I run toward Dad, who is striding toward us, his jaw clenched tight as a fist. “Hey, Dad,” I say softly. “We were just getting ready to—”
“What are you doing down here, Agnes? I told all of you to go down to the house! It is Ascension Week! You know better!”
I nod and gulp over the mound in my throat. “I was, Dad. I mean, I know. I went home just like you said, and laid down for a while. I even fell asleep.”
“Did Benny go with you?”
I break into a trot to keep pace with him. “No, he was with Nana Pete down here, I guess. And Honey too.”
Dad’s eye twitches. “That sounds about right.”
I stare down at the ground, thinking about something Honey said to me just a few weeks ago. “Sometimes I think you’d sell your own brother, Agnes, just to save your own soul.” A pang of guilt surges over me. I quicken my pace again to catch up with Dad.
“But I don’t think they’ve been here very long, Dad … I was only asleep for—”
“Mother!” Dad yells, cutting me off again. “Benedict!”
They are sitting next to Honey, wiping the mud off their feet with one of Nana Pete’s handkerchiefs. Nana Pete lifts her hand, the dirty handkerchief dangling between her fingers like a peace offering.
Dad comes to a halt a few feet from them, his face shiny with perspiration and rage. “I don’t even have time to get into this with you right now, Mother,” he says. “You have to come with me immediately and get cleaned up for dinner. During Ascension Week, Emmanuel shares evening meals with everyone in the community and we cannot, under any circumstances, be late.”
Benny and I exchange a look. His eyes are wide with fear.
“Okay, okay,” Nana Pete says, patting her ankles with the handkerchief. “In a minute, Leonard.”
“Mother!” Dad says sharply. He glares at Honey as she stifles a giggle. “We have to go now!”
Nana Pete shoves the handkerchief into her front pocket and stretches out her arm in Dad’s direction. He pulls her to her feet and then turns, striding back down the road again. I stare beseechingly at him as I struggle to keep up, hoping that he’ll look over and cast me a forgiving look. But he storms ahead of us the whole way back and doesn’t turn around once, not even when I trip and fall, cutting my knee on a rock.
Since Emmanuel rarely eats with the general population of Mount Blessing, when he does (usually during a holy week), it’s a huge deal. It’s also a sign of great disrespect to be late. Stragglers who show up after the six o’clock bell are locked out of the Great House for the rest of the meal. It happened to Dad once a few years back, right around this time. It wasn’t his fault—the car he was driving home broke down on the side of the road and he had to wait for someone to pick him up—but Emmanuel didn’t want to hear it. Poor Dad had to go back down to the Field House and wait for us to finish eating. I told Benny to shove extra bread in his pockets for him, but Dad didn’t want it.
“No, Agnes,” he said, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have done that. Emmanuel is right. I deserve to go hungry tonight.”
“But it wasn’t your fault!” I protested. “The car—”
“Nothing happens by accident,” Dad said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Everything is God’s will. And tonight he was testing me. The truth is, I should have tried harder to find another way home so that I wouldn’t miss Emmanuel’s presence at a meal. But I didn’t. I gave up and just waited for someone to come get me.”
“But … ”
“No buts,” Dad said firmly. “God helps those who help themselves.”
I was so confused that I almost felt angry. Rule or no rule, Dad’s explanation just didn’t make any sense. None. But it had to, I told myself later, retying my waist rope in bed. After all, it was Dad talking. Next to Emmanuel, he was the holiest person I knew.
Tonight there is a low murmuring throughout the Great House, like the inside of a beehive. The room is a sea of blue robes moving in every direction. Mothers are hustling their children into their required seats, while others place baskets of bread on the table. There are green plastic bowls at every place setting, along with a small plate and cup. I follow Mom and Dad and Nana Pete over to our usual table and sit down. Benny settles in next to me and begins to fiddle uneasily with his glasses. I glance around the room, looking for Honey. Usually she is at the table opposite ours, sitting with Winky. I catch sight of Christine, Claudia Yen, and her brother, Andrew, but I don’t see Honey anywhere. Where is she? I look up at the clock nervously: 5:57. She has three minutes before the Great Door will close and then lock.