Chapter 6
ALICE - NOW
I station myself at the kitchen sink to wash the dinner dishes. We’ve barely spoken to each other, Brayden and I. There’s too much sitting between us, clogging the air. I haven’t told him that I’m not going back to Elder Wattle for therapy. He won’t like it, and it’s an argument I’d rather put off.
He hasn’t told me what he and Jericha are planning for their baby. Joint custody? How would that even work? I’m the stay-at-home wife; childcare is expected to fall on me. But what if it isn’t my child?
I am still wearing this disgusting sweatshirt and sweatpants, although I wore Brayden’s robe while I ran everything through the washer and dryer today.
That promised shopping trip for more clothes never happened.
Brayden’s been “so busy with work,” he usually doesn’t come home until nine or ten o’clock at night.
I don’t leave the house. In the Before, there would be church study groups, women’s coffee meetings, and parties for various chores like sewing and canning.
Now, nobody calls. Nobody comes by to ask for some sugar, or a certain color of embroidery thread.
The church hasn’t reached out with a schedule of upcoming meetings.
Jericha doesn’t come over to see if I want to go for a run, or ask if I need help with chores.
That makes sense, at least. She probably hates my guts, now.
And since she started sleeping with Brayden as early as she did, she must have hated my guts all along.
I finish washing and drying the big pot, and place it carefully on its rack. My shoulders hurt. I force them down and back, trying to make myself relax.
Not for the first time, I wonder where Abe is.
I wonder why he unlocked my chain and allowed me to go free.
I think back to the night before my escape.
Did he act any differently than usual? I don’t remember anything out of the ordinary.
No lingering glances, no strange conversations.
He never spoke much, and he didn’t talk more or less that night.
Does he regret setting me free? If I were to go for a run tomorrow, would he be waiting to grab me again?
I run my hands up and down my arms, trying to smooth away my shivers.
“Alice?” Brayden steps into the kitchen.
I turn to face him. He looks like a grandpa in his plaid, cotton pajamas. Suddenly, I can picture my life with him fifty years from now. For the first time, I don’t like the feelings this creates.
He says, “I’d appreciate it if you would return to our marriage bed. I’m trying to be patient with you, and an attempt at our usual routines might help you feel more at home again.”
I shiver again. “Right. Okay. But I’m not—not ready for more.”
“Of course not. I understand.” He holds out his hand.
I don’t take his hand, but I follow him upstairs to our bedroom.
Obedient. Calm. I put the shams on the chest at the foot of the bed before turning down the comforter and sheets.
Old, mechanical habits from Before. I brush my teeth while Brayden settles into his side of the bed, his lamp on and a book in his hands.
My heart pounds a rhythm of trepidation. I’m not afraid, not exactly. I’m full of dread. None of this feels right. Several days ago, it was Jericha in my place, completing the same routine I’m doing now.
Are we that interchangeable?
I switch off my lamp and climb into bed, turning on my side to face away from my husband. I’m too tense to close my eyes, to relax. I might remain awake all night, afraid. The last man I slept next to was Abe.
Brayden turns off his lamp. The room is plunged into darkness. He sighs in that way he has, where he wants me to ask him what’s wrong, what’s troubling him, whether there’s anything I can do to ease his worries.
If I had a dollar for every sigh he sighed, I could join our country’s billionaires and never pay taxes again.
Is something wrong? is at the tip of my tongue. Force of habit. I bite the words down, holding them between my teeth.
“Alice, I need you. I’ve missed you.” He drapes his arm over my waist, his hand creeping up.
“No.” I wiggle forward, toward the edge of the bed. “You said you understood.”
“I’m not asking a lot, Alice.” There’s a new edge to his voice. “It’s nothing you haven’t done before. Don’t you still want a baby?”
An infant is the last thing on my mind. If he possessed even a single iota of sympathy, he would guess this.
He tries to drag me back toward him. I squirm away. “Brayden, I said I’m not ready.”
“What the hell, Alice? Why are you being like this? I’ve given you so much time to ‘adjust’ and feel safe again.”
“So much time? It’s been…six days since I came back to your house!”
“Exactly. And you should be grateful to even be here, when Elder Wattle says—”
I jerk myself out of his grasp and stand next to the bed. My legs shake and I try to hold myself still. “I hope you don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”
Brayden’s eyes glitter in the darkness. “He says you’re impure.”
No. No way.
I whirl out of the bedroom.
“So you’re just going to sleep on the couch again?” he calls after me. “Stop being so difficult!”
Am I going to sleep on the couch again?
No. I’m leaving.
LANDON - NOW
My phone rings at eleven p.m. Not unheard of, but for some reason my heart starts pounding fast. This feels important.
I pick up the phone and look at the Caller ID. Wonderland. Fuck, I nearly drop the device. I slide my thumb over the screen to answer. “Hello?”
“Landon.” There’s something about her voice when she says my name, wobbling and strained, like she’s barely holding it together.
“Where are you?”
“I’m…not sure? Somewhere outside the Community?”
The Seven Blessed Days has its own gated community, not far from the church campus.
“Are you safe?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t know I left.”
My blood boils. She had to sneak out of her own goddamn house? What this woman has been through…
“Stay on the line with me. I’m on my way.” I yank on a pair of sweats, not bothering with underwear. I don’t let go of the phone as I pull on a shirt. As I walk down the hall, I hesitate at Cody’s door. He’s been a dick, and Alice is fragile.
I don’t knock, but I shoot him a text. Get the guest room ready. I’m bringing Alice home.
I hear a muffled curse from behind his door, but I’m already through the living room and leaving the apartment before he emerges.
CODY - NOW
It’s one thing to help her from afar, searching for her kidnapper, examining our old files for clues.
It’s an entirely different fucking thing to bring her into our home.
Landon has to know this is a mistake. It was a mistake to befriend someone so young and impressionable five years ago, a mistake to develop feelings for her.
What the hell is he thinking? We can just wipe away everything from the past and start fresh?
She’s coming in with thirteen months of trauma and a husband.
Grumbling under my breath like a frustrated housewife, I fluff the pillows on the guest bed.
The sheets are already clean. Alice may or may not need something to wear, so I raid Landon’s dresser for sweats and a t-shirt.
I leave the folded bundle at the foot of Alice’s bed, then check the guest bathroom for soap and shampoo.
There isn’t any body wash, so I steal that from Landon’s shower.
I set it in her bathtub and grab a towel and washcloth from under the sink, placing them on the counter.
There. Everything’s ready to go for our unexpected houseguest.
I return to my room and turn out the lights. I won’t be able to sleep, but fuck if I’m going to wait up in the living room like a concerned father. Landon has this covered.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, though, I jolt back up.
She might be hungry, or thirsty. Getting out of bed again, I go into the kitchen and make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I put it on a plate with some crackers, then wash some strawberries, carefully cutting off the stems and slicing each one in half.
I put the strawberry halves in a snack bowl and dust them with sugar.
I pour her a glass of water, as well, and bring everything back to the bedroom, setting it on her nightstand.
And what if she’s scared of the dark? Returning to Landon’s bathroom, I take his nightlight and bring it back to Alice’s room, plugging it in.
When I turn off the overhead light, a faint glow now comes from the side of the bed.
If she wakes up in the middle of the night, she’ll see where she is, and she’ll see that she’s safe.
All of her needs are taken care of.
Good. It means she won’t bother us.
Finally finished, I return to my room. I’d like to say I go straight to sleep, satisfied with a job well done.
Instead I lie awake, listening for her arrival.