Chapter Ten
Phebe
I stared at the trees as they whizzed past—a blur of green and brown. The truck was silent as we drove up a dirt path. Fields and fields of green spread out around us. If I did not know better, I could have believed I was back in New Zion. But somehow I thought I would have always known that was not true. Everything about this devil’s den felt different. And not in the way I would have thought. I did not feel fear, but nor did I feel safe. I was stalled in a state of purgatory, not knowing where I belonged.
A fallen leaf caught in a strong wind.
“I am to stay with Rebekah from now on?” I asked as I stared out of the window. I toyed with the sleeve of the loose, white, floor-length dress Bella had brought for me.
My heart was a trembling mess as I thought of the last time I had seen Rebekah. A part of me feared she would hate me, that she would not welcome me into her home. But on the other hand, I wanted to break free from this truck in which I traveled and run into her arms.
One of AK’s hands was tight on the steering wheel. He had a cigarette in the other, and he took regular drags from the lit embers as we drove.
Over the past few hours, I had tried to piece together what had happened to me in New Zion, in the end. I remembered that Judah, fearful of an attack by the devil’s men, began gathering our people. I remembered hiding Grace near the prison. I remembered Cain coming back and promising me that if anything happened to me he would secure Grace’s safety. I remembered freeing Cain, Sister Ruth, Brother David, Solomon and Samson from their cell.
Then I remembered Meister finding me near the woods as I rushed back to Grace. He took hold of my hand. I had tried to resist him, but he had been violent and put something in my arm. He had been gradually putting something in my arm many weeks before that, the potion that made me feel strange, but that day it had been different. Because that was the last thing I truly remembered. Only flashes and segments of other moments remained—dark rooms, Meister and his friends laughing at me.
And pain. Lots and lots of pain.
AK took a left turn, the motion of the vehicle dragging me from my thoughts. A house came into view. Similar to AK’s, but bigger and with more greenery outside. My pulse took off into a sprint as the truck rolled to a stop.
AK pointed at the house. “This is Ky and Lilah’s.”
“Oh.” A sudden onslaught of nerves gripped me. I tried to focus on the windows, checking for any movement, but I could not see beyond the reflection of the trees against the glass.
I played with my hands in my lap. “I have wanted this moment for so long . . . yet I find myself frozen in this very seat,” I said, my voice shaking. I looked down at my hands, at the broken skin, at the ashen pallor, and wondered what Rebekah would think of me.
“I have thought of this moment many times, AK. For so long I believed I would never get this chance. To see the sister I have loved for so long, yet wronged in so many ways . . .” I laughed nervously. “I suppose you do not understand what I am saying.”
He shifted in his seat. “I think I probably do.”
“Yes?” I said in relief. Relief that perhaps someone knew how I feared this moment as much as I treasured that it was finally here.
AK nodded, then looked out of his window, turning his head from me.
“Then did . . . did you ever get this moment too?” I asked.
I heard the birds in the trees and the wind rustling through the leaves, but nothing came from him. Eventually he faced me again, a wash of sadness in his eyes. He dropped his head.
“No.”
His voice was cut and raw, and my heart yearned to comfort him. I moved my hand toward him, but just as I laid my hand on his thigh, the thick muscle tensing underneath, he spoke. “But you get yours, now.”
“I am afraid,” I confessed as I saw the front door of the cabin open. The blond man with long hair who I remembered from that night on Perdition Hill stepped out and looked across at our truck. Ky.
“She’ll be coming soon,” AK said.
I slid my hand off his thigh. “AK?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you help me out of the truck, please? I feel . . . I am not sure I can get out and see her myself. My feet, I am sure, will not carry me.” A flush of embarrassment surged to my cheeks. “You do not have to if you do not—”
Before I could finish the sentence, AK was around the side of the truck and opening the door. He reached in and took hold of my waist, lifting me from the truck. My sandaled feet hit the soft grass and the warm breeze flowed through my hair.
When I had gathered my composure, I took a step forward. That same warm breeze seemed to penetrate my heart as AK’s hand remained on my arm to steady me. My walk was slow as we rounded the truck and approached Ky.
“I am afraid I might fall,” I said, drawing to a stop.
AK’s large body moved behind me, and I heard his silent reply: he would not let that happen.
Ky opened the door.
“Li! Come here, baby!” In an instant, my hands were shaking as raggedly as my breathing.
“Oh God,” I choked out, as my nerves became the only thing I could feel.
AK’s hands tightened on my arms as he held me in place. And then she came through the door, and the very air around me stilled.
“What, baby?” she said to her husband. Ky pulled her close to him and turned her around to face me.
I looked at my sister . . . or the person who was now my sister, and I felt as though everything had stopped around me. There was only her and me, in our own world. Only in this world Rebekah had changed. Her long hair was gone; in its place, a short cut that framed her face. And her face . . . her once beautiful face was slashed down one cheek with a red, angry scar. One side of her mouth was slightly upturned with the mark.
A mountain of tears built in my eyes when I saw her, when I studied my sister. The pain of seeing her this way left me paralyzed.
“Phebe.” She stumbled backward into her man’s arms. He steadied her so she did not fall. I closed my eyes at the sound of her gentle voice. Mature now, of course, but it was the same voice that had called me from sleep when she was young and standing at my door. The same voice that would call my name as she tiptoed to my bed and climbed in under the covers because she was scared of the men our father entertained in the living room . . . the men who touched her . . . the men who touched me too . . .
I opened my eyes to see Rebekah approaching me. She wore a long lilac dress, and brown boots on her feet. But I could not stop staring at her face and her hair.
What had happened to her?
“Phebe.” Tears fell from her own eyes as she cautiously stepped toward me. I saw those pretty blue eyes take in my appearance. I understood in that moment that neither of us looked the same to the other.
Both changed.
Irreparably.
“Rebekah.” We approached each other, slowly, cautiously, until there were only inches of air between us.
My hand shook as it covered my mouth, and she mirrored my action. If I were not so shocked by her marred face I would have taken pleasure in the obvious familial gesture. But I could not.
I reached out my shaking hand and touched Rebekah’s cheek. Her blue eyes closed as she sobbed under my touch. My fingertips ran down her scar, the pads caressing the raised skin. “Rebekah,” I cried softly.
Rebekah took hold of my hand and gently pulled me into her embrace. My weak arms wrapped around her waist. My little sister was back in my arms. I held on tightly, as if I would never let go.
“Where have you been?” Rebekah cried. I shook my head, not wanting to ruin this moment. But she held me tighter and said, “You are too thin . . . please, Phebe, are you hurt?”
“I . . .” I hesitated. “I am here now.” A vision of AK swept into my mind, and only one word left my lips. “Safe,” I murmured. “I am safe now.”
We held on to one another for what felt like hours before Rebekah stepped back and took hold of my arms. “Your face,” I said and heard my voice catch and break.
Rebekah shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “It was for the best,” she said gently. “I wanted no beauty. I needed no more beauty.”
“I do… I do not understand.”
“Later. It does not matter now.”
“Who saved you?” she asked. I saw her look over my shoulder. “AK?”
“Yes.” It was the only answer I could give. Her cryptic words still rang in my ears. I needed no more beauty.
“Thank you,” I heard her say to AK.
“Phebe?” A small, soft voice drifted from the house. Rebekah let out a gentle peal of laughter. Taking my hand, she turned around. My already bruised heart cracked right down the middle when a familiar blond head came bustling through the front door.
“Grace,” I whispered. She saw me, and her smiling face lit up. She pounded over the grass, so fast I was concerned she would fall. She attempted to launch herself into my arms, and I braced for her impact, not sure I was strong enough to hold her. But Rebekah stood in my path and scooped Grace up in her arms. “Mama, I wanted to hug Phebe!” Grace scolded. I closed my eyes on hearing such a blessing from her lips.
Mama.
“Aunt Phebe is unwell, Grace. You must be gentle.” Grace’s beautiful face dropped.
“You are sick?” she asked.
“But getting better, child,” I said soothingly. I took a step forward, ignoring the trembling of my legs. “I am all the better for seeing you. You always did brighten up my day.”
Grace smiled, then looked behind me. “Is Prophet Cain with you? Or Brother Meister?”
Her words hit me like a hammer. She meant Judah, not Cain. And of course, she knew Meister. He had made sure they had met. And I had made sure I kept her away from both of them as much as I could.
“No, sweet girl,” I forced out, and watched Rebekah’s concern for me build in her eyes. “They are gone now.”
Grace looked to Rebekah. “Will she live with us and papa?”
I suddenly felt so weak. Too many things were hitting me at once. Grace, Rebekah’s injuries, and now the idea of what came next. What was my life? What did I do out here? Who was I, away from New Zion?
“Phebe?” Rebekah’s voice caressed my ears as my legs finally gave way and I fell to the ground. I blinked, trying to keep my focus, but the world around me kept drifting in and out of sight.
Two arms lifted me, and I relaxed when I smelled the familiar scent of smoke and gunpowder. “Where do I take her?” AK’s gruff voice asked. I was laid down upon a bed. AK placed his hand on my forehead. “Rider said she’ll be weak for the next few days. But more than anything, she needs food and water. And sleep. She ain’t had much real sleep in these past few weeks, as far as I can tell.”
“Thank you, AK,” Rebekah said. She nervously kissed him on his cheek. “I do not know how I will ever thank you for what you have done. You no doubt risked your life for her, to bring her back to me. For that, I am eternally grateful.”
AK lowered his eyes. I knew if I could see them under the shelter of his hair, they would be glistening. He had a tough shell, but something softer lay quietly beneath. And no matter how much I tried to push that thought out of my head, strangely I could think of nothing else.
“I’ll be going now,” AK said, his voice low and raw.
My chest ached at the thought of his absence. Just before he left the room, he turned to meet my eyes and said just one word: “Red.” It was his way of saying goodbye.
“Goodbye, AK.” I said, my voice tired and weak. My eyes began to pull down as sleep came calling. Rebekah sat on the bed beside me and squeezed my hand. “Sleep, sister. You are safe now.” And that was the last thing I remembered. That, and AK’s angel eyes on me as he left.
*****
I blinked in the dark room. The only light came from a small lamp on the side table. Where was I? The soft murmurings of voices came from beyond the door. I threw aside the comforter that was over me, and as my feet hit the floor I remembered where I was.
Rebekah’s.
Feeling stronger than before, I followed the sound of the voices to the room next door. I peeked through the crack in the door to see Rebekah sitting beside Grace’s bed, reading her a story. My heart swelled in my chest as I listened to Rebekah’s soft voice tell her about a hedgehog and rabbit that talked. Grace laughed at the funny passages, then slowly drifted off to sleep. Rebekah closed the book and stood. She tucked Grace in and leaned down to kiss her head. “I love you more than the stars in the sky,” she whispered. Tears pricked my eyes as I watched Grace sound asleep. In another world, that would have been Rebekah. Same coloring, same beautiful face and nature. But she was robbed of that life.
I did not realize Rebekah had approached the door. “Phebe?” She closed the door to Grace’s room. “How are you feeling?” Her worried eyes studied my face.
“Better,” I said, my voice hoarse. “What time is it?”
“Late.” Rebekah took my arm and led me to a large wood-furnished kitchen. I took a seat at the table and watched as Rebekah took a dish out of the oven.
“I made this while you slept. AK told us you would be hungry, or at least that you should eat.”
She placed a plate of a peculiar white-and-red dish before me. “You cooked this?” I asked.
Rebekah’s cheeks flushed. “I like to cook. Since I came here, for good, I have found a passion in cooking.”
I stretched my arm over the table and took hold of her left hand. She wore a wedding ring on fourth finger. I smiled. “You married him.”
“I did,” she confirmed, and I saw the happiness beaming from her face. “He . . . he was not the man I expected would be for me. But then, after everything . . .” She took a breath. “It turned out he is exactly what I need. He is brash and rude. He curses, and he is a dangerous man at times. But he loves me more than I deserve, and I love him more than I ever thought possible. He is . . . he is home.” She shrugged, as if she had explained that badly. But I was speechless at her confession. I had no idea what that kind of peace even was.
“Then I am happy beyond words,” I managed to choke out. “You . . .” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “You, more than anyone, deserve that.”
“I do not know about that, but I thank God for Ky every day.” She sighed. “And Grace.” Rebekah’s grip on my hand tightened, and a silent tear fell from her eye.
“Rebekah?”
My sister shook her head, her short hair falling in front of her face.
“When . . . when they came back from New Zion and told us what Judah had done. All those people . . .” I briefly closed my eyes at the memory. “When they came back without you, my sister, I could not breathe. I feared . . . I feared you had been killed too. Then Rider—Cain—told me you had saved Grace. You had saved Grace and sent her to me because you knew I would care for her.” She shook her head. “I did not know what to feel. You were missing, but you had given me a blessing you could not know the magnitude of.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I could hear the pain in her voice.
Rebekah breathed deeply, then said, “When I returned from Perdition Hill, I—” She cleared her throat. “I was not in a good place.” She absently traced the scar down her face. “I did not want this face anymore, Phebe. I wanted none of it. So I cut myself. I hurt myself to take away the temptation I held for men.”
I had been sure nothing could hurt me more than the past few days, than AK keeping me in his cabin, purging me of Meister’s potion. I was wrong. Knowing that my Rebekah, the girl who had been taken away for being too beautiful, had been compelled to do this to herself . . . it hurt me more than anything on this earth could have done.
And I had been a part of it. Convinced her that her looks were sinful.
“Rebekah . . .” I heard the horror and guilt in my own voice.
“It is okay,” she said. “It took me a while to face those demons, but I got through it. Then . . .”
“Then what?”
“Then it was discovered that I could not have children.” And the remnants of my heart withered to dust. A strange kind of numbness filtered through my body. A numbness I could not explain, as though a switch of some kind had been flicked off within me.
“Everything that had been done to me over the years. What Judah ordered his men to do to me when I was recaptured . . . it was too much on my body. It . . . it broke my heart, Phebe.” Rebekah straightened her back, trying to be strong. I wanted to sweep her into my arms and tell her it was all my fault, that I had stood back and watched it happen. “And then you gave us Grace.”
I winced, the pain stabbing into me like a knife. My beautifully scarred sister, who should never have gone through any of this.
“You gifted us an angel when you saved Grace. By saving her, you saved me. I will never be able to repay you for that miracle. You gave Grace a life. Hers would have echoed mine had you not intervened. Or she would have perished with the rest of The Order.” Rebekah rose and walked around the table to crouch at my feet. “And now you are here too. I . . .” She wiped a tear from her eyes. “I do not know how you did it, but you, my sister, saved us with your act of courage.”
I heard her words, yet I could not give them credence. Because I did not save her. No matter what penance I paid, no matter that I had saved Grace, I had failed my sister, and now I found that it had irreparably marred her life.
“You need not thank me at all,” I said and meant every word. “Grace was meant to be yours. As soon as I saw her, and knew the danger her beauty posed, I had to get her to you, somehow, some way. Because I knew your pure heart would adore her.” Rebekah chased the wetness from my cheeks, and I reached out and held on to her wrist. “I should have said this many years ago and somehow fought for you, come for you. I was wrong to believe what they told us about you. You are not devil-created. I realized this too late, even though I saw your pain. I foolishly believed in the prophet, until I saw our faith begin to unravel before my eyes. I . . . I—”
“Shh.” Rebekah shook her head. “It is over now. We cannot go back.” I wanted to argue that although we could not go back, it was also impossible for some of us to move on. But I held my worry inside. Cautiously, Rebekah asked, “What . . . where have you been, Phebe? What did that man do to you?” Her eyes were full of concern. “You are so thin. I . . . I cannot bear the thought—”
This time I shushed her. “Shh, Rebekah.” I chased the truth from my mouth. “I was not hurt, I promise. I was held by Meister as his prisoner. He was neglectful, but not hurtful to me. Be at peace. I am well. We all are now.”
Rebekah released a long breath, and I watched her shoulders relax, as though an incredible weight had been lifted from them.
She pulled me close and hugged me. I closed my eyes and held back my tears. Rebekah did not need to know of my suffering. She had already endured that and more. Laughing, Rebekah pulled back. “Your food. You must eat it before it gets cold.”
Rebekah sat down opposite me. She smiled at me as she took a sip of her drink, and I forced the food down my throat. I felt the marks on my arm itch. If I’d had Meister’s potion available right then, I would have used it, just to escape this world for a while.
When I had finished the last of the food, I lowered my fork. “Everyone here calls you Lilah or Li.”
She nodded. “I prefer those names. The memories that come with Rebekah can be difficult to relive at times.”
I understood. “Then I will call you Lilah too.”
“Thank you.” She yawned.
“Go to sleep, sister,” I said and got to my feet.
“Are you not tired too?” she asked.
“No, but I could very much use some fresh air. I . . . I did not feel the wind on my face too much where I have been.” I tried to remember if that was true. I couldn’t really recall it, but I was certain it was true all the same.
“There are chairs on the porch. Take all the time you need. You will be safe here, I promise. You are free.”
“Thank you.” I made my way to the door. As I passed Lilah she took hold of my hand, and once again I was wrapped in her embrace. “I find I cannot let you go,” she said, and my heart melted.
“I am going nowhere,” I assured her. “Now get to bed. You are tired.”
I opened the door and stepped out into the fresh air. I heard Lilah walk away, and I relaxed. I could drop all the pretense. But I did not see him beside me. I did not see him sitting there in the dark until I noticed a flicker of movement and the light of a burning cigarette. I jumped and placed my hand over my now-racing heart.
Ky got to his feet. “You scared me,” I said.
Lilah’s husband stepped toward me, a puff of white air splitting the dark. “You lied to her.”
I automatically shook my head in protest, but he held up his hand. “Thank you,” he said raggedly. I blinked in disbelief as I watched the tightness leave his eyes. “I know what you’ve been through, at least some of it. And I saw you in AK’s cabin when he got you out. Yet you told Li you were good. So . . . thank you.”
I nodded, having no words to say. Ky walked to the door. “You can stay here as long as you want.”
He left me alone, his kindness hanging in the air in his wake. It only served to cut deeper. I made my way to the rocking chair that Ky had just vacated. I sat down, relieving my aching muscles, and stared out into the darkness. The stars were bright up above, and bats swooped around the large garden. Children’s toys were scattered around the grass. Lilah was right. This was her home.
Then I thought of her face. Thought of the fact that she could no longer have children, because of what the Elders had done to her. And I hated it all. I wished that AK had not saved me. I wished that Meister’s potion still mixed with my blood, because it made me forget. Above all, I wanted to forget.
I thought of Grace in her bed and Lilah reading to her, brushing a kiss on her head. My heart yearned for a moment such as that. But that hope had died, long ago, and my soul had faded too. The sins I bore in secret made it feel as though my life had no point anymore.
That I no longer had a purpose, now I was here, starting over again, but separated from the missing piece of my heart.
I ran my hand along the marks on my arm, the flesh itching and yearning for what I could not give my thirsty vein. Then my hand hit something beside the chair. I grabbed hold of the object and brought it into the light cast by the lantern attached to the ceiling.
Jack Daniels.
I removed the cap, and a familiar scent filled my nose. Meister would drink this in New Zion. A sudden image of him, drinking after he had joined with me in a dark room, hit me. I flinched when the memory made me feel sick. When I remembered the blood. The pain between my legs. His seed on my skin and the heavenly needle being injected into my arm . . .
He would use this to relax.
I raised the bottle and drank from the neck. The bitter liquid burned my throat. I coughed as it took the breath from my lungs. But then the liquid traveled through my body and lightened some of the pain I bore.
So I took another sip, and another, and one more, until I felt the pain subside and the image of Lilah’s ruined face leave my mind. Whenever memories tried to infiltrate my mind—Meister’s handlings, Judah’s betrayal—I drank some more. And when the worst of my memories tried to stab me, bruise me, destroy me, I drowned them with the drink, begging them to flee.
Eventually, the world became blissfully numb and my mind became immune to all evil. Yet one image did not leave. AK’s face and kind eyes stayed with me as I watched the bats fly in the midnight sky.
And I was okay with that. Because in this whole mess, he was a shining beacon of hope. The only face that made me feel safe. Because there was a darkness in him too, a fellow traveler on the same uneasy road.
So I let his angel eyes watch over me as I slumped in the chair.
I let them keep me safe.
Safe . . .