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Fifty-eight days later
The bride room of Sabor's Faith Tabernacle bustled with activity as three females vied for the mirror at the same time.
"Mercie, hold still," Scottlyn scolded.
"I want to get married, Mommy."
"So do I, and I'd like for both of us to look our best." She tightened the pink bow in Mercie's hair.
Mercie spun away and faced Diana. "Am I bootiful?"
Diana cupped her chin. "More than."
Scottlyn stooped down next to her daughter. "I have one more thing to make it perfect. Close your eyes and hold out your hands."
Mercie did as she was told, but she bounced in her satin slippers.
Scottlyn laid a small box in her hands. "OK."
Mercie opened her eyes. "A present?" She looked up.
"It's a wedding gift for bootiful little girls. Take out the card and I'll help you read it."
The three-year-old ripped the card from the box and held it up to her mother. "Read it...read it..."
Miss Mercie, Happy wedding day. Will you be my little girl forever? I love you, Daddy.
Mercie giggled. "Grant..."
Scottlyn frowned down at her. "Who?"
"I mean Daddy." Her eyes went round when she opened the box. Small gold hoops rested on the black velvet inside. She stroked them with a finger. "Can I wear them?"
"Of course." Scottlyn stooped, removed Mercie's favorite pink studs, and replaced them with the hoops.
Mercie stared into the mirror, turning her head back and forth.
"That was sweet," Diana said.
"Grant picked them out last week. He wanted her to have something that would last."
"He's a good man. You're very lucky."
Scottlyn shook her head. "Luck had nothing to do with it. I'm blessed beyond measure."
The women looked up at a knock on the door and an anonymous voice. "You ladies ready?"
Scottlyn looked at the surrogate mother who would give her away and the daughter ready to fling pink rose petals in her path. "Let's do this."
At the entry to the auditorium, she joined hands with Diana. The music changed, and Scottlyn's breath caught in her throat when Grant looked up. She saw every answer she ever needed in her groom's eyes.
Her home with Diana, the saving grace of an awesome God, her precious daughter, the new hope that she would see her mother again, the promise of the future she saw on Grant's face. No matter how she sliced it, looked at it, or spelled it, every smidge of her life truly was all about Mercie.
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A PEEK AT MAC, SISTER’S BY DESIGN, BOOK ONE:
“Stop telling me what to do! I hate you!”
“Riley...” Mackenzie Soeurs flinched as the slamming back door accented her son’s words.
“This is what happens when you turn your back on your upbringing. That boy needs some religious discipline back in his life, Mackenzie!”
Mac dug her fingers into the tense muscles at the back of her neck. “Not now, Mom.”
“He’s going to hell, and you’re stamping his ticket.”
Mac let her head fall forward. Let it go...let it go...let it go. “This move’s been hard on him. He’ll come around.” And he’ll do it without the poison of your warped, narrow version of religion. She didn’t say it aloud, but the words danced dangerously close to her lips.
Her mother’s brows came together in a familiar frown. “If his father were still alive...”
Mac tuned it out. Nothing was going to change her mother’s opinion. That she continued to harp months after leaving their old life behind was proof enough of that.
“I have to get to the spa. I’m teaching my first fitness class this morning, and I’ve got someone coming in to help with the aquarium.”
“Waste of good time and money if you ask me. A spa for women.” The last four words dripped sarcasm as she narrowed her eyes at Mac. “A woman’s place is in the home, not out gallivanting. If you spent a little more time being the mother you were taught to be, maybe your son wouldn’t be running wild.”
The spa, like Riley, remained a bone of contention despite the fact that it put a roof over their heads and food in the pantry. “Breakfast is on the table, your lunch is in the fridge. If I get a break between clients, I’ll come check on you this afternoon.”
“Bah...” The old woman clumped the rest of the way into the kitchen aided by her walker. “Don’t bother. I know how to take care of myself.” She lowered herself into a chair and reached for a biscuit. Steam rose over the table as she split the soft mound in two, filling the kitchen with the aroma of warm bread.
Mac left her there. The morning confrontation with Riley had cost precious minutes she didn’t have to spare. But questions nagged at her as she prepared to leave. Is he running wild because I’m too busy? Has the change in culture been too much too fast? She couldn’t figure it out. They finally had the freedom to live their lives without the restrictions The Body had imposed on its followers. She was thriving. Her business was thriving. Why was the transition proving to be so difficult for her son?
Keys in hand, she grabbed her gym bag and tried to put the ugly scene behind her. She reached for the door.
“Mackenzie!”
The demanding tone of the summons clenched her teeth so hard, her jaw ached. I could just leave...pretend I didn’t hear her. Years of training bit into her half-formed thoughts of rebellion. The bag thudded to the floor, and Mac made her way back to the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table, arms crossed, mouth drawn down in disapproval.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Her mother glared at her over folded arms. “My strawberry preserves are not on the table.”
The pressure of Mac’s grip threatened to fuse the keys in her hand into a crumpled blob of metal. She made a conscious effort to relax her fingers, opened the refrigerator, located the missing condiment, and crossed the six feet to the table. Mac marveled at her own restraint when the glass jar came to rest in front of her mother with a gentle thump instead of the crash her fraying patience demanded.
“Anything else?”
Her mother reached for the jar. “You may go.”
The abrupt dismissal rankled, but she turned without a word and backtracked to the front door. The mother I was raised to be? Mac closed her eyes. I hope not!
I love my mother. Mac scolded herself. Even when I’m tempted to believe those feelings aren’t reciprocated. Tempted? Mac searched her memory. I love you didn’t seem to be a part of her mother’s vocabulary.
Bringing the older woman on this leg of their journey hadn’t been a part of Mac’s original exit strategy. But her mother’s deteriorating health derailed her plans to leave her behind. Anna Moore was a strong-willed and independent woman. Her stroke four years ago had sucked the independence from her life, and despite the will that remained, she couldn’t live by herself any longer. So she came west with Mac and Riley, pronouncing fire and brimstone over every mile of the journey.
Mom made her objections to Mac’s plans to separate herself and Riley from the social and religious confines of The Body clear from day one. Mac was going to hell for forsaking the teaching of the...
Mac searched for a word, never sure what to call it, even after thirty years of living in it. Commune...organization...cult?
“Mackenzie!”
Her fingers clenched on the knob, and her shoulders bunched. Cult...today it’s a cult. Mac sailed through the door without a backward glance. If she didn’t get out of the house, her sanity would be history along with her schedule.
The short drive to the spa calmed her nerves. Spring was coming to Garfield, Oklahoma. The signs of new life reflected Mac’s hopes for this fresh start. The question had been asked, by more than one new acquaintance, how someone from a tiny community in the mountains of New York State had ended up in small town Oklahoma. No, she didn’t have family here. No, she’d never visited as a child. Mac smiled to herself as she drove, knowing if she told them, no one would believe the truth about her previous life or her journey from there to here.
Mac remembered full well how she’d ended up in Garfield. After she’d completed her associates degree and received her ACE certification, she’d hung a map of the U.S. on the wall of her tiny apartment and tossed a dart. Mac lifted a shoulder.
The minute they’d worked out the details of Kevin’s estate, she began making plans to leave behind the confines of home and the restrictive religious practices of her husband and family.
Mac took a breath and waited for some bit of grief to cross her heart. Nothing came. After thirteen years of marriage, she’d have thought there’d be some feeling of loss. All she felt was a mixture of gratitude, relief, and guilt. Gratitude that Kevin had been less rigid than other men in the community, and he’d left her well provided for. Relief that the marriage arranged by her parents was over. Guilt that any sadness at his passing was so over shadowed with reprieve. She was finally free.
And as it turned out, her lucky dart had known what it was doing. Garfield was a pretty little town surrounded by larger ones in all four directions. A thriving community where signs of growth and progress existed in new store fronts all along Main Street. A place where quiet ambiance had spoken to something deep inside on that first visit. A place where no one had ever heard of The Body. A place where peace...if peace were possible for someone like her...might be found.
Mac pulled into her parking spot behind Soeurs Body Renaissance, a fancy French name for what she hoped was a comfortable place. Well, she amended, not too comfortable for her new fitness clients. She glanced at the time. Seven-thirty. The spa opened for general business at nine, but her first fitness class started at eight. Mac had thirty precious minutes to herself.
The back door opened into a small hallway with a tiny kitchen area on one side and the restrooms on the other. Turning lights on as she went, Mac bypassed the two massage cubicles and the matching facial treatment rooms and entered the main spa area. Six pedicure chairs lined the west wall, facing an equal number of nail stations on the east. The street entrance was on the north wall, fronted by a small waiting space on one side, her pride and joy on the other.
She toggled the light on the top of the massive one hundred seventy-five gallon salt water aquarium, grinning at the way the fish congregated in the corner closest to her. Large and small, colorful and plain, fins waving, mouths puffing, all confident that feeding time was the next thing on her agenda.
Mac tisked at the slight haze of algae on the inside of the glass. Removing it was a daily job and always at the top of her list on Monday morning, until today. “Morning everyone. I have a surprise for you guys.” The fish wiggled in apparent anticipation. “I’ve hired someone to come in every Monday morning to clean your tank and freshen your water.” Mac sprinkled dried food over the top of the water. The fish danced and swirled in their bid for the choicest tidbits. Their colorful ballet never got old.
“Now don’t think that means I don’t love you. You all know I do, but business is booming, and I don’t have the time I had when I adopted you guys six months ago. I’ll still take care of the day-to-day stuff, and I’ll have a sharp eye on Dane Cooper. He comes highly recommended, but if he mistreats you,” Mac jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “he’s out of here.”
The ever changing vista inside the tank finished the job the drive started. The remaining tension rolled off her shoulders. The aquarium was a huge investment in both time and money, but the relaxation benefits were more than worth it. A good thing, since it was the only entertainment allowed in this portion of the spa.
Not that she could keep her clients from bringing in their cell phones and tablets. As long as they kept the volume turned off, that was their choice. But there was no Wi-Fi offered here, no TVs blaring from every corner of the room. Here, the background noise was the peaceful bubbling of the aquarium filters, along with the recorded sound of rain falling in a forest, accented by the occasional sound of a bird or insect. She’d lived without a TV for the first thirty years of her life. Her clients would survive a two-hour stretch.
She jogged up the stairs to the second level. Here the pampering stopped and the hard work began. Her workout clients would expect her to push them a bit, and that exercise session started with a climb up the steep staircase. When the lights came on, Mac allowed her gaze to sweep the newly outfitted room.
Mindful of disturbing the peaceful atmosphere she tried to maintain downstairs, she’d taken special precautions here to keep the exercise noise contained. The large room had extra insulation in the walls, new carpet over heavy duty pad on the floor. Brightly colored exercise mats covered most of the open space, filling the room with the smell of new vinyl. Mac gave the weight stations and equipment lining the walls a quick inspection and nodded her satisfaction. Everything was ready.
This morning’s group would be the first. She’d opened the downstairs portion of the business eleven months ago, starting with manis and pedis and a plan to expand into massage and fitness as her clientele grew. Mac had anticipated a year before adding massages and facials to the mix, maybe two before adding the fitness option. All of her expansion was dependent on the reception of her clients. To say that the spa had been well received by the women in Garfield would be a gross understatement.
Soeurs blossomed like a garden in a spring rain, allowing her to open the fitness portion months ahead of her projected schedule. If she’d believed in a benevolent God, she would have thanked Him. Instead her thanks went to Kevin’s elder sister, the catalyst of her escape.
“Get out while you can.”
Elaine’s words echoed, the best advice Mac had ever received. The older woman, also widowed, had come to say goodbye to her brother and stayed long enough to share her experiences in the outside world, encouraging Mac to break free of The Body while she had the chance.
“Escape while you can, Mackenzie. There’s freedom out there. Freedom to choose your own path. Freedom to live, to breathe, to believe whatever you want. I know it’s scary, but it’s a choice I’ve never regretted.”
So she’d swallowed her fear and turned her back on the harsh teachings of her youth and the dire consequences they predicted for a woman operating in a man’s world. Yes, her mother had objected, refusing to see anything but selfishness in Mac’s motives. And Mom was partially right. Mac had made the choice for herself, and she was proud of what she’d accomplished. But her dreams were secondary. She’d been so certain that Riley would benefit as well. She closed her eyes. What am I doing wrong?
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