Twenty-Five

I stood there staring up at the golden cross glinting in the fading daylight. It flashed like a beacon against the dusk. I rubbed my upper arms briskly, hoping to ward off the chill that was quickly making its way through my thin cotton shirt. No use; the bitter cold had settled into my bones the second I saw Luke’s finger.

My head was throbbing and my mind was one steady stream of incoherent thoughts. Truth was, I couldn’t remember a damn thing about the past few hours. I remembered the jewelry box, Elijah laughing, and Luke’s finger, but nothing else. I’d gone numb, placed one foot in front of the other, and walked toward the front door of the chapel, staring into a future that looked bleaker by the moment.

I gripped the railing by the outside steps, its frigid metal bringing me back to the present. Elijah was standing at the top of the steps, smiling and clapping an older man on the back. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they looked at ease with each other, grinning as they spoke.

“It’s going to be okay, Dee,” Joseph whispered.

His hand brushed against mine, and I pulled away. “Leave me alone.”

I blamed Joseph for this. If he hadn’t run off. If he hadn’t set off the alarms. If he hadn’t approached us that morning. If he hadn’t been so intent on saving his sister. All these what ifs leading me back to where I was … stuck. “This is your fault, you know. Your stupid, idiotic, selfish plan has ruined all our lives.”

A car pulled alongside the chapel, and Joseph tensed beside me. I ignored the man exiting the driver’s side and followed Joseph’s gaze to the passenger side, my eyes trailing from the man’s polished boots to his crisp pants to the gun holstered at his side. I kept going, my heart catching in my throat when I saw his shiny silver badge.

A tiny bit of hope surfaced as I took in his brown uniform. The Hoopers must have sensed something was wrong when I didn’t call last night and notified the police. Or maybe somebody passing by heard the sirens or saw our mangled car and called it in. Perhaps Mike had gotten away. Propelled by my own stupid optimism, I lunged forward. If I could only get his attention.

Joseph gripped my forearm, hard. I was about to shake him off when the look on his face stopped me cold.

“What?” I asked.

A tight nod of his head told me I wasn’t seeing what I thought I was. “My uncles,” he said.

“Jared. Jacob. So good of you to come,” Elijah called out, his voice loud and startling as if he intended it to carry my way. “As you know, this is a very important day for both me and our family.”

Joseph released my arm and moved so I’d have a clear view of his uncles. “They’re not here to help you, Dee. They’re not here to help any of us.”

Both men bowed their heads. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, Elijah,” the officer said as he pulled a large envelope from the inside of his jacket. The second man followed suit, producing a smaller one from his briefcase. He was dressed impeccably, in a suit and a pale blue shirt. He looked more like a banker than a small-town councilman.

“Never late with your share, are you, brothers?”

Elijah hugged them both and motioned to two women and half a dozen kids standing on the chapel’s front lawn. The kids came rushing forward, chanting the word “Daddy” as they each found some part of the men to cling to. Their wives followed behind quietly. I watched as each man carefully extricated a hand and held it out to his wife. The look of complete adoration and utter happiness on the women’s faces made me sick.

“Brothers,” I groaned. They weren’t my hope. They were another dead end.

Elijah turned back to face us, and the sheriff’s eyes traveled past him and landed on me. Every muscle in my body tensed as the man’s smile widened. Apparently, he approved of Elijah’s choice of brides. Well, screw him.

“Rebekah, it’s time,” Elijah said, beckoning me forward.

I swallowed hard rather than say something that would get Luke hurt even more.

Elijah opened the doors wide and the entire congregation turned to see me. I quickly ran through the math in my head as I walked down the center aisle, impressed that I still had the presence of mind to do simple calculations. There were twenty pews, ten on each side. I counted the heads of the people in the row to my left. Eight—nine if you counted the infant bundled into his mother’s arms.

My mind quickly flashed back to the signs in the maintenance shed. One fifty? No, one forty-nine. Minus Joseph’s mom made it one-forty eight. Elijah could fit the whole damn town in this chapel, and judging from the cramped space, he’d done just that.

“Your seat, my dear,” Elijah said as he guided me down into the hard wooden pew. “I’ll be introducing you shortly, so keep in mind everything we discussed. This would be a very bad time for you to become defiant. Bad for you; worse for your friends. Understood?”

I nodded mechanically as he walked away, then looked up and down both sides of the room for an exit. Other than the door we’d come through, I found nothing. Not that I’d have a prayer of getting out of here anyway. Not with a hundred and forty-eight eerily faithful servants blocking my way.

The front of the sanctuary held a long table. Scattered across it were a few leather-bound books, three pillar candles, and a book of matches. Off to the side was a podium with a plaque bolted to its front. I had to squint to make out the words past, present, and future.

I watched as Elijah’s brother, the councilman, walked up and began lighting the candles one at a time. He’d changed his clothes. Gone was the fancy suit and tie; in its place were the same plain black pants and white shirt everybody else was wearing. I swiveled around and searched the congregation for the sheriff. He was heading down the center aisle. No gun, no uniform, just the same ugly, Purity Springs-issued prison suit.

Joseph slipped into the row across the aisle, looking past me to wink at his sister. His face was tense, his eyes dark as he mouthed the words “I’m sorry” to me. I looked away. He wasn’t sorry. He was guilty, and I wasn’t about to help ease his conscience.

Elijah tapped on the altar. That tiny noise sent the room into complete silence, and he dropped his head in prayer. I watched as everybody followed suit, their heads dipping down and their lips whispering in unison. Chills raced up my arms as the hushed voices closed in around me. I kept my eyes on Eden, frantically trying to figure out what she was chanting.

Joseph coughed, and I looked up to see Elijah staring down at me. I smiled, playing along, and he returned his attention back to his congregation.

“You look afraid. Are you?”

I turned toward Eden’s whispered words. Her huge eyes looked worried, her fingers rubbing the same satin-lined pocket as before.

I looked up to make sure Elijah was fully immersed in his prophesying duties before I whispered back, “A little. Are you?”

Sitting there, watching her rub that small spot of fabric like a child, I began to understand why Joseph was willing to risk his life for her. Eden didn’t stand a chance, and with their mother gone, Joseph was her only hope.

Eden kept her eyes focused forward as she quickly shook her head. “No, I’m not scared. Most of the time I’m just lonely.” Her fingers disappeared into the pocket of her skirt and she pulled out what looked like a piece of dried corn husk.

“Whatcha got there?” I whispered.

“Joseph made it for me,” Eden said shyly. Her eyes lit up. It was the tiniest flicker of adoration, and it only lasted a second, but it was enough for me to know she worshipped her brother. “We’re not supposed to have toys, but Joseph said every little girl needs a doll.”

She inched the small figure closer to me, holding it out as if giving me permission to inspect it. I turned my head slightly and caught a glimpse of Joseph. He bowed his head, motioning for me to do the same. He had no idea what his sister and I were talking about, and that made his gentle nod in our direction that much sweeter.

“Can I see it?” I asked.

Eden laid the doll down on the pew between us, rearranging her skirt to keep it hidden. I ran my fingers across the ball at the top. It was dry, the husks aging and beginning to peel away. Joseph had used ink to fashion eyes. There was a mouth, too, but it was nearly gone, faded from use. Around the doll was a scrap of white fabric. It was nothing more than a rectangle with a notch cut out for the head and a piece of twine cinched around what was supposed to be a waist, but it served its purpose.

“I have more,” she said as she pulled out two more pieces of fabric—light blue and black. I couldn’t help but smile. Joseph had made her a doll, complete with an interchangeable wardrobe.

Eden caught my expression and nudged the doll in my direction. “She makes you happy.”

It wasn’t the doll so much as it was Joseph. Despite who his father was and all he’d been forced to endure, he could still be kind and gentle when it came to his sister. “Yes. She’s very pretty.”

“Then you keep her,” Eden said.

“I couldn’t,” I responded, thinking I would rather die than take this girl’s only toy. “Joseph made her for you. She belongs with you.”

“He can make me another.” Eden picked the doll up and felt around my skirt until she found the pocket. Her fingers worked quickly, and before I could argue, she had the doll safely tucked inside.

I didn’t know what to say. Thank you didn’t seem to be enough. She was a little girl with no mother and a head-case for a father; the only good thing in her life was Joseph, and he was forced to risk his own safety to make her a doll. I never imagined I’d think it, but even my past paled in comparison to this.

I clenched my eyes shut, my resolve wavering. I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t planned on saving anybody but myself and Luke and Mike. But I knew I wouldn’t leave her behind now. I couldn’t.