Ashes of the Sun

by A. Meredith Walters

  “Bastian was asking where you were,” she added. I tensed but didn’t respond. “He seemed almost panicked when you weren’t at meal times.”

  “Hmm,” I mumbled, non-committedly.

  “I had fun yesterday. Did you?” she asked, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

  “I did.” It felt safe telling her this. If nothing else, I could share this with her.

  “I kissed David,” Anne whispered, ducking her head so I couldn’t see her face.

  I wanted to squeal with giddiness for her. I wanted to giggle and talk boys and do all the things we would have been doing if we were different people in a different life. I wanted to share my own kiss.

  Our first kisses.

  Important milestones for any other girl.

  But we weren’t those people.

  “What was it like?” I couldn’t help but ask her.

  Anne’s face took on a dreamy quality, much like what I saw at the waterfall. I felt a pang. It felt a lot like sadness. A lot like elation.

  “It was in the woods. Beneath the old oak tree. By the one that Stafford and Bobbie cut down last winter.” I nodded, urging her to go on. Dreading where this was going. Happy for her all the same.

  She let out a sweet tiny breath. “I fell over a fallen log. I wasn’t paying attention. We were talking. I was looking at him. And then I fell.” She giggled nervously. “He pulled me to my feet. Then he wrapped his arms around me, touching my face like this.” She cupped my cheek and I could almost feel the butterflies she must have been feeling. Because I remember feeling them too. “He told me I was beautiful, Sara.”

  “That’s because you are, Anne,” I told her. She blushed.

  “Then he kissed me. His lips were rough but it didn’t matter. We kissed for a long time.” She peeked up at me through her hair. “I felt his tongue in my mouth,” she said as quietly as possible as if someone were listening.

  I smiled. I didn’t know what to say. I understood how she was feeling because yesterday I had been feeling the same. It was all so perfect. So amazing.

  And so doomed.

  As her friend, I was elated for her. As her sister, I was horrified. I felt the tug of moral defensiveness. I felt the need to tell her all the things I had been conditioned to say.

  How it was up to Pastor Carter to decide our path.

  Our lives were dictated by the fate we shared. The calling of The Awakening.

  We had to keep our souls pure. Untainted.

  But I wouldn’t say those things. Because to preach would make me a hypocrite. Because I’d be scolding myself as well.

  Because of the way my best friend looked just now. The same expression should be on my face.

  I suddenly felt angry.

  White hot rage washed through my body and I practically shook from it.

  Emotions, intense and vicious, piled up inside me. I didn’t know what to do with them.

  Why was Anne being with David wrong? Why couldn’t I be with Bastian? What sort of heavenly being believed love was a sin? It didn’t feel right.

  But Pastor Carter knew what was best…

  I didn’t realize I was clenching my fists until they began to ache. I forced myself to relax.

  “What about you and Bastian?” Anne asked, jolting me out of my internal struggle.

  Just the sound of his name startled me. It was my turn to blush.

  “Are you asking if we kissed?”

  Anne chewed on her bottom lip. “Well, did you?”

  I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. “Yes. We kissed.”

  Like me, she didn’t squeal. She didn’t show excitement. She felt the trepidation. The concern.

  “Do you want to kiss him again?” she finally asked.

  Yes. I wanted to kiss him a thousand more times. Then a million more after that.

  I wanted to kiss him until the sun turned to ash and there was nothing left but our lips.

  “I don’t know,” I said instead. I couldn’t admit the truth. Not out loud. Not now.

  Anne raised an eyebrow and I sighed. “Yes, Anne. I want to kiss him again. I want to kiss him every moment of every day. I think about it too much. I imagine it when I should be praying. It feels like insanity. I can’t control it.”

  Anne’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “I don’t think you’re supposed to control it, Sara. Love doesn’t work like that.”

  I balked. “I didn’t say I loved him!”

  Anne giggled. “Whatever it is, it feels good though, right?”

  Did it?

  I wasn’t sure.

  It confused me. It mixed me up. It pulled me in a dozen different directions. I had started to forget what Sara Bishop was like before Bastian Scott blew into her life.

  Did it feel good?

  “Yeah, it does,” I smiled.

  We sat with that. Being two girls feeling things for the first time that we had never experienced before.

  And then reality set in. Not the make believe one we had—for a few short minutes—created for ourselves.

  “Did you have to meet with Pastor Carter?” Anne asked, her voice wobbling slightly.

  I met her eyes. “You too?”

  She picked at a thread on my blanket. “This morning.”

  “I thought I was going to be put in The Refuge,” I said, not wanting to say it, but having to.

  “Me too,” she murmured.

  Then we were silent. Neither of saying a thing. Holding onto a hundred thoughts. A hundred feelings.

  We should talk about what happened. What our future would be. But we were scared. For many reasons. We imprisoned truth. Denied it a voice. It resided in a place that was manageable for us.

  I wanted to tell her and ask her so much.

  “Did you travel many places before you and your dad joined The Gathering?” I asked Anne instead. Her eyes widened at the question. It was dangerous talking like this. It could lead to curiosity.

  But we were already talking about dangerous things. What was one more?

  “We went to Disney World once. Before Mom died.” Anne smiled wistfully, eyes unfocused as she remembered. “I was always dressing up in princess clothes. Mom called me Sleeping Beauty because I never wanted to wake up in the morning.”

  Anne hardly ever talked about her mother. Joining The Gathering of the Sun meant leaving our pasts behind us. The people. The experiences.

  Everything.

  I knew her mother had passed away from cancer only a few months before her father brought them to The Retreat. It was partly why she had been so upset. So defiant. We spoke of it once and only once.

  “I hate him,” Anne whispered. We sat on the rocky shore of the rushing river. Stafford, Minnie, and Caitlyn fished by the waterfall farther down. In the few short weeks, she had been living here, we had become close.

  Her pain called out to the echo of mine.

  “Don’t say that,” I chastised, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we weren’t overheard. Talking like that would earn Anne a trip to The Refuge.

  Anne plucked the head off a buttercup and flicked it into the water. “But I do. He was awful to Mom when she got sick. Always preaching about sin and salvation. He told her it was her fault she got sick. That it was because God was punishing her. What kind of person says that to someone when they’re lying in bed, too weak to move? You know, I was the only one around while he was off finding Jesus or whatever. He wasn’t even there when she died.”

  My heart hurt for my friend. In that instant, I hated her father too. He was content with his new life with The Gathering. He hardly noticed how hard it was for his daughter. He didn’t care enough to notice.

  But I noticed.

  Anne spent every moment by my side. I tried to give her everything denied to me in the first few years here. Companionship. And most of all understanding.

  She ripped more flowers out of the ground. Throwing them away. “I hate him.” Then there were tears. “I miss my mom so much.”

&nbs
p; I leaned in close to her so that when I spoke, only she could hear. “Then miss her on the inside, Anne. Because tears for those we’ve lost won’t help anything. Pastor will tell you that you must focus on your future. On your path.”

  “I don’t want a path!” she seethed.

  “Shh,” I hissed. “Don’t talk like that. You belong here now. With me. Find your happiness in that. Don’t give anyone the power to defeat you. Not your dad. Not Pastor Carter. Not anyone.”

  I felt guilty for saying it. But Anne needed to hear it.

  Anne dug her fingers into the dirt, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

  One minute.

  Two…

  Then she stopped. She straightened her shoulders.

  She kissed my cheek, squeezing my hand as she nuzzled close. “I love you, Sara.”

  I put my arm around her shoulders. Her words mattered more than she would ever know.

  “I love you, Anne.”

  “I wanted to go to Disney World. We were always too broke.” I laughed without humor.

  I lay back on the bed, putting my hands behind my head, and closed my eyes. “Do you want to get married, Anne?”

  There was an audible intake of breath. Then the soft whooshing as she exhaled. “Yes,” she murmured. “I’ve thought about it. But…”

  “Only to the right person,” I filled in.

  I opened my eyes again and met her suddenly glassy ones. Anne cried easily, though I was the only one to ever see her tears. “Yeah. Only to the right person.” She tucked herself in beside me, lying down on the pillow, our heads close together. “But that’s not our choice to make.” One heartbeat. Two… “Pastor Carter says it’s time for me to marry,” she admitted in a hushed voice.

  “I thought it was only me.” I choked on the words. Hating them more than I thought I could hate anything.

  “I’ve dreamt of marrying someone I love. Of living on a farm somewhere. Raising chickens or goats. Maybe an alpaca or two. Growing corn. Random stuff. I know I shouldn’t allow myself to dream, but I can’t help it.”

  I laughed. “An alpaca?”

  Anne nudged me with her elbow. “Why not? What’s wrong with an alpaca?”

  “Absolutely nothing, if you like spit in your hair.” I poked her in the side and she giggled.

  “Don’t mock me and my alpaca. I’ll name him Sam. Sam the fuzzy alpaca. I’ll make sweaters from his fur and sell them at the farmer’s market. I’ll be Anne Landes, Queen of the Alpacas, darn it.”

  We were laughing so hard we could barely breathe. I had tears in my eyes. For once they weren’t from sadness.

  “All hail, Queen of the Alpacas!” I bellowed dramatically. “I’ve been thinking about lots of things. Silly things. Rock climbing. Skiing in the Rockies. Seeing a real movie. Like in a movie theater. With popcorn and Milk Duds,” I said once we calmed down.

  “Popcorn and Milk Duds? What kind of person does that?” Anne made a face.

  “It’s a classic combination. How have you not tried it?”

  Anne rolled her eyes. “Probably because we’ve been living on the side of a mountain for years. Not a lot of Milk Duds around here.”

  “No. I guess not,” I said morosely. There would be no Milk Duds or popcorn in my future. No skiing or rock climbing either.

  Any good mood I had evaporated instantly.

  I felt her take my hand, our fingers lacing together as they always did.

  “Do they make you sad? Thinking about those things?” she whispered.

  I felt my eyes burn. “Yeah.” I tried to swallow but my throat felt tight. “Yeah, they do.”

  Anne squeezed my hand. “Because those things we think about aren’t ours. They never will be.” She finished the thought I couldn’t say aloud.

  I squeezed back.

  And the air was full of a thousand dreams, a thousand heartaches...none of them destined for us.

  There was a knock at the door, startling us both. I sat up quickly, trying to smooth down my wild hair. Anne got to her feet, shooting me a questioning look.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  “Um, is everyone decent in here?” a male voice asked. Bastian pushed open the door slowly, peeking his head around to look inside.

  “I wouldn’t have told you to come in if I wasn’t,” I snipped.

  I wasn’t happy to see him. Not now when I was feeling so raw. So vulnerable.

  Anne coughed awkwardly.

  “Good point.” Bastian stepped into the room, looking around curiously. “Huh. It’s nice in here. Much nicer than the place they’ve put David and me in.”

  “Our house is perfectly fine,” his brother gruffly responded from behind him. The door opened wider to reveal both Scott brothers in the entryway.

  Anne perked up instantly, pulling her long, brown hair over her shoulder and straightening the collar of her blouse.

  “Boy, a few lamps would make a difference though. How can you see anything?” Bastian squinted. I had lit the oil burner a while ago, but it was getting low. The sun was setting, making the shadows long and deep.

  “I can see well enough, thank you,” I replied tersely. “Why are you here?” I sounded rude. I didn’t bother to temper it. Maybe it wasn’t fair. After kissing him. After admitting to Anne I wanted to kiss him a lot more.

  But it was those thoughts, those chaotic emotions that troubled me. I had to get a handle on them quickly. Before they ruined everything.

  “What did I do this time? Did I breathe the wrong way?” he asked with a smirk, inviting me to join in on the joke.

  I could only think of Pastor Carter. Of what would be expected of me. Of what I was jeopardizing by continuing whatever this was between us.

  When I didn’t smile back, Bastian’s slipped away. And I hated myself all over again. For being the cause of its demise.

  “Is everything okay? You know after the waterfall?” Bastian tried to meet my eyes but I couldn’t look at him. When I didn’t answer, he let out a sigh and directed the question to Anne this time.

  “Everything’s fine,” Anne told him, omitting the very important details.

  They’d find out eventually.

  Obviously neither of us wanted them to know yet.

  “Did Pastor speak to you too?” I asked, staring at a spot above Bastian’s head. Anywhere but directly at him. I couldn’t look at his face.

  I couldn’t handle the freefall.

  “No. Should he have?” Bastian asked, sounding a little belligerent. Spoiling for a fight.

  Anne and I shared a look. “No. I just wondered if anyone said anything to you about missing Daily Devotional,” I added quickly.

  Bastian opened his mouth to comment but then seemed to think better of it.

  “So why are you here?” I questioned them.

  David glanced at his brother. “Bastian wanted to know if you were coming to dinner. He was worried when he didn’t see you yesterday evening or today. He’s been going on and on about it for hours.”

  David’s mood seemed better. More relaxed. I suspected it had a lot to do with the way he was looking at my best friend.

  With the way she was looking at him.

  Bastian squirmed, seeming embarrassed. “I have not been going on and on about it. Exaggerate much?” He glared at David who only shrugged. He looked back at me and this time I met his eyes. Dark blue. With flecks of brown.

  I felt the ground give way beneath me.

  This is what danger felt like.

  “I wasn’t worried, per se. It’s just you left yesterday in such a rush. Especially after—” We both flushed. Thankfully neither David nor Anne were paying much attention to us. Bastian cleared his throat a few times before continuing. “Anyway, after you ran off, I wanted to make sure everything was okay. Though I shouldn’t be surprised you had to leave in such a hurry. I don’t think I’ve ever been around you when you weren’t hustling about being super busy.” He was trying to be funny. I wanted to laugh with him. I really, really
did. But my mouth didn’t seem to be working properly. “Anyway, when I didn’t see you at dinner, or at breakfast this morning. And you weren’t in the garden—” He cleared his throat again and held up a battered paperback book. “Plus, I wanted to bring you this.”

  I took a step toward him. That was all it took to be standing in front of him in the small space. I held out my hand and Bastian passed me the book, his fingers holding on just for a second before releasing it.

  I read the cover. “Why?” I was genuinely perplexed.

  And strangely touched he thought to bring me something. Besides Anne, I couldn’t remember the last time I was given anything. The Gathering didn’t believe in gift giving for the sake of materialism. Birthdays and other holidays were spent in prayer. Not celebration.

  “We forget about the spiritual meaning when we become encumbered by things,” Pastor would preach. It made sense then.

  Now it was just something else I was starting to question.

  Bastian lifted a shoulder as if it didn’t matter. As if it were nothing. But his eyes said something else. They were hopeful. Tinged with something else that made my belly flutter. “It’s my favorite book. I’ve read it a hundred times. I wanted to share it with you. I thought you’d like to read it.”

  I turned over the book and read the back. “The Alchemist,” I murmured. I couldn’t remember the last time I had read a book for fun. I’d read the Bible. But that wasn’t exactly enjoyable reading.

  Books weren’t kept at The Retreat. Only the Holy Scripture. Pastor said its lessons and teachings was all our souls required to feel content. To feel complete.

  I had been a voracious reader before joining The Gathering. I remember being the top reader in my third-grade class. My teacher would always send home awards that my mom never bothered to look at.

  I had forgotten…

  “I used to love Harold and His Purple Crayon,” I said and then was slightly mortified. Bastian had extended a thoughtful gesture and all I could think to do was spout my love of a children’s picture book.

  Anne giggled and David’s lips quirked as if he wanted to laugh too. But Bastian smiled. And it was a great smile. “I liked that one too. That dude could really draw some shit with that crayon.”