by Vivian Lux
I screwed my eyes shut and tried to reach my own bliss. But I couldn't hear the sound of my prayers over the noise of the people around me. The stifled coughs seemed as loud as gunshots, and every rumbling tummy felt like an earthquake. I shifted and tried harder, determined to believe again. But instead of peace, I was filled with frustration.
At last, one of the Elders, a young man I didn't recognize, maybe sent in from one of the other communities, called for bread breaking. We passed the fragrant loaves to one another and smiled our greetings, but my stomach roiled and I could barely swallow it down. I grimaced up at Rebecca, who was watching me closely. Like she was checking to see if I spontaneously caught fire the second the bread touched my lips.
She seemed disappointed that I didn't.
There was a rustle and the sound of shifting bodies and I remembered at the last moment that now was the time to stand. I smoothed the heavy skirts that were now clinging to my legs and wiped my forehead before tucking my white cap snugly back down onto my head. For one moment, I crouched to reach for the water bottle I had always carried out in the secular world. But there was no water to be had during Meeting. The deprivation of being thirsty was supposed to remind us of our mortality.
I swallowed. I could really use a drink. In all senses of the word.
Then Widow Reed's high, warbling voice rang out making my hair stand on end when everyone joined in. My throat went dry.
"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound..."
It was the hymn I'd sung for Beau. The one he swore made me sound like an angel. I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears that were suddenly gathering. My mother, thinking I was overcome with the emotion of being "lost then found," reached down to squeeze my hand, and I wanted to yank it away and run from her, but I stilled myself and whisper-sang along. My voice definitely wasn't that of an angel. I sounded like the hiss of air from a leaking balloon.
One hymn slid into another as the spirit moved various Chosen to sing praises. It was a game of "who is most pious," and it could go on for hours. When the last song died out with no one suggesting a new one, I breathed a sigh of relief.
But only for a moment.
Because I knew what came next.
"Brothers and Sisters!" the new Elder boomed. "When one of us sins, it brings shame to all of us. We are all responsible to keep pure, both within our hearts and within this sacred community..."
My heart thudded so loudly in my ears that it drowned out the rest of his words, but I didn't need to hear him. I gripped the bottom of my chair, forcing myself to stay in my seat and not run screaming from the room.
It was time for the Shaming.
The Chosen believed if you sin you must ask forgiveness from both God and the community by standing in the front of the Meeting and confessing. Confessing was bad enough, especially when your sin was something private or worse, something you hadn't even known was a sin in the first place, like when Gloriana Hastings was shamed for wearing revealing clothes only because she had grown so fast that her skirts had risen above the ankle without her realizing.
Or when you didn't know your sin was a sin because you had only been in the community a few days and still did not understand the rules.
With a violent jerk, my mind wrenched back to that meeting all those years ago when my sister Miriam had first been adopted into our family at the age of eight. Sweet and shy, she'd endured things I couldn't even imagine within the foster system. We were eager to show her a peaceful life, and to give her the love and affection she'd lacked for so long.
Right off the bat, her black skin had made her a target of whispers. She was watched far more closely than any other small girl in the community, and not even a full week had gone by before she'd transgressed. It was for the simple sin of going outside to collect the wash wearing only her undergarments. But she'd been seen and branded immodest. When her name was said at during Shaming, I had leaped to my feet to defend her, but my mother had yanked me back down again. I watched in horror as an innocent little girl, already so scarred by the life she'd led before coming to us, was forced to lift her skirts until the tops of her thighs were bared. She hadn't made a sound when the rod struck her tender flesh, I knew she'd learned to stay silent in the foster home she'd been in before coming to us.
And that made it so very much worse.
"There are those among you who clutch your sins close to you, letting them weigh you down. Brothers and sisters, how will you rise into Heaven on Judgment Day if your sins are an anchor around your neck? Confess your sins and when you are finished, call upon your neighbor to confess theirs, so they might be free from the weight as well."
I heard a rush of breath like everyone was readying themselves to speak at once. And I realized, with dull, numb horror, that nearly all of the heads were turned in my direction.
I knew that was how it had to be. If I truly wanted to belong again, I needed to accept my punishment for leaving. I needed to confess all that I had done wrong while out from under their watchful eyes.
But what if I didn't believe I had done anything wrong?
My mother reached out and pressed her hand on my shoulder. As if she wanted to keep me sitting in case someone said my name. "No," I whispered, not daring to move my lips. "I won't do it."
"Then," the Elder continued, sounding slightly disappointed, "I'd like to call on Sister Rachel Walker."
I jerked my head up, ready to run if he so much as came near me...
But he was raising his hand. "We welcome you," he blessed me as the rest of the congregation stretched out their hands. "We are grateful that you have returned to us, and we ask the Lord for His Almighty blessing on you, Sister Rachel, as you begin again to walk the path of God's Chosen."
I looked around, awestruck, at all the hands reaching out to bless me. "You belong here," my mother said as she squeezed my arm. "You belong here, with us."
I squeezed my eyes shut again and nodded and hoped that everyone believed that the tears that were now falling were tears of joy at having finally come home. I hoped I could believe it too.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Beau
I picked up my phone and double checked that the ringer was on. Just in case. There were still no voicemails - from anyone. Not that I could have missed a call, the way I'd been checking every phantom vibration. But I checked again. Nothing from the police. Nothing from the private investigator I'd hired, and then fired, and then thought about hiring again.
Nothing from Rachel.
I deliberately set my phone and walked towards the window and looked out to the surrounding trees without seeing a thing. I was blind. And numb. I felt nothing except the need to check my phone again.
The ringer was on. No one had called in the ten seconds since I last looked.
"Where the fuck are you?" My silent house had no replay. Just like me, it had no idea where Rachel had disappeared that night. I sank down into a chair and raked my hands through my hair. I hadn't trimmed my beard in days and it was sticking out all wild-man crazy, which suited me. I had already gone through the shock and worry stage of grief.
Now I was angry.
Finn's head bobbed past the side window, out on his morning walk. We'd flipped roles. While I had been a basket case these past four days, Finn was happier than I'd seen him in forever, spending his days tramping around the fifteen acres that came with this house. He spent a lot of time throwing rocks into the pond and watching the ripples as they formed rings on the surface. He was in nature, and finally at peace.
And I fucking hated him for it.
We'd barely spoken since the night he'd drank so much I thought he'd overdosed on pills. He knew that I blamed him for Rachel disappearing. Last night he'd stood in the doorway to my bedroom and watched me as I talked to the detective on the missing person’s case, and when I hung up, frustrated, he'd actually looked abashed.
"Look man, I know you're hurting. But I didn't ask you to come take care of me. You did that on your own."
Which was as close as I was going to get to an apology from Finn.
"I know," I'd said, running my hand through my hair again. "And that's the worst fucking part." I'd chosen my brother over the woman I loved and as a result I'd fucking lost her. I had no right to be angry at Finn for Rachel's disappearance.
But I still was.
And that was bad, because we were about to be spending even more time together.
I grabbed my suitcase. "Yo!" I shouted out of the window, but Finn wasn't on the side lawn anymore. I stomped out onto the deck to see my where the hell my nature-loving Zen-monk of a brother had wandered off to and spotted him down the sloped lawn at the edge of the fishing pond. Memory assaulted me yet again, as that golden moment when Rachel surprised me with her fishing skills invaded my head. Grief washed over me and right after it came a wave of rage worse than what I'd felt the night of Finn's "overdose." I checked my phone one more time just to feel the way my heart sank when I saw she hadn't called me to explain, and then tucked it into my pocket and leaned over the deck railing to glare down at him. "We gotta go!"
"Van's not here yet!" he hollered back serenely. I didn't even realize you could holler serenely and that just made me even more agitated. I checked my phone again.
And it started ringing in my hand.
I was so startled my hand jerked, momentarily loosening my grip. My phone slipped from my hand and rang again as it seemed to hang there in space.
"Fuck!" I cried as my phone fell over the railing. "Fuck!!"
At that moment, the limo-van crunched and swayed its way up the driveway, but I was only half aware of its arrival. Desperate, I leaned over the railing, praying the impact hadn't shattered it, but there it was, lying in the grass face-up.
It rang again.
I had half a mind to jump right over the railing after it, but the twelve-foot drop was too high. I growled out a curse and sprinted to the side stairs.
The doors to the van slammed. "Hey! You guys aren't even ready!" Claire called out. "Come on!"
"Shut up!" I barked savagely. My feet hit the grass and I was already running to the spot where I'd last seen my phone. "Shit, where are you? Shit!"
"You lose something?" Finn floated back up the lawn with the relaxed gait of a man who hadn't lost everything.
"Phone!" I turned in helpless circles in the grass.
Claire was watching all of this with pursed lips. "You guys, we really need to go, New York City is not exactly close to here. Aren't you even a little excited? Come on!" she whined. "Today's the day, dammit!"
I ignored her and kept walking with my head down. Everything - the ride to New York, the upcoming reunion show, all of it - could wait until I found out who had called. "I think Rachel called," I managed to choke through my frustration. "And right as it started ringing, I dropped my fucking phone over the railing because somebody"—I glared at Finn— "wasn't here at the house and waiting like he should have been."
"Hey!" Finn held up his hands to ward me off. "This isn't my fault. You're the keyboardist, you shouldn't have such clumsy fingers."
I was about to tackle him to the ground when Jonah - who'd come up behind me without saying anything - suddenly called out, "Is that it?"
I spun and then dove when I saw the glinting metal. Finn stared at me like I'd gone completely mad, which I very well might have. Claire still looked confused, but Jonah - who'd fallen in love with a sweet, strong girl who'd changed him completely - seemed to understand.
"I hope it's her." He gave me a solemn nod. I took a deep breath and looked at the miraculously uncracked screen.
My heart sank. "It's not her number." I looked again and my heart squeezed even tighter. "I think it's the detective on the missing person's case."
"Well, call him back!" Claire exploded.
I had already hit callback. "Jenkins," came the brusque voice on the other end of the line. I recognized the bored, skeptical tone of the detective I'd spoken to that frantic night she'd first gone missing.
"Yes, hi." I cleared my throat and tried to sound more in control, then shoved that aside as useless. I was completely and totally out of control. "This is Beauregard King, I think you'd just called me in regard to Rachel Walker?"
Three of my siblings were staring at me with wide eyes. Claire had her hands over her mouth. Jonah was watching me with his hands shoved in his pocket. And Finn was staring at his boots. But all three of them were here, and that made me feel a tiny bit better.
Detective Jenkins inhaled sharply. "We've located the subject in question."
I gave a whoop of relief and cupped my hand over the mouthpiece. "They found her!" Claire clapped and launched herself at me for a hug, but Jenkins was still talking, "...does not wish to be contacted."
I pulled back from Claire. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Jenkins sighed. "Rachel Walker does not wish to be contacted."
It felt like he'd sunk a knife right under my ribcage. "She's.... Why?"
He gave a dismissive chuckle, "Oh you know how it is down at that compound. Calling you Satan and all that nonsense. It's all pretty shady if you ask me, and I was looking forward to finding some evidence of lawbreaking when you gave me this case, but she turned up safe and sound, wearing all those heavy skirts and telling me that she was there of her own free will. Wasn't much I could do after that."
My hand dropped away from my ear. Numbly, I stared past my siblings. She'd gone back? After what she told me, she'd gone back?
"What did he say?" Claire begged.
I blinked, and with the greatest effort, I hauled the phone back up to my ear. "Thank you for telling me," I said mechanically, then ended the call.
"What happened? Where is she?" Claire's voice was rising.
I looked around. Everything seemed wrong. Even the colors were strange. "This makes no sense," I muttered, frustrating my sister. "I love her."
And then, with a jolt, I realized I'd never told her.
And now I'd never be able to.
"Let's get out of here," I begged.
My brother, who had found a peace in this place he'd never had before, took a deep breath. Then he slung his arm around my shoulder. "Yeah. Let's get out of here," he agreed.
Chapter Forty
Rachel
"Are you okay, Rachel?"
I took a deep, shuddering breath and then smoothed my hands down the front of my skirts as the detective made a U-turn in the dirt and drove away in a cloud of dirt. I wanted to scream and run after him, fling myself at his non-descript car and cling on to the bumper as he took me away from this place.
But my sister was watching me. Little Miriam with her wary expression and her big brown eyes. She gave me a tentative smile and I forced myself to smile back. "Of course."
She grabbed my hand. "Good. Because Mother told me to come fetch you." She tugged at my arm.
"Really?" I hoped she would forgive my mud-stained skirts and stained overdress. The sudden rain this morning had left the fields a rutted mess, and the lingering humidity had me feeling sodden and short of breath even before Detective Jenkins had rattled me so badly. Mother had been watching me very closely ever since my return and I didn't want her to see me looking anything but serene. "Do you know why?"
Miriam was almost bursting with the importance of her task. "You have a caller."
"A caller?" I gasped as I let her tug me back down the muddy central path that ran between all of the Chosen houses. It wasn't a road. More like a trail beaten down by the women's feet walking from house to house to borrow a set of needles or offer potatoes from storage. It was the pathway of our lives, our day to day existence. It used to seem so long to me.
Now I realized it was less than a quarter of a mile long.
Was I really okay with my world being this small?
My sister's hand in mine brought me back to myself. I followed her up the steps to the rarely used front door of our house, and then stopped when she shooed me to one side. "Mother s
aid I am to let her know when you get back," she announced primly, clearly relishing the responsibility.
I obliged her by demurely stepping off to the side of the porch and as I did, I caught the sight of movement through the window. My mother scurried by, clearly agitated about something, and when Miriam politely caught her attention, she startled, throwing up her hands in frustration. Curious, I leaned in to see what could possibly be bothering her so much, but Miriam must have told her I was back from meeting with the detective because she turned and looked straight through the window, right at me. I couldn't read her expression, and that bothered me. My mother was usually an open book, but right now she was closed up tight.
The low rumble of far off thunder made me jump. Something was wrong. "Rachel!" My mother's voice was bright and falsely cheerful. "There you are!"
"Yes, I was speaking to the detective, Mother. Of course I told him that everything was fine and—"
"Yes, good, but come inside the house, we can't keep them waiting any longer."
"Them?" I echoed as I trailed behind her.
Inside the house, the humidity was even worse. This morning's storm had soaked the laundry that had been hanging on the line to dry, which meant that every spare surface was draped with damp clothing, which only added to the feeling of closeness. As I looked around, I realized that all this laundry would need to be rewashed, since the heavy rain had splashed up droplets of mud all over it. Which meant I'd be spending today doing chores I'd already spent all day yesterday doing.
My fingers twitched as I tried to fold them demurely in front of me, but I ended up clenching my fists instead. "Rachel?" my mother called from the front room. "Come join us."
"I have all these chores still to do, I don't have time!" I wanted to say. But I didn't. I ducked my head in apology and headed to obey my mother.
