The Chosen

by Patricia Bell

  “Jacob, I did not know. I thought—”

  “You thought? You thought? You did not think, Abigail.”

  As he spoke the words, a realization occurred to him. Abigail had only hurried along the process. The outcome had been inevitable. His anger deflated. “No. It is not your fault. You were trying to protect your sister.”

  Tears flooded her dark eyes. “I am so sorry, Jacob. I am. I would never intentionally hurt Rachel. She is my . . .” She wiped at a tear. “She is my best friend.”

  “I know.” He pulled Abigail to him and enclosed his arms around her. “I am sorry for scolding you.”

  “I do not want to marry you,” she whispered into his shoulder.

  “Too bad. You are stuck with me,” he teased.

  “Stop it.” She pulled away. “Jacob, I am serious. And . . . and . . . what happened to Rachel? What did they do to her?”

  “I do not know, but I am going to find out.” Holding her by the shoulders, he eyed her determinedly.

  “But how?”

  “I am working on it. Do not worry. Either way, you will not be stuck marrying me.”

  “It is not that I do not — what are you going to do?”

  “I cannot speak of it now.” He glanced around. There was no one about, but still, he had not known Abigail was listening in the barn. And the two of them were now out in plain sight. “I have a plan.”

  “You cannot think of leaving,” Abigail cried.

  “Shhh.” He sent her a warning stare. “I have no choice. Rachel needs me.”

  “I want to go. Take me with you.”

  Jacob grabbed Abigail and pulled her behind the Thompson’s barn. “Listen to me. It is much too dangerous. If we are caught even speaking about such a thing, we are sure to be in big trouble as it is. I cannot—”

  “We? Who else?”

  “No one else,” he lied.

  “Jacob.” She glared. “Who else?”

  “Jonathan. He is going. I need his help—”

  “Oh, so I would just be a burden. Is that what you are saying?”

  “Abigail, I need you to stay here. Please. I must find Rachel, and I cannot take any risks.”

  “Will you tell her I am sorry? Will you explain to her that I was only trying to protect her?”

  “I shall tell her.”

  “Beg her to forgive me. Tell her I love her. I am so sorry.”

  “I will. I will.”

  “I am frightened, Jacob.”

  “I know. I am too. This was never supposed to happen, and it is all my fault. I must make it right.”

  “But how shall I know you have found her? How shall I know she is safe? And you? How shall I know you are safe?” Before he could assure her, she continued. “And what about me? I do not want to stay here . . . not without Rachel.”

  “If I make it out of here and find her, I will come back for you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You will? You will come back for me?”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “And I will not have to marry you?”

  Despite his situation, he snickered. “No, Abigail, you will not.”

  Abigail pulled his much bigger body into a tight hug. “Thank you, Jacob, thank you.”

  “What are you two doing back there?” A brusque command came from the front of the barn, and they stepped away from each other.

  “Uh, sorry, Brother Thompson.”

  Brother Thompson glared at the two of them, waiting for their excuse.

  “You see sir, Abigail and I are due to be married. So, we are just practicing the customs of the marriage ritual. Getting to know each other. It was only a hug, nothing more, Brother Thompson,” Jacob assured him.

  “Carry on, then. But the two of you know better than to be courting behind barns.” He eyed Jacob. “You, young man, certainly must know the dangers of that.”

  “Yes, Brother Thompson. I apologize. It shall not happen again.”

  Brother Thompson nodded, and they came out from the back of the barn and into the open. Although he was not yet at the age of courting, the rules were clear.

  Once two people had entered the engagement process by The Ritual of Fires, or in their case, by the ordaining of the High Prophet personally, they were allowed certain privileges. Physical contact was limited to hugs and closed-mouthed kissing.

  Hand holding was allowed for an hour each day, and the couple was allowed to spend time in public courting. During the month before the Ritual of Fires, there were get-togethers scheduled where the couples could mingle socially with each other and other couples going through the month of courting. Jacob and Abigail’s situation was unique, a new precedent. And as such, everyone had been informed of the matter.

  “We shall speak later,” Jacob said, well aware that Brother Thompson still eyed them. He leaned in to kiss Abigail on the cheek.

  She pulled back a bit until understanding surfaced. She leaned in and allowed him to kiss her, wrinkling her nose in the slightest. He smiled at her apologetically.

  “I shall see you later.”

  Brother Thompson watched as they parted ways.

  As Jacob headed back to his house, he groaned. Why had he promised Abigail he would come back for her? He had no idea if he would make it out himself, let alone risk coming back for Abigail. And where would they live? They knew no one in the outside world. He didn’t know how he would survive, let alone provide for two women.

  It seemed no matter what he did, he bumbled things up. And just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse ― they did.

  Chapter 26 - Luna

  Luna stood in the middle of the horse stable, held her breath, and raked the disgusting muck into a pile.

  Someone ought to teach horses how to eliminate their waste outside instead of in the hot barn.

  Usually, it was a job for one of the boys, but since Naaman got wind of her teasing indiscretion with Jonathan on Sunday, it had become her daily chore until further notice.

  Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile, he’d rattled off before leaving her to shovel horse manure.

  Guile? It was just a joke. She sighed. She’d never get these people.

  “You smell about as pretty as a flower,” a familiar voice teased from behind.

  Luna turned to see the sly grin of her archrival as he hopped onto the side railing and gazed his beautiful baby blues in her direction. Her heart thumped at the sight of him.

  “Gee, thanks,” Luna responded as she tried her best to swing the shovel high enough to hurl a pile of dung in Jonathan's direction.

  He ducked unnecessarily as the stinky muck flew right back at Luna. Jonathan leaned back in hysterical laughter and almost fell off of the rail as Luna swung sideways to dodge the manure as it flew past.

  “Hilarious, isn’t it?” Luna stared at the muck as it slid down the back of the barn wall.

  “No. I am sorry you got into trouble,” he said with a genuine smile.

  “Yeah. It’s okay. Sometimes I don’t know when to shut my mouth.”

  A cow mooed in agreement.

  “Oh, shut up,” she grumbled at the four-legged smart mouth.

  Jonathan laughed. “You know, you are super cute with dung on your face.”

  Luna blushed with embarrassment and wiped her brow. “Thanks.”

  She continued to shovel the foul mess into a pile outside the stall. “Have you heard anything else about Rachel?” She changed the subject.

  His face grew serious, and he jumped down into the stall, landing perfectly onto the only clean spot in the entire area.

  “I spoke to Jacob,” he whispered. “He is going to sneak away next week. She is carrying his child inside.”

  The shovel dropped from Luna’s hands as she stared at Jonathan. “She really got fleshed . . . Whatever. . . Sent away?”

  “That is what he said. They are saying she ran away, but he was there, hiding behind her barn when they dragged her out kicking and screaming. He watched them
throw her in the back of a truck and drive away.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Luna stared at him, uncomprehending. “How? What? Jonathan, she could die out there, or worse . . .” Luna recalled her short stint on the streets. Starving and cold, searching for shelter in abandoned buildings, begging for a dollar. And those guys. The ones who tried to . . . “We have to help her.”

  “I am going with him.”

  “I want in. I’m going.” She folded her arms together.

  “You cannot. You must stay here.”

  “Why? I don’t belong here, Jonathan. In case you forgot, I am the one being held against my will.”

  “I understand that, but you are—” He stopped as if he’d already said too much.

  “I am what?” Luna stared, waiting for him to finish.

  He didn’t.

  “I am what, Jonathan?” she persisted.

  “Nothing. I should not have said that.”

  “Jonathan, tell me.”

  “People are searching for you. They think you have been snatched. I heard Elder Aaron telling Father. He said Father must marry you to keep you here. That if they allow you to leave, you would bring the servants of the devil here. He said you will not depart if you bear children here. You would have to stay. That is why he must marry you. If you leave —”

  “What? I might accuse him of abducting me? I wouldn’t do that, Jonathan. Naaman saved my life. He did not kidnap me. I came with him willingly. If he would allow me to leave, I wouldn’t say a word, but I don’t want to marry him . . . or have his children.”

  A light clicked on in her brain. It all made perfect sense. Naaman was not replacing Deborah. He was trying to save his people from scrutiny by the police. The Chosen did their absolute best to keep a low profile. None but a few were ever seen around town, and they didn’t give anyone problems. And at all costs, they never got involved with the police or the locals. What Naaman did by saving Luna was against their ways.

  Why had he done it then?

  In the conversation Luna had overheard, Elder Aaron had spoken harshly to Naaman. He’d said that he’d dishonored God and now she understood the reason. It was by bringing Luna into their community. She stared off into space.

  What am I going to do? Naaman believes the only way to fix it is to marry me and get me pregnant.

  Her legs turned to rubber, and she leaned against the rail behind her. “What are we going to do? I mean about Rachel?” she said, trying to pretend what Jonathan had told her hadn’t thrown her for a loop.

  “Jacob and I shall find her. I better go before I am missed,” he said and walked away, leaving Luna to stare off completely dumbfounded.

  After a moment, she realized where she was and what she was doing. If she was going to get the stall mucked before morning, she’d better get going. The horse neighed for her to hurry up so that he could come back inside for the night.

  “Whatever. You can wait.”

  She picked up her shovel and continued to muck the stall. All the while, Rachel ran through her mind.

  Is she okay?

  They were so far away from civilization. And the heat, she would die in the hot desert sun. They were out in the middle of nowhere, she would never . . . Before she could finish her thought, she was interrupted again.

  “Are you sure you are well?” He was back.

  “I’m fine, Jonathan,” she said without turning to face him.

  “I only wanted to ask you . . . I never . . . was your punishment severe? I mean that night . . . at the table.”

  That night had been a lifetime ago. It was the night Naaman hurt her more than any whip could. Why was Jonathan just asking about it now?

  Jonathan came closer, and Luna took a deep breath, trying her best not to break down right in front of him.

  “No, he didn’t . . .” The words slid out with a shudder. “He didn’t punish me at all.”

  Jonathan eyed her warily. “Then, why are you crying?”

  He stepped closer.

  “Because—”

  As Jonathan stared intently, the words evaded her. How could she tell him that she was crying over a mother she’d mistreated and didn’t deserve? One who loved and cared for her even after she repaid it with nothing but contempt and hatred.

  “She’s gone.” Luna crumbled to the ground in a sobbing mess. “He told me she was gone.”

  “Who?” Jonathan wrapped an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. “Who is gone?”

  Luna couldn’t answer through the sobs that racked her body. She cried into his arms until his shirt was soaked, and her body no longer convulsed. When finally, she was reduced to a quiet whimper, he asked her again.

  “Luna?” He always called her by her name, unless others were around. He rubbed her back gently. “What happened?”

  “My mother . . .” Luna shuddered as spasms overwhelmed her once again. “. . . she’s dead.”

  “Oh, Luna, I am so sorry.” He held her tighter. “I understand how you feel. Mama Deborah passed this morning.”

  In an instant, her worries took a back burner. “She did?” Luna sniffled and looked up at him, too upset to care what her face must look like.

  “She did. There shall be a ceremony on Tuesday.”

  It all made sense. At breakfast that morning, the adults were unusually quiet. There was none of the usual conversations among them. Luna had spent so much time wallowing in her own sorrows that she hadn’t taken notice. Mama Deborah was Jonathan's mother. He was her first child, and they had a strong bond.

  “I’m sorry, Jonathan,” Luna said, angry with herself for being so selfish.

  He was kind to his mother. Cared for her and respected her as he should. Even in her sickness, he showed her love and honor.

  “We knew the day would come. She was not well.”

  And then, before she could think about what he was doing, Jonathan leaned in and placed a kiss lightly on her lips. “I shall miss you, Luna.”

  As their lips touched, excitement raced through Luna’s body. “No. You won’t,” she kissed him back.

  Before either of them could stop it, they were pushed together in a desperate embrace. Jonathan stared down at her, his blue eyes deep, his breath ragged. His lips lowered to hers again, and Luna closed her eyes as he gently met hers with warmth. His arms went to her waist pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

  Drowning in his warmth, every worry seemed to be washed away. Desperation and fear was replaced with a deep, absorbing passion.

  A cow mooed breaking them apart. Red-faced, she looked away.

  “Wait.” Jonathan stared at her. “Did you say I shall not miss you?” His hand still warmed her face.

  Luna nodded.

  “I shall . . . Luna, I love—”

  “You won’t, Jonathan.” She stood firm. “Because I won’t let you leave without me.” Luna glared at him. She would not allow him to leave her there to— wait, what had he been about to say? He loved her? He loved life? His mother? Why hadn’t she let him finish?

  “I cannot allow you to go. It is much too dangerous.”

  “You would leave me to marry that hairy old man?” She pointed in the general direction of the house.

  He turned away. “At least you will be safe.”

  “You call that safe? Jonathan, please,” she begged. “Please take me with you.”

  “Shhh.” He held her tight in the middle of the muck and mud. “I will take you with me, but you . . . It will not be easy. I do not know how we will survive.”

  She knew the dangers better than any of them. But she also knew a little about the streets. There was strength in numbers. And she’d experienced a thing or two that could help them survive.

  “We will have each other.” She stared into his eyes, hoping beyond hope that he would finish that sentence she had unwisely interrupted.

  He didn’t. Instead, he got up and extended a hand to her.

  “Better get the stalls finished. Come on, I will help you.” He
smiled as she tried her best to wipe the muck from her dress.

  “Won’t you be missed?” He’d been out there with her quite a long time.

  “No. The adults are at the church, preparing ―”

  “Oh,” she interrupted, not wanting to make him finish his sentence. They were preparing his mother’s body for burial. “Still, we should finish quickly.”

  He nodded. “Right.”

  “YOU ARE VERY QUIET tonight . . . and stinky.” Tabitha giggled as she pulled her night garment over her head.

  Luna sat on her bed in deep contemplation about what to do next. She’d heard Tabitha but was too upset to find anything funny at the moment. Not even her extremely unpleasant odor.

  “Are you well? I am sorry he made you do that, but everyone has to do it at least once in their young lives. I had to do it for an entire month when I was ten. I was caught—”

  “I don’t care about cleaning the stalls,” Luna answered a bit sharply.

  “Then what is it?”

  Where do I begin? So much was wrong. “They deserted her,” Luna whispered as she fell back in her bed, stink, and all.

  “Who? Did what?” Tabitha whispered back as if Luna had spoken in a foreign language.

  “Rachel. Jonathan says they took her out to the desert and left her to die.”

  Tabitha sat up and stared at Luna. “They fleshed her out?” she hissed. “Are you sure?” When Luna didn’t answer, Tabitha asked again. “Luna, are you sure?”

  “Jacob saw it with his own eyes. He was there. He watched them pull her out of her house and throw her into the back of a truck. And she’s pregnant.”

  Tabitha covered her mouth. “They—I cannot believe—I have heard of fleshing-out, but I did not think—”

  “Believe it.” Luna sat up and ripped off her sweaty socks. Her boots, too smelly to enter the house, had found a new home on the back porch.

  Luna couldn’t tell Tabitha about the kiss or the plan to escape. She hated to deceive her friend, but it was a matter of extreme urgency that she left. She would not marry Naaman if she had anything to say about it. And life would go on for Tabitha. The less she knew about the situation, the better.