“What do you think happened to Adam and Tyler?” Stafford asked, his hands wrist deep in the dirt.

Caitlyn passed him a handful of seeds and he dropped them into the hole before covering it up and patting it smooth again.

We kneeled in a line. All of us. The small group of teenagers that lived at The Retreat. There weren’t many. Our family comprised mostly of adults. Children were few. The youngest being Rosie Fisk, who was six.

The path wasn’t always a journey for younger souls.

Minnie Gardner, Stafford Morgan, Caitlyn Rogers, Bobbie Mann, Anne, and I were spending our afternoon in the large communal gardens. Planting seeds. Tending to the crops we used for food. We lived off the land. We grew what we ate. It was God’s way of providing for his flock. And in turn, we cultivated what he so lovingly bestowed.

I enjoyed farming. I loved the feel of the dirt underneath my fingernails and the smell of the wet earth. It was a place of solace for me. I had a true gift for growing things. It was my duty to share it with my family.

Sometimes—only sometimes—I wished I didn’t have to share. That I could plant a flower and watch it bloom, just for me. For no one else. But nothing was mine alone. It belonged to everyone. When anyone looked at me, they saw total and complete devotion to my task. They’d never know how I resented it.

Only a little.

“We’re not supposed to ask,” Caitlyn chastised, giving the required answer before I could. She looked at me as if for confirmation she had done the right thing in admonishing him. Caitlyn was a year younger than Anne and me. At seventeen she had the body of a thirteen-year-old. She was what most would label as a late bloomer. She had long hair, like the rest of us, a deep shade of red that was easily her best feature. She was also clingy and wanting validation in all things. She was a nice enough girl, though perhaps a bit annoying at times. Like the younger sibling you could never shake loose. I was patient with her, as I was meant to be. Stafford and Minnie not so much.

I gave her a small nod and Caitlyn returned to the tomato plant she was pruning.

“Caitlyn’s right. We’re not to speak of it. Only pray for forgiveness for those who hurt them.” I watered the fledgling pea shoots and got to my feet. My back ached from bending over for so long.

“It’s messed up though. Adam’s arm is broken. And Tyler’s eye is swollen shut. You should see him. Why do those people hate us so much?” Minnie spoke up. She and Stafford were one and the same. A little bit of trouble. A little bit of a handful. They weren’t exactly model disciples. They gossiped and had more than their fair share of sinful thoughts and behaviors. They had also spent more than their fair share of time at The Refuge. And it was only the fear of returning there that kept their sinful natures in check. Kept their comments confined to our small group.

Though I felt like a disapproving mother having to keep them in line all the time.

Minnie was beautiful by anyone’s standards. With long blonde hair and dazzling hazel eyes, she was the sort of girl that in any other situation, would intimidate me. She was pretty and knew she was pretty. But here she couldn’t use her looks to their best advantage and I had no doubt that for someone like Minnie Gardner, that was difficult. It was obvious she held onto her vanity more than the others, though she hid it. She snuck lemons from the kitchen to lighten her hair and I caught her crushing berries to redden her lips.

And Stafford noticed. He wasn’t good-looking, but Minnie clearly enjoyed his attention.

“They may hate, but we have to love twice as much,” I said primly, wiping my hands on my patchwork pants. They were becoming thread bare. A hole had started on my knee, I would have to sew on a new patch otherwise I’d be down a pair of trousers. We had few possessions at The Retreat. What clothes we did have had to be cared for and would need to last us for many seasons. I wasn’t very good with a needle and thread. Making clothing from scratch took a long time and I would rather expend my energy in prayer or in the garden. Yet sometimes I wished for a decent pair of jeans. Something frivolous.

Then I’d chide myself. Desiring nice dresses and trendy shoes was a waste of emotion that I wouldn’t succumb to.

“Always the right answer,” Minnie muttered. She jabbed her fingers into the dirt, digging deep.

“Because it is the right answer,” Anne piped up, ever my defender.

“Yep,” Bobbie agreed. He was the quiet type, rarely involved in our conversations. His one word response was typical of him.

“Minnie, take care not to bruise the plants,” I reminded her, choosing to ignore her surliness.

I had taken on the role of unofficial leader of our small group years ago. Pastor Carter said I was special. Everyone else seemed to agree. Even if my peers, at times, appeared to mock my standing within our family.

I had never asked to be something different. Something more. It was simply my duty.

None of the others knew about “old Sara.” The scared, angry girl I had been. The desperate girl that wanted to leave and run far, far away. To a father who had abandoned her. To a world she was told would ruin her.

I hadn’t cared.

I had hated The Gathering. I loathed The Retreat.

Pastor Carter wasn’t so kind with me then. He had been strict. Ruthless even. I had tested his patience. I had spit in his face at his attempts to embrace me into his faith.

I detested the memory of that girl.

She was my enemy.

I ran a thumb along the jagged scar on my wrist. Most of the time I pretended it didn’t exist. It had become surprisingly easy to block out the ugliness. I had become a pro at avoidance and suppression.

But sometimes, even in the light of God’s sun, I still remembered…

“Let me go!”

The high-pitched scream pierced the air. Disturbing the calm that we worked so hard to maintain. The silence that wrapped around us like a comforting blanket.

Anne went alarmingly still. She didn’t look up. Her head remained resolutely bowed, her fingers working the dirt in distressed movements.

Stafford, Minnie, and Caitlyn did the same. Their usual banter had stopped. I noted the way Minnie’s breathing became erratic. Staff reached over and touched the back of her hand. A small, comforting gesture. Bobbie’s face had gone pale. His usual bland expression strained.

But none of them looked.

Not a single one.

“Please, I promise to do better!”

The young voice was panicked. Fear laced with thick tears. I felt the girl’s despair in my bones.

I couldn’t help myself.

I looked.

Through the cover of my hair I saw two elders, Stanley Gibbons and Clement Rowe, dragging Gabby White—a small girl of twelve—across the clearing towards the trees.

Both men were tall and imposing, with long, greying hair and thick beards. Their expressions mirrored each other. Hard and unyielding.

I could almost feel their fingers on my arms. Digging into flesh. The taste of dust in my mouth that I kicked up with resistant feet.

“Don’t! I want my mom!”

I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. I should look away. It wasn’t right to stare. There was nothing wrong in what was happening. It served a greater purpose. Served a greater good.

I clenched my teeth together hard enough to break bone.

Gabby’s sobs were too loud. Shrill and awful. I wanted to tell her to stop it. That she was only making it worse. I wanted to cover my ears to drown out her terror.

After a few minutes Gabby went limp, her body’s weight pulling her heavily to the ground. Neither man said a word to her. Their faces were impassive. To the casual observer one would think them unfeeling.

I hoped that wasn’t the case. I wanted to believe that they got no joy out of carting disobedient children to The Refuge.

I didn’t want to notice the slight smile on Clement’s lips. I pretended that I imagined the chuckle as he dragged her through the dirt.

Stanley, the larger of the two, finally lifted the girl up into his arms. Not tenderly, but as if she were a sack of flour. Gabby had gone limp. I wasn’t sure if she had passed out from fear. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had.

She knew what was coming.

We all did.

Stanley and Clement walked with Gabby to the edge of the woods. To the tiny, stifling building deep inside the forest. A place where she would stay until she stopped fighting. Until she accepted God. Accepted Pastor Carter’s word.

Accepted her fate.

She’d be happier for it.

I knew she would.

I pushed away the threads of anger that curled up around my throat, constricting tightly. I pushed them far, far down until I couldn’t be sure they had been there at all.

I smiled slightly. Joy forced its way into my being. I opened my heart to it. Needing it desperately. Gabby would be better for her time in The Refuge. We all were.

All I could see was darkness. Punctuated by streams of dusty sunlight that filtered through the thick wooden slats.

My stomach was hollow. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for days. My mouth was so dry the skin of my lips stuck together. I was exhausted. My body was in shock. But I couldn’t sleep.

The hard dirt floor made it impossible to relax. The walls were so close I had to curl into a ball. The ceiling was too low to stand up. It was like being in a box. I couldn’t stretch out. My muscles had cramped up from the unnatural position. Every part of me hurt.

How long had I been in here?

All I knew was that this was my fault. I should have known better. I needed to have faith. To show devotion. That’s all they wanted from me.

I had stopped crying days ago. There was no point. I was too dehydrated anyway.

And when Pastor came for me, I hugged him. I promised to do better. And I believed what I said. I would be the best disciple I could be.

Then it was silent again.

Minnie giggled at something Stafford said. Caitlyn handed Anne a clipping of a bean plant to put in the ground. Bobbie quietly dug holes for new seed.

Everything went on as it had been before.

Only a small hiccup in our otherwise passive existence.

We stopped after a few minutes to pray over the crops we had tended. We thanked God for his plenty. We pledged our eternal commitment.

And then we were quiet again. No sound.

It reverberated louder than any noise. It filled up the empty space and expanded everywhere.

My mind was perfectly blank. I had trained myself to focus only on this. On the prayer.

Words echoed through my brain. Phrases and sentences I only expected God to hear. I knew he was listening. I knew what he wanted from me.

My devotion was total and complete.

My life belonged to the fate I had been handed. It had been decided the day I stepped foot inside the gates. My mother’s too.

All of us knew what was expected of us.

Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of Gabby again. And to a time I hadn’t accepted anything I had been told.

The idea that we were hurtling forward, toward an exact point of inevitability.

I felt the remnants of that long ago rage.

Stop it. God listens…

Then I heard Pastor Carter sing in my ear.

“Keep your heart open and your soul clean…”

It enveloped me in warmth.

The rage dissipated. Shoved back down where it belonged. Into the forgotten place in the pit of my stomach.

I couldn’t imagine a life any different than this one. My focus had been honed so that this was all I saw. And it brought me bliss.

That was what I felt, right?

Sometimes it twisted my insides. Sometimes it was a sharp pain in my heart. Pastor Carter said happiness felt that way sometimes.

I wouldn’t dare give voice to the question that sometimes pricked my brain.

Should happiness hurt?

As soon as I thought it, I pushed it away as my mom had explained I needed to do. In the early days with The Gathering, she had been rigid and harsh. She had no time for my tears. Or my doubts.

Before and after my time in The Refuge, her devotion was absolute. Mine was meant to be equally unwavering.

She pinched the soft flesh on the underside of my arm. She leaned down and hissed in my ear. Angry words but the right words.

“Feel that pain? That’s what sin feels like. And every time you cry to leave, every time you complain about the scriptures we read, that’s sin. Defying your mother is wrong. Refusing to embrace this life is wrong.” She pinched harder and I gasped. I couldn’t help it.

“What do you need to do when you feel like that?” she asked me. Her voice as painful as her nails in my skin.

“Give my heart and soul to God,” I whispered through clenched teeth.

The pain stopped. She kissed the top of my head, cuddling me close. I loved it when she held me like that. Like a proper mother and daughter.

“Good girl,” she cooed, rubbing the sore spot on my arm. “The best girl.”

I let out a long and even breath. Feeling the weight of all things lift up and out into nothing.

The dark behind my eyelids hid everything I didn’t want others to see. It hid the things I wanted to keep to myself.

So much of my life was spent this way. In silence. In contemplation. Pastor Carter said it was the only way to be at peace. The only way to find certainty in life’s choices. When we separated ourselves from the things that distract us, only then can we find God.

Much later, I watched as Clement and Stanley returned from the woods. They stopped and spoke with Gabby’s mother who was pruning rose bushes by her cottage. Their heads close together.

Clement patted Martha White’s shoulder. She smiled at him. All was forgiven. She understood. Her daughter needed The Refuge. It was part of the plan for some of us. A step along the path.

We couldn’t be resentful if it was a requirement of our souls.

Gabby and her family hadn’t been at The Retreat that long. Only a few months. Gabby was outspoken. Mouthy. A budding teenager with too many ideas and too many opinions.

She refused to join in scripture reading. She was noisy during Daily Devotional. She wouldn’t wake up for The Sun’s Morning Blessing.

It wasn’t surprising that she had been sent to The Refuge.

I was a perfect example of how it could work. How it could save.

My stomach twisted. My chest felt tight. Fire burned my insides.

The pain of happiness flooded me.

I noticed that Anne was watching Martha, Clement, and Stanley. Feeling my eyes on her she glanced my way. But there was no smile.

Not this time.

Her eyes were unusually bright.

The dust must be irritating her as well. It was too dry.

I handed her a cloth and she wiped the wetness from her cheeks.

I returned to my task.

It wasn’t pretending if it didn’t exist.

I stayed late after our meal that evening to help Anne clean up. We made it a game. Humming tunes we barely remembered and making up words to songs we hardly knew.

I twirled Anne around in a circle. “Stop it, you’re going to make me sick,” she laughed.

We shouldn’t be acting so silly. If the elders saw us, we would most certainly be punished. Pastor Carter would remind us that silence and reflection was the only way to ensure our salvation.

But sometimes, only with Anne, I wanted to be silly. I wanted to laugh.

Plus, we knew we were alone. There were no prying eyes to be fearful of.

We dropped heavily onto a bench, trying to catch our breath. Anne grabbed a carrot stick from one of the plates and took a bite. I wagged my finger at her.

“Never take more than you need, Anne,” I lectured, but not too severely. I couldn’t admonish Anne over anything. Not really. I loved her too much.

She gave me a guilty smile and dropped it back onto the plate. “I should save it for someone else to enjoy.” She wrapped up the leftover food and put it in the small refrigerator plugged in the corner.

It had gotten dark. The low wattage light bulbs in the overhead fixtures did little to dispel the shadows. Most of our family had gone to their respective homes for the night. The elders had gone to Pastor Carter’s lodgings for a meeting. Most likely regarding Gabby.

No one had mentioned her the rest of the day. We carried on as if nothing had happened.

It would be fine in the end anyway.

We all trusted Pastor Carter’s ways. He knew what was best for us when we didn’t know it ourselves.

Gabby’s mother, father, and younger sister, Amelie, sat at the table during dinner and ate quietly with the rest of The Gathering. None seemed bothered by Gabby’s absence.

Anne had served Amelie an extra honey cake for dessert.

“It’s going to be chilly tonight,” Anne observed, wiping down the long tables in the middle of the room. The dining hall always felt cavernous. It was large and bare, with only a cross on the wall and three wooden tables that ran the length of the space for everyone to sit together.

Our words seemed to echo so we had learned to whisper if we didn’t want our thoughts to be shared with others.

Anne rubbed her arms and shivered. “There aren’t any blankets in The Refuge.”

I bit my lip and felt the heat in my gut again. Swallowing thickly, I picked up the last few glasses and carried them to the sink against the far wall. “She’ll be fine. We’ve been there in worse weather than this,” I reminded her, keeping my voice soft and neutral.

Anne opened up the cupboard and pulled out a clean plate. She began to load it up with leftover chicken and potatoes. A helping of cold carrots and a raspberry and flaxseed cookie—no sugar.

“Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if we never came here?” she asked, her voice breaking.

I straightened my shoulders. “No. I don’t.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Not exactly.

I focused on my future. On my journey.

I couldn’t look to the past for anything.

I couldn’t wonder and daydream about things that didn’t matter.

We all had one purpose.

One purpose only.

To prepare ourselves for The Awakening. To be Awakened. To give ourselves totally to God. To our family. To Pastor Carter’s teachings.

But…

“No,” I said again, more forcefully this time.

Anne nodded, accepting what I told her. Always accepting. Never doubting. That was the beauty of Anne Landes. My best friend. She was devoted to me.

She had learned, just as Gabby would learn. Just as we all learned.

There was no other way but the one we were given.

Anne covered the plate of food with a cloth and headed for the door.

“Goodnight, Sara,” she called out as she left.

With the plate of food she wouldn’t eat.

She was devoted. I believed that. I had to.

I couldn’t think otherwise of someone I loved so much.

So I didn’t ask her where she was taking it.

I turned off the lights in the dining hall and made my way back to the house I shared with my mom. It sat just off to the side of Pastor’s large dwelling. I could see the soft glow of a lamp through the windows of his house. The moonlight glinted off the glass of the solarium. Clement, Stanley, Fiona Pearl, and Tabby Jones were leaving as I walked by. The elders raised a hand in silent greeting. I bowed my head in respect.

I noted my mother wasn’t with them. I thought I could see her just behind the curtains. With Pastor Carter.

She wouldn’t be home for a while.

I walked into our one-room home on weary legs. Anne was right. It was cold tonight. I lit a small fire in the fireplace in the center of the room. I hated the smell of the smoke as it billowed out. The chimney needed cleaning.

I was slow in my movements. My limbs felt heavy and my joints ached. It had been a long day. More strenuous than most.

I tried not to think about Gabby in The Refuge. How cold she must be. How scared. Hopefully she prayed. Hopefully she found guidance. She would stay there until she found her path. It was the only way for some of us.

It had been the only way for me.

And I was thankful for it.

I was thankful…

The pain twisted my gut again and I smiled.

I had to.

It was either that or cry.

Mom came back well after midnight. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet. I spent most of the night reading my worn Bible and underlining passages to share with Pastor Carter at our next session.

He’d appreciate my diligence.

Mom came into the room on careful feet, tiptoeing to avoid creaking floorboards.

“You don’t have to be quiet. I’m still awake,” I said, sitting up.

I raised the wick of the oil lamp on my bedside table so she could see better. While there was electricity in the main buildings, our homes were without lights. Pastor Carter felt it unnecessary.

“Our homes are personal sanctuaries. The less modern intrusions the closer to God we become.”

None of us mentioned the electricity that ran in his house. Or questioned why his sanctuary was different to ours.

“You should be asleep. The sun’s blessing is only a few hours away.” Her voice was barely a whisper. I watched her in the flickering flame as she began to undress. She unpinned her hair and it fell in thick folds down her back.

She looked so young. Her face flushed and a grin painted on her lips. Hardly old enough to be mother to an eighteen-year-old.

It was easy to forget that Daphne Bishop was a step away from divinity. In these quiet moments she wasn’t an elder. Or a holy voice. Or Pastor Carter’s right hand. Just my mother.

She laughed to herself as if remembering something perfect. She rubbed a finger over her lips and briefly closed her eyes.

Daphne was only my mother. And with love splashed on her face—all too human.

It was a love that went beyond devotion and prayer, though no one would ever speak of it or acknowledge it. Physical love was unnecessary. It served only as a disruption. A temptation that could turn us from God.

Mom, of all people, should know better than to give her heart to a man.

Yet, Mom worshipped Pastor Carter above all things. Perhaps that made her the greatest sinner of us all.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted.

She came and sat down on my bed. I could smell roses and soap on her skin. She had bathed before coming home. Water still clung to her skin. Her long blonde hair, the same color as mine, tickled my arm as she leaned over me and kissed my forehead.

“There’s nothing so great that God can’t handle,” she murmured, tucking the blanket around me as if I were still a child. “It’s cold in here, we should start another fire.”

She got up to gather wood from the corner of the room. I loved her when she was like this. Attentive. Caring. Only mine.

It happened so rarely that I learned to cherish these moments.

“How was your meeting?” I dared to ask. Sometimes she’d speak to me about being an elder. About the burden of caring for the family’s spiritual wellbeing. She’d recite the words spoken by our leader in hushed tones. She’d share the things she saw and heard during her silent devotions.

I felt closest to her then.

“We spoke of recruiting new disciples. Of the importance of spreading Pastor’s teachings to those who need it most.”

I nodded, agreeing with this old discussion. Pastor didn’t do a lot of mission work. He felt that those who were fated to walk the path would find their way to us eventually. I knew there were videos on the internet though. That was how Mom found him. How most of the disciples found The Gathering.

But he did take his sermons to the outside once a year. He spent two weeks visiting places he felt needed his word. They were usually areas affected by a downturn in the economy. Places experiencing depression and fatigue. He found the lost and sometimes he brought them home.

No one ever went with Pastor. He said it was his solitary journey. A road for him to travel alone. No one questioned him.

Why should we?

He knew what was best.

“Will he be leaving soon?” I asked.

Mom pulled on her floor length nightgown—a dowdy piece of clothing that hid all of her. She tied her hair up into a bun at the nap of her neck and got into the single bed across the room from mine. “He doesn’t share his schedule, Sara,” she chastised sharply.

“Of course,” I demurred, biting my tongue. Severing it in half before saying something to annoy her. I learned early on how to navigate her precarious moods. I had become an expert at tiptoeing through Daphne’s minefields.

The wind blew outside. It rattled the windows, indicating an approaching storm. Minutes later, rain splattered the glass. Lightning flashed. I pulled my blanket up to my chin.

“How long will Gabby be in The Refuge?” I asked and instantly wished I hadn’t. I pinched my arm. The same spot Mom had pinched many times before. Hard enough to draw blood.

I expected Mom to explode. To get out of bed and fly across the room in a fury. I braced myself, barely able to breathe.

Heavenly Father, forgive my sins…

“Gabby doesn’t concern you. She doesn’t concern any of us,” was all Mom said, rolling onto her side. “Not anymore,” she added.

“Not anymore?” I questioned. What did that mean?

“Some people are meant to walk the path. Some aren’t. Gabby would never be Awakened. Her soul would never be pure.”

I lay there, muscles rigid. Gabby’s soul wasn’t pure. But she was only a child.

“Did she and her family leave?” I asked, my voice sounding so, so small.

“They aren’t our family. They have to make their own way. It will be dark and it will be lonely, but we can’t have that kind of negativity here. This is our sanctuary. This is our haven.”

“Where did they go?” Why was I pushing this? Why was I pressing her for answers when I knew the outcome?

“Don’t you dare presume that you deserve to know the inner workings of things!” Mom screamed, her voice too loud. I felt it reverberating in my skull. So at odds with the silence we lived by.

If Pastor Carter could hear her he wouldn’t be pleased.

I curled in on myself. Waiting for an attack. Waiting for violence that I knew would come.

One minute passed.

Two minutes.

I lifted my head and could see my mother still in her bed. I was surprised she had restrained herself. I wasn’t normally so lucky.

Heavenly father, forgive my curiosity. I know it is not my place to question.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to presume anything.”

I needed to apologize. I had to. Disciples were meant to obey. Defiance wasn’t allowed.

I heard Mom sigh. She sounded exhausted. “Turn off the light, Sara.” I heard another shattered exhale. As if she too was encumbered by a heavy weight. “You need prayer before sleep. Your mind is too full of things you shouldn’t be thinking about.”

With shaking hands, I lowered the wick of the lamp, expunging the light. Giving way to the dark.

And in the silent, silent night, I fought back tears I would never let fall.