by Kate L. Mary
Still, I can’t stop the hate and anger from building inside me. My lungs tighten, and I have a hard time getting enough air. The room is closing in on me, and I want to scream at the top of my lungs. How can she be this stupid?
After a second, she lifts her head. Her gaze moves to the door like she expects George to come through it at any second. Something flashes in her eyes, the first hint of emotion I’ve seen in years, only it isn’t a good thing. Even before she speaks again, I know what it means.
“Willow, I know you have a difficult time with all this,” she says, her voice firmer than I’ve ever heard it. “But you have to be respectful.”
Her words only spur my anger on.
“No,” I say. “I don’t have to be anything right now. I have less than three weeks left until I have to give everything to Father David. Until that day, I refuse to be anyone but myself. Especially with you. You’re the one who brought me here. You’re the one who destroyed my future, and I am not going to let you make me feel guilty!”
I’m out the door before she has a chance to reply. Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. People stare when I rush by, so I dart between houses and run through back yards instead of down the street. There are fewer people here, and I’m drawing less attention to myself, but I have no doubt George will hear about my behavior. It will probably result in another beating for my mother, but at the moment I can’t muster even an ounce of guilt or make myself care.
When I come to a stop, I’m standing in front of the cemetery that signals the end of the commune.
I’m out of breath. My forehead is moist with sweat when I wipe at it with the sleeve of my sweater. I focus on the headstones while I work to get my breathing under control. My mind is still spinning, though, and it takes me a few minutes to realize I ran the wrong way. The pond, my usual happy place, is all the way on the other side of the commune.
A giant willow tree grows to the right of the cemetery, almost hugging the black iron fence. The branches sway in the wind, sweeping so close to the ground in some places that the grass moves in the same elegant pattern. It’s not the pond, but the willow will have to do.
I push the branches aside and step through the protective umbrella of the tree, lowering myself to the ground and burying my face in the grass. My heart is still pounding, so I close my eyes and work on slowing my breathing. A light breeze blows, ruffling my hair and moving the branches. A few brush against my back, tickling me, but it’s soothing. Quiet and cool, and hidden from the prying eyes of the commune. It doesn’t take long for my heart rate to ease, and slowly I find my body relaxing. Weightlessness takes over, and darkness.
I wake with a start and bolt upright, blinking at the surrounding greenery.
Where am I?
The branches encircling me sway, bringing with them the memories of this morning and how I ended up here. I stare at the tree above me and strain my ears. It might have been a dream, but I could have sworn someone was calling my name. Of course, that’s ridiculous. No one would come looking for me. Not even George. He’ll just wait until I come home to beat me.
I lean my head against the trunk and close my eyes, but only a second later I hear it again. When I move, pain pulses across my tailbone, and I wince but push myself up anyway. There’s no mistaking it this time. Someone is definitely calling my name.
The branches in front of me sweep back and forth as I step closer, peering through the elegant limbs. I can just make out a figure in the distance, but I can’t tell who it is.
“Willow?” he says again.
It’s a man, but the sound of his voice doesn’t fill me with fear or dread. Could it be Jared? I take a tiny step closer, moving the branches aside a little more. The breath I didn’t even know I was holding whooshes out of me.
It is him.
The branches sweep over me when I step through, revealing myself to him.
“Willow.” Jared’s gaze brushes over me just like the branches as he limps forward, and the pounding of my heart doesn’t lessen. If anything, it grows stronger, because something about this moment is exhilarating.
“How did you find me?” I stay next to the tree even though I want to close the distance between us.
“Someone said they saw you run by. That you were crying. I’ve been looking for you for almost an hour, thanks to my ankle.” He waves toward his injury even as his gray eyes sweep over me again, making my scalp prickle. When they stop on my eye, he frowns and reaches out. “What happened to your eye?”
I jerk back before his fingers can touch my face, and his hand drops to his side.
“I had an accident.” I swallow and shift uncomfortably. The joy I felt at seeing him is still there, only now it’s hidden under a blanket of uneasiness. Maybe I should have stayed hidden.
Jared’s eyes search my face for a few seconds before his mouth turns up into the same crooked grin I admired at the hospital. “I never expected to find an actual Willow under the willow tree.”
The smile I give him is shaky, but real, and some of the uneasiness inside me lifts away. There’s nothing threatening about this man, and his expression is open. Honest and caring.
“I was named after the tree.” I look up at it, towering above me, admiring the way its branches sway, moving with the breeze. Something about the peacefulness of it eases the tension in my body. “I’ve loved them since the first time I saw a picture of what a willow tree looked like. When we moved here and I saw this tree for the first time, I was thrilled. I would come here more often if it wasn’t so close to the cemetery.”
“When did you see a picture of a willow tree? Weren’t you born in the compound?”
When I turn to face Jared, his eyebrows are pulled together, and I realize I’ve done something I’ve managed to avoid for the past four years—mention the outside world.
He’s right. My mother joined the group when she was pregnant with me, meaning I was born inside the compound. We were in Texas then, but it wasn’t much different. We were just as secluded, and I was just as much of a ghost. As far as the government knows, I don’t exist. I was never meant to see the outside world, but I did. Jared knows that, just like everyone else. Only it isn’t something we talk about.
I hold Jared’s gaze while I try to decide what to say. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only curiosity, and I decide being myself with someone for a change would be nice. Even if it’s only for a moment.
“When I ran away,” I finally said.
When he takes a step toward me, I’m not sure if the tingle inside my stomach is from fear or excitement. Maybe a little of both. Jared reaches out like he’s going to take my hand, and I don’t pull away. Only he doesn’t, and a slow ache spreads through me when he moves the branches of the willow aside and steps through, motioning for me to follow.
I don’t hesitate.
It’s quiet and secluded under the tree. Most of the branches reach the ground, creating a dome of greenery that effectively cuts off the outside world. Jared limps to the center and lowers himself to the ground next to the trunk, leaning against it casually. I sit next to him, cringing when my tender tailbone touches one of the exposed roots. I move over a little so the root doesn’t make direct contact with my injury, and my shoulder brushes Jared’s arm. The idea of putting some distance between us enters my mind, but the pain in my tailbone tells me not to. It’s not like Jared is going to try anything. He’s not David.
“Why did your mom name you after a tree?” he asks.
A smile touches my lips. The story of my name is one of the few good memories I have. “She named me after the book, The Wind in the Willows. It was a favorite of my dad’s, and he even owned a first edition.” I shrug. “It was her way of honoring him.”
I was eight years old before I found out a willow was a tree. A new family had just moved to the commune, and they had a little girl my age. She laughed when I introduced myself and told me Willow couldn’t be my name because it was a tree. It made me hate her, an
d even though the dislike eased as years passed, I was never able to get over it completely.
That night, I went home and asked my mother about it, which was when she told me about my father and the book. For some reason, the story made her smile. She never smiled, and after that, I loved my name.
When Jared turns to face me, the brown in his eyes is more piercing than ever before. “Is that why she joined the Children of David, because your father died?”
His body is close to mine, and I know I should be afraid, but for some reason, I’m not. “How did you know?”
Jared shrugs and turns back to watch the branches. “I know she was a widow, otherwise she wouldn’t have married Brother George. Plus, most of the people who come here are running from something. Usually it’s some kind of grief.”
“My father died when my mother was six months pregnant with me,” I say quietly. “He and my two brothers were driving home from visiting my grandparents one night, and they were in a car accident. All three of them were killed instantly. My mother couldn’t cope with the loss, obviously.”
I’m staring up at Jared, mesmerized by his profile. His mouth turns down, and a second later, he tears his eyes away from the swaying branches and looks my way. We’re closer than ever before, and having him face me like this feels strangely intimate, but for some unknown reason, the pounding in my heart has nothing to do with fear.
This must be what romance is like for people who aren’t trapped in a cult and irreparably damaged. A quickening of the pulse, a twist of the stomach that sends exhilaration shooting through me instead of dread. The warmth of having an attractive man this close.
I turn away when regret squeezes my insides, knowing the fairy tale my mind is toying with is out of reach for me.
“What about you?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the branches of the willow as they sweep back and forth in the wind.
Is it my imagination, or are they moving faster than before?
“My younger brother drowned. I was nine, and he was four. My parents couldn’t deal with the pain, and the Children of David made them feel better. Father David made them feel better. Same story, different people.” His words are biting. Bitter and hard.
How has he managed to stay here all these years? He knows what he’s missing. I didn’t really understand until three years ago, and it’s been torture ever since. But he’s always known.
“Are you going to leave?” I find myself asking.
For some reason, the idea of him leaving doesn’t fill me with hope the way it did before. Yesterday, I wanted him to leave, to get away even if I couldn’t. Today, though, the thought makes my stomach twist into knots, which is ridiculous. My future won’t be any different if Jared stays here. I’ll still be a prisoner.
“I don’t know.” He lets out a sigh so deep I can almost imagine it’s what is making the willow branches move faster. “My dad’s been sick, and I just don’t know if I can leave him.”
“I’m sorry.” The pain in his voice makes me start to reach out to him, but I stop myself. “Does Dr. Jones know what’s wrong with him?”
Our medical facilities are as good as they can be, but we aren’t equipped for major illnesses. When people here get really sick, Father David resorts to praying for their swift recovery. Which typically ends with a funeral.
Jared shakes his head. “How could he? There’s no way to do any tests here. I’ve begged my dad to leave so we can go to a real hospital, but he won’t. He says God will heal him if he’s meant to live.”
We’re both silent after that. There’s nothing to say. Our parents are fools, and there’s no way we can change it.
The tree branches whip back and forth in front of us, and this time I’m positive I’m not imagining it. They are definitely moving faster.
When I get to my feet, forgetting about my earlier altercation with George, a sharp throb pulses through my tailbone. I grit my teeth to keep my gasp of pain in, but it doesn’t work.
“What’s wrong?” Jared is at my side in an instant, reaching out, but not touching me. “Are you hurt?”
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. “My tailbone. It’s no big deal.”
“Let me guess,” he says, frowning. “You had an accident.”
“Yeah.”
Unwilling to continue the conversation, I move the branches aside and step out from beneath the willow tree. The wind hits me in the face, much cooler than it was earlier. Above me, the sky has morphed from light gray to a color resembling the ashes leftover after a fire, and is completely choked with storm clouds. How did I not notice how dark it had become? It can’t be much past noon, but it feels like dusk is moving in.
“We need to get back before it rains.” Jared steps through the branches at my side and frowns up at the stormy sky.
I glance his way, taking in every inch of the man next to me. His blond hair moves across his forehead, blowing in the breeze, and compared to the sky above, his eyes look more blue than gray. There’s something beautiful about him, too. Never in my life did I think I would be able to find a man attractive, but Jared seems to be the complete opposite of every other man in Mt. David, and it’s opened up a whole new world of possibilities to me. It has me considering things I’ve never thought about before, and makes me want to spend more time with him.
“Meet me here on Monday?” I say before I have a chance to talk myself out of it.
Jared turns toward me, his gaze sweeping over my face, and when he grins, my heart comes dangerously close to stopping completely.
“Of course.”
Chapter 8
The days I spent at Abe and Annabel’s house were wonderful—perfect, even—and I started to believe I might actually get to have a normal life. Then day eleven came, and everything changed.
I was in the house with Annabel when it happened. We were watching television and enjoying an afternoon snack of milk and cookies. The cookies were still warm from the oven, contrasting perfectly with the ice-cold milk. It was an ideal childhood moment, and as the years have gone by, I’ve tried desperately to cling to how I felt at that moment. To remember what it felt like to be truly happy and relaxed.
The sound of an engine cut through the chatter of the TV, and a few seconds later, I heard the thud of car doors. When the sound of voices floated in through the half-open window, Abe’s was immediately recognizable, but it took me a few seconds to pick out the other, and in that instant, my world changed. I was no longer safe.
I didn’t have to look outside to know who it was, but I did anyway. Annabel’s worried voice rang in my ears as I crept to the window, but I couldn’t focus on what she was saying. I was too trapped in my own private hell.
A truck was parked in front of the house, and Father David stood next to the open door, talking to Abe, while two other men sat in the back. Abe wasn’t facing me, but I noticed how tense his shoulders were as he shook his head over and over again. I didn’t need to see his face or hear what they were saying to know Father David was here for me. What else would he be searching for this far from the compound?
Suddenly, Annabel was at my side, looking out the window. A second later, she grabbed my arm and pulled me away, leading me to the guestroom on legs that felt so wobbly I was afraid I might fall into a heap on the floor.
Once we were in the room, she locked the door and turned to face me. “Do you know those men, Willow?”
I tugged on the sleeve of my dress, unable to talk and unsure of what to tell her. My body was quivering so much that I knew there was no point in denying it. Annabel only had to look at me to know these were the men I was hiding from.
“Willow,” she said, grabbing my shoulders, “are those the men who hurt you?”
I shook my head because they weren’t the ones who had hurt me. Not directly, anyway.
Annabel frowned. “But the person who hurt you is from the same place as those men?”
That time, I hesitated. After everything she’d done for me, it felt so wrong to l
ie to her, but I didn’t want to lead anyone back to the Children. All I wanted was to escape. To forget that horrible place existed and move on with my life. To never look back.
When I shook my head no, Annabel pressed her lips together. Her eyes searched my face, and I could tell she knew I was lying, but she didn’t call me out on it.
“I’m going out,” she said after a moment. “You stay in this room. Lock the door behind me. Understand?”
I nodded, and the second she was out the door, I followed her instructions.
The click of the lock sounded like a clap of thunder in the quiet room. My body was shaking, and I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to calm myself, but I knew it wouldn’t work. Nothing would be okay again until Father David was gone. Maybe not even then.
Hidden in the room the way I was, I couldn’t hear a thing, but the need to know what was going on outside was too intense to resist. Less than a minute after Annabel left, I found myself at the window, but the guestroom was all the way at the end of the house, and only the front of the truck was visible. I could still see Father David, though. The two men who’d been in the bed of the truck had climbed out and now stood at his side. He was talking to Abe, the same smile I’d grown up seeing plastered on his face. For the first time, though, there was nothing about it that looked genuine. It seemed as if it had been painted on, like he was wearing a mask to hide what he really was. Even from a distance, it made me shudder.
Annabel appeared and took her place at Abe’s side, but she didn’t say anything, and the men from the compound didn’t even acknowledge her presence. It took me a moment to realize she was looking past Father David, though, into the cab of the truck. I moved my face closer to the window, practically sticking my nose against the glass to get a better view. I couldn’t tell what she was looking at no matter how I moved, but then it didn’t matter because Abe was pointing at the truck and Father David was motioning to someone. Then the passenger door opened and David stepped out.
My heart stopped. At least that was how it felt. I tried to step away from the window, but my legs wouldn’t work. I felt trapped in a bad dream I couldn’t escape, because I wasn’t asleep.
