At Isobel’s house, Katharine’s bedside manner was much warmer.
Avery stood by as Katharine listened to the fetal heartbeat and palpated Isobel’s baby bump gently. The swelling around Isobel’s eye was down, replaced by a spectacular bruise. Avery’s heart went out to her.
“You’ll have to wait until it fades,” Katharine said, touching Isobel’s face.
Makeup would help disguise the injury, but that was another contraband item around here. It was ironic that men were free to abuse their wives, but wives weren’t allowed to hide the evidence.
“I know a home remedy for bruises,” Avery said. “It reduces pain and swelling and helps cover the mark.”
Isobel perked up. “Really?”
Avery named a few everyday pantry items that would create a makeup substitute. While Isobel gathered the ingredients, Katharine turned to Avery.
“I have to visit the main house. They’re very private, so I’ll go alone.”
Avery tried to look disappointed. In actuality, she was happy to avoid Father Jeff’s lair, and splitting up suited her other objective perfectly. She agreed to meet Katharine back at the health office and said goodbye.
Isobel set the necessary items on the kitchen table, along with a porcelain bowl and a fine paintbrush, at Avery’s request.
“Do you have any berries?” Avery asked.
“I have boysenberries.”
“That will do.”
She brought them to the table. Avery whipped up a pale beige paste with baking soda, tea and calamine. She painted the tincture on the affected area around Isobel’s eye. Then she rinsed the brush and made a second mix with tea and crushed berries. She applied it to Isobel’s lips to disguise the injury. When she was finished, Avery studied her work, pleased with the results. Isobel was pretty to begin with, which helped. The simple remedy made her black eye and split lip almost indiscernible.
Isobel went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. “It’s like magic,” she exclaimed.
Avery, who was standing in the doorway, smiled at her response. “Do you think Jeremiah will mind?”
“He’s not here, so it doesn’t matter,” Isobel said.
“Oh?”
“He’s due back tonight, but he’ll be busy with Father Jeff. They meet for hours every time he takes a trip.”
“Where does he go?”
“I don’t know. He goes somewhere to talk to the outside militia about the reckoning.”
“He talks to outsiders?”
“They aren’t really outsiders,” Isobel said. “They’re members who work on the outside. Some of them grew up here.”
Avery wanted to collect more information about the militia, its members and Jeremiah’s clandestine activities, but she was afraid to rouse Isobel’s suspicions. “Does Imogen know?” she asked gently.
“Does she know what?”
“That Jeremiah…has a temper.”
Isobel tore her gaze from the mirror, her face pale. “You must have misunderstood. I had an accident. I was clumsy.”
“I’m sorry,” Avery said. “I didn’t meant to pry.”
“You should go now.”
Avery nodded, swallowing hard. She saw herself out. Although she felt sorry for Isobel, she couldn’t save every woman here. She had to prioritize her efforts. She didn’t see Katharine outside, so she returned to the garden house. Her pulse pounded with trepidation as she knocked on the door.
“Grace?”
“What do you want?”
“It’s, um, Ellen. Can I come in?”
Grace let her in. She seemed curious about Ellen’s reappearance. “First it was Avellen. Now it’s Umellen.”
Avery didn’t know if she’d get another opportunity to speak privately with Grace, so she decided to go for broke. “My name’s not Ellen,” she said in a low, steady voice. “It’s Avery. When I lived here, it was Hannah.”
Grace tilted her head to one side, puzzled. “Hannah?”
“I’m your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister.”
Avery led the girl by the arm toward the bed and urged her to sit down. “I escaped the day you were born. Our mother died in childbirth. I ran away and lived as an outsider for almost twenty years.”
“My mother died last year.”
“That wasn’t your mother. Our mother’s name was Sarah. She was cowives with Katharine.”
“No,” Grace said. Her eyes filled with tears. “You’re lying. My mother’s name was Louise. My father was Henry. He died before I was born.”
“Your father was Gary.”
Grace stood, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You’re lying. You know how I know? Because no one in their right mind would come back here.”
Avery rose with her. “I came back for you. I’m going to get you out.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Grace let out a shrill laugh. “You’re crazy, Umellen. Hannah-Anne. Whoever you are.”
“I can help you escape.”
Shaking her head, Grace opened a drawer by the bed. Inside was a joint and lighter. She sparked it up, defiant. “This is what helps me escape,” she said, inhaling deep. “I don’t need you.”
Avery wanted to take the joint away from her and smash it, but she restrained herself. “Marijuana is bad for you and the baby.”
Grace took another drag. “That’s why I like it.”
“Who gives it to you? The guards?” An idea occurred to her. “Jeremiah?”
The young woman avoided her gaze, exhaling smoke in a ragged breath. Her eyes watered again.
“Are you having an affair with him?”
“Ugh,” Grace said. “I’m so fat right now. I’d rather die.”
“But you accept drugs from him. In exchange for what?”
She shrugged, evasive.
“Did he kill Caleb?” Avery asked.
This question appeared to strike a nerve. Grace set the joint aside. “Where did you hear that?”
“If you know something about his disappearance, I can help you talk to the authorities. We’ll go together. If there’s evidence of a serious crime, they’ll come to shut this place down. Everyone will be free.”
Grace picked up the joint again, shaking her head in disbelief. “Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Maybe I’ll tell Jeremiah about this conversation.”
The air rushed from Avery’s lungs. She’d miscalculated. She’d assumed that Grace’s rebellious attitude meant she’d be open to leaving the commune. But there was no foundation of trust between them. Of course the girl didn’t believe Avery could help her. The level of indoctrination in the cult, as well as the fear of reprisal, kept its members obedient. Grace had chosen Jeremiah over Avery for a reason. He was the devil she knew.
“When are you due?” Avery asked.
“Any day now.”
“Okay. I’ll try to get proof of my identity.” Surely there were birth records, school photographs or some evidence of Hannah’s existence. “If you go into labor, send for me. I have more medical training than Katharine.”
“A monkey has more medical training than Katharine.”
“Remember that our mother died in childbirth. Factor in the marijuana, and you’re at very high risk for complications.”
Grace didn’t appear swayed by this argument. In fact, she continued smoking with relish. Avery realized that there was another kind of escape the young woman might be considering. Death was the ultimate respite from pain and loss.
Tears flooded Avery’s eyes as she watched Grace get high. It was ironic that Ellen’s fake backstory featured a sister on drugs. Avery left the cottage before she could do any more damage. She’d already broken her cover and risked the entire assignment. If Grace followed through on her threat to tell Jeremiah, the consequences would be dire.
Avery had to get proof—before Jeremiah returned from his trip.
When she reentered the commune, she went straight to the health office to search for records. There were two important-looking leather-bound journals on the shelf next to the homeopathic remedies. One had Births embossed on the cover in gold. The other said Deaths. Avery donned her glasses to flip through them.
She located her birth year and date near the middle of the book. Someone had written “Hannah, daughter to Gary and Sarah,” in neat script. Avery flipped forward thirteen years, scanning for Grace’s name. There was an entry under the correct year, but wrong month: “Grace, daughter to Louise and Henry (deceased).”
Four months earlier, in the middle of June, there was another entry: “Baby girl (deceased), daughter to Gary and Sarah (deceased).” Avery assumed that Louise, the previous midwife, had kept these records. Avery only vaguely remembered her. It was obvious that Louise hadn’t wanted Grace to know about her real mother. She must have falsified this information. The steps she’d taken to cover up the truth frustrated Avery. She’d hoped to find evidence, not obfuscations.
Frowning, she moved on to Deaths. Baby Girl and Sarah made an appearance here, on the same day as the birth. There was a short description of the reason for death in a slanted scrawl. Someone else wrote the death records. Dr. Winslow, perhaps. He might be the coroner, as well as the doctor and the vet. Three days after Baby Girl and Sarah, Hannah’s name appeared. The reason for death? Broken neck.
Broken neck?
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken the words out loud until Katharine entered the office with Imogen at her side. Imogen looked like a tidy storm cloud in her charcoal-gray dress. Avery wanted to close the book and put it back on the shelf, but Imogen swooped in to peer over Avery’s shoulder.
“What are you reading?” Imogen asked.
“Death records.”
Katharine glanced at the page Avery had landed on. “Tragic story. That poor girl ran into the woods after her mother died. They found her at the bottom of a ravine. She must have fallen in the dark.”
Avery wondered if there was a headstone in the cemetery with Hannah’s name on it, and an empty grave underneath.
“Do you remember Hannah?” Katharine asked Imogen. “She used to babysit you.”
A crease formed between Imogen’s brows. She stared at Avery for a long moment. Avery didn’t avert her gaze, even though she felt like her hair was on fire, and her former name was stamped on her forehead. She closed the book with silent dread. Her heart pounded like a drum inside her chest.
Imogen turned to her mother and said, “No. I don’t remember her.”
“Don’t worry,” Katharine said to Avery. “We don’t have accidents like that often.”
“You got your glasses back,” Imogen said.
Avery took off the glasses and hid them in her pocket. She realized that they indicated a favor from Jonah. Imogen was fixated on this, not Avery’s resemblance to a girl named Hannah. Avery drew in a breath of relief. “I only need them for reading.”
“How’s Isobel?” Imogen asked, changing the subject.
“Busy,” Katharine replied shortly. “As am I.”
If Imogen felt slighted by the brush-off, she didn’t show it. These were the starchiest women Avery had ever met. Avery supposed it was a survival mechanism, a sort of armor against the harsh conditions in the commune.
After Imogen left, Katharine and Avery continued to make house calls. There were four other pregnant women to visit, and a number of babies who needed checkups. Summer was the season of teeth cleaning, as well. Katharine encouraged all of the mothers to make an appointment.
Avery was about to take lunch when a young woman rushed into the health office carrying a screaming toddler. She thought the boy had been bitten by a snake, maybe a rattler. Avery examined the affected area.
“It’s a beesting,” she said, smiling.
By the time the boy and his mother calmed down, the lunch hour was almost over. Avery saw Nick only in passing. After a quick bite, she went back to work. Katharine kept her busy for the rest of the afternoon. When the dinner bell clanged, Avery rushed to meet Nick. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“I need to shower first,” he said. “I’m filthy.”
She walked to the cabins with him. She didn’t know what to say about her exchange with Grace, so she said nothing. Maybe he was too tired to notice her silence—or he was thinking about his own secrets. He grabbed a bar of soap and a fresh set of clothes before heading to the showers. She decided to do the same. When she emerged from the bathroom with damp hair and clean clothes, he was waiting for her.
“How was your day?” he asked as they walked to dinner.
“Eventful,” she admitted. “Yours?”
“Exhausting.”
She reached for his hand and held it. His palm felt rough and warm. The blisters had already turned into calluses. He used his other hand to massage his neck. She remembered how his muscles had flexed the night before, when he’d washed his shirt in the sink. He was working hard and it showed.
“Sore?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll give you a back rub.”
His gaze glinted with sexual interest, even though he’d spurned her less than twenty-four hours ago. She looked away, flushing. She hadn’t meant to tease him. Or herself, for that matter. Offering to touch him was a bad idea.
She didn’t speak at all during dinner. He made conversation of the farming type that required no response from her. Anyone listening in would assume that Nick Dean had a one-track mind. Avery marveled at his ability to do this in a way that appeared sincere and effortless. It was almost as if he’d memorized a very dull script. He was probably some kind of genius. And she was, without a doubt, in love with him.
She’d always thought the moment she knew she loved someone would be joyous, like the elation of standing at the top of a mountain after a long hike. Instead, she felt a mixture of anxiety and dread. Because she had to tell him what she’d said to Grace earlier. He would be horrified. This case was everything to him. She wished she’d come up with some evidence that she was Hannah, or that she and Grace were sisters. Short of convincing Grace to escape the commune and become a star witness, Avery didn’t know how to fix her blunder.
Being in love sucked.
She managed to eat most of her meal, so maybe she’d become numb to stress. It was Wednesday night, and there was church service after dinner. She sat next to Nick and held his hand as Jonah regaled the audience with moral stories. She hadn’t slept well the night before, because of Nick’s escapades. She could hardly keep her eyes open now.
At the end of the service, Imogen trotted up to them. “Brother Jonah needs to see you in the rectory.”
Avery’s heart sank at her smug announcement. Had Grace reported her?
“Of course,” he said easily. “You look pretty tonight, Sister Imogen.”
Imogen thanked him for the compliment, which sounded sincere. Nick Dean wasn’t always boring. He could turn on the charm when it suited him. Imogen escorted them to Brother Jonah’s office, where she was summarily dismissed. Nick smiled at her on the way out. She bumped into the doorframe.
Avery focused on Jonah. His expression was serious, his hair slicked back. Nick congratulated him on a rousing service. Jonah wasn’t as starved for flattery as Imogen. His smile didn’t reach his cool green eyes.
“How are the two of you adjusting?” he asked.
Nick launched into his farming soliloquy, which Jonah cut off.
“The last time we sat down together, we discussed Sister Ellen’s fertility issues. Can you give me an update on your progress?”
Nick cocked his head to the side. “It’s only been three days.”
“And?”
Avery squirmed in her seat. This wasn’t the interrogation she’d expected, but it was an uncomfortable one nonetheless.
“I think it’s too soon to tell,” Nick said.
“I’m asking if you’ve made an effort.”
“Of course we have.”
Jonah turned to Avery. “Is your husband pleasing you every night?”
Nick held up a hand in objection. “Brother Jonah, can we continue this conversation in private? These are personal matters—”
“She’s got a right to know what you’ve been doing.”
“What I’ve been doing?”
“Brother Sage reported an incident to me this afternoon. He caught his wife, Nadine, sneaking in after a rendezvous last night. When he went out in search of her companion, he spotted you returning to your cabin.”
Avery’s palms turned sweaty and her pulse raced.
“I can explain,” Nick said.
“Please do.”
“I couldn’t remember if I turned off the water pump yesterday. I woke up in a panic, so I went out there to check. It was a false alarm.”
“You never saw Nadine?”
“No.”
“There’s a problem with your story, Brother Nick.”
“What’s that?”
Jonah leaned forward. “Nadine admitted to her transgression with you.”
Nick appeared stunned by this turn of events. He’d done Nadine and Brent a kindness by not reporting them, and this was the thanks he got. If he told the truth now, Jonah probably wouldn’t believe him.
“She’s lying,” Avery said, with conviction. “Nick couldn’t have done it.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s impotent,” she said.
Nick turned toward Avery, his jaw slack. Instead of issuing a denial, he covered his eyes with one hand in shame.
“He couldn’t cheat if he wanted to.”
Jonah studied Nick intently. “Is that true, Brother Nick?”
Nick actually shuddered, as if suffering from acute embarrassment. Then he lifted his hand from his face and focused on Jonah. “It’s a temporary side effect of my illness. I just need more time to build faith and heal my body.”
Jonah tapped his fingertips on the surface on the desk. “This should have been brought to my attention earlier, Brother Nick. Instead of humbling yourself before God, you hid your affliction and pointed the finger at your lovely wife.”
“Have mercy on him,” Avery pleaded, her voice breaking. “He already feels like less than a man.”
Nick made a wounded sound and rose from the chair. “It’s a temporary affliction. Should I have announced it on the pulpit, next to Father Jeff? Maybe he could have focused his healing powers on my manhood instead of Ellen’s womb.”
Jonah narrowed his eyes. “You question my father’s methods?”
Nick didn’t answer. “I’ll recover soon enough, and I’ll do my husbandly duties. In the meantime, I’d rather cut off my own hand than betray my wife.” He gestured toward Avery. “Look at her. Why would I go elsewhere? I would die to touch her again. No other woman compares.”
Avery was moved to tears by his passionate entreaty. She wished with all of her heart that he meant some of those words, but she knew it was just a performance. She was torn between loving him for being so damned good at his job, and hating him for the same reason. His deceptions were so convincing, she never knew when he was lying.
“God’s grace,” Nick snarled, and left the room.
“Well,” Jonah said, after a pause. “That struck a nerve.”
Avery came to her feet, still weeping. Jonah stood to console her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and offered her a monogrammed handkerchief. She remembered when Nick had done the same. She dabbed her eyes with the fabric, which smelled faintly of antiseptic. She preferred Nick in every way, but especially by scent. No other man compared.
She pressed her face to Jonah’s shirt. “Why aren’t you married?” she murmured.
“I haven’t been blessed yet.”
“Who does the blessings?”
“My father.”
“You’ve never asked him to select a wife for you?”
“I asked him once.”
“What did he do?”
Jonah stroked her hair with a careful hand. “That’s a story for another day.”
“All I ever wanted was a baby,” she whispered.
“Let me know what I can do to help.”
She could guess what he wanted to do. She gazed up at him. “If Nick doesn’t recover…”
“I’ll be here.”
With a grateful nod, she fled.