“Are you feeling all right? Can you get up?”
Slowly she sat, assessing. “I do feel all right, as good as I can, I guess. I’m a little hungry.”
I shook my head. “If you get yourself ready, I’ll check the kitchen and see if there’s anything to eat.”
We’d already determined that even the bedroom had a camera. When I pulled back the covers, she was still fully dressed. Her skirt was some kind of gauzy material that didn’t wrinkle, and other than shoes and whatever she needed to do privately, she was ready.
In the kitchen I found bread and hurriedly put it in the toaster. In the refrigerator I found her favorite flavor of Preserve the Light preserves—strawberry. I looked up as she walked toward the small galley kitchen. She looked so pretty. I was glad she’d rested, if only for a little while. Despite the ugly bruise, her coloring had improved, bringing back the pink to her cheeks and lips.
When she reached for the plate with the toast, she gasped, “Oh!”
I narrowed my gaze.
“I just remembered,” she said, recovering quickly, “how much I love the strawberry preserves. We’ve been out of it at the Northern Light for a while.”
I suspected that she had remembered something other than that, but I could play along. “I knew it was your favorite. It always has been.”
She shrugged as she chewed. Once she swallowed, she said, “Sometimes I forget that you remember further back than I do. All I remember is liking it.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s much better than the blueberry.”
I exhaled and prayed. Just maybe we could pull this off.
As I handed her a glass of water, we both turned toward the sound of knocking.
Taking a quick drink, she asked, “Is this like our service? I’m nervous.”
“It is, only smaller.”
I opened the door to Micah. Beyond him, on the driveway that passed the buildings and ran out to the landing strip in one direction and to the road in the other, was a black SUV. Under the warm Michigan sun stood a driver, waiting ominously by the car door. Sunglasses covered his eyes, and a white button-down shirt stretched over his large arms, a stark contrast to his dark skin. I immediately recognized him. Although Brother Elijah was on the Assembly, from my experience at the Eastern Light and the way he resembled a professional football player, I believed he also acted as a bodyguard whenever Father Gabriel was present.
“Hello, Brother Elijah,” I said.
He nodded. “Brother Jacob. Brother Micah.”
Although Sara followed closely behind, with her eyes down, Elijah didn’t acknowledge her. He wasn’t expected to, nor was I expected to introduce her. When she glanced up and saw Brother Elijah, her lip disappeared between her teeth and she reached for my hand. Damn, I wanted to know what she was thinking. Instead I searched her expression as I helped her into the backseat. She was true to our plan, and other than the fact that the pink had left her cheeks, her expression revealed nothing.
Though Brother Elijah often accompanied Father Gabriel, thankfully, Father Gabriel wasn’t in the SUV. I sat next to Sara in the backseat and tried to silently reassure her as I squeezed her hand. With Micah in the front seat, we rode in silence as Elijah turned the SUV around, headed into the trees, and drove toward the gate. After he entered an access code, the solid, wide gate moved, allowing us to leave the mansion’s compound. It wasn’t until we entered Highland Heights that Elijah spoke.
“Brother Jacob, as an Assemblyman, you’ll sit with the Assemblymen, and Sister Sara, you’re expected to sit with the Assembly wives.”
Her hand flinched within mine, but her head never moved. “Of course,” I replied. “I’ll show Sara where that is. When we were here before, I wasn’t on the Assembly.”
Shit! Now it was me who was rambling.
Elijah’s head turned slightly toward the rearview mirror. I nodded, doing my best to keep my tone and facial expression neutral. Fuck, it wasn’t going to be Sara who messed this up, it was going to be me, if I didn’t calm down.
“My wife,” Elijah went on, “is Sister Teresa. I told her to tell the other Assembly wives to expect a guest. They’ll be ready.”
I hoped that was a good thing, because given the way Sara was clinging to my hand, I didn’t want to be separated from her, not even in a church filled with followers, and I was certain that she felt the same. So much for keeping promises. Not only couldn’t I be with her but also neither could Micah. The two of them knew each other only from services, but each had heard the other’s name often.
Micah was also married. His wife and their young son were back at the Northern Light. He and I both knew this entire situation of taking Sara to the Eastern Light was highly unusual. When we were getting the Cessna ready for the trip, he had reached for my arm and whispered, “I don’t understand this. I piloted Father Gabriel for years before you came. I’ve never transported a woman back to the Eastern Light.”