Ashes of the Sun

by A. Meredith Walters

  Clearly no one had informed them of the severe dress code. They stood out like an obscenity in their loud colors in a sea of white uniformity.

  Pastor Carter approached them, and like the night they arrived, David seemed to cling to everything he was saying. His eyes never left our leader’s face. Bastian nodded at whatever they were being told. Pastor clasped his shoulder and I thought I could see him tense. When Pastor Carter turned away, Bastian said something to David, whose expression became angry. There seemed to be an exchange of terse words before the brothers made their way to a spot beneath a tree. They settled on the grass, backs against the thick trunk. For Bastian it seemed a protective measure. Them against us.

  I watched the younger Scott brother closely the entire time. His presence in the otherwise docile Devotional circle felt unsettling.

  Minnie made a noise of disappointment. “I was hoping they’d be cuter,” she pouted. “Though I guess the one in the blue shirt is okay. He has nice shoulders. And he has one of those Roman noses. Long and straight.” She smoothed her hair and pinched her cheeks. Stafford scowled.

  Anne cocked her head to the side and regarded the newest members of our flock. “I don’t know, the one in the camo has something about him…” Her voice trailed off and then she cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter, with a strained smile. “And the younger one is interesting to look at,” she added quickly, as if in a rush.

  No one noticed my best friend’s strange behavior but me.

  Stafford rolled his eyes, obviously still irritated by Minnie’s waning attention. “He looks pissed off. And the older one is clearly deranged. Like he’s going to kill us all in our sleep. What was Pastor Carter thinking letting them in the gate?”

  “He doesn’t look deranged,” Anne argued, staring at the two men who had invaded our world. “He looks sad. I wonder why he’s so sad?”

  I grabbed Anne’s hand and squeezed. She closed her mouth, silencing words that shouldn’t be spoken.

  She was in dangerous territory. She knew it. I knew it. Minnie, who wasn’t as vacuous as she pretended, knew it too. She smirked at Anne, her eyebrows raised.

  “Well whatever he is, he looks like a shooter. We don’t need someone like that here,” Stafford griped.

  Minnie gave Stafford a teasing smile. “Jealous they’re getting all the attention, Staff?” He flushed, looking away. Minnie giggled, enjoying herself.

  “They look like two guys with a bunch of people staring at them,” Bobbie added with an edge to his voice. He was being incredibly vocal today.

  “They could be a little friendlier,” Caitlyn added. “Why are they sitting over there all by themselves?” She chewed on her bottom lip nervously. She turned to me, wanting my opinion. “You’ve spoken to them, Sara, what are they like?”

  Everyone looked at me expectantly.

  “I know as much about them as you do. Besides, Pastor Carter wouldn’t have let them in if they weren’t meant to be disciples,” I reminded them primly.

  Caitlyn nodded, accepting what I had to say. Minnie and Stafford exchanged a look that I didn’t have to be a mind reader to understand.

  Such a kiss ass. Little Miss Perfect. Pastor’s favorite.

  I lifted my chin defiantly. Unconsciously mimicking Bastian’s earlier gesture. When I realized what I was doing I forcibly relaxed and exuded a calm I wanted to feel. Their opinion of me didn’t matter, I told myself. I wished I could believe it.

  I tried to ignore the presence of the Scotts. Even as our family resumed their quiet contemplation in preparation for the devotional, we were all too aware of the ripple in the current around us.

  I couldn’t help myself from following the group’s collective gaze. I didn’t want to be caught staring, but I did it anyway. It had been a long time since we had had new members so everyone was curious about them. But curiosity wasn’t the only reason I looked. There was a persistent buzz beneath my skin. It felt wrong. Oppressive. I could sense Bastian’s disquiet. He disrupted the peaceful harmony Pastor worked so hard to create.

  I watched as several people approached them. David barely lifted his head. I didn’t know whether it was shyness or indifference that made him brush the others off. Either way, I couldn’t help but feel compassion for him. I didn’t know David, but there was something fragile about him. Vulnerable. He was a man with a horrible burden. And for that, I understood his brother’s protectiveness.

  I turned my attention to Bastian. As much as I didn’t want to. He was something else. He wasn’t fragile. And he certainly wasn’t vulnerable. I could feel his energy—combative, though he was trying hard to hide it. He spoke to each person who greeted them, all the while maintaining a protective barrier between them and his brother. I half expected him to bare his teeth and snarl.

  I had encountered a mother bear in the woods once. I had been picking blackberries with Stafford and Minnie but had become separated from them. I was alone when I turned and found the giant animal directly behind me. I had unknowingly gotten too close to two small cubs. The mother bear had risen up on her back legs, roaring loudly. Warning me to run.

  When I looked at Bastian, I saw that mama bear. I knew he’d use his claws if anyone threatened David. I imagined he’d be fierce in his loyalty. Unyielding in his protection.

  He was a little scary, mostly in that he was an unpredictable variable. And we were a family that thrived on certainty.

  Anne was right though. He was interesting to look at. But in a way that had nothing to do with his physical features. I almost wanted to chip away the hostile exterior and expose him for what he really was beneath all that. I had the sense that he didn’t wear this aggression comfortably. As if it were new to him. Heavy and cumbersome. But he bore the mantle anyway, if it meant keeping David safe.

  I couldn’t help but respect that. Grudging as it may be.

  No one, but myself and Pastor Carter, knew the details of their arrival. All anyone had been told was that one arrival had become two.

  I hadn’t told Anne or my mom about Bastian’s pleas to stay. How I suspected that his desire to become a disciple had nothing to do with our teachings and everything to do with the emotionally delicate man he came with.

  I didn’t trust Bastian. I didn’t believe he would ever embrace our ways. Our beliefs. His presence at The Retreat felt like glass under my skin. Alien and potentially dangerous.

  Then I’d feel silly for giving any one person so much power. How could one man bring our whole world crashing down? It didn’t seem possible.

  Was our existence so flimsy that one man could be that much of a threat?

  I didn’t want to think about the answer to that.

  So I didn’t.

  I refused to give niggling doubts any purchase in my mind.

  Pastor pulled me aside after we had shown David and Bastian the small cabin that would be their new home.

  Neither man had said anything after Pastor had turned on the lights to reveal a barren room with two single beds, a window on the far wall, and a non-descript bathroom off to the side with only a toilet and a sink.

  There was sawdust still on the floor from the hasty construction. The sharp smell of sap from the wood stung my nose.

  “Where are we supposed to take a shower?” Bastian asked, his lip curling in disgust that he instantly tried to paint as something else. But I had seen it.

  “There’s a communal shower stall through the trees at the back. Men and women bathe separately of course,” I explained.

  Bastian raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” he repeated and I swore I could hear the condescension. He looked around of the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Quaint,” was all he said, voice deceptively neutral. The one room house lacked personal touches. It was devoid of all color. I found the entire space pretty depressing, though I’d never say it out loud.

  “Things don’t matter here. It’s about the path. About God’s message,” I found myself saying defensively.

&nb
sp; Bastian sat down heavily on one of the beds with a sigh. “The path,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

  “Yes, the path. It’s why we’re here,” I snapped, angry for some reason. David said nothing. He was a hulking, silent presence in the corner of the room. Bastian simply raised his eyebrows.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here?” I goaded, wanting a response from him that wasn’t hidden disdain. I didn’t trust him. Why had I advocated for him to stay again?

  Because I was a sentimental fool who had been swayed by sad eyes. Because I had almost envied his love for his brother, wishing that when I had arrived, I had someone that would have missed me.

  I was an idiot. Now I had to deal with the consequences of my spontaneous decision.

  Bastian Scott didn’t belong.

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here,” Bastian said firmly.

  I realized how easy it was for lies to sound like the truth.

  Pastor Carter put his hand on my elbow. “Let’s give them some time to get settled, Sara.”

  Bastian hadn’t looked away. He was watching me closely. As closely as I watched him. Maybe he didn’t trust me either.

  “Okay,” was all I said, following Pastor to the door. I hesitated before leaving, feeling the need to say something else to Bastian. He made me inordinately argumentative.

  Instead I gave him and his brother my sweetest, most agreeable smile. “If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”

  I felt Pastor Carter’s approval. I had done well. Despite Bastian and his weird, antagonistic vibe, I was able to maintain the role I was meant to serve.

  Without a backwards glance, I left the men to their new home, Pastor Carter leading the way.

  “Thank you,” he said with a warm smile once we were outside.

  I bowed my head in diffidently. “I didn’t do anything. Not really.”

  Pastor patted my arm, his fingers curling around my skin. Holding me still. Keeping me steady. “You helped immensely with Bastian.”

  I glanced through the open doorway to where David and Bastian were talking in low murmurs. Bastian was frowning, his hands gesticulating in an agitated manner. He said he wanted to stay. He wanted to join the flock. But looking at him now, I knew my instincts were right. He was a liar.

  But I had led him here. I had opened the door. Pastor had been ready to leave him on the other side of the gate. Yet I had insisted.

  All because I was moved by his love for his brother? I felt foolish and beyond silly.

  But he was here now. There was nothing to do except keep an eye on him. Make it right before I made it worse.

  “Perhaps he shouldn’t be here…” my words drifted off and I immediately felt shame at voicing my inner concerns. Because they sounded judgmental. And we were supposed to be beyond judgments. Those were reserved for God.

  But Pastor Carter didn’t chastise me. He squeezed my arm, his hand hot. His light green eyes became cold. Hard. “If there’s a wolf amongst the sheep then we will do what’s best for the flock,” he replied softly.

  Something inside of me tightened. His words felt like a threat. Towards Bastian.

  Towards everyone.

  “Do you understand me, Sara?” he asked.

  I nodded, even though I didn’t. Not really. Not in the way I should.

  “Let me know how he gets on,” Pastor added as he turned away from the open door. Away from the two men. He began to walk down the steps, but then stopped. “Be my eyes and ears, Sara. I trust your sight.”

  He trusted my sight.

  He trusted me.

  I felt myself glow with pride. With purpose.

  I stood there watching David and Bastian for a bit longer.

  Mostly Bastian.

  Pastor Carter trusted me.

  And I didn’t trust Bastian Scott.

  “Should we go say hi?” Anne asked, fidgeting a bit. I could tell she wanted to.

  Stafford blew out a noisy breath. “I’m not really interested.”

  Minnie playfully smacked his arm. “Staff, remember to keep your heart open.”

  “And your soul pure,” Anne, Bobbie and I murmured by rote.

  Stafford got to his feet and brushed grass off his pants. “Okay, let’s go make the newbies welcome.” He didn’t seem thrilled by the idea. Stafford was testy at the best of times. I found him and Minnie hard to be around. They said the right words but I knew in their hearts, they were far from the path. They gossiped and judged. They coveted and were full of malicious thoughts.

  Outside of the gate, I suspected I wouldn’t have anything to do with either of them.

  But here, in this place, we were bonded together.

  Bonded by a faith. Bonded by a journey.

  Bonded by one man.

  We were family.

  The threads of our particular fates squeezed and squeezed until we couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

  “Let’s go,” Anne agreed, standing up. I followed suit. A little slower. Bobbie, Caitlyn, Minnie, and Stafford approached the Scotts as a group. Anne trailed behind them. I hung back, watching the brothers, in no rush to approach them. My heart did strange hiccups in my chest. Compressed and tight, my insides were a jumbled mess.

  Bastian and David got to their feet as the others drew closer, their backs still pressed against the tree. As if defending their position against an oncoming attack.

  Anne touched my arm. The contact startled me. I hadn’t realized she’d waited for me. “You okay?” she asked, her brow furrowed with worry.

  I nodded, forcing a smile. One that was composed of false confidence. “Of course.”

  “Shouldn’t we—?” Anne inclined her head.

  “I—” I started to speak. Started to do exactly what I was meant to. Say exactly what I was supposed to say.

  Acolyte.

  Beloved.

  Serene.

  But the words—the lies—wouldn’t come. My eyes fixed on Bastian. His face pinched and tense as Stafford spoke to David. As Minnie smiled at him. Her eyelashes lowered. Her lips pouty. She was flirting. Something she shouldn’t be doing. He wasn’t hers to flirt with. That wasn’t her choice to make. Stafford did little to hide his displeasure.

  “Sara.” Anne said my name. Soft and low. She knew me. She knew the ins and outs of my heart in a way few did. Not my mother. Not Stafford or Minnie.

  Just her. Just Pastor Carter.

  No one else.

  The girl was tiny. She didn’t look much older than ten or eleven. Her light, brown hair was a tangled mess down her back. Her dark eyes were shadowed and careful. I watched her watch everyone else. Watched her take in her new surroundings. The new people.

  Mom was by Pastor Carter’s side. As always. Their shoulders brushing together. Her smile wide and brimming with purpose.

  I stood off to the side. My place was on the fringes. I was young. Only thirteen. I had no place in the arrival. The welcoming of someone new.

  The girl and her father had come, as they all do, in the evening. When the sun was going to bed and the day had breathed its last. Pastor Carter said it was the time of day to slough away our old skins. To grow new ones. He insisted this was the only time for an arrival.

  The small group huddled together, talking low. Their voices hushed and muffled in the room. The Gathering stood around them. No one talking, save for the four people all eyes were fixed on.

  I stood ramrod straight. As I had been taught to.

  But the girl hadn’t been taught to be still. To listen more than talk. To control your emotions unless asked. I could see her unhappiness. The way she clung to her father’s hand was needy and sad. And when she began to cry, I shuddered in revulsion.

  The memory of walls closing in around me made me panic. Her tears traumatized me in ways my young mind couldn’t begin to understand.

  I closed my eyes, even though I shouldn’t.

  I tried to breathe.

  Tried to ignore the girl’s pain.


  I was terrified it would spread. I couldn’t go there. Not again.

  Soft whispers had me opening my eyes again. If Mom saw me, not paying attention, I’d be in trouble.

  Pastor Carter put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and she visibly flinched away from his touch. “I don’t want to be here, Dad,” the girl wailed.

  Then Pastor turned my way and beckoned with his hand. “Sara, come here please.”

  I puffed my chest up with pride at being bidden. Stafford, who stood beside me, glowered in annoyance and I had to suppress the self-satisfied laugh that threatened to explode out of me. Stafford was irritating and way too full of himself. There weren’t many kids my age at The Retreat, so we tended to stick together in our small, little pack. Whether we liked each other or not. I had no true friends in The Gathering. But I didn’t need them. Friendship wasn’t important. Family is what counted. And even though we didn’t necessarily like each other, we were joined together. Anyway, I needed to focus on things that mattered.

  I worked hard to forget the time when I didn’t want to be with The Gathering. It had only been a few years before when I hated every moment of living in the woods with strangers. I saw too much of those long repressed feelings in the girl. But instead of despising her for the very weaknesses I had gotten rid of, instead it made me love her already.

  I hurried to the group huddled together. Toward the girl with the tear soaked face.

  “Sara, this is Anne Landes. She and her father, Vince, have just arrived. Anne, this is Sara Bishop, she’s been here since she was eight. You girls are the same age.” Pastor smiled at me. He smiled at Anne, who was still crying, eyeing me warily.

  This tiny girl was thirteen? She seemed so much younger than me. Maybe it was the way snot dripped from her nose that made her look like she was ten.

  “Sara, say hello,” my mom prompted, as if I needed the reminder of how to act. I tried not to bristle indignantly. My manners were impeccable.

  But I did as I was told. I would never defy my mom. Certainly not in front of our family. I bowed my head slightly, a sign of respect that the girl had in no way earned yet. I watched Anne, trying to make eye contact, but she ignored me, turning her face into her father’s arm.