Would David even care?
I knew the answer and it wasn’t one I liked.
I also knew I couldn’t leave him.
But the longer we stayed, the more I realized that getting him to go home was next to impossible.
Yet I wouldn’t give up. Not on David. Never on David.
Feeling despondent, I stood up and started to head for the door.
“Bastian, wait a minute.”
I was more than a little surprised to hear Sara call out for me. She came over, something tucked under her arm.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked her, feeling more tired than I could ever remember being.
“This is for you,” she said unceremoniously, holding out the bundle she held.
“For me?” I asked in confusion.
“Yes, take it,” she commanded, looking over her shoulder as if worried someone would overhear her.
I took the cloth from her hand, feeling something hard wrapped inside. I started to open it, but she stopped me.
“Not here. Take it home. Look at it there,” she instructed with a small note of panic in her voice.
“Okay. Uh, thanks.”
She rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a line of black smudge. I wanted to wipe it away.
Mostly I wanted an excuse to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.
Fucking hell.
“I found it. I thought you’d like it.” She seemed agitated. She wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.
“You’re bringing me gifts now. I feel like we’ve entered a new level in our relationship,” I teased, loving how bothered she became when I messed with her.
She flushed. “You should go.”
She was always trying to make me leave. But this time I got the sense it was for other reasons than that she didn’t like me.
“Okay. But seriously, thank you.” I indicated the cloth wrapped mystery present.
“Maybe you could help out with Bible study again,” she said as she turned away.
“I’d like that,” I told her and I meant it.
I liked spending time with Sara Bishop.
She hurried off before either of us could say anything else.
I returned to the place I was staying—I wouldn’t call it home. It didn’t feel much like one. David wasn’t there. I assumed he was praying with Pastor Carter as he always did.
I hated how much time they spent together, but felt powerless to do anything about it.
The longer we stayed with The Gathering of the Sun, the more powerless I felt about everything.
It was easy to lose yourself here.
Forgetting what made you you happened too quickly.
I sat down on the bed, Sara’s gift in my lap. Slowly I unwrapped the bleached piece of cotton.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I found once the final roll of material fell away.
In my hands I held a battered sketchbook that had definitely seen better days. I opened it up to find scribbles and random doodles. But towards the back there were blank pages. I picked it up to have a better look when something fell to the floor. I leaned over to retrieve it, finding a bundle of pencils and even an eraser.
Sara had pilfered me art supplies.
My throat felt tight and my eyes grew hot.
Shit. I would not cry over a damn sketchpad.
I rubbed at my nose, blinking rapidly until it felt safe to look at the incredibly thoughtful gift again.
I noticed something written on the inside cover. I squinted to see the words in the dim light.
Now you can draw the sunrise.
Keep it hidden.
Sara
Just when I needed the reminder of exactly who Bastian Scott was, Sara offered it to me.
She had no way of knowing how important this would be to me.
I lifted the pencil and put it to the first blank piece of paper.
I sat there for a while, almost forgetting how to draw. How did you find inspiration in a place that sucked you dry?
Then I found it.
And I didn’t draw the sunrise.
I drew a girl at a gate.
A girl who gave me hope.
It was one of those perfect summer days. The trees were a shining, emerald green. The flowers were in full bloom.
I stood deep in the forest gathering twigs for kindling to be used in the fire. Even though the days were warmer, we still had to light fires at night to stay warm.
It had been a decent week. Uneventful, which is usually how I liked them. I taught Bible study to the children. Bastian helped. We hadn’t returned to the woods, choosing to stay at The Retreat. But the kids enjoyed having Bastian there, even if they knew better than to show it overtly.
He had thanked me for the sketchpad and pencils. I had found them at the bottom of a forgotten drawer in the gathering room. I had taken them before anyone could notice. I wasn’t sure what had come over me, but Bastian’s response to the modest gift felt good.
“Have you drawn the sunrise?” I asked him.
He gave me a strange look. “No. Not yet.”
I hadn’t pressed him further.
I felt as though I had made a new friend. One I hadn’t necessarily wanted. One that I knew I shouldn’t trust. But there was a contentment to his presence that I enjoyed. And I wasn’t the only one.
Little Rosie had become enamored with him.
I could understand her infatuation.
When I wasn’t busy with the children and my other duties, I read the scriptures. I prayed. I prepared meals. I spent time with Anne knitting a new sweater for Pastor.
The routine was the same as always. The days rolled on, one after another, but I found that I no longer craved the consistency.
Dead leaves crunched beneath my feet and I hummed under my breath as I bent over to retrieve more kindling.
Last night after, long after Mom had gone to bed, I had sat on the floor, the oil light as dim as possible but still providing light. I had torn out a few pieces of paper from the sketchpad I had given Bastian. With a pencil I had taken from the gathering room I drew a picture. The first I had completed since I was eight years old.
Unlike Bastian, I was no artist. It was a very crude and elementary depiction of buildings and cars. Of every detail from my imagination.
Of the New York City Bastian told me about that day in the garden.
And when I was finished I stared at it for a long time. Tears welled up in my eyes and I inexplicably wanted to cry.
I balled up the picture and threw it in the fire. Watching it turn to ash as I hated myself for longing for something I shouldn’t.
For imagining a world that I knew was dangerous.
No matter how beautiful Bastian portrayed it.
I had gone to bed and prayed for hours. Asking God for forgiveness. To wash away my sinful thoughts. I dug my nails into my skin, the pain reminding me of my purpose. Of the plan.
Pastor Carter would be so disappointed…
The shame overwhelmed me.
I bit my lip, teeth piercing soft flesh.
I had fallen asleep with the taste of blood in my mouth.
The sound of noisy footsteps interrupted my thoughts. I could hear them before I saw them. The Scott brothers pushed through branches, trouncing over undergrowth. They were talking low. Bastian seemed intent on what he was saying. David looked tired. Every time I saw him he seemed to be fading away. He had obviously lost weight to the point his skin was hanging from his bones.
They didn’t notice me at first, too focused on their conversation.
“I just don’t see why we can’t call Mom and Dad and let them know we’re all right. What is Pastor Carter’s big issue with us using the phone?” Bastian was saying.
David shrugged. “They’re his rules. We shouldn’t question them.”
It sounded like something I would have said. I would be the first to remind someone that we should adhere to Pastor’s dictates. They
were in our best interests. I had subscribed to this mode of thinking for ten years. Yet hearing it from the older Scott brother’s mouth bothered me. It sounded distorted and wrong.
Why shouldn’t Bastian be able to contact his parents?
Why did we have to cut off ties with family? With friends? The more I thought about it the less sense it made.
“Right. They’re his rules. He’s not a damn dictator—” He stopped short when he saw me standing there, my arms full of sticks. “Uh, hi.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “How’s it going?”
I dropped the wood onto the pile I had made and dusted off my hands. “It’s going just fine. How about you?”
Bastian and David shared a look I couldn’t read. “We’re just peachy. Thought we’d come out here for a little bit before the rest of our day was micromanaged.”
“Baz—” David said his name with a note of angry warning.
The brothers seemed tense. Unhappy. There were no easy smiles on Bastian’s face. And David looked as though he were about to fall over.
“How was prayer group?” I asked. Bastian was clearly agitated. I instinctually wanted to tread carefully. I had learned through experience with my mother to manage the situation carefully.
But Bastian wasn’t Daphne Bishop. I had to remember that.
“We’re tired and my brain feels numb from boredom, but it was dandy,” Bastian complained.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I quipped. Bastian’s face cleared slightly and he smiled.
“I think I just did,” he replied. We shared a grin, though it faded too quickly.
David leaned down and gathered a few twigs, adding them to my pile. “Pastor Carter is an amazing man. He wants what’s best for all of us. He only wants to see that we are accepted by God. That we’re living our best lives.” His movements were sluggish and listless as though he were struggling to do the bare minimum. However, when he spoke, there was a fire there that I recognized in my fellow disciples. In myself. An absolute belief in the man who would lead us home.
“We can live our best lives without sequestering ourselves on the side of a mountain. Just sayin’,” Bastian added, his expression pinched and disapproving.
“That’s the toxicity of outside influences talking, Baz! That’s what Pastor warns us about. We have to expunge the negativity from our souls otherwise we’ll be left when our family ascends,” David exclaimed, showing more animation than I had ever seen from him. His zeal had me taking a step back.
Bastian seemed used to this. He barely flinched as David’s demeanor became more aggressive in an effort to make his point. “Pastor Carter is preparing us for The Awakening.” David’s face flushed red, his breathing labored.
I knew that for David, like the rest of us, his devotion to Pastor Carter was absolute. The wild expression in his eyes was one I was sure could be seen on my own face at times. He was practically regurgitating the same words I spoke. The same convictions.
And it bothered me.
For a brief moment, it didn’t sound sane. His extremism teetered dangerously and I felt ill.
Is that what I looked like? Is that what I sounded like?
Maybe you need to ask yourself what it is that you don’t want the rest of the world to see...
“I could use some help gathering firewood if you’re free,” I spoke up, feeling the need to intervene before something happened. Needing to change the subject before I went into freefall.
Did I sound that irrational?
I pushed the unwanted thoughts as far down as possible. Suppressed where I didn’t have to deal with them.
Bastian’s face relaxed marginally. He too seemed appreciative for the distraction. “Sure, we’d be happy to help you.” He bent over and started gathering an armful of thicker branches. “It’s a really nice day. Seems a shame to be stuck doing chores.”
“I’m almost done here, then it’s time for Daily Devotional,” I said. Though I didn’t feel the desire for prayer the way I usually did. I had had enough prayer.
“Right. Daily Devotional,” Bastian said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. David had wandered off and started to gather wood farther away. I noticed how Bastian watched his brother while trying not to be obvious about it.
“How’s he doing?” I asked softly, so David wouldn’t overhear me.
Bastian took the wood I had gathered and added it to his pile. “Not so great. He’s struggling. Though he seems to do well out here.” He looked around the densely wooded area. “He’s always been an outdoorsy guy. Being stuck inside in prayer groups isn’t good for him. He likes the fresh air and being surrounded by nature. When we were teenagers we’d spend weekends hiking trails around Ohio. He was really into those survival groups, where you’d take a backpack and live off the land for a week. It’s why the military was a perfect fit for him.”
I watched David as Bastian spoke and could see how much calmer he was out here, in the woods, than he was back at The Retreat. Even though he was throwing himself into his new life, it was obvious this is where he was happiest.
There’s so much good. So much beauty. And you’re missing it all.
I made a decision. It was spontaneous and out of character. But in that instant, it felt right.
“Remember I told you about the waterfall a few miles from here?” I bundled up the pile of kindling, done with the task.
Bastian frowned. “I think so.”
“Would you like to see it?”
Bastian’s lip quirked. “You mean right now?”
I nodded. “Yes. Right now.”
Bastian glanced back at his brother who had stopped gathering wood and was now leaning against a tree, his eyes closed. As though he were taking strength from it. “What about Daily whatever?”
I didn’t correct him this time. “You can connect with God out here too. Isn’t that what you told Clement and Stanley?”
He smirked. “Yeah, but I was saying what I thought would get you guys out of trouble.”
“Yeah, well whatever it was, it’s true. So, come on.”
He didn’t hesitate. He dropped the sticks he had been collecting, dusting off his hands.
“Dave, come on, buddy. Sara has something she wants to show us.”
David had been resistant to missing Daily Devotional. I understood why. We were conditioned to never deviate from routine.
But I didn’t care.
I wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
It was a bonus to have company.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll talk to Pastor Carter. Tell him we spent time in the woods together. He’ll understand,” I promised. Though I wasn’t so sure Pastor Carter would understand at all. The likelihood of him being incredibly unhappy about what he would see as a defiance made a tremor go through me.
“Come on! Let’s go!” Bastian was like an excited puppy. His mood was infectious. I smiled.
“Okay, it’ll take a while to get there. It’s about two miles from here,” I warned.
Bastian searched around and found a good sized walking stick, large enough to grip sturdily in one hand. “Okay, all set.”
David still seemed unsure, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips when Bastian handed him a walking stick. “As long as you think it’s okay.”
He wanted to go. I could tell. There was a flush on his face that had nothing to do with fanatical preaching.
“Absolutely,” I told him. Even if, deep down there was a niggling of doubt. Of worry that—
“It’s totally okay,” I said more firmly.
“All right then, come on—”
There was the crunch of leaves. Before I had a chance to panic I caught sight of familiar brown hair. “Anne, what are you doing out here?”
Anne stopped, seeming surprised at the sight of me with the Scott brothers. “I was looking for you actually.” She looked from me to David and Bastian. “What are you guys doing?”
“Sara was going to take us to a waterf
all,” Bastian answered for me.
Anne raised her eyebrows and gave me a pointed look. “She was?”
I shrugged. “I thought it’d be nice to show them.”
“Would you like to come?” David asked, his voice gruff. Yet hopeful.
“Yes. I’d love that,” my friend said without pause. I knew she would never lecture me about attending Daily Devotional instead.
I would have though. If the roles were reversed, I would have berated her for breaking the rules.
The realization didn’t sit well with me.
Piosity was not attractive on anyone.
“Let me find you a walking stick,” David insisted, rooting around on the ground until he found one the perfect size for Anne. He handed it to her with a shy smile. She smiled back. I could see their fingers touch briefly. He was so much taller than she was. She looked small and delicate standing next to him.
“Come on, the day’s not getting any younger.” Bastian clapped his hands together like a schoolteacher.
“We have to go that way,” I instructed, pointing north.
“It’s quite a long way if I remember. It’s been a few years since Sara and I have been out here,” Anne added as we started to hike through the trees.
“No worries. I like getting sweaty.” Bastian wiggled his eyebrows and I couldn’t help but snort.
David and Anne were ahead of us, talking together. David bent his head low so he could hear whatever it was Anne was saying. Their arms brushed together. The longer we walked, the more alert David became. Like a burden was lifted from his very heavy shoulders.
“I like her,” Bastian said, holding a branch up so I could walk beneath it. “When they’re together I see a little of the old David Scott.”
“Anne’s been through a lot. She understands how hard this transition is,” I responded. Bastian waited as I hopped over a fallen log, steadying me when I tripped.
“I thought the people who came here wanted to be here.” He sounded slightly sarcastic. As if he were throwing my words back at me. I deserved it though.
Though it didn’t stop me from feeling defensive. I swallowed the angry retort that bubbled up my throat. Because I had said that. And it wasn’t true. Not always.
Ashes of the Sun (The Gathering of the Sun part 1) Page 16
