Hesper’s eyes flooded. "Hello.”
Brushing a wavy lock of auburn hair from her round face, another woman said, "I’m Dulce. We’re pleased to meet you, Hesper. Though, believe us, we know what you must be going through.”
Resting a lithe arm around Hesper’s shoulder, Jade walked her to the others. "Pretty soon you’ll feel like this is your new community and you’ll be nearly as happy as you were before.”
"As close to being happy as you can be,” Anise amended.
"Oh, and David is just great.” Jade squeezed Hesper’s shoulder. "It may seem weird to be married to a man with more than one wife at first, but you get used to it. He’s good at helping us forget.”
"Married.” Hesper uttered the word, painfully cold in her gut and chest. "I did not realize. He . . . he married all of you? He is a stig?”
Anise laughed. "No, no, dear. In this culture, the wealthy are encouraged to marry multiple Gentle women. To them, it is acceptable and moral behavior. David has remarkably few compared to others.”
“We’re rescues,” Dulce said. “I was at the end of my two weeks. The local law enforcement wardens brought me to the base for execution. David stopped them and agreed to take me. I will always be grateful, no matter what challenges our situation presents.”
"Trinity bought me as a gift for David. They sold me for only fifty meras because of my freckles!” Jade scoffed. "Fifty! A girl with missing teeth went for two hundred, and she had to go with this mean-looking man with a waxy mustache and a woman’s butt.” She stuck her tongue out and gagged. "Have you seen men with women’s butts? It is so, so, so, weird.”
Hesper’s pulse quickened. "This is wicked,” she whispered.
Anise opened the door behind her. "Let’s go to my room, shall we ladies?”
The women filed in and seated themselves on the green bed while Anise locked the door. Facing Hesper, she said, "We must trust that the god who knows and sees all has a bigger picture of morality than we do.”
"If it helps you,” Dulce said. "They told me the Book of Light is filled with wisdom, and the Kyrios will access it regularly for complicated matters. It contains nothing indicating marriage to multiple women is wrong.”
Hesper sneered. "The Kyrios? Whoever they are, they lack skill in critical thinking.”
"Never openly criticize the Kyrios, Hesper. Keep it in your mind.” Anise tapped Hesper’s forehead gently. "They govern Theocracia as the human hand of God. Trinity is the incumbent Chandler Reverenced One, and David is her brother, so he is a successor and has the responsibility of taking the seat after her. We must learn to hold our tongues and show reverence, even if we do not agree.”
"I respect what deserves respect,” Hesper answered.
"I hope for your sake that you deem the Meros way of life worthy of respect.” Anise’s grim smile felt like a threat somehow.
Hesper raised her chin. "I will never respect this marriage matter.” A horrible thought struck her. "Does David come to your rooms at night?”
"Yes, dear,” Anise said, "he often does.”
"And thank God he does!” Jade cried. "Anyone who pities me for being married to that man can suck an egg, ‘cause I have no complaints. Anise is his favorite, though.”
"How can you stand it?” Hesper spat. "I could not!” It did not trouble the women that their husband walked away with their kisses still on his lips, only to be rubbed off on the next woman in a few minutes. She was no sentimental silly, but this level of detachment verged on the deranged.
"If I loved David, I would be jealous to the point of murder,” Hesper declared. "I will not fit here. I refuse to.”
"We find a way, Hesper.” Dulce shrugged.
Enough. The ladies were kind, but . . . "I need to urinate.”
"We refer to that as needing to use the bathroom,” Anise said.
Ugh. Poetry for urination? "I need to use the bathroom.”
Jade jumped up. "To the left! I’ll help you find it!”
Inside? These people are disgusting.
"No, I will go by myself.” Hesper slipped into the hallway before Jade could insist. The door clicked as she closed it. She waited a moment, and when Jade did not follow her, breathed a sigh of relief. Scanning the dimly lit hallway for unwanted company, Hesper scampered to the staircase.
With the volume of Papa’s hammer, Evelyn ascended the stairs in front of Hesper, slowing when she sighted her and her so-called "owl-eyes”—something Evelyn could not seem to keep her own eyes away from. Evelyn’s white-spruce face, lined with past-laughter, carried a warmth that refused to come out. Her eyes, reminiscent of Mama’s maple-syrupy ones, glistened with the cunning of a snake’s.
"Good afternoon, dear. What’s your name?”
"Hesper,” she whispered.
"Ah, Hesper. Were you going to tour the house?”
"Oh! No.” Hesper clenched her dress in her hands. "I need to use the bathroom.”
"It’s that way, darling. I’m shocked that no one showed you. Come.”
Evelyn passed by and Hesper followed her to the other end of the hallway, just short of a second staircase. "Here.” Evelyn pointed to a door on the left. "I hope you sleep well tonight.” She smiled with a confusingly sincere warmth. "You can’t trust Meros men, so lock your door.” Her brow knit with concern. "David’ll be in your bed before you can say, ‘what do you need, Your-Almost-Reverence?’ and there won’t be a thing you can do about it. If it’s any consolation, he’s usually gentle . . . and generous.” Evelyn entered a door across the hall and closed it behind her.
Would David do such a thing? No. Why would he be cruel after being so kind? But this was not her world; anything was possible.
On wobbling legs, Hesper sneaked back to the stairs she was familiar with and hurried to the first floor. Empty and silent, the room invited an escape, but how could she ever cross the distance between her and the door? She had to try. One anxious step forward built her confidence. After a few more paces, boldness wavered, and a jagged bolt of fear shot through her limbs.
Keep going.
Give up.
You might succeed!
Not now.
Even death is better than sharing a husband!
They will catch me.
KEEP GOING!
The doorknob broke her internal debate. The door opened.
Hesper whirled around and ran up the stairs to the safety of the hallway. Breathless and tingling with adrenaline, she dragged her feet to the bathroom and opened the door.
She stared.
What was this place?
* * *
Jade led Hesper to a room with bare walls where the sun poured in through uncovered windows, sparkling on the slick floor like a puddle of light. A pile of charming, colorful decorations and pretty things lay on the currant-and-cream bed covering.
"May I help you?” Jade asked.
"I need to be alone,” Hesper said.
Jade touched Hesper’s shoulder. Her smile, sympathetic and sincere, made Hesper’s face burn. With a hug, Jade left.
Embroidered golden circles edged the bed cover. Like David’s buttons. Joram’s buttons.
You are not a Gentle, you are not a Gentle.
They would not make her cry. She would persevere. The blood of Unified leaders coursed through her, demanding her courage rise to this occasion. Screaming a growl, she pushed the things off her bed—no, not her bed!
She did not want their pretty things. Their unnatural garbage. Did they think her favor and pleasure could be bought with trinkets and finery? Never! Her affection was hard-won and skillfully kept. A steady, consistent man could do it without a single gift.
At the window, she watched the world of black uniforms outside. The colorful houses would have been a beautiful sight if this were not a prison. Face pressed to the warm glass, Hesper strained to see farther east. The entire community bowed in reverence to an enormous stone building in its center. Bland and ominous when compared to the white and red
homes with their bright doors, its purple pennants snapped and flapped in the breeze: the only splash of color on the monstrous thing.
The forest’s leaves whispered in her mind, wondering where she was, why she betrayed them, why she chose the glaring sun over their shade.
She did save a boy’s life. Perhaps that would be sufficient consolation. Life was not just about her, it was about everyone, but selfishness came so easily.
Turning from the window, she considered the room’s warm colors. All cold. All the things provided to make the room attractive, splayed across the floor. The bed promised a softness far beyond the thickest moss, but it meant nothing if she had to share it with someone who laid naked in beds with others. Nothing would ever seem warm away from her cozy little loft. Nothing would seem warm without . . . Mama. Mama was forever lost.
Hesper had been innocent—so innocent, she did not know it until now. The forest and the people in it were saturated with the blessed simplicity she could not find in herself anymore. Baked in the sun, wiped dry with the touch of Meros hands, and thinking poetic foolishness to process the pain, she floundered in unwanted knowledge.
She grasped at her chest and placed her head between her knees. Shivers became whimpers that evolved into tears, and the gentle rain from her eyes grew into a storm of heaving sobs. She collapsed on the hard wooden floor. It did not matter who heard or saw her. At best, they would take pity, at worst, they would end her suffering. She was a Gentle after all.
She slammed her fist on the floor. It was stupid, and it hurt, but she could endure a little pain for her own foolishness.
Because of her actions, Mama and Papa would hurt.
Adahy would hurt.
Her chest hurt.
She struck the floor again and again, growling until her voice broke into pieces in a violent cough and slowly decomposed into a quiet, burning stream of tears. No feeling apart from sorrow, no thought of anything beyond grief. Her crumbling wall of strength fell on her as debris, suffocating her. She walked in the suffering of her ancestors when they fled to the wilderness to survive the war. Like a deer with an arrow in its lung, it may run for a little while, but eventually . . .
Air. I need air.
A warm hand rested on her shoulder. A voice.
Frantic, Hesper crawled across the room. She whirled around and pressed her back against the wall, flinging her arms out, fingers spread and gripping its smooth, flat surface.
David sat on the ground, too far away, crisscrossing his legs. "I’m here for you.” He held his hands out, palms up. "You’re going to be okay. This won’t last forever. Is this new for you?”
Hesper shook her head and swallowed hard, blinking away tears. She had to break free from this feeling. Each breath hurt her chest and squeezed her heart. Not enough air. "My fingers tingle,” she gasped. "Am I dying?”
"Nope. You’re alive and well and everything’s going to be okay,” he said softly, crawling over to her. Then, lighter and thoughtful, "You know, a little bit of light does a lot in a dark place.” His words plunged into the ice-covered lake of fear she had fallen into. He still smelled sweet and tart even as she drowned. The warmth of his voice grabbed her numb hand and pulled her toward the surface.
She fought to listen. Focus.
He continued, "You are a bright ray of light. Even in a dark spot, you have the advantage because you can shine the darkness away. Do you see?” He touched her hand—physically, this time—and without knowing why, she grasped it. He did not pull or insist. Only a tiny movement invited her to come nearer, so she did. Kneeling, she leaned against the safety of his chest. No stiff uniform or metal buttons this time. Only a soft shirt. So soft.
Hand on her back, he uttered a soothing, "Shh.”
Slowly, her body relaxed, and she took a deep breath as the pain subsided. He should not touch her, but it did not matter. The warm breath passing over her hair settled her emotions.
The smell of spices always comforted her because it followed Adahy wherever he went. Now, she would have to find comfort in the scent of David.
Ten | Post-Conquest: 222
During the day, Jesurun counted on cities to beg for money, and if he was lucky, he’d land a cot in a homeless shelter at night. On not-so-lucky days, he rested his head wherever he could. Few people raised concerns, even fewer bothered to ask questions, so he carried on largely unchallenged—no challenges he couldn’t escape easily anyway. Most people didn’t care enough to do anything when he ran from their help.
Once in a blue moon, he let a person or family take him in for a few days or weeks. Sometimes they taught him stuff, and sometimes he got work for money. Other days, he learned how to protect himself, mastering many of the ways to make sure someone never got up again. Ever.
One chilly autumn evening, he staggered into a barn and climbed the ladder to the hayloft, where he flopped on prickly bales of hay. A few hours later, he awoke to the friendly face of another boy.
The boy called, "Pops! There’s a kid up here!”
A man poked his head into the loft. "Sure ‘nuff.” He took his hat off and rubbed his head. "Hey there, son. What’s your name?”
Jes stared at him. This farmer was too nice. He’d pin Jes down and try to adopt him. Jes knew the type.
The farmer beckoned and Jes followed down the ladder and through a swarm of curious hens who clucked around his feet. A friendly golden dog nosed him a few times and stuck his snout into Jes’ palm. He giggled quietly and gave the dog a quick scratch on the head as he followed the farmer up the stairs to an open porch and entered the farmhouse. The warm kitchen smelled of wood smoke, coffee, spicy sausage, and maple syrup.
"Kimberly! We found a boy in the hayloft. He looks starved half to death. Can we do somethin’ for him?” The man shrugged and seated Jes at the table. "I dunno where he came from. He won’t talk.”
Kimberly approached Jes and bent over, smiling, her hands on her knees. "We’ll fix you a nice meal and give you a warm bath. How does that sound?”
Kimberly smelled like lilacs. Her warm brown eyes loved him the way his mother’s once had.
"Who’s that?” A raspy voice choked out from another room.
"We don’t know, Dad. We found him in the hayloft,” the farmer answered.
"You don’t say. Lemme see ‘im.”
Kimberly and the farmer exchanged concerned glances, but led Jes to the old man, nearly grown into his worn chair.
"Come ‘ere, boy. What’s yer name?”
The smell of the old man’s bucket of tobacco spit nauseated Jes. You smell bad. I don’t like you.
"What ails ye? Are ya stupid?” He grabbed the boy’s arm and yanked him forward.
Jes gagged at the smell and started to cry. If he cried, the farmer and his lady would feel bad for him and get him out of there quickly.
"He’s a blundering idgit, that’s what he is. What’re ya gonna do wit’ ‘im?”
"I s’pose we’re going to feed him and try to find out where he’s from so we can bring him home,” the farmer said. "He probably has a family worried about him.” His merciful, firm grip pulled Jes away.
"Come here, big guy.” Kimberly placed her gentle hand on the back of Jes’ head and directed him to the kitchen.
No one managed to get a peep out of Jes all day. They let him spend the night and planned to bring him to the local market to ask if anyone knew of a missing boy.
Bull. Nobody’s gonna haul me around a market askin’ people ‘bout me.
Snug under a colorful patchwork quilt that smelled like Kimberly, Jes shared a bed with the couple’s son. Except for the old man, this was the best place he’d found in five years.
He’d met men like that old guy before, and he knew what to expect from them. He couldn’t think of any reason worth going through that again. Of course, the old man might have an "accident.” Jes was good at planning accidents. No one suspects a kid.
As Jes neared sleep, the door creaked open, broadening the hallway m
oonglow in the room. The hunchbacked old man crept in with the added clunk of his cane. He wrapped a cold hand around Jes’ left arm, and his bony fingers dug into his bicep as he led Jes out of the room. "If you scream, I knife ya,” the old man whispered, his mouth sticky with spittle.
* * *
Jes returned to the bedroom to put on his own clothes and shoes. The farmer’s son lit a candle.
Not now! "Go back to sleep, kid,” Jes said, tying his shoes.
"Kid? How old are you?”
"Ten.”
"I’m older than you,” the boy said, perplexed.
Jes glanced back at the boy and snorted.
"Anyways,” the boy threw his blanket off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "I should’ve said something. I’m sorry. I was just glad it wasn’t me this time. Did he hurt ya’ bad?”
"Hurt? Nah. It’s nothin’. Some sickos pay good money for that stuff. It’s bought me a few meals. You shoulda charged the old prune. He won’t be botherin’ you again, though.” Jes finished tying his shoes. "Tell your mom I think she’s pretty and smells nice, will ya?”
"’Kay. You leavin’?”
"I’ll be in big trouble when they find the old guy.”
"Grandpa? What’d you do to him?”
"I didn’t do nothin’ except give him what he deserves . . . in the neck.”
Eleven | Post-Conquest: 232
The muted sunlight comforted Hesper. Though, the curtains that softened the light had not been there the night before. A thick, oily scent hung in the air. Someone crawled onto the bed and touched her arm with soft, cool fingers.
"Good morning, beautiful.”
"Jade,” she rasped.
Jade touched Hesper’s arm. "I heard you had a rough night.”
Yes, she had a rough night, and no one could entice her to speak about it. She had no sensible words to explain those feelings.
Her hand felt strange. Uncovering it, she found it had been carefully wrapped with white cloth. A bit of some sort of balm reached beyond the edges of the bandage.
Tree of Life Page 9
