by Charity B.
The girl releases me, and Mia holds out her arms for an embrace. “I have missed you, sister. Welcome home.”
This is not how I imagined our reunion. I thought I would be overcome with happiness, not envy and resentment. Why am I having these feelings toward her? She can’t help who she’s bound to. Still, my hug is half-hearted, and I’m barely able to force myself to speak.
“And I have missed you, sister.”
Zeb’s voice interrupts our embrace. “I’m sure you two are eager to get reacquainted. I would just like to bandage Laurel Ann’s foot first, so she will have an easier time participating this evening. I will have her back out shortly.”
Why doesn’t he have Sister Madeline do it? Mia looks at me with uncertainty before the little girl pulls her toward the celebration.
He once again drapes my arm over his shoulders, wrapping his hand around my waist to help me to standing. I put as much pressure on my foot as I can and limp next to him on the way to the medical hall. Neither of us speaks, even when we are out of earshot of the attendees of the gathering. If it wasn’t for his holding me being a necessity, I would have already pushed away from him. I don’t want to be anywhere near him right now. The steps of the medical hall are a trick, but he’s gentle in his assistance.
Once the doors are closed behind us, I can no longer stand him touching me. I shove his hands away and stumble backward, thankful that I am able to remain standing.
“How could you not tell me?! Mia?!” I’m yelling, and I know I need to quiet down a little or else I will be heard outside. “You are bound, and you kissed me. You touched me and deliberately kept this from me.”
“I didn’t see it as relevant.”
I know I am gaping at his idiocy. “You didn’t see it as relevant?! Are you freaking serious?!”
I’m confused as to why I’m so angry. I’ve always known he would be bound to other women eventually. Regardless of all that, imagining him in their beds makes my insides swelter and boil.
He closes in on me, and my foot doesn’t allow me to move away quickly enough. His hands squeeze my waist to lift me up and shove me into a chair.
“Do NOT speak to me that way.” He grips the armrest and leans in, inches from my face. “Just as you had no choice in fucking my father, I had no choice in being bound to your sister. Or Marybeth for that matter.”
His curse startles me although the low blow he just landed demands more of my attention. He’s bringing his father into this? Okay, if that’s how he wants it.
“You are no different from your father! Marybeth is younger than I was! You have been going to bed with a child, Zebadiah.”
“I do not go to bed with her!” he barks, his knuckles whitening from his grip on the chair. Once the words leave his lips, his regret is apparent. He cups my face, and his tone becomes gentle. “I would never force her to lay with me, just as I never forced Mia.”
His words shock me into forgetting my anger. “You haven’t been with her? How are you to have children?”
His nostrils flare when he presses his lips together. “Do not ever speak of what I just told you.” He drops his voice to a whisper as if trying to keep a secret from Zaaron Himself. “I did what was ordered of me by my father. They’ve never meant the same to me that you do. You understand that, don’t you?”
I can’t stop the tears from prickling my eyes. “I don’t know.”
Staring at me for a long moment, he stands to retrieve a bowl and a pitcher of water from the washbasin. He silently places my feet inside, pouring cool water down my shin to my toes. The water surrounds my Anointing mark, and I can’t decide if it’s blissful or torturous. He dunks a bar of soap into the water to wash my foot. His fingers caress over my personal cleansing scars with a gentle touch as he tenderly cleans the wound.
This very act goes against spiritual law. What kind of Prophet sins this much? The words are written in The True Testament, clear as a summer day: It is not our Prophet who washes the feet of the children, but the children who wash the feet of the Prophet. –3:4A.
Upon finishing, he softly places my foot on the clean towel to dry it off.
I blurt, “Have you gone to bed with her? Mia?” I don’t know why I ask, of course he has. She’s beautiful.
He doesn’t look at me when he answers, “Yes. She gave herself to me last year.”
As he wraps my foot in a cloth, fury salted with self-pity bubbles inside me. She’s the reason I was excommunicated. It’s because of her I had to have that horrible night with Hiram, and now she’s rewarded by being able to openly be with the only boy I have ever wanted. She also got to choose when to have her body entered. She may have been bound as a child, but for years Zeb waited for her to be ready. I can’t even think about the sins among that because I am angry it isn’t me in her place. How many times did I pray and beg Zaaron to be bound to Zeb?
Endless times.
“Do you love her?” I despise the spite in my voice. I thought I had forgiven her for all this.
“I love her as I love Marybeth and all of the children of Zaaron.”
He stands and walks behind me to a cupboard. My smile is fighting to show at his words. They are nothing more to him than what is required of him by his station. Yes, he cares for them, just not in the way I care for him.
Stockings are draped over my shoulder. I reach for them, freezing when he moves my hair away from my skin and his lips softly brush against the back of my neck. “I couldn’t protect you before. I was helpless. The day I found out you were gone was the worst day of my life.” I try to focus on his words, yet his mouth against my skin is the only thing I’m able to register. His whispered voice is rough and almost strained. “That’s changed now. I never thought you would come back to me, yet here you sit.”
He’s barely touching me. His hand trails softly down my neck to my chest, and my breathing completely stops when his fingertips begin to disappear beneath the hem of my neckline.
The click of the door and the voice of Sister Madeline are simultaneous. “Prophet? Is ev—”
My heart is in my throat, and I get as far from him as the chair will allow. He jumps from me as if ejected from a cannon, and Sister Madeline is stunned frozen.
While I’m still panting and my heart is threatening to explode, Zeb brushes himself off, and acts like we were just seen praying, not committing a lustful sin.
“Yes, Sister Madeline?” he says in almost a flirtatious tone.
We all know what she walked in on, yet she straightens herself and seems to wipe it from her memory.
“I wanted to make sure you were finding everything properly.” He may be the Prophet, but Sister Madeline has known us since we were children. There was a time when she took a switch to him for disrupting class. She narrows her eyes while her words remain respectful. “I can finish here. Your presence is being requested by Sister Mia, your wife.”
Her tone is drenched with disapproval. Not that Zeb is in the position to point it out.
“That is appreciated. Thank you, Sister Madeline.”
He slips out the door, leaving me alone with her. I pull on my stocking to avoid looking at her face, hearing her sigh on the way to the closet, where the spare clothes are kept.
“Size seven?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She hands the boots to me, and I take them, meeting her eyes. I’m expecting to see judgment and disappointment in them, when instead there is sorrow.
“You cannot do this, Laurel Ann. I know you two were always close, but if this were to get out…for goodness sake, child, you just got back! Imagine what this would do to Sister Mia.”
My face is most certainly burning from shame and embarrassment because I know she’s right. Since I can’t find any words that will improve the situation, I choose honest ones.
“I don’t know what to do here anymore.”
I hadn’t realized that truth until speaking it. Hurrying to lace up the boots, I’m thankful for something besides he
r to focus on.
She chuckles, and I look up into her sensitive, blue eyes. “Of course you don’t. Twelve years is a long time to be out from under the grace of Zaaron. You must give it time…and make holy choices. Your penance has been paid, so let’s go rejoice in it, shall we?”
Holding out her hand, she helps me up. I’m surprised at how the support of the boots alleviates enough of the pain, making it much easier to walk.
She helps me out of the medical hall to find the celebration in full swing. There are very few things that we are allowed to have for the purpose of pleasure and musical instruments are one of them. The eyes of the followers are sticking to my back while Sister Madeline assists me into a chair. She stands next to me, fidgeting with her sleeves and shifting on her feet.
I take her hand. “Sister Madeline, please don’t feel like you need to spend your evening looking after me. Go, celebrate with your family.”
Her touch is gentle against my back as she leans down next to my ear, her hair tickling my cheek. “I am trustworthy,” she whispers quickly. “If you need someone, I will be that for you.” She stands and steps toward the party. “Welcome home, Sister Laurel Ann.”
I nod to her and scan the crowd for my family. Zebadiah, Mia, and his child bride are impossible to miss since everyone seems to gather around them. My heart aches from simply looking at them, so I make sure to avoid doing it. The air smells divine, and the breeze blows cool against my face as I revel in my momentary solitude.
“Well, I’ll be. Laurel Ann Henderson, look at you.”
Turning in my seat, I stare at the owner of the masculine voice. He sits next to me and crosses his arms. When he grins, I finally recognize him.
“Benji?!”
“In the flesh.”
He’s huge now. Actually, all of the men on the compound seem much larger than most men on the outside on account of Philistine men generally being much more sedentary. His auburn hair has darkened, and his once boyish face is now sculpted. That smile though. That’s not changed a bit.
I wrap my arms around him. This is the excitement and happiness I’ve been waiting for, and I’m grateful to him for giving it to me. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”
He smirks, sticking his thumbs under his suspenders. “I have a pretty good idea. I look in the mirror a lot.” I roll my eyes as he chuckles.
“I’m glad to see you have your vanity in check.”
He jerks his head to the dancing crowd. “Not in the rejoicing mood?”
I’ve always been able to tell Benji anything, or at least I used to. “This just isn’t going exactly as I imagined.”
Standing, he holds out his hand for me to take it. “Come on, let’s get out of here for a little bit. Besides, a walk might loosen you up.”
Being alone with a man that is not my husband isn’t necessarily a sin if we’re not in either of our homes, but it’s not a favorable action and may not be the wisest choice on my first night back. I glance at the crowd of people that are now mostly strangers. A break from it all does sound nice.
I smile at him and accept his hand. “Lead the way.”
He wraps his arm around my waist for support as he takes me behind the death dealer’s shop and away from the common ground. We keep walking across the open prairie, and it isn’t until the sounds from the gathering become quiet murmurs that he speaks.
“I can’t believe you’re back. I never thought I’d see your freckled face again.”
I scoff. I hate my freckles. “Shut up, I don’t have that many anymore.”
“Aww, I always thought they were cute.”
He nudges my shoulder, and I realize my steps are much more secure. “I think I can walk by myself now.” I try to see ahead of us, but it’s dark. We’re going to come to the edge of the compound if we go much farther. “Where are we going anyway?”
His arm hooks around mine. Cupping his hand next to his mouth, he says in a loud whisper, “My secret space of solitude.”
I laugh at him. He’s still the same old Benji. “And that would be?”
“It’s a storm shelter,” he responds flatly. “Way to suck the fun out of it.”
I laugh and squeeze his arm. “And what makes it so secret?”
My eyes have begun to adjust to the night, allowing me to see him grin at me. “Because only a couple of people know about it.” I’m about to ask how the heck he was able to do that when I hear a thud. “Here it is.” He bends over and moves around some two by fours as if they are twigs. “Built this about a year or so after you were…uh…left.”
He pulls out what I assume is a key, from his pocket, before a lock clicks. Hinges creak as he pulls open the large wooden door, dirt clouds kicking up in the moonlight when he allows it to fall to the ground.
“You did this without anyone finding out? How?”
“I went a lot of nights without sleep. Wait here.” He drops his feet into a large, open space where all I see is blackness. There’s a thud when he steps on something. Slowly, he disappears deeper into the ground.
Tink. Thunk.
“Damn it.”
I’m not as bothered by cursing anymore, since Kaila made me somewhat immune, but hearing it here, from him, oddly makes my lip quirk into a smile.
“Are you okay?” I call down.
“Yeah, I just can’t find the—oh, here it is.” A quiet tick, tick, tick, sounds before suddenly, a light flickers and blooms from the hole, allowing me to make out Benji’s form holding a lantern. “Do you think you can get down here with your foot?”
“I don’t know, but this is too good to pass up.” I lift my skirt and kneel down to place my good foot on the first step.
He sets the lantern on a small table next to him, holding out his arms. “Just fall forward. I’ll catch you.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I promise I won’t drop you. Come on, we can’t be gone too long.”
He waves his hand to hurry me up. I release a breath and let go of my grip on the ground, allowing myself to fall forward. His body is hard and warm when I land against him. That wasn’t so bad.
“Umph! Philistine food makes you weigh a ton.”
My mouth drops open, and I hit his arm as he sets me down with a grin. The space is probably eight feet deep, and the room is long and narrow. We can stand comfortably next to each other while I can easily reach the table with the lantern behind me. The walls are lined with thick, wood panels.
“How did you do this all by yourself?” Even if he was able to get this much wood without anyone becoming suspect, carrying all of it alone would be nearly impossible.
“I never said I did it by myself.”
He walks to the back of the underground room, passing a mattress on the floor, to go to the shelves lining the back wall. Boxes are stacked up all across them.
“So, who is it? Who helped you?”
He runs his fingers along the boxes’ edges, and I make my way to join him. Shaking his head, he smirks. “Sorry, freckles, I can’t tell you that.”
“Okay then, what’s in all the boxes?”
Releasing a deep breath, he takes down a dark green one. “What was it like?” He turns to look at me, all of his lightheartedness from earlier completely dissipated. “Out there, with them?”
I step back and sit on his mattress. “There’s a lot of sin. And in the beginning, it was really scary…” I scoot myself to lean against the wall, and he joins me. “But there are some amazing things too.” He’s gripping the box tight, just as he is every one of my words. “You know the loud metal birds that fly above us sometimes?” He nods with urgency. “I’ve been inside one.”
“No way!”
His eyes are wide, and his excitement flows into me, making me smile. “They’re called planes. Oh! And they have these things called microwaves. It can cook almost anything in less than five minutes.”
“Wow,” he whispers.
He’s definitely not a kid anymore, but rig
ht now, his fascination makes him look just like the boy I knew all those years ago.
I point to the box in his hands. “What’s in there?”
My curiosity is at its peak when he lifts off the lid, tilting the container to show me. His green eyes sparkle, and his smile is full of pride. I look down and gasp. Is he crazy? It’s full of Philistine things. A phone, batteries, a driver’s license, a key fob…the list goes on and on. My eyes lift up to match his hesitant ones. “Where did you get all this stuff?”
He shrugs, and his shoulders slump. “I met a Philistine. He brings me things.” He raises his brow. “You aren’t going to tell anyone are you?”
“Oh, Benji, of course not.”
“Not even our Prophet?” He snickers the word as if it’s a joke.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Definitely not him. I still can’t believe it. Zeb is the Prophet.”
“Yeah, he’s changed a lot since you’ve been gone. Just be careful. Don’t trust him until you know you can, okay?”
I’m shocked at his words. He and Zeb were always close friends, and I wonder what has happened between them in these past years.
“What happened to him after I left?”
“He kind of lost it after he found out you were gone. He had more cleansings over the next few years than I’ve ever seen anyone have. He did everything in his power to humiliate and defy his father. Then suddenly, he became the perfect child of Zaaron.”
I always wanted Zeb to miss me, but I never wanted him to suffer. His father had a cruelness in him that I have no doubt he showed Zebadiah. It breaks my heart to know he was hurting because of me. Even if Benji isn’t outright saying it, I’ve seen with my own eyes some of the traits he’s inherited from his father. “I’ve changed, too, you know.”
He grins. “I can see that.” Pushing into the mattress, he scoots himself off. “We should probably start heading back.” He holds out a hand to help me up. “I just wanted to show you this place in case you ever want to come here and take a break from it all. I’ll be sure to leave it unlocked until we figure something else out.” He’s always been a kind soul, and it makes me feel warm that he’s trusting me with this. His head tilts a little as he crosses his arms. “Do you think you’ll miss it? Living with Philistines?”
