Hold Fast (9 page)

“Ten minutes, maybe fifteen,” she whispers again.

It’s only a couple hundred feet to the back of the restaurant, but it’s the longest short walk of my life. I’m impatient, and the numbers on my phone’s clock don’t move fast enough while I wait for her.

“Sean?” Her voice is a whisper from the side of the building.

“Courtney! I’m over here,” I call out. Courtney comes around the corner and an instant later she’s on me in a furious hug that rocks me back on my heels.

“Oh my God, Sean.” Her face is buried in my neck, and her arms are locked around me as tightly as any bear trap. My own are no less tightly wrapped around her. She’s shaking.

“Is everything okay, Courtney?” I’m pretty sure I know the answer already.

“No. Nothing’s okay. I mean, it is now. You’re here.” The shaking slowly subsides, and she looks up at me, bright blue eyes misty with unshed tears threatening to flood out of her at any moment. My heart skips.

“Do you want to leave?” I ask. “We can leave here, right now.”

“Oh, Sean, there’s nothing I’d rather do,” she replies. The light in her eyes fades. “But I can’t go with you. Not now. I mean, not
today
.” Courtney purses her lips; her eyes go distant. “Tomorrow, though. Yeah,” she says, nodding furiously. “Can you come tomorrow?” Her eyes are bright again, full of so much hope and relief.

“Why tomorrow? Why not today?”

“It’s complicated,” she sighs. “My mother, she’s sick. She’s not well…” Courtney’s voice trails off, brow furrowed as she tries to find the words. “I think
he
hit her again, and she’s finally lost it. It’s been, like, two days now. She just stares into space and she won’t look at me.”

“He? Who’s
he
?” I have a low tolerance for people who abuse the weak.

“Look, it’s- let me explain. No, there’s too much. Let me sum up.” Courtney pauses for a deep breath. “She’s ashamed that she hasn’t been able to give
him
another boy, another heir, and now—Sean, she wants
me
to—”

“She wants
what?
” My voice is a deep growl.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not with
him
, but… look, it’s complicated. It’s a big mess. It’s—she! No. He, he—hasn’t promised me to
him
, but I think they’re going to arrange for another marriage soon.” Courtney swallows hard, and takes a step back. Her palms press flat against my chest, and her eyes are full of pleading.

“They’re going to force you to marry someone? Wait, you said
another
marriage. You’re already married? They
already
forced you to marry someone?” Rage. Destruction. Fire. Pain. These are the things that await whoever hurts this woman.

“Yes,” she begins, but stops and puts a hand on my cheek, laughing softly. She always could see right through me. “No, Sean, it’s not- it’s okay. Daniel cares for me, and I care for him, but it’s not a
real
marriage, not for either of us. It’s just security. An alibi. For both of us.”

“So, you want to go back there tonight, then? To, what, see your mom? See him? This
Daniel
?” I’ll let my questions go unanswered, for now, but I will do some
serious
digging later. There’s no way in
hell
I’m leaving all of this alone.

“Yes. I want to- no, I
need
to give Mom one last chance,” she says. “Or I need to say goodbye, at least. Have closure. And I want Daniel to come away, too.”

“Well, that’s a new one on me,” I tell her. I’m trying to keep it light. “Here I am plotting to steal away the girl of my dreams, and she tells me I need to steal away her husband, too.”

“Well,” she giggles with a coy little smile, “I don’t think he’d fight too hard if you did try to steal him.”

“Huh?” I’m confused.

“I told you, we’ve been each other’s alibi. And I’m not judging, Sean, but the
Navy
?”

I can’t help it: the tension and fury in my head evaporates in laughter. I take her in my arms again, hugging her tightly. Whatever has happened to her over the years may have worn at her, but it hasn’t broken the sweet, funny girl I knew.

“It’s so good to see you again, Courtney.”

“And you too, Sean. You’ll never know how much it means to me. How did you find me?”

“There was a picture in the Press-Herald, a picture from here at the farmer’s market. I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to come up into the woods for a couple days anyway, and I thought I’d check it out.”

“I’m so glad you did. Listen, I don’t have much time: I’ve been away too long already. They’re already suspicious of me, I’ve tried to run before, and—it didn’t go well.”

“What do you mean, ‘didn’t go well?’” She doesn’t answer, but looks away, shifts her hips away.
The limp. She was limping.
“They hurt you?” Her silence is answer enough. My rage is back, even hotter than before. “They will never do that again, Courtney. I guaran-fucking-
tee
you.”

“I know. But listen, Sean, that’s why I have to give Daniel the chance to come away.” Her mouth sets in a hard line, her eyes grow serious as she grips my hands. “My,” she begins, then swallows hard. “My
body
may be in danger there, but Sean, Daniel’s
life
is on the line. I don’t
love
him, I’m not
in
love with him, but I care about him. He’s protected me for almost five years now.”

“Okay,” I say, then dig in the bag where I’d kept my old phone, just in case I actually did find her. “Take this. It’s got a full battery. I’m here for you, overnight. If you need emergency extraction, just call me. My number’s programmed in.” The girl cradles the beat-up iPhone uncertainly. “I won’t be far, and if you need me, I
will
come and get you out of there. I just need to know where to go.” I pull out my new phone, open up the maps, and hand it to her.

“Let’s see,” she says, fingers quickly moving over the screen. I chuckle at the sight: to look at her appearance, she’s straight out of the nineteenth century, but she’s working technology like an expert. “Yes, I know what a touchscreen is, Sean.” She scowls at me, but there’s no real malice there. “I didn’t always live in the back end of nowhere.” Her face brightens. “Okay, look,” she says. “Right here.” As I look over her shoulder, she drops a few markers on the map.

“So. What are these?”

“This one is my… it’s where I live.” She points. “This one, it’s where I go sometimes if Daniel’s not there. It’s the women’s dormitory. Over here, they call it an infirmary or a hospital, but it’s just a slightly less filthy hovel where you go when you’re sick. That’s where Mom is. I’ll probably be in one of those three places.”

“What’s this one?” I ask. “The one a ways off to the south?”

“That’s the missing beehive,” she says. I raise a curious eyebrow, and Courtney shows me a thin, hard smile before continuing. “I take care of the bees for the community. This hive isn’t on Satan’s map, and I’ve hidden a little bit of money there. My getaway fund.” She sighs. “It’s not much, but it’s all I have. And it’s why they’re watching me so closely. They know there’s money missing, and they think I have it, but they can’t prove it.”

Satan? Who the hell is she talking about? That’s more digging to do, but
later
. Essentials only, for right now. “Can you get to it tonight?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I won’t be able to go to my hives until Monday. That’s when I take care of the bees.” Courtney looks up at me with a nervous question. “Sean, how close are you going to be?”

“Close enough,” I tell her. In fact, that might be a good location to stay tonight: it’s on the north slope of a low hill, looking over the- what do you call a place like that? She said community, but is that really the right word? “Yes. I’ll try to get it for you.”

“It’ll be dangerous, Sean. If they catch you, they won’t like it. And you’ll like it even less. And you weren’t a Marine or anything, you were just a
sailor
.”

“I’ll be okay, Courtney. Don’t worry about that for a second,” I say, with a fierce grin.

She hasn’t seen me since I went off to the Navy, and we lost touch before I went to the SEALs. “I’ve been in far scarier places than this.”

“COURTNEY!”
It’s a woman’s voice, screechy and raspy, booming from around the corner of the restaurant.

“Oh, shit!” Courtney says. “It’s Leah. I have to go, Sean!” She pushes me away quickly. “Stall her? Please? And be here tomorrow?”

“I will,” I tell her. “Both questions.”

“COURTNEY!”
She’s close now, and I hear footsteps crunching in the gravel of the parking area.

Courtney smiles gratefully at me as she ducks around to the other side of the building. That limp. Someone needs to pay for that, with interest. Lots of interest.

Courtney vanishes just as Target Charlie appears. Leah, Courtney said her name was. Malevolent eyes squint at me out of a face red with anger. The little that Courtney has told me makes me think I might not like this Leah person very much at all.

“Where is she?” It’s a demand, not a question.

“Where’s … who?” I was a junior enlisted sailor long enough to be a master of the slightly confused expression in response to questions from authority. It rarely pays to admit to knowing as much as you actually do know.

“The girl. Blond hair,” she says. “Stupid. Fat.” Oh, well now. Might not like Leah? What was I thinking? I definitely do not like Leah at all
.
It’s an effort to keep my face relaxed.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I say. “I haven’t seen any stupid fat girls today.” It’s the truth – Courtney is far from stupid, and while I might have noticed some generous soft curvature against my chest when she tackle-hugged me I’d
definitely
not call her fat.

Leah holds eye contact for another long moment. You think you’re intimidating me. Oh, that’s
adorable
. I can’t help it – something primitive inside me responds to the challenge. I don’t move a muscle. My posture doesn’t change, nor does the expression on my face, but the quizzical good cheer drains from my eyes, and I allow the deeper things to show through.

Every human being has the capacity for violence inside them, but after years of training and application, mine is much closer to the surface than most. Leah is used to being a big dog in a very small yard. She might think of herself as a wolf, but she’s never actually met the true stealthy wild killers before, and she cannot hold the eye contact for long.

“All right then.” She backs a step, drops her eyes. A few more steps backward, then she’s around the side of the building. She recognized the threat and declined to turn her back on me. Perhaps I should have stayed dumb and cheerful, ignored the challenge?
Too late now. What’s done is done. Time to move on.

I didn’t have enough time with Courtney to get a good feel for what’s going on here, but a couple of things have been established. First off, she is unquestionably in danger. The meeting with Leah just now underscored that. That woman has a definite tendency toward sadism, and that makes me far more likely to believe what Courtney said about – at an absolute minimum – her mother’s beating, and Courtney herself picked up that limp somewhere. Little girl Courtney was never given to lies, and I have no reason to think that grown-up Courtney would have changed that much.

The whole forced arranged marriage thing, though. Does that shit actually still happen? Obviously, she has reason to think it does. The fear in her eyes was genuine.

That fear. All the old memories of her, the feelings, flood in again. She’s never going to be afraid again. I’m back.

I return to the map, scrolling around the area to get a feel for things. I’d love to be able to hang out here and keep an eye on Courtney for the rest of the day and then drive there, follow their truck, but that’s not going to be possible. It’s just paper company roads, logging trails really, between Greenville and the site. No, the
compound
. That’s the best word for it. It would be too obvious that I was following them. No, I’m going to have to park somewhere, hump it in on foot.

The hike looks like twelve miles, maybe fifteen if you count the over-and-around bullshit. Courtney will be safe enough here in town, I think: Maine folk may keep to themselves and ignore a lot of shit that’s none of their business, but I can’t imagine anyone letting a young woman get abused in public without starting up some shit of their own. Old habits, old manners—chivalry is not dead yet, not out here, anyway.

It’s going to be a long day, and an even longer night.

* * *

S
ean’s back
! He came back for me! My heart soars and I want to sing out with the purest joy I’ve ever felt.

Even in spite of the day’s emotional highs, I’m utterly exhausted. I’m pretty sure that today was a record-breaker in terms of sales. All the quilts are gone, and most of the produce as well. I’m actually grateful when Leah takes the keys of the truck and announces she’s driving. Grateful even in spite of being squeezed in between the door and Jeremiah, with Nathan across our combined laps.

The prophet’s youngest son falls asleep on the drive home and I cradle him in my arms. I can’t bring myself to hate him. He’s just a misguided little boy, seeking approval and love that he will never receive from his father or his brother.

We make it home in time for the end of the evening meal and the beginning of the prayer session. I’m tired and I’ve been on my feet all day. My leg hurts, and when it does, my limp is even more pronounced. I wonder if Sean noticed it? Of course he did; how could he not?

Jeremiah sure doesn’t seem to see it. He watches me struggle under mountains of baskets and bags, putting everything back in storage without so much as offering to help. He does manage to get in a grab at my ass, and under the heavy load I’m not quite able to dodge it.

You don’t want a wife to love, you want a slave. A brood-mare. But then again what do I know about love? I thought Sean loved me, but he left anyway, all those years ago.

I regret the uncharitable thought instantly: Sean may have left before, but he’s back now. Sean’s
back
! He came back for
me
!

Nathan barely manages to follow us and instantly falls asleep again at the table even while his father preaches. Wedged between Leah and Jeremiah, I gobble up scraps left over from the communal supper: the pieces of chicken that nobody else took, dried out or bony, carrots and onions too misshapen to sell to tourists.

Father Emmanuel’s ranting is long and loud. He screeches out a rousing sermon full of fire and brimstone, loaded with sin and damnation. America will fall, he proclaims, because she has lain with the Whore of Babylon. He goes on and on about the abomination of desolation, about Gog and Magog, prophesying rivers of blood covering the land, and the gathered community eats up every word with as much gusto as they eat their supper.

If they nodded in approval of the son’s ridiculously poor logic at breakfast yesterday, the father’s insanity has them ready to light the torches and march on Manhattan, Washington, and Hollywood with The Lord’s cleansing purge of fire.

Only at the end, when Father Emmanuel orders us to bow our heads in repentance and pray for The Lord’s forgiveness and mercy am I able to hear myself think again.

I close my eyes and lower my head dutifully while I replay my conversation with Sean in my head. A smile blooms on my lips and I bite it back. It’s nearly impossible to keep the appropriate mask for the circumstances when all I want to do is shout from the highest mountain peaks, scream to the world that I am the happiest girl on earth. Sean came back for me!

For eight long years, I’ve waited and prayed. I’ve gone so far beyond any possibility of hope, and now? My prayers have been answered. Sean is back! He’s back home, back in my life. Back for me! All I want to do is shout my gratitude to the heavens, praising a God in whom I’d almost lost all faith. I want to dance and show my joy to the world. But I don’t dare.

My
amen
at the end of Satan’s final prayer carries only the barest shadow of the bliss and ecstatic exultation I feel inside, but still—I’m showing
too
much happiness. Leah’s deep-set eyes fasten to me, but even her sharp-edged gaze, slicing away layers of secret, probing to find the hidden truth of sin, cannot do anything to bring me back to the ground. And what can you say anyway, you nasty bitch? That I’m too fervent in my worship? That I’m too caught up in praising The Lord and His Plan? His utterly magnificent Plan, which has brought me my deliverance?

Once the hymns and prayers are complete, I manage to pull Nathan away from the table. He’s dead on his feet, drifting off to sleep almost at every third step, but eventually we reach his mother in the infirmary.

Sister Rebecca reads the Bible at her desk, the leftovers of her own supper on a tray next to her. She’s barely touched her food. Satan likes his women on the skinny side, but the woman is already so thin that she looks sickly. She’s barely a few pounds away from my gaunt mother.

Nathan’s mother looks up from her book as we walk in and for the barest fraction of an instant she smiles. Not at me, but at her son, and even in his exhausted haze the little boy seems to catch that fluttering sign of love and approaches her. Everything in the way he looks at you screams that he wants a goodnight hug. How can you not see it? Or do you just not care? The briefest touch of her lips on his forehead is all he gets as she sends him to bed. There are no open arms, no show of affection. How much longer will he still look for love and tenderness in the world before he fully embraces the stern asceticism of his father? Or is it too late already? I have to believe that he could still be saved.

That’s one thing Rebecca, Leah, and my mother have in common: they’re not touchy-feely mothers. I know that they must love their children, but they do not show it. Is it something about them that’s broken or missing? Is it something about us? Or is it just this place, this church and our vile prophet?

Unlike Jeremiah and Nathan, I was lucky to have a father who made up for it while he lived. The memory of those moments still warms my heart, and I try to share that warmth with the little ones here as best I can. With Jennie, with the others. Even with Nathan, when he lets me.

When the door to their room closes behind her son, Rebecca looks at me again.

“I won’t lie to you,” she says, shaking her head as she stands and chases imaginary crumbs from the front of her dress. Rebecca motions for me to follow her. “Your mother is not well, Sister Courtney,” she tells me as we walk.

My mother seems shrunken, laying in the small cot. The sound of our voices pulls her out of her torpor and she turns slowly in our direction, but there’s only disappointment in her eyes when she identifies us. Of course. She wanted
him
to come and visit her.

I’m torn between anger and sadness. How many times will she have to be kicked before she can break that compulsion to crawl back to him? Even a dog has more sense than this. Even a dog will eventually run away, or learn to fight back. Why can’t you do the same thing, Mom?

A nightstand by her bed holds another tray of supper. It’s just as full as the one that Sister Rebecca had left almost completely untouched.

“She didn’t eat anything, did she?” I don’t need to look at Rebecca to know the answer.

I help my protesting mother to sit up. She resists, trying to turn her back to me, but gives in at Rebecca’s insistence.

“Call me if you need me,” she says, pulling the door mostly closed behind herself.

I pull over a stool, and coax my mother into eating. One spoonful at a time, the soup vanishes until half of the bowl is gone.

“Oh, Mom,” I sigh. “Where are you?” She turns her bruised face to me when I speak to her, but her eyes are empty, unfocused, and I feel as if I’m transparent. Does she even know who I am?

When she’s too tired to eat anymore, I take her in my arms and help her get up. She trudges in silence to the bathroom and back, and I tuck her back into bed.

“Why are we here, Mom?” I know she has no answers for me, but I need to ask anyway. “Why did you bring me to this place? Why won’t you leave here?” I look away from her as I stand, staring at my feet as I ask one final question in a bitter voice. “Why won’t you let
me
leave?”

“Because
He
commanded it.” My mother’s whisper stops me in my tracks, and when she reaches out to me, her grip on my wrist is as strong as any steel manacle. “
He
willed us to be here, and so we are here.”

“Is this what you want?” I ask. I’m torn between incredulity and anger at her answer. “For yourself? For
me?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Courtney. It doesn’t matter what we want. It only matters what He commands,” my mother whispers softly. “When He commands, it must be done. We must purge ourselves of sin, of wickedness. We must be worthy of Him.”

“But
why
, Mom?” Prying her hand off my wrist, I lay it against my thigh. I know she can feel the damage through the threadbare skirt, and in a sudden burst of fury I wish I could let her feel it firsthand. “Why couldn’t you just let me
leave?
You ran away, yourself, Mom. Once upon a time,
you
ran away from a place like this.”

“If the sheep run away,” she says, “then the shepherd cannot protect them.” There’s a hint of sadness in her voice, in her eyes. Is it truly there, or am I only imagining it? Do I see it because I
want
it to be there? “The flock must grow,” she finishes, echoing what Father Emmanuel had said to me in his office.

“Is that it, then?” I ask, sick horror in my stomach. “You’re with him on this? You want to see me married to Jeremiah?” I recoil from her touch. “Do you know what that will
mean
for me?”

“The flock must grow,” she says again, and it’s not my imagination, now: her eyes do express genuine sadness, regret. “
He
commands, and we must obey. It’s the only way we can be saved from our sins, from this sinful world. I thought I could live out there, I thought I could protect you myself, but I couldn’t. I hear His voice, and I must obey him.
You
must obey him.” My mother’s blinks several times, each one slower than the last, until her eyes simply stay closed.

I sit again, staying with her until her breath settles into the steady rhythm of sleep. Carefully avoiding the bruises, I brush graying hair from her face. How can you look so old, when only in your forties? My mother seems so fragile, so frail, but her grip on my wrist was stronger than I could have expected.

This is the most open she’s ever been about these things. Medication and exhaustion must have given me the key to open her, but they still weren’t enough to make her speak plainly. Or perhaps they were too much, combined, to allow it? Every other time I’d asked
why
, she’d simply flown into a rage. Before long I learned to avoid her slaps, and it didn’t take much more time before I learned to avoid those inconvenient questions. Even
I’m
as smart as the dogs, Mom. Why can’t you be? What did you mean? What did any of it mean?

“Goodbye,” I say to my sleeping mother. I’ve received all the answers I’m likely to get, tonight. I want to tell her about tomorrow, about running away with Sean. I want to tell her everything, but I don’t. If she’s truly asleep, it’s a waste of my time. If she’s not? It would spell disaster.

I thank Rebecca as I leave the infirmary, but I hesitate on which direction to go. Left or right? Sleep in my ransacked hovel one last time, or go back to the dormitory for a final night?

Jennie pops out of nowhere and jumps into my arms.

“You look sad,” she says, slipping her arms around my neck. “I thought you needed a goodnight hug.”

I hug her back with false, joyless smile on my face.

“Oh, but I’m not sad! Not at all,” I tell her. “And I’m not in a hugging mood! I’m in a
tickling one!
” As I say the words, I wiggle the fingers of my hand right over her belly. I don’t even need to touch the little girl for her to squeal with laughter, flailing dirty bare feet in the air. I laugh with her, hoping she can’t pick out the note of sorrow, the loss that I hear. I miss her already.

I walk with her to the dorm. I could stay there with her. There’s safety in numbers. Surely Jeremiah or his father will leave me alone if I’m with the other girls. Yet, I need to speak to Daniel.

“Run along now, sweetheart,” I tell Jennie after giving her a goodnight kiss on the forehead. “If I can, I’ll come to check on you a bit later.”

Quickly I make my way back to the converted garden shed. I shudder at the idea of returning, but there’s a ripple of glee as well: it’s the last night I’ll call the miserable little thing
home
. It wasn’t much of a home to begin with, but it was shelter. A place where Daniel and I made each other feel safe for a while.

Gathering my courage, I pull the door open, startling Daniel. He’s sitting on the shambles of our bed, taking a break from restoring some sort of order. As soon as he sees me, he stands, opening his arms to me. I run to him, and he folds them around me.

“I was so scared for you,” I murmur against his chest. “I thought you’d never come back.”

“You worry too much,” he says. Daniel pats my back gently and
shushes
me. “Don’t you have any faith in my brother? He’ll never let anything bad happen to me.”

“
No,
Daniel!” I gently pull away and look in Daniel’s eyes, wondering if he really believes this or if he’s just trying to reassure me. “I
don’t
have any faith in your brother.” I shake my head in disbelief. Maybe a different angle? Even if he’s in full denial about his brother, he has to realize that his nephew is dangerous.

“What about Jeremiah?” I ask. “Do you trust
him
as well?”

The smile vanishes from his face. “So you know that he’s trying to have you for himself.”

“How exactly would I
not
know?” I ask. Daniel looks at me in confusion and I snort. “Your nephew explained it to me in great detail. It’s on hold though. For the moment, at least. Didn’t your brother tell you? He thinks I might be pregnant. This is, of course,
not
the case. But like he told me:
the ewes must be bred
.”

“Ah.” Daniel squeezes me tighter, rests his forehead against mine. “I… did not think he was ready to move on it yet. I believed there was time, yet.”

“Time for what? For you to, y’know…
that?
” My voice is hysterical and I hate it. “
That’s
not going to happen, and you know it.” I choke back a sob. “Daniel, your nephew wants me. And he’ll have me, one way or another.”