longer needed but couldn’t bear to let go. She accepted this might be some crucial step in her therapy—therapy she couldn’t afford, of course. But hey, she watched daytime talk shows. Grief was a process and she was only in the early stages.

  Those boxes served as a constant reminder that this was only a pit stop. If she’d spent time unpacking them, it would imply she’d been content to stay, which she wasn’t. All those little mementos of her childhood deserved a better home, a permanent place to call her own. And she deserved that, too. Once she finished school, got her degree, found a better job, she’d put down roots in a nicer area and...

  She cracked open a beer. And what?

  While she hated wasting her tears on a man who never showed any interest in her, she also hated the all-consuming loneliness that had been eating at her lately. Truth was, she had no plans and the wind in her sails faded more and more each day. What if she sputtered out after graduation and got stuck here? No compass, no paddle, just stuck. It was a good possibility, despite her absolute fear of such an outcome.

  Her phone pinged. Kyle’s text, asking if her father showed flashed on the screen. She tossed the phone on the counter and chugged the beer.

  It was sweet that Kyle recognized what a big deal this was for her, but also humiliating to have others, once again, witness her father’s disinterest. Kyle had been around for the last attempted meet and greet. And that one ended with a bucket of tears and tequila—and one regrettable moment of weakness where she asked him to spend the night.

  Luckily, neither of them had been sober enough to remember what happened, but that launched them into this strange friendzone where she suspected he wanted a repeat and she wanted oblivion. Kyle was her friend and one of the only constants in her life since her mom died. She didn’t want to screw that up.

  Friends check in.

  Nibbling her lip and trading her empty bottle for a fresh beer, she contemplated if company would be better than finishing the night alone. She grabbed her phone and called the bar.

  “Jimbo’s,” Kyle answered the bar phone on the second ring.

  “Hey.”

  The familiar sounds of her work muffled through the phone and there was a long pause. “Should I lift a bottle of Patron for later? I knock off at two.”

  She slid down the front of the refrigerator and sat on the floor. “I’d love to, but...” The but was there before she understood the rationale behind her refusal. “I have a lab tomorrow and I need to read about six chapters tonight to prepare.”

  “Anna,” his voice softened against the commotion of a full bar in the background. “Maybe something came up, and he wanted to be there but just couldn’t.”

  Maybe she would have believed that excuse if she hadn’t used it a hundred times before. “I’m fine. This is how he wants it, and it’s time I accepted that.” She should have accepted it ten years ago.

  “At least you found him on Facebook. Maybe ask him what happened. Call him out on it.”

  That wouldn’t happen. She’d stalk his pictures and follow his posts for a while, slip into a mild depression, shallow enough to hide her devastation from the rest of the world. Then she’d block him for her own good and move on.

  It was a private process—had to be. While she was vulnerable enough to hurt, she had too much pride to show him just how much he could hurt her.

  But Kyle didn’t need to know all that. “Maybe.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She forced a smile. “You’re sweet, but no. I just need to push forward and let it go.”

  “You sure you don’t want company tonight?”

  A temporary fix that could really complicate things. “No, I’m good. But thanks. You’re a good friend.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t study too hard.”

  She ended the call and shut her eyes trying to recall the last time she didn’t have this emptiness in her chest. She could fall asleep here, on the floor of her kitchen. That’s what happened when crazy dreams woke you up ten nights in a row. God, she was tired.

  Her mind rested and for a few minutes she forgot she had hours of cramming ahead. In the silence, random memories skipped though her mind, like a scattered puzzle pieces that added up to encompass the jigsaw of her life.

  The world never slowed enough for her to truly stop and appreciate the picture all the pieces made. But sometimes she managed to grab hold of a little piece and see the memory like it was brand new again.

  Her smile stretched as she recalled the night her mother had tried making a casserole dish she found online. She’d burnt the bottom so badly they had to throw away the pan. Why that night was suddenly in her head she hadn’t a clue, but it was so clear she could almost smell the burnt cheese. That had been before the cancer.

  “I miss you...”

  Sometimes she envied religious people. Annalise had about as much faith in God as she did in Santa Claus. Losing a parent when all the right steps were taken and seeing the same treatments work for someone else’s mom but not hers... If she’d ever been a spiritual person, she wasn’t anymore. But she wished she at least had the faith to believe her mother was in a better place.

  She shoved off the floor and carried her book bag to her bed. “God’s not gonna get you an A, so stop looking for Him.”

  Why was she always searching for men who didn’t exist? Next, she’d be hung up waiting for Mr. Right. She plopped on the bed, belly first and sighed. “Time to focus.”

  Paging through her text, she pushed her thoughts into the dependable world of science and facts. In her experience, there was more comfort in studying cellular science broken down to the function of organs than the philosophies of the human heart and its response to love.

  Science was factual, inarguable, and safe. Love, spirituality, miracles... Those little girl magical beliefs couldn’t save her anymore.

  Her prayers went unanswered for so long she’d forgotten how to pray. And while it was fun to think of her mother looking down from some fluffy cloud, Annalise was pretty sure all that remained of her family was buried at Beachwood Cemetery. And, believe it or not, that straightforward truth that people live and then they die, comforted her more than any hope or prayer ever could.

  She turned the page, opening a new chapter in her biochemistry text. This was as honest as life got.

  Chapter Three

  The rolling countryside formed a patchwork of green tucked neatly within fertile mountains and valleys of Pennsylvania. Adam savored the walk home, in the still tranquility of their world—hidden in plain sight.

  No wires or rushing vehicles to detract from the evening view. No blasting music or sirens. He couldn’t bear the thought of calling any other place home.

  At thirty-seven years old, he ranked as an infant in the eyes of their species. His mate’s age would revert to her prime the moment she transitioned, but he should prepare for the possibility that she might be older than him.

  As he continued home, he laid out a plan in his head. He’d locate his mate, complete the bond, and return as soon as possible. Seemed simple enough, but the Amish had a saying, there was a difference between good, sound reason and reasons that sounded good. Explaining his situation and what he was to an English female... Cain was right. Nothing about this journey would be simple.

  The gate at the front of the picket fence squeaked as he stepped into the yard. His long strides covered the path in four quick steps and he bounded up the porch stairs.

  Removing his hat, he entered his family home.

  “It’s about time,” his younger sister, Grace, scolded by way of greeting. “You know, some of us are hungry.”

  Some, not all. His finicky appetite was shriveling. While blood was full of important vitamins and minerals, without fats his system wouldn’t absorb all its benefits. Their diet required a con
sistent balance of unrefined iron only found in blood and animal protein to remain at top strength. But food also nourished their bodies, providing minerals not found in blood.

  He brushed a kiss on Grace’s head. “I apologize. You should’ve started without me.”

  “I told you he’d be late,” Cain said, reaching for a steaming dinner roll. “I don’t know why you insisted on waiting.”

  Their mother slapped the roll out of his hand. “Patience, Cain. Give Adam a chance to sit. And we must wait for your father.”

  Abilene Hartzler, mother of four and tireless matriarch of their home, had never been a soft touch when it came to maintaining order. Their father was the head of the house, but she was the heart—she beat good and strong when needed, but she also loved unconditionally.

  A gentle and obedient wife, she’d always been a beloved member of their community and devoted mother. Despite her efforts to raise a large family, she’d only managed three successful pregnancies, two with daughters and one with twin sons.

  Some whispered her misfortunes were a result of marrying for love rather than having the patience to wait for God’s calling. Their parents were not bonded, therefore they did not receive the same respect as other couples in the order. But they weren’t alone.

  Marriages were often conducted out of convenience, for the simple purpose of procreating future generations. Practices were traditionally Amish, leaving the selection to the male and the final decision to the Elders. Seen as a contract upheld until death—something their kind rarely faced—marriages were never entered into lightly. However, there was another way to dissolve a marriage within their species, something his parents prayed never to face. Just like him, even a married immortal would never possess the strength to ignore a calling. Only that or death could dissolve a marriage among their kind and he hoped his parents never faced either.

  He settled into the seat beside Grace. “Did you get outside today, Mother?”

  Dark circles marked her eyes, but he thought he noticed an improvement in her color. Despite their rapid healing, some wounds—emotional wounds—could not be rushed to heal.

  “I swept the porch and sat in the sun for a while, catching up on my needle work.”

  Sleep and feeding were crucial to heal. The last time she’d lost a babe it had taken a little over a year for her to regain her vigor and usual beauty. Heartache had diminished her appetite, but she never failed to sit with them for a meal. His mother valued their family above all else. She loved and protected each one fiercely—exactly why Adam wanted to protect her now while she was weak.

  “Perhaps Larissa will bring you a grandbaby to love this year,” Grace offered with a smile and Cain flinched.

  His brother was closest to Larissa. Her marriage was not a love match or a calling, simply a matter of convenience and one Adam never expected. It surprised him she was not yet with child, but he’d never comment on such a private matter.

  “That would be a lovely gift,” their mother agreed, but her smile failed to reach her toffee eyes.

  Most females enjoyed centuries of childbearing years, yet his parents ceased to create new life after Grace had been born twenty-one years ago. Their kind rarely faced health issues. However, there were rare cases like his mother, who had been pregnant twelve times, yet only experienced three successful births.

  Adam closed his hand over his mother’s and squeezed lovingly. This would be a difficult and familiar journey.

  “It was a beautiful afternoon,” Grace commented, meeting their mother’s stare with an affectionate one of her own.

  “Should I ring the bell for father again?” Cain asked, his impatience palpable.

  “No need.” Jonas entered the room and a wave of shame drifted from their mother knocking the wind out of Adam’s chest.

  Jonas settled into his seat at the head of the table and they bowed their heads in a silent prayer.

  The sacred bond of marriage was privately navigated between man and wife. Children and outsiders were not permitted to comment on such business. And although Adam suffered his mother’s pain greater than the rest, he had to suffer in silence. His empathy acted as a magnet, drawing him close to others only to abruptly push him away with the subtlest shift of emotion. He was grateful the others couldn’t feel her suffering the way he could.

  “Let us eat,” their father announced, and Cain was the first to dig in. “Did you re-shoe the horses today?”

  “Yes,” Cain answered over a mouthful of food.

  “And what of the east field, Adam?”

  He hesitated, the food tasting as bitter as a lie on his tongue. “I was mending the wheels for the buggy most of the day.”

  His father paused, his brow kinked as he met his stare. “The entire day?”

  Before Adam could swallow his food and form an excuse, Grace gasped. He realized too late he failed to guard his thoughts. The clatter of silverware stilled as prickling curiosity bore into him.

  “Adam?”

  He met his father’s inquisitive stare, wincing at the sharp barb of concern flowing from him.

  Grace’s fork and knife trembled as she lowered them to the table. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the throb of her regret churning with his parent’s worry. Cain was the only one not pummeling Adam with emotions, as he stuffed his face.

  Their species possessed telepathy on varying levels, an ability mainly used for survival and limited to human interactions. His sister’s gifts excelled beyond the norm and if he hadn’t been so drained, his thoughts would have been concealed better.

  He placed a hand over hers and squeezed. “It’s all right, sister. I let my guard slip.”

  “Adam?” their father repeated, understanding that Grace must have overheard something concerning.

  Their mother peered across the table. “Did something happen?”

  “It is fine, Mother. Everything’s fine.”

  Cain let out a quiet puff of laughter as he shoveled another mouthful of mashed potatoes passed his lips.

  Their father turned his frown to Grace. “Grace?”

  “I...” Wide pleading eyes shifted to Adam. “You have to tell them.”

  This wasn’t how he hoped to share his news, but he was running out of time. His shoulders lowered. “I’ve been called.”

  His mother gasped, her silverware clattering to the plate as his father’s nerves spiked and swelled about the room. “Are you certain?”

  Adam nodded. “I have no doubt. I meant to tell you tonight after supper.” He glanced to Grace who wore a stricken mix of guilt and excitement. “But Gracie beat me to it.”

  Silence engulfed the kitchen as the significance of such news settled in. Finally, his father said, “You’ll leave tonight.”

  Chapter Four

  Jonas settled Abilene down in bed, and once her concerns for Adam quieted, he sought his father’s counsel. As the patriarch of the Hartzler family, and esteemed member of the Elder’s Council, Ezekiel needed to be aware of his grandson’s situation.

  Jonas’s father understood the significance of a calling. His three hundred years on this earth had prepared him with a myriad of experiences, both joyous and heartbreaking. Most devastating of all, was the unanswered call of Isaiah Hartzler, Ezekiel’s brother. He simply waited too long and the repercussions changed the design of their family’s lineage forever.

  Once rogue, Isaiah escaped the Order and Ezekiel filled his seat on the Elder’s Council in his stead. His first order of business being the execution of his brother. The day had never come, but the looming possibility of Isaiah’s havoc hung like an omen over their family’s name.

  Ezekiel would not be pleased to learn of Adam’s hesitation. His son should have responded to the calling the moment he first received testimony.

  Leaning into the molding of the house, Jonas knocked for his father. His father seemed to understand this was more than a leisurely visit the moment he set eyes on Jonas.

  “What is it, my son?” Though Ezeki
el lived one hundred and fifty years before Jonas’s birth, they appeared the same age. They both seemed no more than a quarter century old. Their shoulder-length, black hair and glowing hazel eyes were identical. “Come inside.”

  Ushering Jonas into the house, he took his hat in hand. “Is Mother about?”

  “She’s upstairs. She won’t disturb us.”

  Bonded couples, over time, often shared a mental pathway. Jonas shared no such thing with Abilene, as they were not bonded, but he assumed his father sent his mate a message not to disturb them and for that Jonas was grateful.

  He followed his father’s dark silhouette through the house, into the den. As Ezekiel lit the lamps his black attire gave a silent reminder of his authority and traditional views. But his rugged six-foot-two build and imposing, muscular breadth told the story of a male who would not sit down in the face of any challenge.

  Jonas always took it as a great compliment when others remarked on their similarities. Despite the years separating father and son, they could easily be mistaken for twins. While their kind did age, it was at a suspended rate and they regenerated cells so fast that beyond adulthood they simply appeared within their prime, never looking a day over thirty.

  Settling into the wingback chair, his gaze drifted to the streak of white hair that told them apart. That was something his father acquired after the disappearance of his brother, some eighty years ago. Such markings were rare in their species but told of how deeply Isaiah’s disappearance affected Ezekiel.

  “I have some troublesome news.”

  “I sensed as much. Do you intend to enlighten me?”

  Jonas leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, as he raked his fingers through his hair.

  His father silently waited in the adjacent chair. “Is it Abilene?”

  “Abilene’s recovery is on course, though she’s troubled, as am I.” He met his father’s vibrant stare. “It’s Adam. He’s been called.”

  Always in control of his emotions, Ezekiel hid his surprise well. “Is the boy sure?”