Chapter 4
I hear my mom crying before the door to my room swings open with force.
“You're needed, girl.” The elder who steps into my room, grabs me and drags me from my bed. It’s cold and all I have covering my body is my cotton nightgown. I have nothing on my feet, but he doesn’t seem to care as he shoves me out the front door, causing me to fall onto the gravel outside.
“Abraham is waiting for you in the chapel,” my father tells me, keeping his head low. He’s refusing to make eye contact with me or my mother, who is beating his arm with her fists and begging him to make them stop.
“Control your woman, Thomas.” The elder lifts me off the ground by my armpits and then pushes me in the back to force me forward. It leaves me no choice but to head toward the chapel that's built in the center of our village.
Two men stand either side of the doors, both holding lit torches, and as I pass them I shudder because I know whatever waits for me inside can’t be good. Earlier today, our leader killed my sister’s friend in front of the entire village. I wept for him, maybe that's why I’m here. I step through the door and when I look up to the altar I see our great leader, my sister’s husband, laid out flat on the platform. He’s so still and pale that I wonder if he’s dead.
“Step closer, child,” he calls out to me, proving that he’s alive. With dread leaking into my stomach I do as he commands.
My palms are sweating and my heart is beating out of my chest because I know what’s coming. It’s not unheard of for God to command a man to take one of his wives’ sisters as his own. Abraham may already have three wives but as our leader, he is the man above all men. God speaks directly to him, and I’m here because he’s chosen me.
“Your sister escaped me tonight,” he croaks, and a lump wedges in my throat and nearly chokes me when I take in what he says. It’s a shock, but at the same time, I have to try not to show how happy it makes me. All her life, Addison has wondered what life is like beyond the village. I guess she’s finding out. I must pray that she remains pure of its temptations.
“She ran, but not before she tried to kill me.” I can see how angry he is and suddenly his reason for lying down is clear. Addison did this to him.
“I hope you are okay, sir,” I lie, as I stand beside him and imagine how scared Addison must’ve been to strike. She may have been curious of it, but she knows life beyond the gates is dangerous. She must have faced some horrors if she believed it was a better option than here.
“I shall recover, but your sister's sins must be punished,” he tells me, clutching his side as he speaks.
“Please don’t hurt her.” I drop to my knees and beg him. Elders are the only ones who ever leave the village, the thought of them out there hunting her down makes me sick with worry.
“She won’t be harmed, not while I have you.” He smiles as he takes my wrist in his cold, wrinkly hand and holds me firm.
“You shall be her replacement, you shall replenish her sins in her absence and you will serve me,” he explains, making the terror inside me spread through my veins and turn my blood cold.
Rough arms grip me from behind and start dragging me away. I try to scream but fear clasps around my throat and cuts off any noise.
“I’ll be seeing you, Everleigh,” Abraham promises.
The cold bites my skin as the two men carry me across the village, one of them holding his hand over my mouth so I can’t scream for help. I fight and thrash against them, trying desperately to get away. Maybe I could escape too. The world outside may be unknown and frightening, but it has to be better than this. Now I know why Father couldn't look at me, he’s an elder too, he knew what was happening tonight and he wasn't prepared to fight for me.
I see Abraham’s son, Solomon, standing by their house holding a lantern. When I see that the doors that lead down into the bunker are open beside him, I fight even harder to get free.
Solomon has always given me the creeps. I caught him cutting open a pretty, white bird once, while it was still alive. He had it pinned by its wings and I saw the pleasure he had on his face as he slowly sliced through its feathers to open up its guts.
Sometimes I’ve noticed him look at me the same way as he did that bird, and it makes my stomach roll.
“I’ll take it from here.” He snatches my arm and starts dragging me down the stairs, and when the lantern lights up the cold, damp walls I swear I see splatters of blood on them. There's only dirt for ground down here and when he places me in the corner, I slump weakly onto the floor when my legs give in.
“Your sister made a mistake tonight, little dove,” Solomon slides his fingers through my hair and makes me shudder. Moma always told me it would probably be him who I’m given to and the thought has always made me sick. “Your sister fucked it up for us both. You were gonna be mine, Everleigh, and I was gonna treat you good,” he whispers.
“Please, Solomon,” I beg him, praying that if he does care about me he might fix this.
“It’s too late now, little dove. You belong to him. I just hope you survive it.” He kisses my forehead before clamping two heavy shackles around my wrists and leaving me in the dark
I slam my journal closed and clutch it to my chest. My pulse is beating far too fast as those memories swirl around in my head like a tornado dragging me into its center.
“You okay?” Josie looks up from the magazine she’s reading.
“I’m fine, just a little, ummm…” I can’t put into words what’s going through my mind. Digging up old bones has made me feel as if I was there again, living it all over, and yet at the same time, I’ve freed up some space in my head by getting the words out.
“Is that the journal Samantha gave you?” Josie gets up from the couch and moves toward me, and I clutch it close to me to guard it.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“I think it’s good that you're using it.” She sits beside me and gives me that sad smile again. “Can I be honest with you?” Her head tips sideways as she lets out a deep breath.
“I’d like that.” I smile back at her.
“I never know how to be around you, or what to say. I know a little about what you’ve been through, but not the whole story. I feel as if me, just acting normal around you after all you’ve suffered, is insensitive.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her.
“For what? Being awkward and useless?” Josie laughs.
“For being truthful, and for coming here almost every day to keep me company despite not knowing how to act. I’ve never once thought you were insensitive,” I assure her.
“You wanna know another secret?” She leans in closer. “This place is much more peaceful than the ranch. I don’t mind at all.” She winks at me, before getting up and heading back to the couch.
Josie leaves a little before Mitch is due to get home. Each day when he walks through the door, those butterflies that stir in my stomach seem to get stronger. After the way his arm wrapped around my body, and his rough hand so tenderly stroked my cheek yesterday, I’ve been obsessing over him doing it again.
“Good day?” he asks, hanging up his hat the same way he always does.
“Yeah, me and Josie ended up making a casserole— What happened to your hand?” I freeze when I see the bandage wrapped around his palm and the blood soaking through it.
“It ain’t nothin’, just tore it open on a loose nail. I’ll get it washed up and pour some alcohol on it.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal but I quickly fetch a bowl, filling it with warm water, before I place it on the table.
“Sit down.” I look around the kitchen, knowing for sure that there's a first aid box here somewhere. I put it away myself when I reorganized the cupboards last month.
“You don’t need to make no fuss.” He shakes his head as I reach up on my toes into the cabinet above the refrigerator and locate it.
I wait for him to sit down before I take the seat beside him and unwind the bandage from his palm. The cut looks nasty but not deep enough for stitches. Taking his wrist, I gently lower his hand into the warm water so it can soak. I don’t look up at him but I can feel his eyes studying me the way they always do.
I often wonder what he’s thinking when he does that. It’s intense and a little overbearing but I like it all the same. I like that this man takes an interest in me. I like what he said to me last night about how he feels coming home, and I like that it’s always his voice that guides me out of my nightmares.
“That’s feelin’ better already.” He smiles at me when I lift his hand out and gently pat it dry with a towel. I stroke over the uninjured part of his palm with my finger, appreciating his rough, overworked skin, and when I’m brave enough to look up at him he’s frowning at me in confusion.
“You good?” he checks.
“You have hard-working hands.” I smile at him. Abraham and Solomon's hands were so smooth, and always felt so slimy on my skin. I imagine it would feel very different to be touched by hands like these.
“They’ve seen their fair share of work over the years.” He laughs, then flinches when I dab the open wound with alcohol. I make sure it’s clean before taking a fresh gauze and rewrapping it with a new bandage.
“There.” I smile proudly. It's nice to feel like I’ve helped him, after all he does for me.
My hand lingers over his for longer than it should, maybe it’s because I enjoy the warmth of his skin, or because I’m proud of myself for pushing my boundaries. But there's a niggle inside me that tells me it’s something different. Something that makes me want to cry again just so I can have him wipe away my tears.
“Thank you,” he tells me in that low, husky voice. His injured hand lifts up and strokes my cheek, pushing back my hair as his fingertips brush over my skin like he can sense it’s what I need.
He looks nervous and unsure, so I rest my head a little into his palm to let him know it’s okay.
A loud thud interrupts the moment and Mitch suddenly pulls back. It’s followed by another loud bang and I stand up, staring at the door, trying to control the panic I can feel taking over all my senses.
“Relax, it’s okay. I got it,” Mitch tries to assure me as he makes his way to the door and opens it.
“Finn, I thought I told ya not to?—”
“Garrett’s called a meetin’, we tried to call but your phone’s off.” Whoever is on the other side of the door interrupts him with an urgent voice.
“I… ummm… I…” Mitch looks between me and the door with that unsure expression on his face again.
“Can someone get hold of Josie?” he asks.
“I’ll be fine,” I cut in, smiling at him bravely. “I have to start getting used to being on my own.” I shrug, trusting in the words that he promised me. I’m safe here.
“Ya sure?” Mitch opens the door a little wider and when I see the young man on the other side of it, he lifts his hat to me politely and smiles.
“You must be Everleigh. Name’s Finn.” He introduces himself and holds out his hand, quickly retracting it after Mitch subtly shakes his head.
“Pleased to meet you.” I manage a smile for him. Trusting that he’s not a threat. Mitch wouldn’t allow him to be here if he was.
“You never told us she was so pretty.” He looks back to Mitch, who grabs his hat and quickly shoos him out the door.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turns back to face me, moving closer to assure me. “You can bolt the door after I’ve left.”
“Okay, stay safe.” I smile, and when he looks down between us and sees that I’ve gripped hold of his hand, he smiles too. I don’t know much about what happens on the other side of the cabin door but I get the sense Mitch lives among danger. I’d hate for anything to happen to him.
“See ya soon.” He backs away and leaves.
I move toward the window, watching him get into the guy’s truck before they speed away.