Читать книгу Wyoming Undercover - Karen Whiddon - Страница 12

Chapter 3

Following his new pals outside, Jack looked around carefully, squinting in the bright daylight. The sun, warm for spring, sat high in a bright, blue, cloudless sky. It wasn’t humid, though, but a dry heat, and not nearly as hard to take as spring in Texas. The air felt different here, purer somehow. Must be the higher altitude. Surrounding the compound as well as within, there were lots of trees, evergreens along with hardwoods. His first impression was wilderness. The cult’s encampment appeared to be in an isolated area, far from any other dwellings, towns or people. All around the settlement he saw nothing but undeveloped terrain.

The building they’d left, the hospital, looked identical to several other cinder-block buildings loosely grouped around what appeared to be some sort of central square. Everything had been painted a pale shade of dried mud. Boring, yet soothing, too. There didn’t appear to be any external individualization—no colors or decorative accents adorned anything. He couldn’t even tell which structures were residences and which were businesses—assuming they had any. He’d venture a guess that any type of monetary capitalization was frowned upon here—no doubt the leadership dispensed what was needed to the residents. That way they were dependent on the organization for everything in every aspect of their lives.

It definitely seemed slower paced, more evenly regulated than the competitive world he was used to. And as far as he could tell, none of his companions seemed to be suffering. As they walked, the other men joked with each other, jostling elbows and laughing easily in a way that reminded Jack of college kids. He supposed these guys weren’t much older than that, which made him feel sort of ancient. But, no matter. He hadn’t come here to make friends. Though being pleasant wouldn’t hurt. More flies with honey and all that.

The paths were all gravel or cobblestone; nothing as efficient or modern as pavement.

His companions stopped in front of a single-story, unassuming building, one of many in a neat row. These were slightly smaller than some of the others, their rectangular shapes and placement reminiscent of row houses.

“Here we are,” Phillip said, beaming with pride. “Home. Thomas wants you to room with me. Here, single people all live together, two to a bedroom. I have an empty bed since Prescott got married.”

Jack nodded. “Sounds good.”

Phillip opened the front door with a flourish. “Come on in. I’ll show you where you’ll be living.”

Stepping inside, Jack looked around. After the outside, he’d expected a seriously Spartan interior, with scant decoration and functional furniture. He saw he’d been correct about the furniture—the small living room contained a boxy, two-cushion couch, one chair, a plain, rectangular coffee table and a matching end table. But the real surprise hung on the walls.

Paintings—splashes of lush color—hung on the walls. A landscape here, a floral there. An abstract, and a portrait. All of those in one room. Intrigued, Jack strolled over to inspect the landscape, which appeared to be inspired by the local forests surrounding the compound.

Now, Jack was no judge of art, but he knew what he liked and this—clean lines, bold brushstrokes of color—was it. “That’s amazing,” he said. “Who’s the artist?”

“Me,” Phillip responded, pleasure warming his voice. Jack turned to see his new roommate beaming with pride. “When I was in school, I demonstrated this talent, so I was permitted to keep it as my hobby.”

“Permitted?” The word slipped out, but Jack felt it was reasonable.

“Everyone is allowed to have one hobby, as long as it doesn’t interfere with their work and study of the Volumes of Choice.”

Though Jack hadn’t heard of the Volumes of Choice, it seemed pretty self-explanatory. It must be COE’s religious tenet.

Instead of commenting, he moved on to inspect the next painting. A single flower, painted in five different shades of the same color. Beautiful, in a completely different way than the first painting, though the artist’s style remained the same.

He moved onto the third and then the fourth. “You’re really talented, Phillip.”

Clearly pleased, the other man ducked his head. Eyeing him, with his large, beefy frame and thick, callused hands, Jack couldn’t picture his fingers holding a paintbrush. Just goes to show, once again, Jack thought, that one couldn’t judge people by their exterior.

“Come on,” Phillip said. “Let me show you the rest of the place.”

In addition to a cozy kitchenette, there were two small, identical bedrooms and one bathroom. If not for the brightness of the paintings hung everywhere, it would have been a very dull, even depressing, place.

“I sure am glad you paint,” Jack said as he inspected his bedroom. A huge painting of a lake under a full moon hung at the head of the twin bed.

“Are you?” Phillip chuckled. “I was about to ask you if you wanted me to remove that painting.”

“No. Please don’t. I really like it.”

“Great.” Phillip backed out of the room. “Listen, Thomas wants you to go to work with me tomorrow. I start work at eight, so please be ready to leave by around seven thirty or so.”

Surprised, Jack nodded. “Sure. Can I ask what I’ll be doing?”

“Whatever I need you to.” Phillip’s easy smile seemed reassuring. “I work in construction, doing mostly interior finishing work on new buildings. You’ll tag along with me and we’ll see what you might be good at. Does that sound okay to you?”

Wondering what the other man would do if he said no, Jack nodded.

“Great. We eat supper at six. I’ll cook tonight and then we’ll work out a schedule for chores.”

Before Jack could respond, Phillip closed the door and left him alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The next day Sophia reported to work, unable to keep from wishing her handsome former patient was still there. She needed a distraction, and she told herself it was only because she liked having someone to look after. The clinic had no current patients at all, and she didn’t expect any to show up today. Dr. Drew spent one day every two or three weeks visiting each family groups’ assortment of children and this was that day.

Often, Sophia went along with him. She had fond memories of her childhood family group and of all her parents. In COE the close connection between mother and child was severed once the child was a week or two old, when the infant was passed among a small group of nursing mothers so the child didn’t bond to any one in particular. Despite this, Sophia often dreamed of the day when she, too, would have her own baby. The thought had always filled her with so much longing and joy. Of course, that dream, like so many others, didn’t seem destined to come to fruition now.

For the first time she wondered about Ezekiel’s children. He had many, she knew. Grandchildren, too. He paraded them all in front of everyone when the Chosen had celebrations. Ezekiel took pride in his offspring, along with his numerous wives. Of course, some of his children were actually twice as many years older than Sophia, of an age to be her own birth parents. And while she knew Ezekiel had a lot of wives, she knew nothing about them as he tended to keep them hidden away from the general populace.

While she loved the way her COE family raised children as a group rather than with only a small, singular couple, she wasn’t sure how she felt about being one of many women married to one man.

Check that. Okay, she knew how she felt. She didn’t like it. At all. Or wouldn’t have, had her new spouse been anyone other than Ezekiel. On the plus side, maybe being one of many would mean once the newness wore off, he would let her disappear into the crowd and forget she existed.

The prospect of a loveless, unfulfilled life made her feel even worse. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she let herself wallow in self-pity.

“Girl, you’re not going to believe this!” Ana rushed into the room, waving her arms in excitement. She skidded to a stop, eyeing Sophia askance. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Sophia lied, wiping at her eyes. “My allergies are bad today.”

“Oh.” Ana accepted her explanation with a shrug. “Listen. Deirdre has asked to see you.” Ana spoke the words as if giving Sophia a great and unexpected gift. “You’ve got to get yourself cleaned up pronto. She wants you at the main house in thirty minutes and you know it’s at least a five-minute walk.”

The main house. Sophia swallowed hard. Deirdre was Ezekiel’s first wife. As the first and the eldest, she was in charge of all the others. Sophia had never met her, though she’d certainly heard of her and seen her at her husband’s side.

Generally, Deirdre was regarded as a woman of importance, second only to her husband, Ezekiel, and his assistants.

Though she suspected she knew, Sophia asked anyway. “Why?”

Ana frowned. “No doubt to give you all the rules you’ll have to follow once you’re a member of the Anointed One’s household.”

Rules. Sophia winced. When she’d dreamed of her life as a married woman, not once had she thought it would be upended so completely. Usually, the married couple chose which household to join—some became part of the wife’s and others chose the husband’s. Clearly, wedding someone of Ezekiel’s stature meant Sophia would move into the big house and become part of what she’d always privately thought of as the harem.

“Sophia?” Ana’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Are you there?”

“Yes. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Well, you can think later. Right now, you’d better run home and change,” Ana urged. “You can’t go meet Deirdre dressed like that.”

Sophia looked down at her work dress. “Since she sent for me while I’m at work, I’m thinking she probably knows what I do. I think this will be just fine.”

Though Ana actually gasped, she didn’t argue. “At least wash your face and take your hair down.”

Actually, Sophia thought the opposite. The less attractive she could make herself look, the better. If she looked at things from an aging first wife’s viewpoint, she imagined the older woman would be extremely tired of dealing with an influx of younger women. Therefore, Sophia wanted to appear as insignificant as she could possibly make herself.

Once in the clinic’s small bathroom, she splashed water on her face and redid her bun, making it as tight and severe as possible.

Glad she’d chosen to wear the dull gray work dress that morning, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and marched back into the clinic area to let Ana know she was leaving.

But someone sick had come in and Ana was doing her best to tend to him without Dr. Drew on staff, so Sophia slipped out without saying goodbye.

She took her time on the walk to the big house, nervous despite her resolution not to be. She hadn’t asked for any of this, so perhaps Deirdre would cut her a break.

All of the dwellings inside the encampment were the same, except for Ezekiel’s home, a structure befitting that of the leader, which had been built with an outer courtyard and a tall, stucco wall surrounding that, and the homes for his entourage. Native landscape—firs and oaks—had either been brought in or left in place when the structure had been built years before Sophia’s time.

The wrought-iron gate was locked. Heart pounding, Sophia pressed the call button, giving her name to the man who answered. With a buzz and a click, the gate was unlocked.

Hoping someone would show up to direct her, Sophia stepped inside. She clasped her hands together to keep the trembling from being noticeable. She wasn’t afraid, not exactly. More like uncertain and uncomfortable. She hated being put in a situation where she didn’t know what was expected of her.

She let the gate clang closed behind her, not surprised when it locked. Standing just inside the courtyard, she took in the stone bench and the large water fountain crowned with a massive cement angel.

And still no one came to fetch her. She had to stifle the urge to shake her head. Seriously, she really wanted to turn around and go back home. And she would have, except one did not ignore a summons from someone like Deirdre.

Fine. Following the stone path, she made her way toward an elaborate wood-and-iron door. First she knocked and, after waiting for a response, she tried the handle. Not sure if she should be surprised to find it unlocked, she pulled the heavy door open and entered.

Just inside, she found herself in a large, two-story foyer. Her shoes squeaked a bit on the glossy marble floor. Turning slowly, she took in the luxurious surroundings—so unlike those she knew.

She cleared her throat loudly and waited. While she could see how someone might expect her to find her way through the gate to the front door and even inside, no way in heck did she intend to start wandering around the house alone. As a matter of fact, if someone didn’t come for her soon, she planned to take it as bad-mannered rudeness and go back home.

“There you are!” a cultured, feminine voice exclaimed. “I apologize for not being there to greet you, but I had to discipline one of the younger women. Welcome, darling.”

Registering the word discipline, Sophia looked up. The white-haired woman making her way down the stairs so gracefully she appeared to float smiled warmly.

Automatically, Sophia held out her hand. “I’m Sophia Hannah,” she began.

“We’re not formal here,” Deirdre said, ignoring the outstretched fingers and going in for a hug instead. She wrapped her surprisingly sturdy arms around Sophia and held on. Sophia tried to hug back, but Deirdre had pinned her arms at her sides. Her perfume—some floral mishmash with heavy musky undertones—had been liberally applied. Sophia couldn’t help herself, though she ducked her head and tried to be as quiet as possible. She sneezed.

Immediately, Deirdre released Sophia and stepped back. “You’re not sick, are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No, ma’am. Just allergies.”

“Don’t call me ma’am,” Deirdre snapped. Then, as Sophia tensed, her expression softened. “Sorry. That’s just one of my pet peeves.”

Sophia nodded as if she understood and waited to hear why Deirdre wanted to see her.

“Follow me,” the older woman abruptly declared, turning on her heel and marching off. Her long gown trailed behind her like a frothy cape.

Reluctantly, Sophia followed. To her surprise, Deirdre led her into a sunny and bright kitchen. Shiny stainless-steel appliances reflected the light. The counters were made of some sort of natural rock and the oak cabinets appeared sturdy and well made. The entire effect was modern and pleasing. And surprising, when Sophia considered what her kitchen looked like.

“Sit.” Deirdre indicated a chair at the round table.

She waited until Sophia had taken a seat before speaking. “You’re about to become a member of my household, and as such there are a few things we need to discuss.”

Sophia nodded. She figured she had a pretty good idea of what was coming. Rules and regulations, and words to make sure she understood how lowly her place would be in this home. Sadly, she couldn’t really blame Deirdre. She could only imagine how much it would hurt to be the first wife forced to watch while your husband took younger and younger women and made them somewhat equal.

Watching her, Deirdre’s hard expression softened. “You have no idea what you’re in for, do you?”

“No.” Sophia decided to be blunt. “I’ve never even met your husband. I have no idea why he chose me.”

Deidre gave a snort. “Child, have you looked at yourself? Ezekiel has never been able to resist a pretty face.”

Sophia wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she said nothing.

After a moment Deidre continued, “Things here are going to be a lot different from what you’re used to. How many people are in your family group?”

“Thirty-three total,” Sophia answered proudly, feeling a rush of love when she thought of them. “Twenty-four adults besides me, and eight children, though most of them live at the school now.”

Deidre raised her brows. “All paired adults, except for you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s about to change,” Deirdre said, her tone brisk. “Here, you will be one of many, but that can be a good thing. At first, Ezekiel is always obsessed with his latest woman, but eventually he’ll get distracted by someone else and will leave you alone.”

The words and their meaning made an involuntary shudder snake up Sophia’s spine. While objectively she knew she’d have to let her husband touch her, the actual thought made her want to gag.

Deirdre’s sharp gaze missed nothing. “It won’t be so bad,” she said. “We can give you a pill or drinks beforehand to blunt the experience. Are you untouched?”

“If I say no, will he call off the wedding?” Sophia couldn’t keep the hope from her voice.

“I doubt you’ll get out of this that easily.” Deidre chuckled. “Do you know how many new wives-to-be I’ve had to have this discussion with?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “Too many to count. In the early days, when Ezekiel was young, they were eager. Bent on becoming his favorite, thinking they could wrest my power from me.”

Her laugh relayed how impossible she believed such a thing to be. “Over the years, despite his penchant for taking more and more wives, things have changed. The women have gone from eager and calculating to resigned and terrified.”

Terrified? Sophia struggled to process that.

“Lately,” Deirdre continued, “the last few have been like you. Frightened, maybe even repulsed.”

Aware that Deirdre might be testing her, Sophia hurriedly shook her head. “Oh, not repulsed,” she said. “Never that. How could one be, when such a great honor has been bestowed?”

A hint of wickedness flashed in Deidre’s gray eyes. “Honor, eh? Maybe so, since he is the Anointed One who will lead us into eternity. But as far as the earthier things, well... We’ll talk again on the morning after your wedding night.”

Oh, no. Again, Sophia shuddered.

“At least you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant,” Deirdre continued thoughtfully. “His seed are too old now to be fertile. Though if you could manage to get with child somehow, your status would instantly be elevated.”

Then, while Sophia pondered a statement that on the surface made no sense, Deirdre winked. “I tell you this just in case you’re one of those women who’ve always wanted children. The time to do that is before you marry.”

Embarrassment warred with horror as Sophia realized what Deirdre meant. She mumbled some sort of response, hoping it didn’t sound too much like agreement. Was this some sort of test? It had to be, because there was no way Deirdre could be serious.

Something of her thoughts must have showed on her face. Deirdre chuckled again before patting her on the head the way one would a wayward child. “Go on back home now,” Deirdre said. “We’ll talk again closer to the ceremony.”

Sophia felt another flash of panic. “About that...” she began.

“You don’t need to even worry about that,” Deirdre said. “It will all be handled by our staff, including our dress. All you have to do is show up.”

One more dream dashed. Of course everything about this marriage-to-be was the opposite of her hopes and expectations.

Somehow she managed to respond with a thank-you before turning and heading back the way she’d come.