Little One

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Little One Page 19

by Sarah A. Denzil


  “N-no,” she stuttered.

  “Do you sleep in my bed?”

  She lowered her eyes and shook her head.

  “Do you heal the sick? Do you speak the word of God? Do you help people achieve salvation? Did God tell you about the Reckoning?”

  She was crying now. Tiny splashes of tears hit the tabletop. “No.”

  “Look at me, child.” Father James ripped away his glasses and the family gasped. Esther did too. “Look into my eyes.”

  Hannah slowly raised her head and regarded him. Her whole body was shuddering from her sobs. Her face was contorted into a grimace. The two of them stared at each other while everyone else held their breath. Esther felt anxiety coursing through her. She’d seen the power of Father’s gaze before. Gradually, the wracking sobs subsided, and Hannah stood there breathing normally. At first, Esther felt relief, but then Hannah’s eyes rolled back into her head as she slumped onto the barn floor, knocking a spoon from the table as she went. Jude immediately stood, but he didn’t move. He simply stared. Esther turned her attention to Elijah, who remained in his seat, rigid.

  It was Isaiah who lifted the young woman and carried her from the barn. Father picked up his sunglasses and placed them back on his face. Then he raised his spoon and tucked into his porridge.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  NOW

  By the time Fran left the test centre it was lunchtime and she was exhausted by the entire process. She wandered around aimlessly for about ten minutes, attempting to pull her thoughts together, and then she stopped at a diner for a grilled cheese sandwich and an iced tea. Her stomach had started to complain about all the bread, cheese and sugar she’d been eating, but it tasted good and gave her the energy she needed to process what had happened.

  She’d never been involved in a cult or had any dealings with them, and she’d never been recruited by one before. It shocked her how effective it was. The personal questions, the friendly, therapeutic “client manager”, the grief and pain she ended up sharing with him. Alongside the fact she was there for around three hours and meant that she’d already sunk her time into this venture. She’d chosen the extended version of the consultation, with an in-depth analysis of her results, and it had cost her $75. There was the other sunk cost.

  It brought to mind a conversation she’d once had with Adrian about their friend’s business. Fran had sympathised with Deepa, who was setting up her own cupcake bakery in Buxton. She’d used her life-savings on it, but the shop wasn’t doing well. Adrian had made a somewhat insensitive comment about her giving up on the shop, selling it and cutting her losses, when Deepa announced she’d already received a bank loan. It hadn’t ended well. She’d borrowed thousands, worked hours and hours, ended up bankrupt and even begged friends for money. If Deepa hadn’t used that money to begin with, the money with which she had an emotional attachment, would she have stuck it out for so long?

  Now Fran had paid for her personality analysis—the results of which she had in her bag—she felt connected to this organisation. And this organisation’s face, so far, had been smiling, unassuming Caleb who told her gently that she was depressed.

  After the sandwich, Fran checked her phone, finding a new email from Caleb. He’d taken less than an hour to follow up on their consultation.

  Dear Francesca,

  Thank you so much for visiting the Children of James test centre today. I hope you found the results of your assessment to be enlightening. I hope you don’t mind me following up so soon, but I felt as though we broke through the first barrier today. There’s no pressure at all, but I would love to keep in touch.

  I have attached the first five chapters of the Book of James which goes into more detail about the salvation you can achieve by working on your inner wellness and your external goals. If you enjoy those chapters, you can buy the rest as an eBook, for just $3.99. It’s on sale right now!

  I want to add how much I enjoyed talking to you today. Now that you’ve made that first step, I wondered if you would be interested in the second. The Children of James runs workshops at our peaceful and idyllic ranch in the Catalina mountains. There’s a link below for you to check them out. These workshops last for one day at a time, and they focus on healing the soul. I cannot begin to tell you how important it is for you to work on the very core of you. Surely, you, and your soul, are worth this effort.

  I believe in you Francesca.

  You can achieve salvation.

  Your Friend,

  Caleb

  Fran closed her email app and bit her bottom lip. So that was the next stage. A book and a workshop. No doubt the book would be full of vague, nonsensical statements about the soul and the self and the holistic nature of the two, plus whatever salvation meant. The workshop would be filled with other cult members pretending to be a new recruit like her.

  But the workshop took place on the ranch, which was where she suspected Mary and Esther were living. This was a perfect opportunity for her to search the place. She opened the email inbox again and clicked into the email. She read it one more time, and then clicked on the link to the workshop prices. A course for one day cost $200. There it was: that sunk cost fallacy again. She imagined herself lost and in search of meaning. She imagined that she was stuck in a cycle of self-hatred. She imagined the consultation with friendly Caleb and then the course afterwards. Yes, she saw it now. She saw how easy it was to be sucked into this religion. She almost didn’t want to reply. Part of her wanted to go straight to the airport and get on the next flight back to the UK. Hell, she’d accept anywhere in Europe, wherever was far away from here.

  That would be cowardly, though, wouldn’t it? She replied back to Caleb and told him which course she wanted to book. He sent her a schedule, and an invoice.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  THEN

  Arizona was hotter and dustier than Esther remembered. By mid-morning her fingers smelled like laundry detergent and her arms ached from folding linens. But she fell into the routine with ease, spending time with the other children. Aaron and Angel, a couple within the family, now had a six-month-old baby called Judith who Esther liked to hold and rock gently. She and Grace kept the baby swaddled in a crib near the washing machines as they cleaned bedsheets. Every now and then they took turns changing the diaper and feeding Judith with a bottle. Angel wouldn’t be able to see her baby in the daytime because she had other work to do, either on the ranch or in Tucson, handing out flyers and looking for people to recruit.

  That was how it worked in the family. The children took care of each other. They slept in one room together, outside the main farmhouse in what used to be the storm shelter. Children over four years old slept there together. Babies and toddlers stayed with their parents at night in a converted barn.

  Esther had missed the whispers and giggles after dark. They played a game at night. Each of them recited a prayer but they changed the words into nonsense words. The others had to guess which prayer they were reciting based on the rhythm alone. Once they were bored of that game, they talked about each other. Esther would whisper to Grace about little David, the youngest, having a snotty nose all day, or how Delilah talked in her sleep.

  There was another new child called John. He was six years old and cried every single night. He often refused to speak to them, which got on the other children’s nerves. Because of that, Esther and Grace grew more and more hostile towards John, first barking instructions at him on the farm, then giving him cruel nicknames. The one that stuck, was Stinky.

  It was unfair, and she knew it was, because he didn’t smell particularly bad. Only in the evenings after a long day working on the ranch. But Stinky annoyed them because he was never, ever happy. He sniffed and cried his way through every day and every night. At breakfast, he ate small meagre bites of his porridge before giving up entirely. Once Father had to get Zachary to force him to eat. He never remembered his prayers and he failed to recite them at the sermons. He often said blasphemous things about hating F
ather James. He wasn’t grateful to be there, and to Esther that was abhorrent, especially after she’d been forced away for a time.

  Stinky always seemed to be under the charge of Esther and Grace. She had to show him how to fold sheets and chop onions. She tutted at him many times a day and her and Grace would laugh when he couldn’t work a vegetable peeler or measure out sugar. They knew the ins and outs of the ranch. They knew the rules. They had the power, and they enjoyed it.

  For the most part.

  Sometimes, late at night, Esther couldn’t sleep. She heard Stinky’s sniffles and she got a stomach ache. She pressed her thumbs into her legs to make the ache go away, knowing that the next day Grace would giggle at her clever, cutting insults, perpetuating the same cycle. She felt bad at night, but she liked making Grace laugh as well.

  They’d been at the ranch for almost a week and Esther had seen Mary once or twice, but she hadn’t seen Elijah at all. She assumed he was spending time with Hannah, his new wife. Sometimes she missed Mary, even though she tried to convince herself that she didn’t. Father liked Mary to be with him at all times. She got to sleep in his private bedroom, and in the day, she went with him on rides up the mountain. It was the utmost privilege for someone to have in the family. And yet Mary was like Stinky, sniffling and weeping whenever Esther saw her. If their paths crossed in the daytime, Mary would open her arms and want Esther to go running into them. But Esther didn’t. And then a pained expression would cross Mary’s face, so pitiful that Esther would have to turn away. Mary would wrap her arms around her chest and wander away, her gait unsteady.

  At night she often wished she’d run into Mary’s arms and held her close.

  One day, Esther was collecting eggs from the chicken coop when she saw Mary and Father riding back from the mountains. Mary’s shoulders were slumped forward, her reins falling slack across the horse’s neck. She was riding Oakley, a chestnut gelding that Esther didn’t like because he would panic and break his lead rope whenever he needed to be groomed. A bodyguard rode behind them, someone Esther didn’t know. She stayed in the coop watching, organising the eggs in her basket. She was alone. Stinky was working in the kitchen. Grace and Delilah were changing the baby. David and Paul were sweeping the barn.

  Mary began to talk, which was unusual these days, and her voice carried over to where Esther lurked. “Will you consider what I said?”

  Father James brought his horse to a halt and regarded her. They were side by side. “I’ve already considered it.”

  “And?”

  “Sweet, sweet Mary. I love you child, but you test my patience. Listen to me. God has a plan and I’ve seen it. You know he talks through me. You know I am his vessel. It concerns me that you continue to test me. I see how your external goals are all wrong. I’ve warned you before about this. Haven’t I? You’re beginning to be a drain, and you know how I hate drains.” Esther saw only Father’s sunglasses, not his expression, but he was not smiling.

  Mary’s voice sounded high-pitched, like a panicked animal. “What are you doing to me? I’m tired and I’m dizzy all the time. Sometimes I slur my words. I get the shakes at night. Are you drugging me? Is this how you turn me into one of your passive zombies? It won’t work.”

  “That medication is for your own good.” He casually reached across and patted Oakley on the neck, running his fingers through the horse’s mane.

  “It’s so you can control me,” she said. Her voice was small and hard, as though she had a bitter lemon lodged in her throat. “Like when you married me, and I was twelve years old. That’s what you are. That’s who you are. It took me too long to see it. I looked up to you. I adored you and you hurt me over and over again. I should’ve fought Elijah. I should’ve taken Esther and run away in England… I…”

  “Child, you need guidance is all. Let the hate out now to accept the love. This is your family and we forgive you.” Father tugged Oakley’s mane and the horse began to fidget. He yanked it harder and the Oakley protested, pulling himself away.

  Mary quickly grasped her reins as Oakley began to dance sideways across the path. Esther knew Mary didn’t like horseback riding. One of the mares had thrown her and she’d hated it ever since. Father James knew it too because he’d been there. Esther’s body tensed as she watched, she was afraid Mary was going to be unseated, but the horse began to calm down and paw the ground. Once the animal settled, Mary lowered her head down to the Oakley’s withers. Esther could hear her crying all the way over in the chicken coop. Weak, she thought, but her muscles relaxed now that her mother was safe.

  Father dismounted and walked over to soothe the horse. He stroked the shining chestnut coat and placed a hand on Mary’s thigh. “I will heal you, Mary, and once you’re healed, you can accept salvation. I want you by my side for the Reckoning. I don’t want you left behind, baby girl. You’re my number one, and you always have been. Say you’ll be with me.”

  Mary lifted her head. There was snot coming out of her nose. “I need to be with Esther. She’s my child.”

  “Our child,” he corrected.

  “Let her live, Father.” Mary leaned down and took his hands, kissed his fingers. “Let her live and I will do anything and be anything you want.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  NOW

  Fran had heard nothing from the detective. She used the WhatsApp service to call Adrian and let him know she was staying in Arizona for at least another week. Fran knew that this was going to take time. She knew that infiltrating a cult meant developing their trust, and that meant playing them at their own game. She didn’t tell him any of that, obviously. He’d taken the news as well as could be expected, with little more than a very well, if that’s what you want. They’d ended the call abruptly.

  After she’d booked onto the next available course, Fran did something she hadn’t done for a long time. She opened a Word document, and she started writing. It began as a collation of facts about the cult. Where they began, who started it, when they moved to Arizona. And then she detailed her account of the recruitment process, from being handed the pamphlet in the street to meeting Caleb at the test centre, to the selection of courses available. She also weaved Mary and Esther into her writing. The way they met. The clothes they wore. The stern little girl who challenged her morality at the dinner table. She wrote about her own faith in God and how the existence of this cult frightened her and even shook her faith.

  Because she had a day to kill before the course at the ranch started, Fran trotted down to the lobby and decided to survey as many people as she could about the Children of James. She began with the hotel staff. Most cringed as she brought up the cult’s name. They were often reluctant to talk in any in-depth way about them, merely acknowledging that they existed, stating that the community tended to keep to themselves. They often mentioned the recruiters who wandered Tucson city centre with their stacks of reading material. Some told her about the smartly dressed young people who knocked on doors attempting to goad residents into debates about salvation and the soul. A cleaner told Fran that her cousin had been recruited at a youth hostel.

  Fran typed all of this into her Word document. She wasn’t sure what it was becoming. An article? A biography? But it was becoming something.

  Adrian called again later that night. It was a video call, but he couldn’t work the app properly, so she ended up talking to a black screen. She’d been deep into her article and considered ignoring the call, but then she changed her mind and answered.

  “I miss you, Franny,” he said, and she knew he meant it. “We didn’t end things too well earlier, did we?”

  “No,” she agreed.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “There’s nothing to be worried about,” she insisted. “Like I said, I’m giving it a week or so to see if anything turns up, and then I’m coming home. That’s it.”

  “Is that a promise? Because I’ll hold you to it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s a promise.”


  Though she did mean what she said, deep down she knew it was a lie. If it was a truth, she wouldn’t feel sick to her stomach saying it. But she said enough to hopefully give her the freedom she needed to find Mary, while at the same time keeping her marriage together. He didn’t know how much she needed this, that was something she was sure about. And though she went to bed feeling uneasy, she woke with a sense of determination. Today was the day she began her Children of James 101 course, alternatively titled: “What is your inner wellness and why have you been ignoring it?”

  There had been instructions that came with the course booking. She was to wear comfortable clothing and footwear. Nothing open-toed. It made her feel somewhat apprehensive, but she pulled out what she had in her suitcase and made it work.

  Yet another taxi and the costs were mounting. She was glad to have her own bank account that Adrian didn’t have access to, but at the same time, her funds in it were limited. It was more of an emergency account than one she used regularly. She told herself that it didn’t matter, not in the long run. Not if she found Mary and Esther.

  “I can’t take you all the way there,” the driver said. “There are rules. No outsiders.”

  “Oh,” Fran replied. “How close can you get me?”

  “The outer gate, I guess. The leader has his bodyguards all over the goddamn place. You’ll have to hop the gate and walk through their fields.”

  She agreed to that and they set off. On the way there, Fran asked him what he thought of the cult.

  “Everyone thinks they’re harmless, but I don’t. They get up to whatever the hell they want in the mountains. God knows how many people live there because no one says, do they? Could be a hundred, could be a dozen. Where are they sleeping? How are they eating? How much money is that leader scamming from them? Someone needs to shut them down. Religion my ass.” He paused and took a breath. “No one wants to say it. They’re all too worried about offending someone. Meanwhile they could be up to anything.”

 

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