by Charity B.
“The tomb has taken a lot out of her. I suggest you give her a night of rest before continuing with her castigation.”
I want to hear what they say, it’s just taking all my remaining energy to fight sleep.
“If that is what you suggest, then that is what shall be done. Thank you, Doc Kilmer. May I request she spends the night in the clinic?”
“Of course, Prophet. I will have Madeline stay with her tonight. I know she always liked Laurel Ann.”
Doc Kilmer Adams. That’s why I recognize his voice. He and his family supply the medicinal and educational needs to the compound. He is speaking of my old school teacher, Sister Madeline. Knowing I’ll be seeing her again makes me smile in my mind, though I’m sure it doesn’t translate to my body.
“Call on me if her condition worsens. I will send the Apostle tomorrow to collect her.”
“Yes, Prophet. Have a blessed evening.”
“You as well.”
Commotion and voices dance in and out of earshot, but I do not know what they say. There are moments when I feel scared and angry at Zeb, and others when I am desolate. I shut myself out of my body, putting the pain in a box where it can’t touch me. Sleep holds out its hand to me once again, and I take it, gladly.
“Laurel Ann? Do you remember me?” It’s Sister Madeline. If I had control over my skin, I would lift my lips into a smile. I think I am able to move my head and nod because she softly caresses my cheek. “Shhh. Rest now.”
Having a familiar person who doesn’t hate me is a soft bed for my soul. My muscles relax, and I obey her request to rest. Her voice is a warmth that finally makes this place feel like home. She sings me back to sleep with one of my favorite nursery rhymes.
One day, child, there’ll be no more pain,
No more suffering and no more shame.
One day, child, when your body’s in the ground,
And your lips can no longer whisper a sound.
One day, child, you’ll be free of sin,
In the Paradise Star when we’re together again…
My face is being wiped with a wonderful, wet, cold cloth. Chills run beneath my skin, breaking the smothering heat pressing on my chest. My lungs expand, and I greedily suck in the air.
“Slow breaths. Relax.”
I am able to open my eyes with significant effort. Once the blur of the room comes into focus, I see a slightly older Sister Madeline.
“Thank you.” The words have spikes on them, scraping their way out and taking my voice with them.
She cups my neck, slowly lifting my head. My body aches in protest, and a whimper forces its way out as she continues to adjust and shush me. A tin cup is pressed to my lips, and cool water trickles down my throat, cooling the raw burn. I grasp at the cup, drinking ravenously.
She helps me move my legs off the edge of the bed before stopping me from getting off. “Take it easy, not too fast.” Moving around and quenching my thirst does wonders for my mobility, and my words flow out much easier.
“Thank you for being kind to me.”
She sighs. “As a woman, I’ve always understood your fear and why you did what you did. I know you’re a good girl, and you have always done your best to follow spiritual law.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “And between you and me, I believe your excommunication was based on the wounded pride of our former Prophet, not your sins.” She smiles and returns her voice to normal. “I am so glad you’re home.”
She leads me to the tub filled with deliciously warm water fresh off the stove. I dip a leg in and see a swollen red mark on my shin. I rub my finger over the tender skin of the bite.
Sister Madeline dips a cloth into the water and helps me sit. “There’s one more here.” She runs the cloth over my neck, and I wince from the sensitivity of it. “How’s that?” The heat from the bath is a respite I can’t express, my moan being my only response. “You gave the Prophet quite a fright.” She lifts my arm to clean beneath it. “Me as well.”
My ears tingle at the mention of him, and I turn my head to face her. “What happened exactly?”
Using a jar, she fills it with water before dumping it over my head and soaping up the dirt covered strands. “You stopped screaming and banging on the tomb. You made no sound at all. The Prophet paced around the hole, constantly, until the time came to dig you out. When he took off the lid, you were unconscious. He lifted you out immediately to rush you here.”
She dips me back to rinse my hair, helping me up once she finishes. I try to recall what she’s saying. “I don’t remember anything, really. I was just so scared. I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t feel right. I thought I was going to be sick. Everything after that is hard to remember, like when you wake up from a dream.” She nods and gives me the cloth. I was bitten. My heart feels like a stone in my chest, and I break into tears. When could it have happened? How did I not know? “Do you think I was possessed?” I cry.
She shushes me and wipes the hair from my face. “I don’t know. I don’t have any other explanation for you being bit, but you’re pure now, child. It’s over.” I want to curl up in a ball and sink to the bottom of the tub. Instead, she pulls me to my feet and wraps me in a towel. “You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”
Once I’m finally given a dress, we sit at the table and eat the stew she made. The food fills my stomach, and I feel a heaviness weighing on my eyes once again. My mind drifts off, and Sister Madeline helps me from the table.
“Why don’t we lie you back down?” Just as I am about to get the billowy reprieve of the bed, a knock on the door gives me a jolt. Her eyes are sad when she says, “Stay here.”
Leaning against the bed, I hear her voice laced with synthetic cheer. “Blessed Evening, Apostle Ezekiel. Please, come in.”
“Is she prepared?” Ezekiel’s low voice trails into the room.
“She is still exhausted, though I assume the Prophet is aware of that.”
There is a moment of silence before Ezekiel says, “I trust he knows what’s best.”
“Of course. I will fetch her.”
She appears in the room, holding out her hand with a smile. “You are where you are meant to be, Laurel Ann. Welcome home. This will all be over soon.”
She leads me out of the safety of the clinic to the waiting area where Ezekiel gives me something close to a smile. Opening the door, he nods his head for me to follow him. The common ground is mostly empty as he leads me to the cleansing station.
He hasn’t spoken to me once, and when he does, it startles me. “The Prophet is very pleased to have you back.”
“That comforts me to hear, Apostle Ezekiel.”
Ahead of us, Jacob is waiting, holding a rope in each hand and scowling at me. I nod my head in respect when we reach him. He grips a tight hand around my arm and jerks me to his side. I never knew Jacob that well, but from the rough way he’s tying the rope around my wrist, I would assume he hasn’t forgiven me for leaving his father.
Ezekiel is kinder in his task of tying my other wrist, allowing more room. Jacob pulls me between the pillars, and each of the men slide their end through the grooves at the top, fastening me to the cleansing station. My body droops, and while the discomfort is immediate, it’s not painful. The holy fire burns in the side of my vision, and just as I wonder if it has been blessed yet, Zeb’s voice sounds behind me, sinking from my ears to my stomach.
“Leave me with her.”
Their murmurs recede until the only sound is the wind in my ears. Why isn’t he speaking? I hate feeling so much smaller than him. So much less. I am tainted, yet he is the Prophet. My body hangs in front of him, a drawn-up sinner in the presence of holiness. I know he has the blood of Zaaron within him, and I know he is the holiest person on this earth right now, but I cannot seem to make my mind focus on that truth. The exhaustion is going to take me at any moment, and though the anger I have for him is unwarranted, it boils within me just the same.
Why won’t he speak to me?!
�
��Do you feel power in my humiliation, Prophet?”
I say the words through my teeth. I’m furious that he isn’t making this easier for me, while at the same time, I know he has to follow what is desired by Zaaron.
Still, he doesn’t let a sound pass his lips. His steps are only heard because of the eerie silence of the common ground. They are slow, and I can sense his eyes trailing down my neck and back. The touch of his hands on my sleeves causes my body to jump in surprise, and there’s no stopping the pounding of my heart.
His lips are at my ear as he brushes them against the lobe. “Hush.” Gentle fingers press against the fabric of my dress, trailing slowly to my ribs. “You gave me your word.” Despite the sweat dripping from my forehead, chills snake through my veins when he drapes my hair over my shoulder and places a kiss to the back of my neck. “I know this is demeaning. That’s the point. You said you trusted me, so do it now. This is what’s necessary for you to be fully accepted back here. I am doing this because I care for you, Laurel Ann.”
He steps away from me, and I don’t understand why the absence of him makes moisture pool in my eyes. I am left to be a beacon and a warning of what happens to those who disobey.
At least an hour has passed, and the aching in my arms is past bearable when Zeb returns with Ezekiel and Jacob. I desire sleep more than my next breath, yet I know there’s no hope of that until I’m released from my bondage. I can’t turn my head to fully see, but in the edge of my sight, Zeb is facing the fire with his hands stretched to the sky.
His voice is deep beside me. “Zaaron, our God. Our Messiah. We are the blood of your blood and the flesh of your flesh. We thank you for your protection from evil and the forgiveness of our sins. You have provided us with the tools to remain Anointed and pure, and we ask for this fire to burn with your cleansing grace.” There is a pause, then he adds, “Thank you for your infinite mercy.”
I see his hands lower to reach for something. Once the Anointing iron comes into view, he lays it in the fire, and I realize what’s happening.
When a baby is born as a child of Zaaron, they must be marked accordingly. I don’t remember my first Anointing, and it won’t be any worse than my personal cleansings, yet the symbolism is paramount. There will be no question if I belong here once I re-receive the mark. Nobody can doubt it.
The voices get louder with the arrival of the crowd. They stand around the cleansing station looking down on me. I can’t hear what they say, though their murmurs are all around me. I lift my eyes regardless of my mind screaming at me not to. They connect with green ones that are twelve years older than the last time I saw them. Mia is a full-grown woman now, and the sight of her sucks the little amount of oxygen I have from my body.
She has the same sad look she had the day I was excommunicated, though now it’s tainted with pity. I don’t remove my gaze from hers until Zebadiah’s voice seems to boom from behind me.
“Welcome, children. I know this has been difficult on all of us. This is a situation to which we are not accustomed. The outside world has temptations that we do not want to be confronted with. I know many of you have your reservations about your own souls and the souls of your family. I ask you to think of this: When a child is born, their souls are as tarnished as that of a Philistine, yet we do not fear an infant. Think of Laurel Ann as that infant. She has no ill will toward us and desires only to be welcomed into the Paradise Star upon her flesh resting beneath the dirt.”
Water rushes over my head, the coolness of the liquid dripping down my body. While it feels incredible, it runs into my mouth, filling my lungs and making me cough with the need to breathe.
“Wash away the filth of this world. Purify this child so she is worthy of your grace and protection.” Zeb’s practiced prayers get louder as he circles me, continuing to splash me with water. “You were rebuked by this sinner, yet you desire her in the Paradise Star. We are in awe of your infinite compassion and will honor your will of an Anointing.” He lifts my right foot and pours the remaining water across the pad. His slick fingers massage my foot with what I know is blessed oil. He softly touches my toes before grasping my ankle. “We ask you to bless this child as we mark her as one of yours, from now until forevermore.”
The water and oil cause the burn to sizzle much louder than when I did it on my own. The heat of the iron consumes my foot, and I try to pull it away, but Zeb’s grip is tight on my ankle. The sharp sound that climbs up my belly and shrieks from my throat, slices through the air around me before I know it’s happening. Zebadiah presses the Anointing iron harder into the arch, and my screams become blurred with sobs. The scent of burning skin and oil is offensive, turning my stomach. The bottoms of my feet have always been sensitive, and when the heated metal melts into my foot, thoughts of doubt enter my mind.
We do this to infants?
Once he is satisfied, he removes the iron, and I wish more than anything I could grab hold of my foot and wrap it in a wet cloth.
As he stands in front of me, I don’t have the energy to lift my eyes higher than his chest. The muscles cause lines in his shirt, and I focus on them in hopes it will distract me from the pain. His hand holds my face so tight, his fingers squeeze my cheeks.
“You have been forgiven because we worship a merciful God.” Releasing me, he steps to the side to present me to the crowd. “Her excommunication is to never be spoken of. I ask each of you to place your hands on her and pray that she will never again be tempted by evil thoughts.”
The hope that he will release my aching arms is obliterated when he puts his palm on my head and looks to the sky.
“I ask for you to guide this child. You clearly have plans for her soul, and I trust in your decision. Thank you for her safe return, my God. Your kindness is infinite.”
One by one, the very people who were rebuking me just yesterday, lay their hands on me and offer words of love and acceptance. How could their feelings have changed so rapidly? I don’t hear their individual sentiments, just lies on repeat.
The pain in my arms has gone numb. I don’t feel them until Ezekiel and Jacob untie me from my bondage, and I fall to my knees. I moan out my relief at the ache of freedom overtaking me. I fight with the decision to massage my shoulder or hold my burning foot, but I’m pulled back to standing before I’m able to make my choice.
Zeb’s hand is on my back as he gestures to the crowd. “Do you have anything you would like to say, Laurel Ann?”
I swallow, and the lack of saliva does nothing to soothe my scratchy throat. “I am truly remorseful for the suffering I have caused you all. I will forever be grateful for your willingness to forgive me and welcome me home.”
My response is expected. I just wish I could have said it with more conviction. How much could they have really suffered? None of them were cast out alone and confused. Zebadiah removes the ropes from my wrists, while all I want is to fall into the dirt and sleep.
Apparently, that won’t come for some time.
“Let us rejoice the freshly Anointed soul of our prodigal daughter and commence the gathering!”
The voices all begin at once, the crowd blooming like a flower as they disperse. Chatter and excitement for the monthly celebration surrounds me. I am beyond grateful when Zeb drapes my arm around his neck, and Zeke does the same. They are gentle in their assistance in helping me to a chair amongst the festivities.
“You may sit here until you feel confident you can move around.”
I nod to him and sink into the chair. The aroma from the food floats beneath my nostrils, and I’m surprised at my stomach’s desire for it. I smile at a group of small children chasing each other in a game of tag and the women talking and giggling in a circle.
Finally. I am home.
I look up to see Mia walking toward me with a young girl skipping next to her. The girl is too old to be her daughter, and that comforts me. The girl runs up to Zeb, hugging him as he smiles down at her.
Mia greets them. “Zebadiah, your holiness
never ceases to amaze me.”
My skin beads with sweat at the use of his first name, the moisture from my tongue all but evaporated.
His smile never leaves his face, though it’s the trained smile, not the genuine one in my dreams. “I am but an instrument to see out Zaaron’s desires.”
He turns to me, his smile faltering. His brows knit together, and his jaw strains before he gestures to Mia. “You are clearly acquainted with my first wife.” I’m either going to hyperventilate or puke when he runs his hand over the hair of the young girl hugging him…the child hugging him. “And this is Marybeth Adams. My second wife.”
I FIGHT TEARS AND THERE is a twisting in my chest making it hard to breathe. The one thing I am feeling above all else is anger.
How could he have forgotten to mention the fact that he’s bound? To my sister?! And then there is the onset nausea when I think of him being with that child. In the Philistine world, women don’t consider marriage until they are well into adulthood, and even then, they choose their own mate. The sight of them together is jarring and unsettling.
I’m sure he didn’t tell me because he was worried I wouldn’t come back. I don’t know how I would have reacted. What happened at the picnic definitely never would have transpired. The tears climb their way back into my eyes at the thought. Until now, there was a part of me that had hoped Zeb and I would someday be together under spiritual law, but now, thinking of his hands on them…I want no part of it.
I may not be able to express my feelings in this moment, however, the next time we have our privacy, Prophet or not, he’s going to hear what I have to say.
The girl, Marybeth, startles me when she wraps me in a hug. “Mia has told me so much about you! It’s such a pleasure to meet you!”
I place my hands on her back, stabbing my eyes into Zeb’s. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, yet I must sit here and be joyous in my newly pure soul. His face softens as if begging me to understand.
I don’t understand, and I won’t. As far as I’m concerned, he lied to me.
