by Kate L. Mary
She says nothing.
“Agent Lake told me you took a deal. You’re the only one. Father David plans to fight, so do David and George. I’m not sure about the others.”
She lifts her head to meet my gaze. “How many others?”
“Twelve women have come forward, and they’ve arrested an additional fifteen people. For now. There will probably be more.” I wait for my mother to react, but all she does is blink and stare at me. “You don’t have anything to say?” Nothing. “Why did you take the deal?”
She lets out a deep sigh that, oddly enough, is the most emotion she’s shown since she walked into the room. “You and I both know I have no fight in me.”
The truth of those words makes me want to laugh, but it wouldn’t be because it’s funny.
“That’s true. If you did, you wouldn’t have joined the cult to begin with. I know it gave you comfort back when my father was killed, but you can’t tell me it still does. Especially with George beating you the way he does, and taking you whenever he wants.” My throat tightens, and I have to swallow. “Why do you stay?”
“I believe in Father David,” my mother says simply. “He speaks God’s word.”
I have a million replies to that but keep them all to myself.
“You knew I was unhappy. You knew I didn’t like what David did to me, and that Father David practically starved me when he brought me back to the compound in Texas. You stood by when George hit me, even blamed it all on me. Didn’t it hurt you to see me in pain? Didn’t you feel bad for what you were putting me through?”
My mother’s brows pull together as she studies me, giving off the impression that she’s thinking it through really hard. I hold my breath, waiting, hoping for closure but knowing it won’t happen.
“We don’t always understand the will of God, but that doesn’t mean we question it.”
The words slice their way through the last little bit of hope left inside me, and my heart aches for the loss. Even now, facing prison for the things she’s done, she can’t tell me she loves me. Maybe she isn’t capable of feeling love anymore, but it would’ve been nice to at least have her pretend for my sake. But that was never who my mother was. Nothing she ever did was for me. Everything was for Father David.
I push my chair back and get to my feet. “I don’t think we’ll ever see one another again.”
She looks up but doesn’t stand. “No, I don’t think we will.”
I nod and turn my back to her, heading for the exit, waiting for the tears. They don’t come, though, and I know I was right to confront her. I need this so I can move on.
On the other side of the door, Jared stands waiting. Seeing him and knowing I’m not alone in this helps ease the disappointment my mother’s indifference has once again brought to the surface. Jared and I have a lot to learn about this new world, and things will no doubt be difficult at times, but there’s a lot to look forward to as well. For the first time in my life, I have a future where anything is possible.
Jared doesn’t ask me how it went, but instead wraps his arms around me when I lean my head against his chest. Having his arms encircling me like this isn’t terrifying or overwhelming, but soothing. Safe.
“Lake told me she wanted to talk to us about something when you were done,” he says, his voice booming through his chest. “She’s in the conference room.”
Even sitting behind the large table in the conference room, Lake gives off an air of authority. She looks up when we walk in and offers us a sympathetic yet joyful smile, and the two emotions seem to war with one another for prominence, but only for a second. In the end, the joy wins out.
“I’d ask how it went,” she says, getting to her feet, “but I think I already know.”
“We both knew before I went in that nothing would come of it, but it still needed to be done.”
Lake nods in agreement. “Yes, it did.”
Around her, the walls of the conference room are covered with pictures. Of the inside of the compound, of the women who’ve agreed to testify, of others who haven’t spoken up but have children that were conceived on their fifteenth birthdays. Of David and Father David. Directly behind her, I spy black and white images of the cellar where Jared was held, and where we locked Father David before we left. It sends a shiver down my spine, so I turn to focus to something else before the memories come screaming back.
My gaze stops on two faces I haven’t seen in three years, and ones I’ll never see again. Annabel and Abe. Their smiles reach out to me from the pictures, clawing at my insides. They’re dead because they helped me, and it seems unfair.
Lake follows my gaze to the images but doesn’t say anything before turning to motion to the table. “Let’s sit down.”
Jared and I do, and she takes the chair she was already sitting in when we walked through the door.
She shuffles through a few papers, and I strain to see what she’s looking at, unsure why we’re here and if what she has to talk to us about is good or bad. Good, I think, based on her expression, but being in the dark still makes me nervous.
After a moment, Lake looks up and smiles. “I have some news, and then we have a few things to discuss.”
At my side, Jared shifts, and a second later his hand reaches for mine. He laces his fingers through mine under the table, our hands resting in my lap.
“What is it?” I ask.
Lake focuses her gaze on me. “The FBI put out a request for family members of the Children of David to come forward, and your mother’s sister has contacted us. Apparently, she’s been watching the news stories, hoping she’d see your mom.”
“My mom’s sister?” I gasp, thinking about that horrible night Mother Ruth died and how she told me I had family. I had no idea how I’d find them, and to learn they were searching for me seems too good to be true. “My aunt?”
“Yes.” Lake nods, and her smile grows. “She wants to see you. Actually, she wants you to come see her. Of course, we’ll have to wait until after the trials, but it will probably take that long to get you some identification anyway. Since you have no birth certificate or social security number, traveling is out of the question. We’re working on it, though. I’ve already put in a request. Thankfully, the Children kept pristine medical records, and we were able to collect enough evidence to apply for a birth certificate. Once that’s done, the social security number won’t be far behind.”
Not much of what she’s saying makes sense, because I know nothing about travel or the forms of identification needed in the outside world, but I’m suddenly so thankful for Lake’s help and concern that I find myself on the verge of tears. If we hadn’t gone to the police, if we had just disappeared into the night and never tried to get justice for the women in Father David’s clutches, we would have endured more difficulties than I’d even imagined. But thanks to Lake and the FBI, we have help from people who know what to do.
“And,” Lake turns her smile on Jared, “after a little digging, we were able to get a copy of your birth certificate and social security number.”
She slides a piece of paper and a small blue card across the table. Jared’s hand slips from mine as he reaches for them with both hands. It’s like he can’t wait to feel the paper between his fingers, to read his name and know he exists in this big, bright world beyond the fence of our compound.
I lean closer so I can get a look at it as well, then read the name out loud. “Jared Matthew Ross.”
“That’s me,” he says in awe. “I can’t believe I’m holding this. I can’t believe we’ve made it.”
“You still have a long road ahead of you, I’m not going to lie, but this is a good start.” Lake’s smile morphs into the one that is laced with sympathy. “There are organizations out there that work with people who’ve escaped cults, helping them get back on their feet, and the fact that you have family who wants to see you is good. It will help ground you in reality. Wherever you settle, we’ll help get you in touch with a support group for former
cult members, and a counselor who specializes in helping you adjust and heal.”
We talk for a while after that, about the trials, which are only three months away, and the charges being brought against those who’ve been arrested. The discovery of my fingerprints at Annabel and Abe’s ranch, as well as testimony from the doctor who treated me after I arrived, should be enough to convict Father David of two counts of murder, and for those he’ll most likely spend the rest of his life in prison. There are other charges against him, though. Endangering a minor, complicity in rape, aggravated kidnapping. As Lake talks, it becomes apparent that Father David will most likely never return to the compound, but instead spend the rest of his life behind bars.
David, on the other hand, may be free in a matter of years.
After so many women have come forward, Father David decided it was time to cooperate. At least to a certain degree. He still denies he did anything wrong when it came to the betrothals, but he’s taken responsibility for the murders of Annabel and Abe, and swears his son not only had nothing to do with them, but was totally unaware that the couple had been killed.
“Father David is taking as much of the blame as he can,” Lake tells us. “He can’t take direct responsibility for your rape,” she gives me a sympathetic look once again, “but he’s sworn his son has nothing to do with anything else. That he had no idea you were being held against your will, or that the couple at the ranch were killed. Basically, the only thing we can charge David with at the moment is statutory rape, and depending on the jury, he could be out in ten years, but it could be less.”
“That’s it?” Jared asks before I’ve had a chance to utter a word.
Not that I could get anything out if I tried. I’m too shocked. Too dumbfounded. When I think about what happened that night and how it changed every fiber of my being and twisted my entire world, how it will always be with me no matter what I do, I can’t reconcile this reality in my mind. Ten years isn’t enough.
“I’m sorry,” Lake says.
“That’s why Father David’s taking the blame,” I find myself saying even before my brain has really begun to work. “So David can return to the compound and lead the Children.”
“That’s what we believe.”
We sit in silence as reality sinks in. We’ve managed to save ourselves, as well as a handful of other people, but most of Father David’s followers will return to the compound and continue living the way they always have. David will go to jail, but only for a few years, and then he’ll go back and take his father’s place, and everything will start all over again. The authorities will no doubt check in to make sure underage girls are no longer being handed over to men, but there’s no doubt in my mind that David will be able to cover things up.
“Nothing will change,” I say, the words coming out more despondent than I intended.
“I’m sorry,” Lake says again, “but this is often the way things work with groups like this. It’s nearly impossible to convince someone of the truth when a lie has been rooted so deeply in their brains. Father David is charismatic and intelligent, and these people believe in him with every fiber of their being.”
Jared squeezes my hand, and I say, “I know.”
Even though I suspected the Children wouldn’t stop believing just because the police came knocking at their doors, it’s still difficult to accept the fact that not much will change for them. A dozen women and girls will testify, Father David will go to jail, Jared and I will move on, but that’s all. Maybe more people will decide to leave after they see their leader sent to prison, but my guess is most of them will see him as a martyr and believe in him more than ever, and when David returns, the group will be even more cemented in their ways.
“You can’t save everyone, Willow,” Lake tells me.
“You need to look out for yourself,” Jared says, repeating what he told me when we were still inside and he was trying to convince me to turn my back on my mother and leave with him.
“You’re right.” I let out a deep sigh. “I just want to put all this behind me and focus on the future.”
“The trial will be here before you know it,” Lake says. “I promise the prosecutors will do everything they can to make sure these men face justice.”
It doesn’t seem like enough, but for the time being, I need to focus on what I can control.
Jared and I leave the police station, deciding to walk the ten blocks to the motel instead of having someone drive us back. Spring is in full bloom, and the trees lining the streets have gotten greener even in the past few days since we first drove into town, exhausted and beaten and unsure of the future. Brightly colored flowers fill pots that sit in front of stores and hang from awnings, birds sing, and the sun is bright in the cloudless blue sky. Everywhere I look, I see signs of life that probably mean very little to the people living in this town, but fill me with hope. Posters that advertise an upcoming carnival, something I’ve never experienced but would love to see, a group of children walking down the sidewalk as the three women in charge struggle to keep them in line, a woman pushing a stroller, a little girl crying for a cookie as her exhausted mother carries her from the bakery. All of these things represent a world full of ups and downs, but one that is vibrant and rowdy compared to the monotonous existence I was living before. I spent my life behind a wall, telling myself I would get out but not really believing it, and yet here I am. Free. Hopeful. Cared for.
You got out, I tell myself, then turn to smile up at Jared.
“You okay?” he asks me yet again.
“Yes,” I say with authority. “I’m going to focus on myself.” He returns my smile. “And you.”
We’re standing out in the open, right in the middle of the sidewalk where everyone can see us, when Jared leans down and kisses me, and yet there’s no fear of being discovered. No concern that we’ll face punishment. There’s nothing but Jared and me, and two sets of lips moving against each other as hope settles over us.
Epilogue
The plane bounces when it touches down at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, making me feel like I’d be tossed in the air if I weren’t wearing a seatbelt. My fingers wrap around Jared’s hand tight enough that it makes him wince, and I have to press my lips together to keep a scream from ripping its way out of me. For some reason, his face lights up, but when I scowl at him, all he does is laugh.
“You okay?” Jared asks, only this time the question is light and nonchalant, not peppered with anguish the way it has been for months.
I open my mouth to answer just as the plane slows, and the whoosh that fills the cabin reminds me of the way the wind used to burst across the flat landscape in our Texas compound.
“I’m just glad it’s over,” I say, letting out a deep breath.
Flying isn’t nearly as thrilling as I thought it would be.
Jared laughs again, and the carefree sound makes me smile even though my stomach is still uneasy from the landing. The smiles and laughter surrounding us have become more common as things begin to feel more real.
Most of the women and children returned to the compound months ago, and the trials are over, meaning we’ll finally have a chance to move on. It’s been hard, weathering the ups and downs of the judicial process, dealing with the disappointment of finding out that David would only serve five years for what he did to me. Learning that Jared’s father was killed, and it was ruled an accident. The FBI suspected foul play, but there was no way to tie Father David to it when the body was found in the woods outside the compound. It was made to look like he tried to run, but with as poor as his health was, no one really believes it.
Not that Father David isn’t going to prison, anyway. He was sentenced to two life sentences for the murders of Annabel and Abe, as well as an additional fifty years for his part in the betrothal of the fifteen-year-old-girls in the compound. I still can’t understand how a person can serve two life sentences, even after Agent Lake explained that it was a way to ensure he’ll never set
foot outside prison again. Either way, it makes me feel better knowing Father David won’t be able to return to the Children, even if David will be able to carry on his father’s legacy.
George, my stepfather, will only serve three years for his part in it all. That’s something I have a difficult time swallowing.
“But you’re excited to be here, right?” Jared asks as all around us people stand and begin gathering their things.
“Thrilled,” I say, and I am.
Even before I was issued a birth certificate and a social security number, my aunt and I were planning this trip. We’ve spoken on the phone dozens of times over the last few weeks, and I’m so excited to finally meet her that it makes all the queasiness from the flight worthwhile. On the phone she sounds so much like my mother, only full of life. Happy. It’s how I imagine things would have been if my father had never died. If Father David hadn’t trapped my heartbroken and weak mother in his web.
The other people in the plane begin to file out, and Jared squeezes my hand. “Are you ready?”
I’m nodding even as I get to my feet. He steps into the aisle, and I’m right behind him, and every inch we cross as we head out of the plane makes me feel like I’m one step closer to my future. By the time we’ve reached the terminal, it seems so close that I feel like I could reach out and touch it.
I grip Jared’s hand as we walk through the airport, and together we dodge the people rushing by, pulling suitcases and talking on cell phones. The crowds are hard to get used to after a life of seclusion, but I can’t say I hate it. Anything different has to be good, as far as I’m concerned.
“You look like you’re going to be sick,” he says, smiling down at me. “I thought you were excited.”
“I am, but I’m nervous, too. This is huge. I have a family. I have people who care about me.”
Jared squeezes my hand. “I’m one of them.”
