The Isaac Project

by Sarah Monzon

  Dissolving myself of morning breath, I jumped in the shower, making sure to use plenty of conditioner to get all the knots out of my hair.

  When I finally emerged, Luke was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Welcome back,” he said with a small smile. My mind supplied his inferred to the land of the living.

  “Don’t you have a job you need to get to?” I groused.

  His smile slipped, and I immediately regretted my surliness.

  “Actually, I took a few personal days off.”

  I slumped into the seat opposite him, reached across the table, and stole the steaming cup of joe, sipping it with appreciation. It would have been a completely natural act on my part. That is, if I wasn’t determined he was an adulterer I was soon to divorce. However, that fact seemed to have slipped my mind in lieu of Poppy’s passing.

  “I’m sorry, Luke,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to be so snarky. But you don’t have to take time off on account of me. I’m used to taking care of myself. I’ll be fine.” The falsehood of the last three words left a foul taste in my mouth. I wasn’t fine. I wasn’t sure when I’d be fine again. But I needed to convince Luke otherwise.

  “Are you saying you don’t want me here with you?” His voice was quiet, his eyes sad.

  The internal battle I had been struggling with raged within me. Which would win, head or heart? If I were honest with myself, the answer to his question was an easy one. I did want him here with me. I didn’t want him to leave. Not today, not ever. I opened my mouth to tell him just that, when the door burst open.

  “Lisa!” I cried. “What are you doing here?”

  Lisa rushed in and flung her arms around me, nearly squishing me in her hug.

  “Luke called me,” she said, her words echoing in my ear.

  I closed my eyes and returned my friend’s exuberant embrace. When I opened them, Luke was slipping through the door. His unanswered question hung heavy in the air around me, the response dead on my lips.

  30

  Rebekah

  “OH, BECKY,” LISA crooned. “I came as soon as Luke called.”

  My head still spun with the fact Lisa was sitting with me, that Luke had called her in the first place, and that I had let him walk out of the house without telling him I wanted him to stay. With the way I’d treated him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he went to get the divorce papers himself.

  I pulled my focus back to the conversation at hand. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, still a bit distracted.

  “I’m glad to see you’re more yourself now. Luke told me how out of it you’d been. Said he practically had to spoon-feed you. He was really worried. He cares for you a lot, you know.”

  How had I not realized it had been Luke all along who’d been the one looking out for me? Why had he done it? I surely hadn’t deserved it. I could no longer fool myself that his kind actions had ulterior motives. I’d already decided to go with my heart. As much as I tried to hold on to my hurt as a shield, I’d slowly been stripped of that armor until I was utterly defenseless. I was in love with my husband. I admit it. There was nothing left to do but forgive him of any indiscretion.

  But maybe there was a scenario that had occurred in Michigan other than the one that woman—my Christian charity restrained me from calling her something more colorful—had portrayed. Was there a way to silence the doubts lingering in my mind?

  She squeezed my shoulder. “I have to tell you, even though I agreed to find you a husband and we prayed about it, I was still skeptical that everything would turn out all right. It was just too crazy to conceive. But look at the two of you now. You guys are obviously in love. The whole thing is so romantic.”

  Lisa’s incessant prattle registered through my introspection.

  Lisa! She’d been there. Maybe she would know the truth.

  “Hey,” I interrupted, “you saw Luke during his trip back east, right?”

  “Yeah. I had dinner with him and his family one night.”

  “Was that before or after he supposedly saw Marty in the hospital?”

  “After. Wait, what do you mean supposedly?” Lisa scratched the side of her head.

  “I called Luke when he was in Michigan. Only he didn’t answer. A woman did. She told me Luke had gone there to see her and that she had rewarded”—my mouth twisted as I spat the foul word—“him for his effort.”

  Lisa’s jaw hung open. “I don’t believe it. Becky, he told us he loved you that night. Why would he say that if he’d been with another woman?”

  If only all the pieces would line up. “He said he loved me?” My voice was small, unbelieving, as my heart raced.

  Lisa nodded. “Did you talk to Luke about it? What did he say?”

  “I know I probably should have confronted him, but what if he just denied it? Could I trust him to tell me the truth? In my experience, cheating men are also liars.”

  “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” Lisa retrieved her purse from where she’d dumped it by the door. Rummaging through her Vera Bradley bag, she withdrew her phone.

  Lisa gave me one confident nod of her head with an accompanying wink. I returned the gesture with a reticent smile. I was starting to have second thoughts. Maybe not knowing for certain wasn’t so bad.

  “Hey, honey, I’m here with Becky, and she just told me something very interesting. We need your insight on the matter.” Lisa relayed all I had told her.

  I followed along with the discussion as best as I could, being privy only to Lisa’s responses. “Mhmm…Oh really?...Isn’t that interesting…Yes, he should have told her.” The conversation turned decidedly more personal when Lisa’s voice grew intimate. “I miss you too, but we’ll see each other in a few days. I love you.” Pause. “Bye.”

  I pounced as soon as she ended the call. “He should have told me what?”

  “Apparently, Marty’s mom has made advances toward Luke in the past. He turned her down one too many times, and she fired him from being Marty’s tutor. Sam thought Luke should have told you about her, but since Luke didn’t date her or have any interest in her whatsoever, he thought it was a nonissue. He said you had too many other things you were worrying about.”

  My breath left me in a whoosh, and I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. “So, what? She made it all up?”

  Lisa squeezed my hand. “Looks that way.”

  I shook my head. I was completely dumbfounded. Why would anyone say something so malicious, so vengeful? And I had believed every foul word like it was the absolute truth, never questioning the word of a stranger over that of my own husband.

  A groan strangled in my throat as I remembered the horrible way I’d treated Luke since he’d come back. He’d presented me with a beautiful and thoughtful gift, an exquisite music box, and I’d called it stupid. Stupid! If only I could go back and tell him how much I really loved it. How much the gesture meant to me. How much he meant to me.

  I bolted off the couch faster than if someone had poked me in the behind with a knitting needle. “I’ve got to go find Luke.”

  I needed to talk to him, and it couldn’t wait another minute. I never once thought that a proper grieving granddaughter would go gallivanting off to declare her undying love in the wake of her grandfather’s death. Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic. But if I had thought of it, I knew Poppy would have approved. He did, after all, want to see me happily married before his passing. I arranged the married part. Thankfully, God provided the happily portion. Now to go find that husband of mine and assure I stayed happily married.

  Lisa chuckled as I dashed out the door.

  A few feet from the house, I paused, looking right and left. Which way to search first?

  Lady barked from the barn. It wasn’t one of her happy I-found-a-squirrel-to-chase yaps either. No, this one was low, laced with a warning growl. I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood for a detour, but I needed to make sure nothing was threatening the horses. Coyotes were known to roam
the area, and I didn’t relish the idea of doctoring bite marks, or worse, losing an animal.

  Lady’s next bark ended in a pain-filled yelp, and I sprinted the rest of the way to the stables. Searching through the stalls, I found her lying in a heap on a bed of hay.

  “Lady!” I rushed to her side.

  Only I never made it.

  Once over the threshold of the stall, I was grabbed from behind in a vice grip, the biting point of knife pressed to my neck. I inhaled sharply, and my punishment was immediate and twofold. The jerky movement of my involuntary gasp caused my neck to rasp against the edge of the blade. The small puncture stung, but it could have been, and still might become, much worse. I needed to stay as still as possible. I gagged. And breathed as little as possible. The stench of the unwashed body that held me turned my stomach.

  The man’s chest rumbled against my back in his mirth. “My day keeps getting better and better.”

  My mouth filled with saliva, but I didn’t want to swallow. I wasn’t keen on my skin moving against that blade again. With small movements, I asked, “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Who am I?” The man snorted. “With all the horses you’ve stolen from me, little lady, you’d think you’d know who I was.” Then he leaned his head down till his mouth was next to my ear. A wiry beard scratched my face. Bile burned my throat.

  “But don’t you worry none. We’ve time to get better acquainted.” The knife that had been pressed to my throat now traced a line down my cheek as my assailant caressed me with the blade. “Maybe you can pay me back for all your thieving ways.” The hand that didn’t hold the knife slid down and cupped my breast.

  My heart pounded in my chest, and my head raced to find a way out of the situation. I had been scared before but thought I might be able to talk some sense into the guy. But he had just doubled the stakes, and I wasn’t the betting kind. Desperation clawed at my every nerve.

  My only saving grace was the fact I wasn’t entirely alone. Yards away, Lisa sat in the house. If I could somehow get her attention, she could call for help.

  A car door closed in the distance. The man and I both froze. Hope began to rise until the turn of an engine squished it like a tiny ant. The crunch of tires driving away was a death knell.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

  My breathing came in heavy gasps, and I swallowed a whimper. I willed Lady to get up. She was my only help, but my hero still lay motionless on the ground. What had the guy done to her? A quick kick wouldn’t have rendered her so pathetically immobile.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded.

  His evil chuckle curdled my blood. The flat of his blade lay vertically on my cheek at a slight angle, the tip pushing into my skin. The vile beast increased the pressure. I could either move my head or feel my blood run down my face.

  Turning my head, I met cold black eyes. Eyes I’d seen just days before. Mr. Bronson. He leered at my recognition, crooked teeth flashing behind his grimy facial hair. He crushed his mouth hard against mine. My teeth cut into my lip, the metallic taste of blood dancing across my tongue.

  Mr. Bronson pulled me out of the stall toward the entry. Where were we going? He stopped near the trash can that held yards of cut orange bailing twine. He bent down to withdraw a piece of rope, and I saw an opportunity for escape. The door to the barn was wide open and only a few feet in front of me.

  I dashed forward.

  An anvil-sized fist to my temple dropped me to my knees. Bright spots swam in my vision, and my ears rang. My head jerked back as one of his massive paws pulled my hair. Tears stung my eyes, and my scalp throbbed.

  I whimpered as he replaced the knife at the base of my neck, right above my collarbone. Hot, rancid breath tickled my ear as Mr. Bronson whispered in an all-too-calm tone of voice, “Try that again, and you’re dead.”

  I closed my eyes tight, and twin tears streaked down, wobbled on my chin, and fell to the floor.

  A yank on my hair and I was scrambling as fast as I could sideways on my hands and knees. I held my head and neck at an odd angle, trying to alleviate some of the shooting pain from being half dragged.

  We entered another empty stall. If only I’d kept some of the horses in today. Mr. Bronson shoved me in the hip with a booted foot, and I sprawled onto the sawdust-covered ground.

  “Hands behind your back,” he barked.

  I scrambled to my feet and obediently turned my back to him, placing my hands together. The coarse bailing twine cut into my wrists as he tied them together. With a push to the shoulder, I landed once more on the unforgiving floor. A sharp pain in my lower back made me suck my teeth.

  I looked up and watched in horror as Mr. Bronson began unbuckling his belt, his knife still present in one of his hands. I had to do something, and I had to do it now.

  Lifting my leg, I kicked with all my might. My foot landed square in his groin. The man doubled over, dropping the knife. I clambered toward the weapon, shoving it under a thick layer of sawdust behind me.

  “Why you little—”

  His hand crossed his shoulder and came down hard on the side of my head.

  My body shot backward with the force of the blow.

  Darkness enclosed around me in slow motion. Then all went black.

  31

  Luke

  LARRY SAWYER HAD been wrong. The old adage “actions speak louder than words” was wrong. And the Bible, at least in this respect, was also wrong. Either that, or Becky was blind and didn’t see my “fruits.”

  I had done everything I could possibly think of to show her that I was trustworthy, honest, and hard working. That I loved her. But she didn’t want me to stay. I’d given her the opportunity to stop me from leaving, and she hadn’t said a word. Her silence spoke volumes.

  Kicking at a small rock in my path, I chuckled derisively. God had said if I loved her, she would love me in return. Where was the fruition of that promise now? I’ll tell you where. In the rectangular form of divorce papers.

  I mentally checked over everything I had ever done and said in my relationship with Becky. Coming to the end of the tally, I stopped dead in my tracks.

  My forehead smarted from the impact of the palm of my hand. How could I have been such an idiot? I had gone to such pains to show Becky that I loved her, but I had forgotten to tell her.

  No time like the present. I turned around, imagining walking up to Becky, taking her hands in mine, looking deep into her eyes, and saying—

  My nose twitched. I inhaled, and a faint but familiar smell swirled in my nostrils. “Is that smoke?”

  I squinted, peering through the trees. A jolt of adrenaline shot through me at the orange glow in the distance. Pumping my arms and stretching my legs, I raced through the underbrush and dodged saplings, making a beeline toward the fire.

  Too many questions assailed me as I neared the burning building.

  Becky’s barn.

  My heart pounded with adrenaline. I needed to clear my mind. Keep it professional. Good thing Becky was safe in the house with Lisa. One less thing to worry about.

  Quickly assessing the situation, I scrambled for my phone.

  “Nine one one dispatch. What’s your emergency?”

  “I’m at 8920 West Laurelbrooke Avenue in Meadowlark. The barn is on fire. Please send the fire department.” I pushed the End button and dropped the phone. I knew the woman with the no-nonsense voice would’ve told me to stay on the line, but there was no way that was going to happen. I needed to call Becky.

  The ringing was loud in my ear as it came through the speakers of my phone, but…was that…?

  My blood ran cold. Becky’s phone was ringing in the barn.

  Stripping out of my shirt, I plunged it into the water trough and held it up to my face as I dashed through the open door of the barn. A wall of heat hit me with staggering force. What I wouldn’t have given for a Nomex jacket and a SCBA mask.

  I needed to search the area fast. There was way too mu
ch fuel, what with the wooden structure, the hay, and the sawdust littering the floor, to think this fire wouldn’t spread in record time. Already the hairs on my arm felt singed from the sheer temperature surrounding me.

  Crouching low, I removed my shirt from my mouth and shouted, “Becky!”

  A terrified whinny, along with the crackling of fire, was all the answer I received.

  Continuing down the aisle, I searched. Smoke made my eyes water, and my lungs ached from lack of oxygen. One of Becky’s precious linemen might as well have been sitting on my chest.

  A hacking cough sounded ahead of me and to the right. A stall door burst open, and Becky’s bent frame emerged, silhouetted in front of the orange flames just beyond. Without a glance in my direction, she turned right and limped away from me and toward the center of the angry inferno.

  She stumbled and reached a hand against the wall to support herself, her shoulders shaking as her lungs attempted to empty themselves of carbon dioxide and fill with oxygen. Still she shuffled forward. Was she disoriented? I needed to get to her before she became charbroiled.

  Ignoring everything I knew about staying as low to the ground as possible, I sprinted to her side and swung her around by her arm. She screamed and clawed at me. I tried to pin her arms, but she continued to fight and push against me. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and the other was filled with intense fear. Blood oozed from a cut on her lip.

  “Becky! Becky! Calm down. It’s me,” I shouted, trying to get through the hysteria that clutched her.

  I had to get her to stop fighting me so we could both live to see another day.

  Images of Lopez slapping sense into the autistic boy surfaced. I ground my teeth. The situation might be dire, but there was no way I was going to strike a woman, much less the woman I loved.

  Releasing Becky’s arms, I put both hands to the sides of her face in a grip only slightly gentler than a vice. Licking my chapped lips, I tilted her head up until our mouths met. I could taste her blood, feel the swollenness of her precious skin.

  She redoubled her efforts to fight against me. The vibration of a strangled scream slapped my lips. Real tears, not those produced by the fire’s smoke, burned my eyes. Yet I did not relent. We were running out of time.