The Choosing

by Rachelle Dekker

  24

  The room around Carrington should have been as familiar as the back of her hand, like her own reflection in the mirror, but it felt as if she’d never lived there before. The soft white curtains that hung just a couple of inches too long, the caramel-colored furniture aged from use, the worn pale carpet, the light-blue bedspread, the sweet yellow pillows—all of it was unaltered yet foreign, punctuating how much she herself had changed.

  The bedroom looked undisturbed, as if no one had even set foot through the doorway since she’d left. But the security she had once felt here seemed out of reach. The girl who had lived here was a child with dreams and secrets, a child who played house and wished for a perfect future and couldn’t imagine a world filled with worry and fear. This had been a place for hiding, for laughing, for learning. Carrington could hardly remember the face of that little girl, and now she felt like a stranger borrowing someone else’s bed until she was ordered to move on again.

  She stood motionless, yearning to feel the comfort this place had afforded her throughout her childhood. How was it possible that in such a short amount of time her life had gone from childlike fantasy to the foreboding gloom that was now draped around her body?

  “Do you have to keep wearing that awful color?” her mother asked behind her. “I would think they could let you change back into your other clothes.”

  Carrington turned to see her mother’s head buried in the rows of clothes in her closet. The woman pulled out a pair of form-fitting white cotton pants and a knee-length tunic in the same color—a typical day-to-day outfit for the girl who used to live in this room.

  “Well? Did you ask?” her mother demanded.

  Carrington shook her head in response and her mother scoffed. “Carrington, how could you not think to ask about your clothes? Have you lost your head?” Vena laid the garments lovingly across Carrington’s bed and smiled at them with pride.

  “Well, I guess I’ll just have to find out.” She looked around the room again, wondering at the house’s quietness. “Where is Warren?”

  “He’s playing with Robison down the street. I thought you’d like a few hours to get settled in without him around. He has turned into such a talker; sometimes it’s hard to get anything done.”

  Carrington pictured Warren’s innocent face and wished desperately that he were here.

  “I would like to burn this dreadful filth as soon as possible,” Vena said, pulling at Carrington’s sleeve. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to be rid of it.”

  Carrington’s hand absently pinched at her neckline. “I suppose.”

  “You suppose? What is wrong with you?”

  How was she supposed to answer that? The only real friend I’ve ever known is mourning her murdered boyfriend; I am engaged to a man who believes having people executed is the proper way to maintain order; oh, and I think I may be falling in love with a man I can never have, never even dream of having, because the reality in which I am currently stuck tells me that I’m not worthy of truly feeling loved.

  “Nothing,” Carrington said.

  “Ever since you set foot in this house, you’ve been moping around. You are acting very strange for a girl who is living a dream.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother; it’s just been a long couple of weeks.”

  “Well, all that is behind you now.” Her mother placed her hand on the side of Carrington’s face and stroked her daughter’s cheek with her thumb. “You have come home, been given a second chance. You should be celebrating!”

  “I’m afraid of him,” Carrington said. She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do so, but lack of sleep and her mother’s warm touch made Carrington feel like spilling her guts right out at her mother’s feet.

  “Afraid of whom?”

  “Authority Knight. He isn’t what he seems.”

  “Hush, dear. You shouldn’t say such things.” Carrington’s mother dropped her palm and turned back toward the clothes on the bed.

  “He has pictures of executed criminals hanging in his library, Mother. He believes Larkin and Helms should have been killed for breaking the law.”

  “Those rebellious souls . . . I wish you’d had nothing to do with them.”

  “He’s cold and ruthless.”

  “Enough, Carrington! He is a leader of this city. A man of God! Maybe he is right. Anyway, it really doesn’t concern you. Your only priority will be to make him happy. Do you understand?”

  “You agree with him?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “It matters!”

  “That’s enough! How dare you speak to me this way? You may have been gone for a little while, but this home will function the way it always has. You have been chosen—by a man, might I add, who surpasses any expectation we could have had for you—and you will not speak unkindly of him under this roof.”

  “And if I am miserable?” Carrington knew she should stop pushing, that she was dragging herself dangerously close to an edge she could quickly tumble over. But the voices in her head had become too loud to keep silent. After weeks of wondering, weeks of fighting her own inner doubts, weeks of suffering through loneliness and endless questions, suddenly her mouth was open, allowing the thoughts pounding in her skull to escape.

  Her mother’s face turned fierce and angry. She stepped to position herself inches from Carrington and spoke in tones she saved for rare occasions. “Then you will be miserable. You are no longer a child. You will marry Authority Knight and you will be his dutiful wife without fail, or being miserable will be the least of your worries. Being in the inner circle has many benefits, but trust me, my dear—being pushed out would crush you.”

  Tears rolled down Carrington’s cheeks. Her mother’s eyes had gone dark and she suddenly felt as if the woman who had given her life was looking at her the same way the rest of the world did—as a pawn in a game she was never intended to win.

  Vena brushed the tears from Carrington’s face and her expression lightened. “Don’t cry, my sweet daughter; I am only trying to keep you safe from yourself. A mother’s job isn’t always easy, but we do what is necessary to protect our children. Soon you will understand that.”

  Carrington pulled her face away. A mother’s touch was supposed to be comforting. She had longed for it during the sleepless nights and the hovering fear, but now, with her mother’s hand still burning on her cheek, it felt contrived.

  For just a moment, ripples of pain crossed her mother’s face before the coldness returned. That’s how it had always been with this woman—brief flirtations with real emotion that were quickly masked by frigid control.

  A soft knock jarred both women from their reveries to find Carrington’s father looking in.

  His face was older than Carrington remembered, his age showing in the texture of his skin. His clothes were dirty from work and his hair was plastered to his head from being under a hat all day. He smelled of grass and hay, and the familiar scent made the strangely foreign room feel a bit more like home. His eyes were laden with dark circles but still filled with youthful color. When he smiled at Carrington something in her broke. She had forgotten how much she’d missed his smile.

  “You’re home,” her mother said. “Good. Maybe you can talk some sense into your daughter.”

  “Vena, she’s only just arrived. We have a problem already?” her father asked.

  “We do not have a problem. . . . She does.” Her mother sighed for dramatic effect and placed the back of her hand across her forehead as if she might faint from the utter disappointment her only daughter had become. “I have no more time for this. I need to get dinner started.” She walked to Carrington’s father, gave him a perfunctory kiss on his cheek, and with a final look over her shoulder that told Carrington this conversation was not over, she left.

  Seth Hale watched his wife go, and when he turned his face back to Carrington his smile had transformed into a chuckle. He stepped into the room and shook his head. “Must you torment her? When you get her worked up,
she takes it out on me. Have mercy on your aging father.”

  Carrington wanted to defend herself, to let her father know that she was the one being tormented, that her mother may as well have said she didn’t care about her daughter, but the laughter in his eyes and the silly tweak in his voice caused her to smile and shake her head. Her father knew the kind of woman her mother was; she didn’t need to remind him.

  He moved across the room to sit on her bed and Carrington took the spot beside him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly to his side. She snuggled into the shelter of his embrace and let all the turmoil, pain, and fear melt away.

  They sat in silence for a long time, Carrington warm against him and his steady breath matching the rhythm of her calming heart. She imagined how wonderful it would be never having to move, never having to face the rest of this day or the days to come—just being with her father, warm and safe.

  “What is on your heart, child?” he finally said. It was a question he had asked her often when she was growing up, but until today she’d never really understood how heavy a heart could be. She wanted to be honest with him, but she was afraid of how he would react. Her mother’s harshness was anticipated, but Carrington couldn’t stand the thought of her father being disappointed in her as well.

  “I feel as though I don’t understand the purpose of the way things are anymore,” Carrington said. Emotion choked her words and they came out in a whisper. She braced for a stern reaction, but none came.

  “To be lost is a very fearful thing. I wish it was something I could have spared you,” he said.

  Carrington pulled her head away from his shoulder and looked into his face. She thought she saw tears collecting in his eyes . . . but then maybe the fading light of day was just playing tricks on her.

  He swallowed hard and reached for Carrington’s hand. It was so fragile compared to his own. She kept her eyes on his face, but he avoided her gaze.

  “I have very little power in this world. I cannot make or change laws. I cannot control people with my status or resources. I have little use for strength or bravery; I’ve always found myself hiding behind my reason. In doing so, I fear I may have failed you.”

  She didn’t understand and couldn’t imagine how his words could be true.

  “The first time I held you I was amazed, and it is something I will never forget. I had a moment of complete clarity: you were absolutely perfect—every inch, every part. Nothing could be added to you, because nothing was missing. I prayed that somehow you would always know that, even in the darkest moments.”

  He turned his face to her and caressed her chin with his thumb. Tears clouded her vision as his eyes reached into her soul and broke through the fear.

  “If I could have changed your world, I would have given my life to do so. I dreamed of a different world for you, one where you knew how precious you were. I thought it was impossible to reach.” Light sparkled in his eyes and a sad smile spread across his face.

  “It took me a lifetime to discover it, but that world was always within me. And it exists within you. Do not be lost, my daughter; know how truly precious you are even in the face of darkness.”

  He placed a kiss on Carrington’s forehead and she thought she might collapse into a blubbering ball at his feet. She was blanketed in the same overwhelming sensation she had felt when she first met Aaron and when she had spoken to Arianna.

  “What if I can’t find it?” Carrington said.

  “You will.” Her father wiped away her tears. “You will.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and her father pulled his hands away from her. She forcefully brushed her cheeks clear and turned to see her mother’s worried face in the doorway.

  Her mother looked troubled by Carrington’s tears but seemed to shake off her feelings before speaking. “President Carson’s daughter Arianna was arrested earlier this afternoon.”

  “What? Why?” Carrington said.

  Her mother nodded. “For leading a group of people outside the city limits.”

  25

  Carrington sat, legs crossed, the sun hitting her knees through the window in Isaac’s great room. Her chair was positioned at an angle facing the couch where Isaac was paging through a stack of papers and sipping his afternoon coffee. He’d requested that she come see him concerning an urgent matter yet had scarcely spoken since her arrival twenty minutes earlier.

  She drank a cup of hot tea and tried to wait patiently. Her mind drifted in dangerous directions with the silence. She was certain that when Isaac did finally speak it wouldn’t be to deliver good news. Surely a sudden call to his home could only be negative.

  Maybe it concerned Larkin. Maybe she had said something about them sneaking out to see Aaron. Or it could be that Arianna had reported on others to save herself after being arrested late yesterday afternoon. Perhaps the situation with Remko had finally surfaced and Isaac was enjoying making her sweat before nailing her with criminal accusations she wouldn’t be able to counter. The waiting was painful.

  Isaac finally set down his papers, reclined against the couch, and glanced up at Carrington. Her heart picked up pace and she forced her face to remain calm.

  “As I’m sure you’ve heard, Arianna Carson was arrested yesterday for suspicion of treason,” Isaac said. Carrington nodded and Isaac cleared his throat. “What I have to ask you is difficult for me because I would hate to know that you were somehow involved in her activity.”

  She clutched her hand to keep it from shaking. Was her thoughtless decision to go with Larkin about to cost her her freedom?

  “I know that Arianna came to visit you while you were working at the factory. Will you tell me why?”

  Carrington was a bit surprised by his question and quickly tried to sort through their interaction that day to find some part of it that wouldn’t get her in trouble.

  “Had you seen her before that day?” Isaac asked.

  “Yes,” Carrington said. “I mean, everyone has seen her, but that was our first face-to-face talk.”

  “Then why come to see you?”

  “She wanted to congratulate me on marrying into the Authority circle and talk to me about what would be expected of me in the coming months.” Carrington raced through their conversation as if her memories were on fast-forward and came to the conclusion that her answer was valid, only missing a couple of details.

  “And how did that encounter take shape?”

  “It wasn’t long. We walked and she told me that what people expect of you once you live among the Authority families will be quite different from what I have been used to.” Carrington could hear her words coming out too quickly and she focused on slowing her speech. “She wanted me to know that if I ever needed anything I could go to her.”

  Isaac studied her for a long moment as if analyzing her answers. Carrington prayed her face was clear of guilt and kept her eyes forward.

  Finally he nodded and readjusted his position on the couch. “Did she mention someone called Aaron to you at all?”

  Carrington only paused for one second to consider her options. Lie or tell the truth? Being truthful would make her complicit in Arianna’s crime: If Carrington had known about Arianna seeing Aaron, why had she not reported it? But lying was possibly more risky. Could she pull it off and ignore the guilt she was already beginning to feel?

  “No,” Carrington said.

  “Are you sure?”

  Arianna’s face appeared inside Carrington’s head but she pushed it out. “Yes.”

  Isaac paused, weighed her words, and then smiled. His body relaxed and his eyes lightened. “I am happy to hear that. Arianna has caused quite a stir inside the Authority families’ safety net as well as within the community. She was right, though; there is a different set of expectations for those inside the Authority circle. Is that still something you believe you can live up to?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because we cannot afford to have any further incidents with this r
ebel called Aaron.”

  A sudden courage sank into Carrington’s bones and before she could think it through, she opened her mouth. “Have you had many incidents?”

  Isaac seemed to be caught off guard and Carrington wondered if she had overstepped her bounds, but then a strange pleasure crept into Isaac’s eyes. “Yes. Over the last couple of months we have arrested many people trying to fight the system after being misled by this man. It is dismaying how easily people can be fooled by false teachings. He offends God openly. The whole thing is disgusting.”

  “And Arianna was involved in this open rebellion? She didn’t seem like the type.” A new plan was hatching slowly inside Carrington’s head as she continued to drag information from Isaac.

  “People are very rarely what they seem, which is why I was fearful when I heard you had been seen with her. Arianna has always been a bit of a free spirit, unfortunately. The rest of the Authority has tried to delicately advise President Carson on the matter, but he never listened. As my father used to say, every sin has a price and the bill must ultimately be paid.”

  “I wonder what caused her to go to such extremes.”

  “That remains an unanswerable question. She isn’t saying much at this time. It would be helpful to know what made her choose to commit such a grave error.”

  Carrington placed her teacup down on the table in front of her and took a deep, silent breath. If she was going to do this, it had to be now. “This may be asking too much, but perhaps I could speak with her.”

  Isaac looked dubious. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “She came to me and showed such kindness, and we are nearly the same age; perhaps she will speak to me about her mistake. It may be helpful to stop others from following in her footsteps.”

  The room was still for a long moment. Carrington began to lose confidence in her plan. Isaac hardly looked convinced, and it was a huge leap. She hadn’t married into the Authority circle yet. Why would they let her see the president’s incarcerated daughter? She was about to tell Isaac she was wrong for asking and had spoken out of place when he surprised her.