Deceived: Lured from the Truth (Secrets) (12 page)

“Come on,” she says to me. “Let’s get you settled in. I’m sure you already know that there are no guests here. If you’re part of this community, you’re expected to work. If you don’t work, you don’t eat.”

“I’m aware of this,” I assure her. “I actually like to work.”

“Then you’re in the right place.” She slaps me on the back. “Now come on.”

I glance back to see Josiah still standing there with what seems like a perplexed expression. For the second time I’m worried that he thinks I won’t be able to cut the mustard here. And so I give him a confident wave and a broad smile. “See you later,” I call out as Miriam leads me into her cabin.

“These cabins look so cozy.” I look around the sparsely furnished room. There are four bunks, each topped with a handmade quilt. There are four small three-drawer pine dressers, four small pine desks, and four wooden chairs. On the floor is a large braided rug in a rainbow of colors. “Did someone make that?”

Miriam nods. “I did. It’s a way to recycle unneeded clothing.”

“It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.” She points to a bed in the far corner. “That’s my bed there. You can select any of the others.”

I set one of my bags on the bed by the only window. “This one will be fine.”

“That window can be drafty. You might want to switch come winter. That is if you’re still here by then. Josiah didn’t say how long you intend to stay.”

Now I feel uneasy. Will they be as friendly and accommodating to me if they know I only plan to be here for the summer? Now that I think about it, nothing was said about the duration of my stay. If they consider me just a visitor, will I be treated differently? Will I even be welcome? Should I pretend that I’m considering staying here indefinitely?

“How long do you intend on staying?” she presses.

I smile and shrug. “I guess I’m not really sure. This is all so new to me. I’m still sort of adjusting to everything.”

She returns my smile. “And there’s no need for me to pressure you. After all, we live one day at a time around here. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

“Yes.” I nod eagerly. “I believe that too.”

Miriam’s lips form a tight line and her dark brows draw together. “However, even if you’re only here for just a day, if you plan to work and be part of our community …” She points to my jeans. “Those will not do at all.” She shakes her head. “Not at all. The Bible makes it clear that women are not to dress like men. And we take that seriously here.”

“I apologize for my appearance. And I’m aware that I need to wear a dress. Unfortunately, the only dresses I have aren’t very long.”

She makes a tsk-tsk sound. “That’s simply the way of the world, is it not? Women going around dressed like men or like harlots and not thinking a thing of it. Goodness, when I saw Monique on Sunday — oh my! Thankfully, she was agreeable to burning her clothes.”

“She burned her clothes?”

Miriam looks startled. “Certainly.” Now she points to her rug. “Those horrid rags weren’t even worthy of walking upon.”

I nod. “I do remember being concerned when we picked her up on the highway that evening. I mean, judging by her clothes, she was a little scary.”

“Thankfully, she has seen the error of her ways.”

“That’s really amazing.” I smile, but the truth is, I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. I haven’t actually talked to Monique yet. Not since Sunday anyway. But is it possible that she’s really done a complete turnaround? Maybe miracles do still happen.

“Now, as to your wardrobe needs.” Miriam bends down and pulls open one of the drawers on the dresser near her bed. “I realize I’m a bit taller than you, but perhaps we can make this work.” She pulls out a long plain dress in a nondescript shade of dark blue and holds it up.

“Oh … ?” I study the drab dress, trying to imagine myself in it.

“Go ahead, put it on.” She hands the dress to me.

Suddenly I feel self-conscious, not sure that I want to disrobe in front of this complete stranger. Of course, this is silly considering that I’ve been living in the dorm with women I never knew before, showering and dressing in front of them. However, there is something unsettling about being alone in here. “Do you mind if I change in the bathroom?”

She frowns. “Is there something you feel a need to hide?”

“No …” I shake my head. “I guess I’m just a little shy.”

“All right. This time you can do that. But I don’t want you to start using the bathroom as your private dressing room.”

I sigh, not wanting to rub her the wrong way. “Okay then. I’ll just change out here.” But I turn my back to her as I remove my clothes. As I struggle to pull the dress over my head, I remember that I’m wearing some rather skimpy underwear. Not skimpy compared to what most girls wear, but I’m sure it’s skimpy compared to what someone like Miriam must wear. Not that I want to think about that. Fortunately, she doesn’t say anything.

I push my arms through the sleeves, arranging the bodice of the dress around my waist, then turn to look at her.

“It’s a little long,” she says. “But it won’t be dragging in the dirt. If you want to shorten it a bit, I don’t mind. I doubt I’ll wear it again. Of course, you may not know how to sew.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m appalled at how many girls arrive here and don’t even know how to thread a needle. But that doesn’t last for long. As a matter of fact, I teach the beginner’s sewing classes. Would you like me to sign you up to join us on Thursday night?”

“I already know how to sew. I’ve been sewing since I was twelve.”

She looks surprised. “Well, that’s a skill that will be useful around here.”

“And I can cook too.” I stand taller, feeling thankful for all my years in 4-H.

“Goodness. Josiah did well to find you, didn’t he?” But now she scowls. “But I do hope you won’t let these skills give you a big head. We are all equals here. No matter how talented or pretty or smart — we show no preferences. It makes no difference. We are all equal and the same in the Lord’s eyes.”

“Yes, of course. I wasn’t trying to brag.” Okay, maybe I was.

“So since you won’t be in the beginner’s class, I will sign you up to attend our Saturday-night sewing circle.” She points to the patchwork quilts. “We made all of those. And we make dresses and shirts and curtains and all sorts of good things.”

“Yes, I’d like to be part of that.”

“As for your cooking skills, perhaps you’ll want to help in the kitchen.”

I explain that we’ve already spoken to Eleanor about this very thing. “And Reverend Jim agrees that’ll be a good place for me to work.” I consider telling her about my dream of running a restaurant someday, but that might sound like I’m bragging again. I’ll have to be careful about that.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom now? I mean, I really have to go.”

She chuckles. “Well, of course. Go. You don’t need to ask to use that, Rachel.”

I notice three things about the Spartan bathroom: (1) there is no mirror above the sink, (2) the hand soap appears to be homemade and smells funny, and (3) the hand towel feels like cardboard. As I hang the stiff towel back on the wooden bar, I wonder if this was how the pioneers lived. When I return to the room, I find Miriam going through my bags.

“The reverend will expect me to show you what’s acceptable here … and what is not.” She points to a small pile on my bed. Only underwear and socks and my T-shirt nightie. Now she places my toothbrush and my hairbrush next to it. “That should do it.” She zips up the bag and turns to me.

“You’re kidding. What about my shampoo and — ?”

“You’ll find everything you need in the bathroom.”

“So … what about my other things?” I point nervously at my bags. Hopefully she’s not planning to burn them.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On your level of commitment.” She studies me closely.

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“Yes, it takes some people longer to decide.”

I just nod.

“In the meantime, we better get these things into storage.” She picks up one of my smaller bags.

“Storage?”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be safe.” She nods to the other bags. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

I gather up my bags, leaving my purse on my bed.

“Get that too,” she tells me.

“But my cell phone is in there.”

She laughs. “You won’t be needing that.”

“But I — ”

“Didn’t Josiah tell you that cell phones are not allowed?”

“But he has one.”

“I’m sure he uses one for making deliveries. But I assure you that he doesn’t have one for his personal use.”

I’m not so sure, but I don’t want to argue with her. Instead I pick up my bags and follow her outside. We walk over to a small building with no windows, and she unlocks a door and tosses my bag in there. “Go ahead and leave your other things here too. If you decide to leave, they’ll be returned to you.”

“Okay …” I feel uncertain as I set my bags in this small dark space, but I notice there are other bags and boxes and things stacked about.

“You’ll be surprised at how much a person doesn’t need,” she tells me as she locks the door.

“I’m sure you’re right. I’ve often said that everyone has too much stuff.” As we walk back to the cabin, I feel strangely free and unencumbered. And suddenly I think I see the reasoning for this. Things really bog a person down.

In the cabin, Miriam sits down on her bed and sighs. “My dairy job is an early one. I rise and shine at four thirty.”

“Four thirty in the morning?”

She laughs. “Well, certainly not in the afternoon.” She looks at the small alarm clock on her dresser. “Otherwise I’m already late. As a result, I like to take a wee nap before dinner. Just a short one. So if you’ll excuse me …”

“Certainly.” I step back as she lies down. “Maybe I’ll take a walk around the grounds.”

“No, you won’t.” She sits up as if alarmed.

“Why not?”

“Women are not permitted to walk on the grounds unaccompanied.”

“Oh …”

“Look in the top drawer of your dresser,” she tells me sleepily. “You’ll find something to read there. I suggest you start reading it.”

I remove a paperback book with a curling cover that’s been printed to resemble old parchment with the words
The Real Testament of Jesus Christ
printed across the top in large block letters, and below in smaller letters it says:
The Lost Springs Edition.

I open the book to chapter 1 and begin to read what sounds faintly familiar … kind of like the Bible, yet different somehow. Not that I’m much of an expert on the Bible, but I have gone to church and attended youth group for most of my life. But now that I think about it, I never really learned too much about the Bible during those years. So as I slowly read the first few pages, I attempt to absorb the gist of the meaning. And I’m somewhat reassured that it sounds similar to what I heard Reverend Jim say in church. Still it’s a little like wading through a swamp or hacking my way through a jungle. Like I want to scrape away half of the words to extract the real meaning.

But I persevere and by the time Miriam wakes, I think I’m grasping it … somewhat. Basically this book is saying that we live in a sinful generation that will soon be judged by God. And unless we change our wicked ways, we will experience the wrath of God in full force. But if we repent from our worldliness and gather ourselves together, waiting on the Lord with pure hearts and receiving godly instruction, we will be preserved from the wrath and condemnation that is coming. After that it gets murkier.

“I see you took my suggestion,” Miriam says with approval. “Do you have any questions about what you’ve read so far?”

I consider this. “Well, I think I got most of it, although the last part was a little confusing.”

“How is it confusing?” She stands and slips her dirty feet into a pair of black flats that are scuffed and worn down on the heels.

“The part about a last day’s prophet who’s supposed to lead his people to safety just like Moses led his people. Who is that?”

Miriam finger-combs her long gray-streaked hair. “Well, it’s Reverend Jim, of course.”

I try not to look too surprised. “Reverend Jim is a prophet?”

“Not
a
prophet, Rachel. He is God’s
chosen prophet
.” Now she’s tightly braiding her hair into a long rope she secures with a rubber band, then flips over her shoulder.

“Oh … ?” I don’t want to appear skeptical and I do think Reverend Jim is a gifted preacher. But God’s chosen prophet? I’m not so sure about this. However, I think it might be wise not to express my real thoughts on this subject. After all, I’ve only heard him preach twice. And both times I got an unusual feeling inside.

“Doubt is of the devil,” she proclaims, as if reading my mind. “If you wish to be part of this community, you must do battle with your devilish doubts.” She points at the book still in my hand. “That is your sword, Rachel. Use it to slay your doubts.”

[CHAPTER 11]

A
s Miriam and I walk to the dining room together, my eyes are searching the grounds for Josiah. I feel the need to talk to him, to be reassured by him. But it’s not until we’re inside the dining hall that I spot him. When I wave at him, starting to go over to him, Miriam stops me by grabbing my arm.

“Women eat on
this
side of the room.”

“Oh …?” Again, I try not to look shocked.

“Men and families eat over there.” She tips her head over to where Josiah is talking to a man I haven’t met.

“I didn’t know about that.”

“Yes, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you sat with Josiah both times you visited here for church service. That was the men and family side. I’m sure Reverend Jim overlooked this because you were a guest. But since you’re no longer a guest, you will be expected to sit on the women’s side.”

I make a stiff nod, acting as if this makes sense.

Now her expression softens and she places a hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s hard to understand these things when you’re new. But you’ll see that it’s really for the best. It eliminates temptation and distraction, allowing us to focus on the teaching.”