Turning slowly, I laid the phone on the desk near Fred and walked toward the large window.
As time passed and the scene through the window went unchanged, I concentrated on what I could do. I made a mental note of each person, each name I’d encountered at the Eastern Light. I’d recall their names and faces as I testified to whoever would listen. This might be Jacob’s case, but I was a witness and I wanted a part in bringing down The Light.
It wasn’t until the doorknob rattled that my attention came back to the present. Through the beveled glass, all I could make out was that the figure was a man. With trembling hands I reached for Dylan’s phone. Swiping the screen, I realized my mistake as my stomach dropped. The numbers he’d programmed into it were gone. I’d erased them when I contemplated calling Bernard. The door once again rattled, this time with a knock, and my eyes darted around the office as I searched for a place to hide. For a moment I considered locking myself in the attached bathroom.
“Sister Sara, it’s me,” Dylan called in a stage whisper. “I’m alone. Please open the door.”
Relief momentarily flooded me as I grabbed the desk for support and stared at his figure. Slowly I stepped toward the door, listening for any sound to indicate that he’d lied and wasn’t alone, but there was nothing except another faint knock and request for me to open the door.
“Brother Dylan, is it really you?” I asked, pretending not to recognize his voice.
“Shit, yes, it’s me.”
My cheeks rose as a small smile crept across my lips. I’d never before noticed how much he cussed. Living in The Light, where vulgarities were frowned upon, made each one he uttered sound foreign. I marveled at how, in the Northern Light, even my thoughts had been without vulgarities—well, until my memories returned. Using vulgarities was the transgression Jacob had chosen as being in need of correction in Fairbanks.
Turning the small latch within the doorknob, I opened one of the doors. Keeping my eyes down, I watched as Dylan’s boots crossed the threshold onto the red carpet, then quickly shut the door, mindful to again turn the latch. The tray he’d been carrying clattered as he placed it on Father Gabriel’s desk near Fred and his phone.
“I made you a sandwich and brought you some water,” he offered, as if a sandwich could make up for what I’d been through. “I almost got you a beer, but then I remembered the pregnant thing. I didn’t know if you should have tea. So, well, I settled for water. I hope that’s all right.”
Beer. I hadn’t even thought of beer in months. Suddenly memories of the two of us came to mind. I recalled evenings on his back deck with beers while he grilled, but just as quickly I remembered that he was the one who’d handed me over to his uncle. Taking a deep breath was all I needed to solidify my more recent memories, those of hours ago in the basement of this horrible place at the mercy of Brother Mark. When I inhaled, the white dress tugged and pulled against the new lashes, pushing any pleasant thoughts away and doing what they were intended to do: remind me.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “It’s very kind of you.”
He motioned toward the food. “Do you want a chair, or would you rather—?”
“Standing is fine,” I replied, hoping that my pain inflicted guilt.
When I didn’t move closer, he asked, “Are you going to eat?”
“I’m waiting, for you.”
“Me? I ate earlier.” The confusion in his voice was audible.
“Brother Dylan, I’m waiting for you to bless the food so I may eat.”
“Shit, yeah, well, I did that already. So go ahead and eat.”
When he reached for the phone I’d left on the desk, my heart skipped a beat. I was grateful I hadn’t made a call.
“You erased the number I put in here? What if someone had come?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I was holding it. I think I touched something, and it went dark.” I smiled at my own creativity as I took a long drink of water. My amusement quickly faded as I noticed my empty ring finger and my thoughts went to Jacob.
“It’s all right. I’m back.”
“Why?” I asked, taking a bite of the turkey sandwich. As my teeth sank into the soft bread I realized how hungry I’d become and almost hummed at the taste of mayonnaise. I hadn’t eaten that since before The Light, and the unique gooiness was like heaven on my tongue.
“What?” Dylan asked.
I put the sandwich down and lowered my chin. “I’m sorry. I know better than to question a man. It is my biggest struggle. I just don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. No one else is.”
“I had a talk with Mariam. Things will be different.”
I nodded, again reaching for my sandwich. When I did, my breathing hitched as Dylan covered my hand with his. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but if it did, I’d tell you that I didn’t have a choice.”