My father’s shoulders stiffened. “But—”
Brother Luke glanced meaningfully at my father, cutting him off, as he recited these chilling words. “When tempted, no one should say, ‘God is tempting me.’ For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.”
My father’s head dipped slowly down and he exhaled sharply. “James 1:13-18.”
Stepping forward, I pulled on the hem of my father’s long white tunic. “Father, what did I do wrong? Why are you reciting such scripture?”
There was no embrace from him, no sympathy, just a glacial stare as he knocked away my hand. It hurt and I immediately cradled it to my chest.
Bending down, he stared me full in the eyes and he drew the sign of the cross on my forehead, his face flushed red as he cried, “I cast thou out, Satan! Your temptation shall not flourish here in the Lord’s Eden on Earth. I have sinned enough because of you! I renounce you as my daughter. You are not of my flesh, nor my blood. Spawn of Beelzebub, you are the living embodiment of sin!”
My eyes widened, my breathing slowed, and I began to shake uncontrollably on hearing my father’s words.
I was… born of the devil?
Lord… please… please… help me!
*****
“Get in there and do not dare to come out!”
I nodded my head in obedience, moved away from Brother Luke, and, trembling, walked to the small bed in my room.
My father and Brother Luke had dragged me home without a word of discussion and brought me to this room. I was terrified. They were treating me as though I had sinned, but I did not understand what I had done.
Slumping on the bed, I pulled my long skirt over my bent knees and sobbed.
I do not know how long I had been in my room, staring at the ceiling. I could hear doors opening and closing, the low timbre of male voices talking in the parlor, female cries coming from adjoining bedrooms. Through the thick walls, I could not hear clearly what was being said.
More time passed, the voices faded, and the house grew silent. Night came, as did darkness in its wake, lit only by the moon, its narrow silver rays piercing a single small window on the north wall.
As I lay on the bed, exhausted and confused, I started when the doorknob to my bedroom began to turn. Holding my breath, wondering who would enter, I exhaled a relieved breath when Phebe, my sister, snuck through.
“Sister?” she whispered and tiptoed silently to my bed. I sat up instantly and smiled. I loved my sister. She was my best friend, older by a few years; we had different mothers—my father had many wives—but shared the same devout personality.
When Phebe’s eyes connected with mine, she froze. An anxious look washed over her pretty face and she tucked her vibrant red hair behind her ears. She was dressed in a long white nightgown and her hair flowed free. Night was the only time our hair was permitted to be out of our headdresses.
“Phebe? What is happening?” I asked, dread again swirling in my stomach.
Phebe glanced toward the door before inching closer. “Father…” She paused, then took a deep breath. “Father said you are no longer my sister.”
Feeling as though a blade had been stabbed through my heart, I scrambled back on the bed in shock.
Phebe watched my reaction and tears filled her eyes. “Sister…” she said on a pained sigh.
“W-why? W-what have I done?” I asked, a cascade of tears flowing down my cheeks.
Phebe cautiously sat on the end of my bed and studied my face. I could see her inquisitive blue eyes searching for something and a sudden look of relief softened her tight features. “I do not see it.”
I frowned. “See… see what?”
“The devil in you.”