Destiny Calls

by Lydia Michaels

  Forgetting that a bishop and a nun kissing was totally taboo, or perhaps because it was wrong, Destiny found herself unable to turn away. There was something so possessive about the way he held her. He touched her with a sense of ownership and entitlement that most modern women would find insulting, but Destiny, on the other hand, yearned for a man to possess her in such a way.

  For years she had found men lacking. They were too politically correct, too sensitive, or too irresponsible. She had become cynical, firmly believing that there were no more real men left. Although the bishop seemed pretty damn real, he was a holy man, and odder still, he was making out with a nun. If that kind of thing was permitted, then Destiny could definitely understand the draw of convent living.

  An emptiness took hold of her as she stared at them. A sense that she would never have anything close to what the two of them had. Her brows drew together as she reminded herself that nuns were supposed to be chaste as were bishops. She needed to get out of this place.

  The man pulled back from the nun, and Destiny tried to look away, but couldn’t. Sister Larissa’s cheeks were flushed. Her lips were dark and slightly swollen. Her glazed crystalline eyes fluttered opened, and she stared up at the bishop.

  “Come. We will visit your old room,” the man said shamelessly.

  Destiny almost fell over. What kind of convent was this? Sister Larissa looked over at her and the bishop said, “The girl will be fine alone for a spell.”

  This would be the perfect opportunity to find her shoes and get the hell out of Bizzaro World so she could find a phone. The man turned to her and sharply said, “You will not move from that bed until I grant you permission.”

  Her body jerked as if some invisible cage was suddenly surrounding her. She wanted to get off the bed, but a mixture of fear and discomfort held her in place on the mattress. The bishop led Sister Larissa out of the room by her hand, and Destiny scowled. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the bed now or not. She couldn’t think straight at all.

  Chapter 7

  Cain entered the house with Cybil still holding his hand. His sister, Gracie, glared at him, but then smiled at the child.

  “Hello, Cybil. I was just coming to get you for our lesson.”

  Cybil’s hand tightened on Cain’s, and she stepped closer. Gracie frowned.

  “What’s this about?” Gracie asked, tilting her head to the side.

  Cain assumed Grace poked into Cybil’s mind. Gracie made a clucking sound and lowered herself so that she was eye to eye with Cybil.

  “Don’t you worry about that, Cybil dear. Brothers and sisters disagree sometimes, and that’s all this is, a disagreement.” She enunciated the last word and gave him a severe look. “Isn’t that right, Cain?”

  Cain looked down at Cybil. She must have picked up on the tension between him and his siblings. None of his siblings were endearing themselves to him at the moment, but Cybil was only an innocent child and wouldn’t understand why. He couldn’t treat her as a pawn to hurt his siblings for hurting him. She shouldn’t be used in such a way.

  He hoisted Cybil up onto his hip and said, “That’s right. Just like Dane gets on your nerves sometimes, Gracie can be extremely annoying.”

  Cybil pursed her lips, and her small frame rattled slightly as she silently laughed at him. Gracie made a sound of exasperation.

  “Don’t tell her that.”

  “It is only the truth, sister.”

  “Well, no one will argue that Dane is an annoyance, but I certainly am not. Come on, Cybil. There is work to do.”

  Cain gave Gracie a suspicious look. “What kind of work?”

  In a blasé tone, Gracie said, “I found a book on American Sign Language in town the last time Adam took me. I’m teaching Cybil so that she can communicate.”

  He frowned when he noticed Cybil’s bored expression. He could tell these lessons weren’t a pleasure for her. “She isn’t deaf, Grace.”

  “I am aware of that,” she said with superiority. “She’s mute.”

  Cain scowled at her. He didn’t like Grace labeling Cybil with such terms. Cybil could talk, and she would when she was ready to. He didn’t like the idea of her, after already suffering so much, being forced to sit through tedious lessons. She should be free to play and explore the farm.

  “Stop it, Cain,” Gracie said with a warning glance, and he realized he hadn’t been blocking his thoughts. “She needs to go to school with the other children and she cannot do so if she has no way of communicating.”

  “Who says? She communicates just fine.”

  Rather than answer him, his sister collected a book from the shelf and pulled out a chair at the table for Cybil. Reluctantly the child climbed down from Cain’s hip and took the seat.

  “Now, let’s begin with the alphabet,” Gracie instructed as she held up a hand. Cybil mimicked the movement and Grace recited her letters. Their hands moved in different patterns forming different shapes as their fingers twisted and curled in unison. Intrigued, Cain took the other seat at the table.

  “Good,” Gracie said, motioning with her fingers from her chin down to her palm. Her hands moved quickly as she slowly said, “Now can you tell me what month we are in?”

  Cybil held up her left hand, made a circle with her right thumb and index finger, keeping the other fingers straight, and glided it up and over her left palm.

  “Good,” Gracie signed again and then repeated the motion Cybil had just done. “It is February.”

  “How long has she been practicing this?” he asked.

  “For almost a month. She’s very good at it. It’s quite easy. Watch.” She turned to Cybil. Can you tell Cain something and see if he can interpret what you’re saying?”

  Cybil seemed to think for a moment, and then her hands began moving rapidly. Cain had no idea what she was saying. He laughed nervously, and Gracie suggested she try to move a little slower.

  Slowly, Cybil’s hands moved as if she were conducting an orchestra. Her fingers twisted with ease and her expression was tense as she focused on making him understand. At one point she screwed her lips to the side and looked at Gracie.

  His sister read the child’s mind and then said, “Oh, like this.” Gracie slowly held up her hand, fanning her fingers wide and then folded down her middle and ring finger. Cybil faced him and repeated the gesture.

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she doesn’t want you to leave her again. She misses you and has bad dreams when you’re gone. She says she wants to go home, but doesn’t know where that is anymore. She says you’re home, you and Dane.” Grace signed through the monologue so that Cain saw the correlation between the words and signs. The girl’s confession affected Grace as much as it affected him.

  Cain’s heart constricted. “And what does this mean?” He held up his palm and folded down his middle and ring finger.

  His sister looked at him, emotion straining her voice and answered, “It means ‘I love you.’”

  Cain’s eyes were suddenly irritated. He looked back at Cybil and held up his hand, two fingers folded down. “I love you, too, munchkin.”

  He sat quietly through the rest of her lesson and tried to pick up on as many expressions as possible. It seemed Cybil was quite fluent. As was his sister. When the lesson was over, Cybil left to return to his grandparents’ house and Grace began to ready items for supper.

  “Will you be supping with us, Cain?”

  He looked up from the sign language book. “Yes. Can I borrow this?” he asked, motioning to the book.

  For the first time since he’d arrived, his sister smiled at him. “I think that would be nice.” Then as if she couldn’t bear to be too kind to him she added, “For some reason I cannot fathom, the child adores you. Sometimes she has bad dreams and comes looking for you. I often find her sleeping in your bed in the morning. Perhaps you can put your little escapades aside for a while and be near for her.”

  “I was not off on a ‘little escapade.�
� I was hunting our rogue uncle. Regardless, I don’t plan on leaving for some time. I won’t do anything until Anna has the babe.”

  She nodded sharply. Gracie seemed changed in some way. She and Cain had always bantered and bickered like children, but recently she was…less lighthearted. It was as if some great burden or worry had been placed upon her. He was just about to ask her if everything was all right when she said, “By the way, toad, the bishop is here, and he knows about Destiny.”

  Cain tensed. That was not great news.

  * * * *

  Cain entered his room and found Destiny sitting on his bed looking confused.

  “Problem?”

  She looked up at him and he felt her relief. “Thank God you’re back. I need to get out of here.”

  “That’s not going to happen quite yet. I need to have the bishop talk to you,” he said, seating himself on the edge of his bed.

  “Yeah, about that, I don’t really need to talk to the bishop, and I’m not really sure why you brought me here, but the nun thing’s starting to freak me out, especially after what I saw a while ago.”

  What was she talking about? “What did you see?”

  She leaned forward and whispered, “The bishop and one of the nuns are getting it on.”

  “Getting it on?”

  “Yeah, you know, doing it.”

  “Who is the nun in this scenario?”

  “Sister Larissa,” she said.

  He tried not to laugh. “Oh my, we had better inform the elders.”

  “Well, don’t tell them I told you. That bishop’s scary.”

  “What did the bishop say to you?”

  “Nothing. He seemed angry I was here, but then he started kissing the nun and told me I couldn’t get off the bed until he returned.”

  Cain shut his eyes and counted to ten. “Can you get off the bed?”

  “Of course I can,” she answered as if questioning such a thing was ludicrous.

  “Show me.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I…I don’t want to get off the bed.”

  He sighed. “That’s what I figured.” He stood and went to the door. “Larissa! Get down here and bring your bishop!” he shouted.

  “Don’t call them!” she snapped.

  He ignored her and waited. The door to the room suddenly slammed on its own, almost taking off his fingers, and he snickered. Seemed the bishop heard him.

  “Look, I don’t know why you brought me here, but I really need to get to a phone.”

  He sighed. “Stop talking.”

  “Uh, no. I need to call my brother.”

  “Why are you impossible to control?” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  She scoffed. “I’m out of here.”

  He waited as she approached the edge of the bed and nibbled her lip in concentration as if considering her next move.

  “Problem?”

  “I…” She huffed and groaned irritably. “What the hell is going on? Why can’t I get off the bed? It’s like my mind refuses to even consider such a thing.”

  “Just relax. You won’t be able to go anywhere until the bishop releases you.”

  “Releases me? What’s that supposed to mean?” He ignored her and flipped through the sign language book. “What’s that?”

  “A book. It’s what people used before television.”

  “I know what a book is. I read all the time. What kind of book?”

  “A sign language book.”

  “Are you in college?”

  “Why do you ask so many questions?”

  “I’m a reporter. I’m good at it.”

  “Then why are you here rather than out somewhere shoving your microphone in someone’s face?”

  When she didn’t answer, he looked up from the book. He offended her, and for some reason that bothered him. He liked when she fought back. “Destiny, I didn’t—”

  The door suddenly burst open, cutting his apology short, as Bishop King’s form filled the doorway. Destiny jumped, and Cain found pleasure in the fact that she leaned into him as if for protection.

  “This had better be good,” the bishop growled.

  “Bishop King. I trust you’re enjoying your day.”

  “I was. What do you want?”

  “My guest here would like to get down from the bed.”

  “That’s fine, so long as she gets down, walks out that door, off this farm, and never returns.”

  “Yes, well, about that—”

  Eleazar held up his hand. “Stop. I will not even allow you to finish that statement. I’ve made allowances for the last two strays you brought home, but with her I draw the line.”

  “Stray?” Destiny bristled, and Cain placed a calming hand on her thigh and felt a jolt of awareness.

  “I understand she cannot stay,” Cain amended. “But you are missing the issue. Ms. Santos here had a run-in in the woods with a friend of ours, and I seem to be having trouble…correcting the facts for her and I would hate for her to return to the English telling tall tales.”

  “Isaiah?”

  “Yes. I saw him. He has the strength of ten males, by the way.”

  “You had an altercation with him?”

  “I did, as did Destiny. However, she didn’t fare as well as I, I’m afraid.”

  “I find your standard of faring well, questionable. I was here when Annalise was hurt.”

  “Ah, well,” Cain bobbed his head as if the memory were tedious. “The majority of that was not from Isaiah. It was from the arrow Destiny shot me with.”

  “Arrow?” The bishop scowled at her.

  She frowned back in confusion. “Who’s Isaiah?”

  “Don’t strain yourself, sweet. Men are talking,” Cain said, tapping her leg.

  She groaned and snatched her warm thigh out from under his hand. “Look, Bishop, I need a phone. My brother’s probably worried sick and I’m still not sure if there’s a dead man in the woods.”

  “Stop talking,” the bishop mumbled, and Destiny immediately fell silent. She tried to make a sound and her expression rapidly became uneasy when she couldn’t produce one.

  “Not very nice, Bishop,” Cain reprimanded, and the bishop pinched the bridge of his nose. Destiny snatched the book out of his hand and began flipping through it. He turned back to the bishop. “I don’t believe it will be much of a problem to get us on our way since you appear to have no problem taking hold of her abilities. I on the other hand hit a wall every time.”

  “And to think, you, Cain Hartzler, have found the modesty to admit that even a male with your mastery has shortcomings.”

  Just then the door opened, and Larissa stepped in. Her cheeks were red and her clothing looked rumpled. Cain made a nauseated expression as his sister smiled adoringly up at the bishop. When her gaze landed on Destiny, her grin faded. “What’s going on in here?”

  Destiny slammed down the book and formed a half circle with her right hand and tapped it over her heart. They all frowned at her.

  “What is she doing?” Larissa asked.

  Cain leaned forward and turned the book then looked back at Destiny. “She wants us to call the police.” He sighed and gave her back the book then in a raised voice said, “No. Police.”

  “Why is she signing?” Larissa asked, still confused.

  “That would be your husband’s doing.”

  He openly showed his pleasure when Larissa turned on the bishop and snapped, “Eleazar, you stop that right now!”

  He sighed, and suddenly Destiny gasped. She flew off the bed, her motions frantic. “You’re all crazy! What the fuck?” She then backed into a corner, speaking rapidly in a language he couldn’t understand.

  Suddenly Bishop King said in a soothing voice, “Mulher calma.” Destiny grew quiet, her movements suddenly serene. The bishop spoke in foreign tongues, and Destiny’s eyes glazed over. She nodded and carefully walked over to the side of the room and retrieved her boots. She returned to the
bed where she wedged the ugly things on her feet. The bishop nodded when he was finished.

  “What was all that?” Cain asked.

  “She thinks in Portuguese. That’s likely why you couldn’t control her. I told her you were an officer of the law and you are going to escort her back to her home. I explained she has suffered a nasty fall in the woods and one of our men found her and brought her here where she was nursed back to health. She will go with you now, and I’ve told her she will do as you ask without argument. She won’t recall much from the journey home.”

  “You expect me to take her home?”

  “You brought her here.”

  “Yes, but…I just got here.”

  “Not my issue, Cain. Now, if you will excuse me. I was rather rudely interrupted from some business earlier, and I must get back to some pressing matters. Larissa.”

  Cain gritted his teeth as his sister obediently followed her arrogant husband out of the room. He turned to Destiny as she blushed and batted her big brown eyes at him. He leaned forward and massaged his forehead. “Let’s go.”

  She looked up at him with a completely unguarded expression and smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 8

  It always started out nice. With such close proximity, his struggle to remain calm was palpable. He was biding his time, and his patience cost him dearly, yet he held on as long as he could.

  She looked at her hands. They weren’t the hands of an eleven-year-old. There was no dirt under her fingernails and no telltale jagged edges from biting them. These were the fingers of an adult woman, smooth, manicured, a little bit long.

  Cybil felt him watching her. A potent discomfort was always present with the weight of his stare. It was awkward, like a slippery animal she wasn’t sure how to hold. Something deep within her told her to not let go, but something else warned her to not get too close. A part of her recognized his attention as something she craved, but her inexperience with such things made her timid and unable to ask him to go.

  He never approached her, never touched. It was as if he recognized something delicate inside of her that needed to mature. His distance was a favor. He didn’t wish her harm. He was careful not to intentionally frighten her. She was certain he placed her above himself, yet he had never told her such things.