Into the Light (8 page)

“Very good. See, your memory’s improving.”
Asshole, you said that a few minutes ago.
“I’m sure you’ll remember more with time. For now you need my help. I wouldn’t want you to fall, or be injured. Now let me help you.”

I released the handle and held his shoulders as he lifted my gown and lowered my panties. My good leg stiffened and heat flooded my cheeks. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Go ahead,” he continued, “hold on to my neck and you can sit.”

This is so embarrassing.
I did as he said. With my left leg straight in the cast, I wasn’t comfortable, but I was where I needed to be. Modestly I pulled my nightgown over my knees.

“You do remember that we’re married, right?” The small amount of amusement in his voice brought a shy grin to my lips.
Maybe this is progress.

I nodded. It was a lie, but right now my whole life was a lie. I needed to get stronger before I could fight it.

“I’ll step back to the room, but I’m leaving the door open. When you need me, you may speak.”

I
may
? So much for progress.
I waited until his footsteps moved away. When I was confident he was gone, I shook my head. I wasn’t sure why I did. Maybe I was rattling my brain in an effort to get everything to fall into place, to try to understand how I’d come to live this life.

The recent events went through my mind. The smile at his amusement disappeared with the thumping of my temples. He’d slapped me. My husband had actually slapped me. He’d claimed it was justifiable. He’d called it
correction
.

My temples entered a full throb, beating in time with my heart. I lifted my fingertips to my right cheek. It was tender, but not as tender as my left, and that had been hurt in the accident . . . how long ago?

I was glad I’d distracted Jacob from his question about what I didn’t remember. I was afraid to answer honestly. After all, when I told him the truth, it earned me correction. As I thought about it, I supposed it could’ve been the way I said it, or more accurately, screamed it. Regardless, I didn’t know if I wanted to risk it again. I believed that deep down I was a fighter; however, I wasn’t stupid. I’d play this role until I figured it out.

After I finished, I called out, and Jacob helped me to the sink. When I turned the knob on the sink, my throat clenched. I’d had a drink with my lunch, but I wanted another. As I blindly fumbled around the sink, Jacob directed my hands to the dispenser of soap. Though that wasn’t what I sought, I washed my hands. Once I was done, I searched again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Why do his questions make me uncomfortable?
“I’m searching for the cup. There was one earlier when I brushed my teeth. I thought since I was here, I’d get a drink.”

Handing me a towel, he replied, “If you want a drink, you need to ask.”

“Well, that won’t do me much good if I’m not allowed to speak.” My pulse quickened as the atmosphere of the room changed. I immediately knew that I shouldn’t have replied and braced myself for more correction.

Instead Jacob said, “Hold on to my neck, I’m going to take you back to bed.”

I did as he said and reached for the pole attached to my IV.

“If your speech is restricted, you won’t ask. You’ll wait until I offer. That goes for anything, not only a drink.”

As he carried me back to bed with the pole following close behind, I contemplated his answer.
Why would I need to ask for everything? I don’t remember my age, but I’m an adult.

Settling back onto my bed, I took a deep breath and did as he’d said. “May I have a drink?”

He didn’t respond as I heard him maneuver the IV pole back to the other side of my bed and felt him straighten my blankets. Just as I debated asking again, a straw touched my lips. I sucked, wanting to reach out and hold the cup, but cautious that I’d be corrected. Unsure when I’d have another opportunity, I continued drinking as long as he offered. It wasn’t until air filled the straw that he took it away.

“Thank you.”

“We do have more to discuss, but you haven’t officially been cleared to speak.”

I nodded, waiting for more.

“For right now, you may speak only to me and only when we’re alone. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“Sara, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. No one has the authority to override my rules. No one except Father Gabriel. Remember that.”

I nodded.

“This is of the utmost importance.” He lifted my hand and intertwined our fingers. “Who is your husband?”

“You.”

“And who makes your rules?”

Heaviness filled my chest. Though I didn’t like the answer I was about to utter, I’d learned my lesson—or Sara’s lesson—and didn’t hesitate. “You do.”

“What will happen if you disobey me?” His warm hand tensed as he waited for my answer.

“You’ll correct me.” I hated the words the second they left my mouth, but by the way his lips brushed my forehead, it was the right answer, or at least the one he wanted. “May I please rest?” I didn’t want to talk anymore.

He petted my hair. “I’ll put the bed back a little so you can sleep.” As it began to recline, he said, “Sara, I want what’s best for you. The responsibility that Father Gabriel and God bestowed upon me as your husband is great. A component of that responsibility is your correction. It’s only one part of the overall picture, but it’s a part I’ve always taken seriously. We don’t want another incident like the one that got you in this bed. To help you, I won’t hesitate to reinforce your obedience. Remember that.”

The bed stopped, and my thoughts drifted to the ache in my cheek. Obviously he wouldn’t hesitate.

“As long as you behave appropriately,” he continued, “you have nothing to fear. Father Gabriel often says that this arrangement is a blessing for wives. As a wife you don’t question. By doing as you’re told, you’re relieved of the responsibility of decisions. Correction is at my discretion, and once it is delivered, the transgression is over. For example, today’s outburst, your disobedience with speaking—you’ve been punished and it’s done. Once the correction is complete, you no longer need to feel guilty. It’s as if it never happened. It’s a blessing. Don’t you agree?”

Though I was sleepy, his explanation ricocheted around my brain. I didn’t agree. I wasn’t a child or a pet. Nevertheless I saw the appeal of putting things behind us and moving on. Then I remembered what Brother Timothy had said, that only Father Gabriel could decide if my punishment was complete. The anticipation of what was yet to come was unnerving. Instead of answering I asked, “Are corrections always corporal?”

“See what I mean? Isn’t it better to not worry about that and move on?”

I was fading into sleepiness. I wasn’t sure if the answer I was about to utter was mine or Sara’s, but either way, it felt like the easiest way to end this discussion and allow me to rest. “Yes, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep.”

I nodded against the pillow. I didn’t want to think about the people with the strange familial titles or about governing bodies that held unknown power. As much as I hated myself for condoning any part of Jacob’s correction, I was thankful that my outburst was behind us. For my sanity I needed to fall asleep thinking about the man who’d defended and helped me, not the husband I couldn’t remember who claimed to be my disciplinarian.

Is that what Sara did? Is that how she survived?

CHAPTER 8

Sara

I can do this
. . .

To survive I needed to convince myself that I could reclaim my life. No matter how hard I wished, my current situation wasn’t a dream or even a nightmare—if it were, I could wake and it would be over. So far three days and nights had passed and I was still here, in Sara’s life.

During the last night, I had awakened to the sound of Jacob’s steady breathing. Knowing he was asleep, I lay awake thinking about everything. I thought about the things that people took for granted and vowed to myself that in the future, I’d value the mundane knowledge that most people never questioned. I would, because I now knew what it was like to have it outside my reach. Simple, basic facts were gone. I couldn’t recall my own reflection, the color of my eyes or hair, or the shape of my face. My birthday and even my age were mysteries. I didn’t know if I had family, other than Jacob, though I assumed that if we had children he would’ve mentioned them, especially during some part of his
responsibility
discussion.

Sadly, I didn’t know me.

Yet there were some aspects of this life that had felt clear. Like Raquel and Elizabeth. With them everything seemed right, as if I were safe. The opposite was true about the strange people with titles that seemed unfamiliar. Merely the mention of their names and the
brother
and
sister
references caused my chest to tighten and pulse to quicken. Though I couldn’t recall my past, the anxiety those people and their power instilled in me was palpably real.

Jacob remained unclear. As I had listened to his breathing, knowing that he was once again sleeping with his head upon my bed, I’d found myself conflicted by his dichotomy. His presence, even in sleep, gave me a sense of protection from the outside world. With him near, I didn’t fear the Commission, Dr. Newton, or even the apparently all-powerful Father Gabriel. Jacob was my husband and my protector. And yet a sense of uncertainty also nagged at my soul. Yes, he kept me safe from everything outside our bubble—it was inside our bubble that concerned me.

Due to my injuries my options were limited, but they did exist. Jacob had made that clear. I could obey his and Father Gabriel’s rules or disobey them—it was up to me. In my darkened world, I decided to do my best to obey. I definitely had issues with what I was obeying, with how my husband believed he had the right to exercise complete domination at his discretion. I didn’t understand how I’d gotten to this point or why I’d agreed to this in the past. However, the large gaps—really, gaping caverns—in my memory gave me hope. I must’ve had a reason. Apparently at one time I’d willingly chosen him and this life. I must have seen more to my husband. Maybe if I learned to think like Sara, I could figure out how to survive.

Following Dr. Newton’s examination, I’d admittedly been overwhelmed. I had been rendered powerless to communicate, my emotions too jumbled to articulate. At that time, my body began to surrender, but as I drifted toward nothingness, my mind fought back. During my outburst I’d learned something about myself. I’d learned that I was a survivor, not a quitter, and I wouldn’t quit fighting.

My verbal tirade had come from the depths of panic. If I wanted to win my fight—if I wanted not only to survive, but to recover and remember—I needed to battle smarter.

My first goal was to get stronger. And as I did, I needed to understand my battlefield. Lashing out in the darkness wasn’t, and wouldn’t be, successful. I needed to size up my opponents, distinguish my allies from my enemies, and learn the rules of my new war.

Jacob believed I already knew his and Father Gabriel’s rules, and he expected me to follow them. I’d obey as long as those rules helped me heal and gain strength. Plus, admittedly, I didn’t want to fight alone. I needed allies in this strange world. It seemed clear that my battle would be better fought with Jacob than against him.

I’d heard his determination when he answered Brother Timothy and Sister Lilith’s questions, and when he argued with Dr. Newton. I’d also felt his slap—his correction.

Jacob stood strong for what he believed, and he believed that I was his wife, Sara. He was willing to fight for that. I was going to fight to discover myself. If I truly was Sara, then we were striving for the same thing.

Since my eyes were covered and my speaking was restricted, my battle plan was to concentrate on surveillance. I’d spend my days as a sponge, absorbing everything around me. In many ways sight blinded people to the truth, and in my current condition I wasn’t preoccupied by appearances or visual distractions. The bandages allowed me to go beyond the surface and hear the true intentions of those around me.

“Sara,” Jacob said, pulling me from my thoughts and back to the present.

He held a straw to my lips. As I sipped, the water moistened my throat, helping me wash down the oatmeal he’d been feeding me. I’d obediently accepted each spoonful but I hadn’t liked it. It was warm and slightly sweet, but it was also thick, too thick to drink and yet not thick enough to chew. Thankfully, it hadn’t been my only food. I’d also had a banana and toast and had even been allowed to hold them and feed myself. As I continued sipping the water, he spoke.

“I’m going to need to leave soon for Assembly. I wanted to talk to Sister Lilith, to remind her that you’re still not cleared to speak. I’ll talk with Raquel, and she can relay my message. I don’t want her trying to . . . well, even if she tells you that you’re cleared to speak, remember that I said no.”

I had no intention of speaking with Sister Lilith, though I was becoming increasingly curious about what she planned to say. Since Jacob and I were still alone, I whispered, “I promise, I won’t speak.” I got the feeling that this training made him as uncomfortable as it did me. If we were fighting on the same side, I wanted to reassure him that my compliance wasn’t in question. “I’ve given everything you’ve told me a lot of thought. You can trust me to do as you’ve said.” I reached to find his hand. Once I found it, I added, “I hope you already do . . . trust me, I mean. After all, we’re married. You trusted me enough to ask me to be your wife, didn’t you?” I was fishing for more about our past.

He cleared his throat. “Um, yes.”

I didn’t know what his answer meant, but I tried for more. “May I continue?”

“Sara, we have rules, not just my rules—the community’s rules, The Light’s rules. I’m sure reminding you of some of those will be part of Sister Lilith’s plan.”

“OK.”

“Tell me you remember them. After all, we’ve lived and abided by The Light for a while now.”

How long is a while?
I pressed my lips together and lowered my chin. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I want to.” I did. I wanted to understand the world around me.

“That’s why it’s better to listen when Sister Lilith is here. Be cautious of what you agree to or disagree with. She and Brother Timothy have been very suspicious of what preceded your accident. I don’t want her interpreting your lack of memory as guilt.”

A sheen of perspiration coated my freshly washed skin. “B-but,” I stuttered, “I really don’t remember. Please.” I squeezed his hand. “You answered their questions before. What you said, that’s all I know. Tell me what happened.”

“I will, but not yet.”

“Why?”

Jacob sighed. “One strictly enforced rule was put into place by Father Gabriel to teach patience. That’s one of the reasons so many of us follow him. He has answers, reasons behind each decree. He didn’t create the rules for The Light arbitrarily; each one has meaning and purpose. As I said, this rule teaches that patience is a virtue. God’s word instructs men to marry virtuous women. Therefore all women of The Light, such as yourself, are forbidden from questioning men, including your husband. This teaches you, and all the women, patience. Answers will be revealed in God’s time, not yours.”

I tried to understand. “You’re saying that I can’t ask you what happened? I’m supposed to wait until you tell me?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. Kissing the top of my head, he added, “You do realize that was a question, yes?”

The corners of my lips moved upward. “No, I mean, now I do.” I let go of his hand as my smile faded. “Does that mean you’re going to . . . correct me?”

He reached for my hand. “I wish we had more time to discuss this right now.” His thumb slowly moved in a circle, caressing my knuckles. “We originally learned all of this together. That was easier than explaining it now. It feels like I’m introducing you to a whole new way of life when in truth we chose this path together. Do you remember yesterday when I told you that I’d accepted responsibility for you?”

I nodded, trying unsuccessfully to stop my slight trembling.

“Part of that responsibility,” he continued, “includes recognizing that not all violations are equal.” He leaned closer and his body warmed my side. When he lifted my hand to his lips, my shaking stilled. Instead of correction, he was delivering gentle kisses to the tops of my knuckles. “Sara, whether you recall the particulars or not, we have a good marriage. You’re not abused; you’re disciplined. Correction is never done in anger. Father Gabriel teaches that men must lead. It’s our job, how we were created. Taking responsibility for you is required, but you and I love one another and I accepted that challenge willingly. I do what I need to do to help you and make your life easier. Correction defines your boundaries, giving you the freedom to feel safe. Since the delivery of the correction, as well as the mode, is up to me, I can also decide when there are exceptions, times when correction isn’t necessary. Part of my responsibility is to decipher intent.” He lifted my chin. “I don’t think that a moment ago you
intended
to question again, did you?”

I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”

“I believe you. Your honesty is part of this equation. Sara, we’ve always been honest with one another. Don’t let this problem with your memory change that.”

I still didn’t like the premise, but his explanation and absolution eased a bit of my apprehension. “Thank you for explaining. I’m sorry that I don’t remember all of the rules. I’ll try.” I wanted to remember. I also liked this Jacob, the one who explained things. I wanted him on my side.

“I know you will. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Sara.” His tone changed when he said my name, clearly meaning that whatever he was about to say was beyond question. “No more talking, and be cognizant of your nonverbal responses to Sister Lilith’s questions.”

I nodded.

“Very good,” Jacob said, petting my hair as he stood. The bed shifted and the warmth of his body against mine vanished. The tangible void sent a chill through me, reminding me that soon I’d be left alone—alone with Sister Lilith.

“Brother Jacob?”

Warmth returned as I grinned toward the sound of Raquel’s now familiar voice from the doorway. It wasn’t the first time she’d entered my room today. She’d been in earlier to help with my shower. Well, not really
with
my shower. Jacob had done that. She’d helped by putting whatever she used over my cast to keep it dry. Jacob was the one who’d washed my body. I’d expected to remember his touch, but I hadn’t. It didn’t feel wrong—it felt foreign, but then again, so did everything else.

Just now, when he’d kissed my hand, the sensation was different, unexpected—soft and affectionate. I liked that side of my husband. That was the side that made me feel safe and loved. I blushed at the memory of his using that word, saying that we
loved
one another. Even if I didn’t remember, I was loved.

Lost in my thoughts, I’d forgotten my plan to be a sponge and missed part of Raquel and Jacob’s conversation.

“. . . I want that made perfectly clear.” I didn’t need to hear Jacob’s entire speech. I knew what he was emphasizing.

“I will,” Raquel replied. “I’d be happy to stay with Sara, to make this easier for her on her first day. Sister Lilith can’t deny my presence, if you authorize it.”

My heart leaped. I wanted it, but she wasn’t asking me. Actually, she wasn’t asking Jacob either—she was offering. Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I made a mental note to think about semantics later and waited for his response. There was definitely a trick to being a . . . what did he call it? . . .
a woman of The Light
.

“Thank you.” He sighed with relief. “By the smile on my wife’s face, if she’d stop biting that lip, I think she’d be happy to have you.” He tugged my lip free. “Remember my rules.”

I nodded, grinning over his answer.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His lips brushed the top of my head, then the door opened and he was gone.

“Sara,” Raquel said once we were alone. “Are you nervous about this? You’ve done it before; we all have. It’s pretty standard for one of the Commission wives to do a review after an incident. Father Gabriel believes that it helps all of us stay focused on his teachings. After something as traumatic as your accident, evil thoughts could try to confuse your mind. If you didn’t go through a review, others in the community could question your commitment, and that could lead to dissent. The Light practices a single mind-set of enlightenment, all working as one, doing God’s work, and fulfilling Father Gabriel’s teaching.” She giggled lightheartedly. “Oh, listen to me going on. I know you know all of that. Feel free to reach out and push me if I talk too much.”

I wanted to tell her I didn’t know, or at least I didn’t remember. Either way, I appreciated her talking. I was also relieved to learn that this wasn’t specifically about me. It was common protocol.

Hoping she was watching, I mouthed,
Thank you
.

“Oh, you say that now,” she answered, as if I’d spoken. “After a few hours of listening to her read Father Gabriel’s word and preaching at you, you won’t be thanking me.” She pulled the blankets back and moved the wheelchair close. “Brother Jacob must have brought you some more nightgowns. I meant to say something earlier. That’s a great color on you.”

Really? What color is it?

I reached over to my braid.