Chapter Six

 

 

 

Duncan eased the car to a halt in front of the wrought-iron gates. A man, a handgun conspicuous at his hip, stepped out of the gatehouse.

“Can I help you, sir?” His voice was icily polite.

“I’m expected.” Duncan handed the man his driver’s license and business card.

“One moment, sir.” The man took the card and license and disappeared back into the hut. Duncan leaned against the door and stared at the silent trees. Mist lingered on the ground, a legacy from the previous night’s rain. The morning air was cool and sweet and did nothing to calm Duncan’s nerves while he waited.

The guard returned and handed Duncan’s license back. “Just follow the main road here, sir. Someone will be waiting for you at the top.”

“Thanks.” He pocketed the license and put the car into gear as the gates swung open with a decisive clang that shattered the bucolic silence. A raven squawked and flew off, vast black wings stretched to find what little breeze there was. The tires whispered on the damp gravel as the car crept along the empty road. Duncan curled his hands around the steering wheel and wondered what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

At top of the road, he found a man in a golf cart. He leaned toward the open window. “If you want to follow me, sir.” The cart wheeled away to the left and Duncan fell in behind it. The forest gave way to a wide road edged with large, new houses set among clusters of pine trees. It looked like any prosperous gated community in those parts of the country where money still remained. The cart took another left, onto a narrow lane and through another pair of gates. The drive widened to a sweep of gravel and the forest yielded to a white house that appeared to be the result of a Victorian architect’s opium dream. It was an asymmetric mess of turrets and towers, gables, windows and balconies. Duncan looked at it for a long time and couldn’t make sense of it. He turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car. The man in the golf cart waited on the vast front porch, dwarfed by the scale of the house. He led Duncan into a shadowy foyer and disappeared along a dark corridor. The house was awash with silence, apart from the muffled, hurried footsteps on another floor. Duncan waited and wondered if he’d blundered into a dream.

Moments later, a child in a long, dark dress scurried toward him. Her pale hair gleamed softly in the gloom. She offered him a shy smile. “Papa says you’re to follow me.” She turned on her heel and hurried back along the hall, skirt billowing around tiny, white ankles and bare feet that pattered lightly on the varnished floorboards. At the end of the hall, she stopped and looked at him once more. “He’s in here,” she said, regarding him with frank curiosity. Her eyes were a vivid blue. Duncan found himself fidgeting under her stare.

“Thank you.”

She rapped on the door, opened it then ran away, disappearing into the warren of the house. Duncan hovered on the threshold and peered into the room. It was a massive living room by anyone’s standards. “Hello?”

“Ah, Mr. Harris, come in.” The voice was unremarkable. Duncan had expected something altogether deeper and richer, a voice that could weave spells and convince sane men that his was the only way to live.

“Thank you.” He edged into the room.

A tall, thin man, dressed in a dark suit, rose from the depths of a wingback chair and walked toward him. He held out his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Harris.”

His grip was firm, but his hand was like ice. Duncan fought the revulsion he felt at that contact. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, sir.”

“It’s my pleasure. Mr. Johnson had good things to say about you. He’s usually not given to saying nice things about journalists.”

Duncan offered up a silent thanks to the long-haired man in his mountain valley. “That’s good to hear.”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to another chair. A pitcher of iced water waited, along with a plate of biscuits. Duncan helped himself to a glass of water and wondered where to start. In an ideal world, he’d ask where he could find Ellie, jump in the car, find her and drive away. Instead, he sipped the water.

“I’m all yours,” the Prophet said. “I assume you have questions.”

“Plenty of them, sir. I’d like to give my readers as comprehensive a picture as possible. This is my last feature before I go home. I wanted to end on a high note.”

“Very flattering. I read your article on Mr. Johnson’s set-up. You do, indeed, paint a fair picture. It would be nice to think that there are people out there who may sympathize with our way of life.”

“I’m sure there will be, sir. Mr. Johnson tells me he has received plenty of favorable correspondence.” He wished that he didn’t have to tiptoe. He took the recorder from his bag and set it on the table. “If there’s anything you don’t want known, just tell me and I’ll turn this off.”

“Fire away.” His host leaned back in his chair.

Duncan opened his notebook, picked up his pen and started on his list of questions.

 

* * * *

 

After two hours, he was wrung out. The man didn’t have much of a voice but he sure liked to hear the sound of it. Duncan knew he’d have a nightmare of a time unraveling the facts from the random lines of scripture and snatches of prophecy. He was relieved when the Prophet declared he was tired and that the interview was at an end.

“I have a guest cottage all ready for you.” The Prophet rose and shook Duncan’s hand. “You must be tired. Once you’ve had a chance to rest, I’ve arranged for someone to take you on a little tour.”

“Thank you. I shall look forward to it.”

“I think you’ll find it interesting. We lead a good, Godly life here, Mr. Harris. I’m hoping you’ll be impressed.”

“I’m sure I will be,” he replied, wanting nothing more than to lie down in a darkened room for an hour or two. The golf cart man waited by the door and Duncan followed him happily along the hall and out into the fresh air. After the silence of the house, the wind roared through the trees, sounding like a waterfall. The clouds had burned away, leaving a bright, breezy day. Duncan could understand why the Prophet liked the place so much. He followed the golf cart back along the drive and back onto the broad street with the big houses. He tried to work out how big they must’ve been and failed. He wondered where Ellie was and hoped that she was all right.

Another narrow road led to a clearing in the trees. A cluster of three cabins sat around a gravel circle. Duncan parked his car where he was shown and climbed out.

“I hope you like it, sir.” The golf cart man opened the door and handed him the key. “You’ll find there’s plenty of food. Make yourself comfortable. Someone will be along in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks.” Duncan pocketed the key and surveyed the living room. It was simply furnished, the only adornments an arrangement of dried flowers in the empty fireplace and a portrait of Joseph Smith on the wall. His guide disappeared, closing the front door with a gentle snick. Duncan trailed through the house. The kitchen was small and dark, with a window that looked out into the woods. The fridge was full of food, as were the cupboards. He took a bottle of water and explored the rest of the cabin. There was a single bedroom, the double bed covered with a quilt. A pile of towels sat on the dresser alongside a dish with handmade soap. He found the bathroom and took a shower, wanting to wash off the unease he’d felt in the Prophet’s presence.

Afterward, he collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep to the constant whisper of the trees.

 

* * * *

 

Ellie surveyed the baskets of tomatoes. Their growing season was drawing to a close and pride made her want to eke out the harvest. She had promised Deborah that she’d make pasta sauce and green tomato chutney to see them through the winter. Now she had to sort through them all. She moved her makeshift table into a patch of sunlight beside the storage shed and picked up the first basket. The last of the grape tomatoes shone like large polished stones and Ellie picked through them carefully, setting all the green ones in one basket. It took time but sitting in warm sun with nothing but the song of the wind in the trees gave her some sense of peace. She could forget where she was and what she was missing as she distributed the fruits of her labors into cardboard punnets. No doubt Obidiah would give her a lecture on pride if he knew what she was thinking, but, as he would never know, it didn’t matter. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her kerchief and let her mind go blank. She wondered what she’d have to do when winter closed the garden. She couldn’t imagine being cooped up in the house for the long, cold months. She’d hoped that she wouldn’t have to worry about that, but, as the days passed, she wondered if she would be abandoned by her government. One pencil-pushing clerk in a remote commodities depot hardly merited an emergency. Ellie sighed and filled punnets.

“Here’s where we store the produce from our community garden.” Elder Ezikiel’s voice echoed across the small yard, hidden behind the tractor. Ellie focused on her task, assuming that someone was getting the Grand Tour. There were visitors, now and then, usually people seeking admittance into the Church and, occasionally, guests from other branches of Enos’ empire. She knew that spare produce ended up in restaurants in Show Low, along with beef from the community’s herd and fish from the pond.

Ellie kept working. It always made the community look good if everyone pretended that it was business as usual. She also knew to keep herself as inconspicuous as possible. Obidiah had told her that it was best that way. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to walk boldly into the compound to rescue her.

“We sell our surplus to restaurants in Show Low,” the guide said, his voice ringing through the shed.

“There’s a lot here.”

The other voice tugged at Ellie. She paused, her fingers curled around the handle of a basket. A little nagging memory, something good and impossible. She shook her head. He’d be long gone, back in his London apartment, no doubt writing a book about his travels. She sighed, ignoring the regretful twinge in the pit of her stomach. She tried not to think about how those two promised days might have turned out. Ellie bit back a sigh and turned back to the tomatoes.

“We’re lucky. We have good soil and the garden is in a sunny place. We manage to get the best out of it.”

“So I see.”

Something inside Ellie swooped. There was no mistaking that voice. She took a deep breath and bent to her task. It wouldn’t do if he recognized her and made a fuss. She hated to think of the consequences. It wasn’t like he’d be able to do anything to help her. Her hands shook as she pushed the punnets along the table. She counted them under her breath. Footsteps whispered across the floor of the shed. A raven wheeled above in the open sky, calling out before it fled toward the trees. The two men left the shed and stood on the edge of the garden. Ellie watched them out of the corner of her eye, trembling. He wore jeans and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up in the heat of the day. The sunlight glanced off his hair and she couldn’t stop herself from admiring the shape of him, the long thighs and narrow waist.

“Very impressive.”

“We are lucky to have very skilled gardeners.”

“Indeed.” The voices were getting closer, too close, and Ellie knew if she kept her head down it would look all wrong. She carried on sorting through the tomatoes.

“Mrs. Freeman, how are you today?”

Fuck. She lifted her head and smiled. “I’m very well, thank you, Elder Ezikiel.” Of all the damn days for Elder Ezikiel to actually talk to her on one of his tours, he had to pick this tour. She forced herself to look at Duncan. For a moment, she thought she saw the briefest flicker of recognition in his dark, unreadable eyes, before he nodded, wished her a good day and moved on. Moments later, she heard the golf cart whirr into life. She covered her face with her hands and sat, trembling, for a long time.

 

When he’d saw Ellie, it had taken a moment for the reality of her existence to sink in. He’d spent a long ten days missing her, mourning her fate. Afraid that he was on a fool’s errand, that she’d be hidden away where he couldn’t find her. Instead, she’d sat in a patch of golden sunlight, her hair covered by a white kerchief, looking like an unhappy extra from Little House on the Prairie, in the plain white blouse and long, dark skirt. It had taken everything he had not to react. He hated having to play a part. He hated pretending that he didn’t know her. Only the faintest flush of rose on her cheeks had betrayed the fact that she’d recognized him. For a moment, hope had flickered in her eyes then faded back to sad resignation. Something inside Duncan had twisted and ached while his heart hammered against his ribs. He’d wanted to grab her hand and run with her, just keep running until they were free of the place. Instead, he’d had to walk away and make a pretense of being fascinated by everything his guide had told him. Now, he just had to figure out how to get to her.

He was relieved to return to the cabin. He had originally intended to transcribe the notes from his interview with the Prophet. Instead, he sank onto a chair on the front porch and stared into the forest. He hadn’t expected to find her so quickly. His mind reeled. He raced through the possibilities and wondered how free he was to roam the compound. He had another interview with the Prophet scheduled for the morning. He hoped that, somehow, he would get a feel for how welcome he really was.

 

* * * *

 

Ellie walked back to the house in a daze. She had spent the rest of the afternoon numbly sorting through the tomatoes, hoping that they ended up in the right place. He hadn’t forgotten her. He’d come back, found her gone and set out to find her. After Ezikiel and Duncan had disappeared, Ellie had wept quietly for a little while. Gratitude and relief fought with fear. She hoped he realized what he was taking on.

“Penny for them?” Naomi’s voice made her jump.

Ellie wheeled around and found Naomi hurrying to catch up with her, carrying a basket of fresh herbs. “It was nothing. It’s been a long day, I guess.”

“You were miles away.” The younger woman grinned. “I’ve been calling your name for ages.”

“I’m sorry. I get like that when I’m tired. I go into a world of my own.”

Naomi threaded her arm through hers. “I bet it’s a more interesting world than mine.”

Ellie loved Naomi’s cheek. She was the favorite among the wives, the others adored her and Obidiah’s mood always seemed lighter when she was around. “No, really, I’m very boring. I haven’t got much going on in here at all.” Ellie tapped her forehead. “I’ve been sorting tomatoes all afternoon, it isn’t exactly the best thing for keeping my mind ticking over.”

Naomi giggled. “I think I’d rather sort tomatoes than do the laundry.”

“So would I.” She wondered where Duncan was. She wanted to find him. Instead, she allowed Naomi to lead her back to the house, letting her warm chatter distract her. Ellie wondered how she was going to get through dinner and an hour of scripture reading. It would be hard to concentrate, wondering what Duncan was up to.

 

* * * *

 

Duncan returned to the Prophet’s house the following morning. He’d worked hard to set Ellie aside, and plowed through the interview, making notes and coming up with more questions. It had taken until midnight to weed the bits of scripture and prophecy out of the transcript. He was left with a back and forth about the Prophet’s view on life—why he thought polygamy was a good thing, why the federal government was bad. Today, Duncan expected more of the same. The prophecy snippets unnerved him. The man’s eyes went blank and his voice took on a different note—fainter, weaker. Not a lot made sense and Duncan discarded most of it, full of angels’ names, and devils. He scribbled them down in a separate part of his notebook, to save. He knew one or two theologians who would have some fun making sense of it all.

He knocked on the door and was told to enter. The morning sunlight fell across the floor, touching the portrait of Joseph Smith above the mantelpiece. The Prophet rose and shook Duncan’s hand.

“I trust you slept well?”

“Very well,” Duncan lied. He’d lain awake for at least an hour, thinking of Ellie, hugging the other pillow and wishing it was her. He wondered why he felt such a burning need to protect her.

“Good, good, glad to hear it.” The Prophet returned to his chair, crossed his legs and looked at Duncan. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay here.”

“Very much. It’s very…peaceful.”

“That was my intention, to make it a peaceful place. I’m glad you like it. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“That’s very kind of you. It’s nice to have the time to meditate and rest. It’s been a long trip for me.”

“I can imagine.”

“Would there be any problem with me being able to walk around? I know where I’m not supposed to go. I just like to get out and walk, especially up here where it’s so cool.”

“I don’t see why not. I believe you’ve been in the business long enough to know how to conduct yourself.”

Thank fuck for that. “Elder Ezikiel made it quite clear what is off bounds.”

“Then, yes, feel free to enjoy our community. I’ll arrange for you to meet some of our members, perhaps break bread with their families. You’ll get a better feel for the place than listening to me talk all day.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Excellent. We can start tonight. I think I’ll arrange for Elder Obidiah to take you under his wing. He’s very good at dealing with…outsiders. He has a charming family and he currently has a guest. He’s my PR man, for want of a better description. You’ll like him.”

Duncan’s ears pricked up at the mention of a ‘guest’. He couldn’t quite believe how the Prophet was helping things fall into place. “Thank you. I’ll look forward to that. It would be nice for my readers to get a sense of family life here.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m thinking. Excellent.” He smacked his hands together. “As soon as we’re done here, I’ll arrange it.” He leaned back in his chair. “Now, where shall we start?”

 

* * * *

 

After another two-hour session with the Prophet, Duncan felt he had enough material to throw a good piece of the article together. After lunch, he took a nap to catch up on the sleep he’d lost the night before. When he woke, it was raining again, a soft mountain rain that whispered on the grass outside the open windows. Duncan stared at the ceiling and thought of Ellie. He wished she was there, lying beside him, her hair spread out across the pillow. He realized that he’d gone beyond just wanting to save her.

He showered and dressed. He checked that the recorder was charged up and put it in his pocket. Obidiah was supposed to come for him at five. Duncan sat on the front porch and listened to the rain. He tried to clear his mind. He had to think about the job he was supposed to be doing, not play super-spy. He hadn’t yet worked out how he was going to get Ellie out, short of bundling her in the trunk of the car. He suspected that, in spite of the Prophet’s permission to roam freely, the freedom was an illusion. Duncan leaned back in the chair and rested his feet on the railing. He doubted, very much, that he’d be allowed to be alone with Ellie, unless the Prophet wanted him to know who she was. In spite of four hours with the man, Duncan still couldn’t get any sense of him, apart from the borderline lunacy. He just hoped he had some time to work it all out.

Obidiah Worthington appeared at five precisely. He strode up the drive, his hands hidden in the pockets of his black trousers. Duncan thought he looked more like a prophet, with his thick white hair and long beard. His eyes were young, sharp and blue.

“Mr. Harris, I presume.”

There was a warmth to his voice that Duncan liked. “Elder Worthington?”

He smiled. “Your host for the evening. The Prophet tells me we’re to feed you and give you a glimpse of family life.”

“I’m sorry about that. He did volunteer your services. I don’t want to be an imposition.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t be.” He walked swiftly along the drive. “My wives always go overboard on the cooking, in any event. There’ll be plenty to eat. We have one guest, one more won’t make a difference.”

They walked in silence. Duncan found it a stretch to keep up with Worthington, who turned off the drive onto the broad street with the big houses. He pointed out the houses and who lived in each one. Duncan didn’t pay much attention. He didn’t want to be out-walked by a man who was a good fifteen or more years older than him. He was relieved when Worthington finally slowed and paused beside a gate set in a white rail fence. “Here we are.”

Duncan followed him along the path and onto the front porch. He couldn’t put Ellie out of his mind and hoped she would be there.

“We eat in the kitchen,” Worthington told him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.”

The clatter of tableware echoed down a long hall along with the soft chatter of women.

“I don’t expect you to remember everyone’s name.” Obidiah smiled. “Some of the girls are still upstairs getting the children ready for bed.”

Everyone? How many bloody wives does he have?”

His host walked into the kitchen, which was an oasis of soft golden light in the rainy gloom of early evening. The long table was set and bowls of food were spread from end to end. A tall, blonde woman smiled and nudged another bowl onto the table.

Duncan scarcely noticed her. He was too busy looking at Ellie. Free of the kerchief, her hair was an odd contrast to the pioneer woman outfit she was condemned to wear. She offered him a neutral smile, giving every indication that she’d never seen him before. Obidiah introduced his wives and introduced Ellie as a guest. She shook his hand and Duncan didn’t want to let hers go. Everyone else in the room ceased to matter.

Obidiah said grace—a lengthy prayer thanking the Lord for the bountiful table, a loving family and for guests, who would always be welcome under his roof. Duncan stole a glance at Ellie. Her head was bowed and her eyes closed. Her lashes cast shadows on her pale cheeks. He fought back an urge to kiss the nape of her neck and closed his eyes, seeking refuge in his host’s sonorous prayer. No woman had ever dismantled or upended his plans the way Ellie had. It scared him what he had already done for her.

 

When Duncan had followed Obidiah into the kitchen, Ellie had nearly dropped the plates she’d been carrying. Instead, she’d set the plates down and had shaken his hand, noticing, with a blush, that he’d held on to her hand for longer than was necessary. It was hard to take part in the conversation during dinner knowing he was there, knowing that he watched her in moments when no one was watching. She would’ve given anything to get a moment or two alone with him, just to find out what he was doing there. Instead, she did her best to join in the talk about everyday things. It was clear that Obidiah was not going to change the evening schedule because there was a journalist in the house. That routine, of course, included scripture reading and Ellie was surprised when Duncan accepted the offer to stay and join them.

After a week, Ellie had already grown used to it all. Obidiah had given her a Bible of her own and she was expected to read her part along with everyone else. She sat in her usual seat, next to Naomi. Obidiah brought a chair in from the dining room for Duncan and placed it next to hers. Ellie made a big thing of studying her Bible, not knowing what else to do. She was afraid to look at him, afraid that she would give herself away. When it came to her turn to read, she fought hard to concentrate, knowing that he watched her. Her cheeks burned and she took her time with her reading. When she was done, Obidiah asked her to pass her Bible to their guest. She complied, feeling as fumbling and stupid as a schoolgirl with a crush. Duncan’s presence overwhelmed her. She smelled his aftershave and remembered falling asleep on him. She wondered if he remembered the same thing.

He read his piece beautifully, as if he’d been born to it. Ellie listened, entranced, and was aware that everyone else was equally captivated. Even Obidiah listened with a satisfied smile on his face. While Duncan read, it was all right to watch him. Ellie folded her hands together on her lap and ached to brush the stray lock of hair from his forehead. His closeness was a torment she hadn’t anticipated. She wanted a follow-up to the kiss he had left her with, that fleeting, sweet brush across her lips that promised so much more. It seemed impossible to her that no one else would suspect what she was feeling. When Duncan had finished, he handed the Bible back to her with a smile, his eyes unreadable. Ellie felt the warmth of the leather binding where he’d held it and curled her fingers around the spine, longing to hold on to that warmth.

“Very nice, Mr. Harris.” Obidiah smiled. “You have a fine speaking voice.”

“Thank you.” He rose. “I should really go, I’ve imposed on you long enough this evening.”

“I’ll see you back.” Obidiah stood up and shook Duncan’s hand. “It can be easy to get lost in the dark out here.”

Ellie held on to the Bible while he bade goodnight to everyone. She watched him walk to the door and wished she were the one seeing him home.

 

Duncan was relieved that Obidiah set a slower pace on the way back to the cabin. He was still full from the meal and still reeling from seeing Ellie again. He put his hands in his pockets and stared up at the stars above the dark canyon of trees.

“The best time of the day,” Obidiah said.

“Yeah.” He thought of Ellie, wishing she were walking beside him.

“You know Ellie, don’t you? You know why she’s here.”

Duncan stopped. His stomach lurched as he stared at Obidiah. “Was I that bloody obvious?”

“I have ten beautiful wives, and then there’s Ellie. You only had eyes for her. It was obvious to me.”

“Shi— Sorry.”

Obidiah laughed softly. “Don’t worry, son. I won’t give the game away. I saw the way Ellie looked at you too. She blushes easily.”

“Why won’t you give me away? A journalist in the proverbial lion’s den could cause a lot of trouble, don’t you think?”

“Yes, the wrong kind of journalist, but that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“No.”

“I sympathize, Mr. Harris, I really do, but I can’t help you get Ellie out of here. I can’t risk my family’s wellbeing and safety. We can talk freely here so I’ll tell you, I’m not happy with what the Prophet has done. I don’t think innocent people should be punished because he has a beef with the government, but I can’t stop him. I tried to talk him out of it but he’s hellbent on this game. That’s why I offered to take Ellie in, because she’d be safe with me. I can’t help her get out, but I can keep her safe.”

“I appreciate that.”

“What is she to you, anyway?”

Duncan gazed at the stars again. “I don’t know. It’s going to sound ridiculous, as I’ve only spent twenty-four hours with her on a purely professional basis but, somehow, she’s got under my skin. She told me about the threats and I was scared for her. When I left her I wanted to take her with me.” He sighed. “I wish I bloody had. No offense.”

“None taken.” He began to walk again. “Just be careful, Mr. Harris. However you plan to get Ellie out of here, don’t tell me. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t allow the two of you to be alone together. It would go against the rules of the community and it would draw attention to things that had best be left unnoticed.”

“That makes things a bit difficult.”

“That’s the idea.”

The drive widened and the trees fell away, leaving a broad sweep of sky brilliant with stars. Duncan sighed. “Bugger.”

“All I can do is offer an invitation. You are welcome in my home. You can visit with Ellie as much as you like there.”

It was better than nothing. He glanced at Worthington. “You’d do that? Why?”

“I like Ellie. I like you. Ellie needs you. I know she tries hard but she’s not meant for this life. She deserves a respite.”

“You’re very kind.”

“I’m very foolish. Goodnight, Mr. Harris. Tomorrow is Sunday, come with us to worship. If you get up early enough, you can join us for breakfast. The Prophet did ask me to take you under my wing, after all.”

“I’d like that. How early’s early?”

“Breakfast at seven. You’ll need it. It’s a long morning.”

If it meant being able to spend time with Ellie, Duncan would’ve sat through an entire day of worship. “I’ll be there. Thank you.”

 

* * * *

 

“Ellie, could I have a word with you before you go to bed?”

Ellie paused at the top of the kitchen stairs. Naomi and Sarah were setting out the breakfast things. They paused when Obidiah walked into the kitchen.

“It’s all right,” he told them. “You can stay. You need to know this too.” He sank into a chair at the table.

Ellie took another seat, afraid of what he was going to say. She wound her fingers in her skirt and waited.

“I had a chat with Mr. Harris.” He looked at her. “I know that you know each other. I guessed as much tonight.”

Ellie’s stomach curdled. “You did?”

“It’s all right. I’m not telling anyone. I know I can trust my family not to say anything. I’m just going to tell you what I just told him. I will not help him to get you out of here. As much as I would like to see you go home, for your own happiness, you know that I can’t, for the sake of my family. He understands that. I don’t want to know. It’s better that way, don’t you think?”

She nodded mutely.

“I also told him that, under no circumstances, would you be allowed to spend time alone together. He understood that too.”

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.

“However, I did say that he was welcome to spend as much time with you, here, as he pleased. The Prophet can’t condemn that. As for Mr. Harris’ true purpose for being here, the Prophet’s arrogance and pride may well trip him up. I think he finds some humor in throwing the two of you together under my roof. I can’t prove that, but I know the man well enough to know his vanity. Be careful, Ellie.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I can say this here, under this roof. I think he is fooling with us all. The man is insane.”

“I think you’re right.”

Obidiah patted her hand. “I like you, Ellie. We all do. We’ll do all we can to make your stay here as pleasant as possible.”

She felt foolish tears burn her eyes. “You all have. I know it could’ve been so much worse.”

“Yes. It could’ve been. At least you have Mr. Harris, now. I think he’s fond of you.”

She felt her cheeks flame. “I’d like to think so.”

“He’ll be joining us for breakfast tomorrow and he claims he’s going to worship with us. You can enjoy your Sabbath. I don’t mind telling you, I think we should enjoy the peace while we can.”

Ellie’s guts twisted with unease. Obidiah clearly knew what the mad man in the big white house was capable of. “Why do you say that?”

“Call it ‘a feeling’.” Obidiah patted Naomi’s hand. “I’ve known Enos for a good few years. I’ve seen him withdraw into himself, I’ve heard his ramblings. Taking Ellie isn’t enough for him. It hasn’t brought the enemy to our gates. That’s what he really wants…one final battle.” He offered them all a weary smile. “Off with you all, go on. I have some work to do.”

Ellie retreated to her basement room. Tired as she was, she didn’t sleep for a long time.