Deceived: Lured from the Truth (Secrets) (19 page)

“But I — ”

“Look, Rachel, if you haven’t figured this out already, it’s time you did.” She gives me a stern look. “Reverend Jim is the authority here. No one questions him. And any money or anything of value goes into his safe.” She puts her open palm closer to me. “Unless you’d like to take this conversation up with him?”

I hand over my check and she smiles. “Really, it’ll be in a safer place now anyway.”

As we walk back to the reverend’s house, I wonder if Josiah knows about his uncle’s safe or how to get into it. I wonder if he can help me to get my stuff out of the storage shed too. And maybe I don’t even care about those things or the check. More than ever, I want out of here. I know it’s time to leave this place. The sooner the better. Maybe Josiah can take both me and Monique out of here first thing tomorrow. Even if we have to sit in the back of the truck with the ice cream, it will be worth it.

[CHAPTER 16]

M
y morning is spent in the kitchen, scrambling to get everything ready for the wives’ luncheon. And while I appreciate the distraction of cooking, as soon as lunch is served — thankfully by several of the teenage girls — I am allowed a short break. At first I imagine I’ll be able to slip out, but then I realize, thanks to the buffet-style lunch, the wives are sitting in the large main room and I can’t make it to the front entrance without being spotted.

A little more snooping around and I discover that the other doors, which all lead out to the pretty landscaped backyard, also offer no escape because the grounds back there are bordered by a tall rock wall and a sturdy iron gate. Short of scaling the wall, there’s no way out. This place is very secure, complete with what appears to be a state-of-the-art security system. Was it created this way to keep people out … or to keep people in?

As I sit in my room, looking down on the backyard — which is looking more and more like a prison yard — I realize I might also have a challenge meeting Josiah tonight. Somehow I’ve got to get word to him. So I begin to concoct a plan. After the luncheon ends and the women all leave, I approach Celeste. “I hope you liked the lunch,” I say to her and naturally she responds positively.

“Thanks,” I tell her. “As I was cooking, I remembered that the garden has some lovely tomatoes right now. And the raspberries are really coming in good. And the corn looked just about ready to pick the other day.” I sigh. “It was a shame I didn’t think to bring some of those things up to the house.”

Celeste’s eyes light up. “Corn on the cob?”

“Yes,” I say, hoping the corn’s really ready. “Both white and yellow. And, of course, there’s not enough of it to feed everyone. Hannah said it was kind of experimental. But I’m sure it’s tasty.”

“I’ll send Kellie over there to — ”

“I don’t know if Kellie really understands how to select good produce,” I tell her. “If you want the best, I should go and get it myself. That’s what all good chefs do.”

“You’re right.” She nods. “Go ahead.”

I look at the clock above the fireplace. Josiah should be home from making deliveries by now. “I can make it back in plenty of time to have dinner ready,” I assure her. “Kellie said you eat at six thirty.”

“That’s right.” She looks uneasy now. “Should I send Kellie with you? To help carry things?”

“No. I’d rather Kellie stay here to do some prep work in the kitchen.” I hold up a piece of paper. “I’ve listed some things for her to do. I really want tonight’s dinner to be special.”

Celeste beams at me. “I’m so glad you’ve come to us, Rachel. I can just tell that life’s going to be much better with you here.”

With a large basket over my arm, I hurry from the big house. Walking quickly across the grounds, I try to understand how Celeste can live like she does. How is she willing to share her husband with two other wives? But even as I ponder this, I think I’m starting to get it. A favorite saying around here is “many hands make light work.” For Celeste to have Kellie helping her to manage the home and Jan supervising the children and now with me doing the cooking, her workload is very light.

I hurry directly to the dairy, hoping to catch Josiah cleaning out the delivery truck, but to my dismay the truck is not back yet, which is odd since it’s nearly four. I stand there a moment, wondering what to do. I’m about to turn around when I see Miriam emerging from the dairy. She spies me and waves eagerly, so I go over to speak to her. At the least it seems I should explain that I’ve moved — or rather that I’ve been moved.

“Rachel,” she says a bit breathlessly. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Hello, Miriam.” I force a smile. “I just wanted to tell — ”

“Have you heard the news? About Josiah?” Her eyes are glittering with what seems like alarm.

I take in a fast breath. “What’s wrong? Is he okay? Was there a wreck?”

She waves her hand. “No, nothing like that.”

“Well, what then?” I feel my impatience rising.

“Josiah ran off with Monique.”

“What?”
It feels like the earth is giving way beneath my feet.

Her nod seems a bit too cheerful, almost as if she enjoys sharing this bad news. “It seems they were spotted leaving together early this morning. It was the same time Josiah always leaves to make his deliveries. But she was with him. And then Josiah ditched the delivery truck and took off with Monique — to God only knows where.”

She shakes her head. “I knew that girl was no good from the start. She could hide those hideous tattoos beneath her dresses, but she couldn’t hide the blackness of her heart.” Now Miriam looks slightly apologetic. “I’m sorry, dear. I know you and Josiah were … well, you were good friends.”

I don’t know what to say and am trying to fight back tears.

“Reverend Jim is just brokenhearted about the whole thing. Poor man, he’s treated Josiah like his own son. And now for him to go and do this? Well, it’s just a shame.” She shakes her finger in my face. “Remember what I told you about men and their predisposition to sinful ways? See why there are so many more good women than men?”

I want to deny this — to shout at her that Josiah is different, that he wouldn’t do something like this — but how can I?

“I have to go.” I’m about to leave but suddenly remember what I was going to tell her. “And I almost forgot. I’ve been relocated to — ”

“I know all about that, Rachel.” She smiles. “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations?”

Miriam looks surprised. “To be invited to live in the prophet’s house — surely, you know what an honor that is. I hope you’ll work hard to prove you’re worthy of it.”

I can’t even think of a response to that. Instead I just wave and turn away, jogging back toward the dining hall, where Eleanor looks slightly surprised to see me until I explain that I’m on my way to the garden. Then she turns back to her mixer, shaking her head.

It’s not until I’m in the garden that tears begin to tumble again. I cannot believe Josiah has abandoned me like this. And with Monique? It’s more than I can handle.

“What’s wrong?” Hannah asks me with concerned eyes.

“I’m sorry.” I use my sleeve to wipe my tears. “I’m just, uh, a little upset.”

“I heard the news.”

“Which news?” I ask eagerly, hoping she might know more than Miriam.

“That you’re cooking for the reverend’s family now.”

“Oh … yeah.” I tell her why I’m here and what I need. “But we need to hurry.”

She leads me around, helping me to harvest the items on my list. As usual, she chats with me, explaining things about gardening and what’s coming in good and the challenges she faces. Then, finally, just as we’re picking tomatoes, I put my hand on her arm. “Can I ask you something?”

She looks surprised but stands up straight, slipping her shears into the little gardening apron she wears. “Sure. What?”

“Why did you come here?”

Now she looks worried, glancing over her shoulder.

“I mean, you seem different,” I say quickly. “And I know you came by choice. But why?”

“You came by choice too,” she points out.

“Kind of, but Josiah had a lot to do with it.”

She sighs. “You’re lucky to have him.”

“But I don’t have him.” I hear how strained my voice sounds. “He’s gone and I’m stuck here.”

“I didn’t know.”

“It’s a new development.” Now I regret opening up to Hannah like this.

“Look. Some of us left really horrible lives behind. Compared to how I was living, this place is heaven.”

“Really?” I find this hard to believe.

“My parents were messed up.” She leans over and picks another tomato, then sets it on top of my basket. “Both of them were heroin addicts. I left home when I was sixteen. I thought I could make it on my own, but I got pulled into human trafficking.” She sighs. “That’s a story I’d rather not tell … and trust me, you don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And now I get to do this.” Hannah waves her arms to the greenery around her with a half smile. “Why should I complain?”

“What if you have to become someone’s wife? What if one of the deacons decides to add you to his — his family?”

She shrugs. “There are worse things.”

I look directly into her eyes. “I don’t know about your previous life. It sounds sad. But does that mean you have to settle for this?” I look around the garden. “I don’t mean this garden. It’s beautiful. But you could have a garden out there, in the real world, and you could have a different sort of life.”

She just shakes her head. “You say that, Rachel … but you’re still here.”

I hold up a defiant fist. “I’m here now. But I’m leaving.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve said more than enough.” She starts to walk away.

“Wait,” I say as I go to catch her. “I feel like I can trust you, Hannah. What are you saying? Do they hold people here against their will?”

She gives me a blank look.

“Hannah?”

“I’ll say this, Rachel. Be careful. If you really want out of here, don’t tell anyone. Or else it will only get worse.” She gives me a stern look. “I don’t want to talk to you about this again. Do you understand?”

I just nod, then turn away. But as I walk back with my heavy basket of produce over my arm, I wonder at her words. It sounded like a serious warning. Like I can’t just announce I’m ready to go and expect to leave. More than ever, I long for Josiah. I want to question him about this. I want him to help me get out of here.

For the first time since coming here, I feel myself praying in earnest. I’m no longer playing a religious game. Whether it’s fear or desperation, I’m speaking directly to God in my heart. I’m pleading with him to help me. And as I pray this way, I realize that I no longer care to perform my way into God’s favor. I’m simply telling him that I’m in trouble — serious trouble — and I need help.

I probably don’t deserve God’s help. And I’m well aware that I’ve made some stupid choices. I just hope the things I learned in church, things I learned long ago, about forgiveness and mercy — I hope these things are true. I hope that God won’t forsake me. Because, more than ever, I need him now.

Keeping Hannah’s warning in mind, I go right to work fixing dinner for Reverend Jim’s oversized family. I act perfectly normal and try to make this a truly good meal. I don’t want anyone to suspect I’m not perfectly happy with my new job. But the whole time I’m chopping and broiling and steaming and stirring, I’m concocting a plan — a way to get out of here. And I’m praying that God will help me.

After dinner, I take my sweet time in the kitchen. It’s really Kellie’s job to clean up, but I pretend to be doing some organizational tasks. I peruse the cookbooks and pretend to be obsessed with menu planning. And finally I start arranging things, getting it all set for breakfast in the morning.

“You really take your cooking seriously, don’t you?” Kellie says as she closes the dishwasher and turns it on.

I force a smile. “Sure. I love cooking. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Well, I think I’m done. Unless there’s something else you need.” I can tell by her expression she hopes I don’t.

“No, that’s great, Kellie. I just have a couple more things to finish up.”

“Then you’ll turn out the lights.”

“Sure. Good night.”

She seems a little unsure about leaving me alone, but she’s also tired. I turn back to the cookbook that’s still open, writing something down on the list I’ve been making. When I look up, she’s gone. I putter around the kitchen for a while, making sure she’s not coming back. And then, seeing that it’s dusky outside, I turn off the kitchen lights, then go over to the back kitchen door. I slipped a piece of cardboard into this door earlier, in order to keep it unlocked and just slightly ajar, which convinces me that it’s not connected to the security system.

My plan is to slip out there and climb over the wall. I studied it while working in the kitchen today, and I’m sure that it can’t be any harder than the climbing wall my dad used to take me to on weekends. I feel certain I can make my way over it. I just hope I can safely make it down the other side. I plan to cut through the pasture and walk to the road, where I will hitchhike or, if necessary, walk back to the resort. Even if it’s midnight, I’ll call my mom — I’ll tell her the truth and beg her to come and get me. This plan seems entirely doable to me.

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, I silently open the door and step out into the yard, but I’m barely out there when I hear the deep, sharp barking of a dog — or dogs — and immediately a pair of German shepherds charges at me. I leap back into the kitchen and slam the door against their lunging bodies.

With pounding heart, I stumble through the darkened kitchen and am about to duck out the door that leads to the north wing and my room when a man’s voice tells me to “Stop!”

I turn just as the lights go on and am shocked to see Reverend Jim wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants and holding a gun. “Oh, it’s you,” he says with relief. But then he frowns. “What were you doing in the backyard?”

I squint in the light. “I just wanted to go out for some fresh air.”

“Really?” He looks skeptical.

“I always enjoy being out in the night air after a long day of being cooped up in the kitchen,” I say quickly. At least this is true. “I had no idea there were guard dogs out there. I simply wanted to go sit outside and enjoy the stars and the sky.”