Promise Me (4 page)

The next morning when we were in the car driving to Los Angeles, Winston’s courteous façade had returned.  But now I knew enough to recognize the lie.   The man who bought me a donut and carried my bag to the car for me was not the same man who brutalized me away from prying eyes. 

Once on the road he chatted cordially about the weather and pointed out the peculiarities of the desert as we traveled away from Phoenix and into this brown wasteland which sat between the metropolitan area and the California border.  He asked me questions about midwifery and told me how eager the Jericho Valley women were for my help now that I had finished my schooling. 

When his hand landed on my knee I had to battle my own will not to pull away.

“Promise,” he said.  “I am so pleased that you and I are finally man and wife.”

I nodded, trying to shift my body in such a way that my back didn’t graze the seat.  If my ribs had not been broken before last night, they most certainly were now.  “Yes,” I said in a small voice.  “So am I.” 

And he returned to grinning and talking about things which didn’t matter at all.  When we were well into the shimmering desolation of the desert, Winston pulled off the road to a rest stop.  Fleetingly I glimpsed a plainly lettered sign indicating that we were in the town of Hope.  Winston ordered me to remain in the car as he filled up the vehicle with gas.   I didn’t object.  It was too painful to move anyway.

A car pulled in next to ours and a laughing man emerged.  His little daughter, who couldn’t have been more than six, exited from the back and leapt into his arms.  She kissed him on the cheek and wrapped her small arms around his neck as a woman popped her head out from the passenger side and grinned at them. 

The man kissed the little girl on the forehead and she looked at him with a perfect blend of love and trust.  “You’re the best daddy in the world,” she said with the sober sincerity only a child could muster. 

The woman, a petite, older version of the little girl, looked at her family fondly as the man kissed the child on the head and sent her off with the woman.  They walked hand in hand toward the tiny convenience store attached to the gas station. 

I closed my eyes and concentrate
d on drawing shallow breaths.  I dearly hoped the little girl’s parents loved her as much as they seemed to. 

When Winston closed the door the vibration bit into my
tormented back and I winced.  At my small cry he I sensed him watching me but I kept my eyes closed and after a moment he turned the ignition. 

When I felt the car beginning to accelerate towards the freeway again I opened my eyes.  A carefully painted billboard on the side of the road outside Hope, Arizona cleverly spelled out:  “You Are Now Beyond Hope.” 

The words were agony. 

I stared dully out at the parched ground.  The sky was an impossible dome of blue but I felt no pleasure in it.  And then a small gasp left my throat at the next road sign I saw. 

Quartzsite: 37 miles.

Winston glanced at me sharply but I gave him a small smile of reassurance and he faced back to the road, forgetting me and turning the dial to some classical music.

When we reached the boundaries of Quartzsite, I stared hungrily out the window, searching for some sign of my beautiful cousin. 

Rachel.  Rachel. 

Even the voice inside my head sounded weak and plaintive.  Still I called to her silently, wanting her to know that I was here, that I knew now that she had been right.  And that if it weren’t for my fierce obligation to protect my sister, I would gladly take whatever help she would offer. 

Rachel. 

Within a few moments we passed Quartzsite by and were closing in on the border to California. 

The time spent in Los Angeles was every bit as bleak as Phoenix.  I began to yearn for Jericho Valley where Winston’s attentions could not be so resolutely focused on me.  There was another puzzling meeting which I couldn’t concentrate on carefully enough to discern anything but the words ‘Faithful Cooperative’ once again.   I knew that the Faithful leaders branched out into many different business forms.  I gathered that these men Winston kept meeting with had something to do with it all.  But I didn’t know why their words were so tense and hushed.  Frankly, I didn’t care much anyway.   

Later that night I sat up in the king-sized hotel bed I shared with my husband and watched him with a hatred so intense I nearly couldn’t see.  If he had opened his eyes he might have been alarmed at the sight of me glowering beside him like a furious wraith.  But he only slept on peacefully, untroubled by anything he had done to me, or anything he planned to do. With every harsh blow my husband inflicted on me I was reminded of a story I’d read as a girl.  The story was about a spirited wild horse and the brutal man who had captured her.  He systematically began the vicious process of domesticating her, ‘breaking’ her, smothering her iron will so that she could meet his expectations.  With some wryness I mused that Winston Allred must have read the same book.  

Carefully I lay on the plush mattress in a way which would cause the least amount of pain.  I was glad that tomorrow we would be taking the long trip back to Jericho Valley without stopping.  It would be dark by the time we reached home.  I was learning how to mask my feelings and I would hide everything that had happened to me since Winston put his arm around my shoulder in my mother’s house.  I would do everything in my power to help Jenny escape the life I was resigning myself to.  And my other young sisters too, the daughters of my father’s wives.  I would care for women and deliver babies as I’d been taught.  With a sickening feeling I realized I might become a mother sooner rather than later.  Though I tried not to think it, the idea of Winston Allred’s seed implanting and growing inside of me was enough to make bile rise in my throat.   I swallowed hard and turned my head.  There was nothing to be done about it now. 

Winston was again cheerful in the morning.  He kissed me on the cheek and told me how delightful the past few days had been.  He let me know it was an uncommon treat for a man to have the luxury of so much private time with his newest bride. 

“Won’t you eat?”  H
e frowned, shoving the plate of toast closer.  

I nibbled a bite of toast.  All around me happy patrons dined on their breakfast and paid scant attention to a strangely dressed girl and the portly man who accompanied her. 

Winston loudly chewed his bacon and slurped some orange juice.  His eyes twinkled.

“Promise,” he said grandly, “you’ll be happy to know your wedding dress
has already found another use.” 

I was confused.  “Oh?  I didn’t know there had been another wedding planned.  Was it yesterday?” 

“Mmm,” Winston nodded. “Actually it was on Monday, the afternoon of our departure.  Rather impulsive affair, although the Bishop had been planning the union for quite some time.”

“My uncle took another wife?”  Aston Talbot already had seven wives. 

Winston shook his head.  “He did not.  It’s an honor for your family, for our family.”  He spread his hands wide and continued to grin at me.  “Josiah Bastian received a call from God.  He has taken a new bride.” 

The mention
of the venomous prophet of Delta City caused me to drop my toast.  I could barely speak.  I didn’t want to ask the question but I had to.  “Who is the bride?”

Winston smiled radiantly.  “Your sister.  Jenny.” 

For a long time I heard nothing else but the roar of blood inside my head. 

I didn’t remember finishing breakfast.  Or returning to the Escalade.  But when I blinked there I was hurtling east along the I-10, back to the Arizona border, as Winston Allred whistled at my side.  

“Promise,” he said cheerfully.  He didn’t notice when I failed to look at him.  “Do you know why you were selected to attend school?”

I didn’t answer. 

“You were chosen,” he continued, “because we agreed that you would return.  You would not be tempted by the evils of the common world.  You are obedient, Promise.”  I heard the smile in his voice.  “There is no more suitable trait for a woman.” 

I couldn’t speak.  Winston didn’t seem troubled.  He resumed whistling. 

Jenny.  I’m sorry.  I should have left.  And taken you with me.

We had reached the dingy town of Blythe just west of the state line.  Winston pulled the car into a gas station and began counting the money in his wallet. 

Between the heat, the agony of my body, and the horrific news I’d been fed, my stomach was threatening a full scale revolt.  I was going to vomit.  Soon. 

“Winston,” I croaked as I spilled out of the door, “I need to use the rest room. Now.” 

The glance he threw me was more of a glare but he wouldn’t force me back into the car.  Not in public.  He counted out sixty dollars and headed for the station attendant.  “Be quick,” was all he said.

My small satchel was laying on
the front seat so I grabbed it.  The sun shone directly in my eyes as I staggered to a neighboring Burger King. 

As I spilled through the front door I gratefully drank in the cool air.  The young woman behind the counter stared at me.  A tattoo covered the left side of her neck and as she looked at me her face seemed to drop into grief, as if she knew how I’d been abused.  And understood because
such things had also happened to her. 

I reached over to the condiment counter and picked up a few napkins, wiping the perspi
ration from my forehead.  That was when I saw the men. 

At first I didn’t know why the sight of them jolted me so much.  One had a square jaw and a dark beard, a bandana tied around his black hair which seemed to be on the long side.  He flashed a grin at his companion and showed his shattering good looks. The other man w
as darker skinned, muscular.  His black hair was cropped extremely close and he appeared taller, more powerful, than the first man.  His fingers drummed on the thin table and he kept a tense posture, like a cat. 

I
t wasn’t the men themselves which had startled me.  I had never seen either of them before.  However, there was something else about them which was familiar.  Despite the oppressive heat, both of them wore battered sleeveless leather over black t-shirts.  The lettering across the back was simple and starkly red. 

DEFIANT.
 

Underneath that, in smaller white lettering
read the letters ‘MC’. I had seen another man dressed identically.  He figured prominently in pictures my cousin had posted online.

I didn’t know what it meant.  Perhaps it was a brand name I was unfamiliar with.  But I doubted it.  It was too raw a look.  As I stood there silently regarding the two men the darker skinned one caught me looking and seemed wary.  I turned and lurched down the hallway toward the bathrooms. 

There was virtually nothing in my stomach so after a handful of unproductive dry heaves which played havoc with my ribs, I splashed some cold water on my face and returned to the stall.  I almost couldn’t bear to tend to my own body these days.  Not only was it still painful, but a pervasive shame washed over me every time I needed to clean myself up.  With a sick feeling I realized that somewhere my little sister was feeling the same way and a moan of grief escaped my lips.  I hated what Winston had done to me.  I hated Winston. I hated my father and Bishop Talbot and Josiah Bastian and even my mother for her many weaknesses. I hated all of them. 

And I realized I hated myself most of all.  

The man who had caught my eye in the restaurant was coming down the hall toward the bathroom as I was exiting. He looked very strong.  The man glanced at me with curiosity but he quickly veered towards the men’s room.

“Wait,” I croaked.  I didn’t have much time.  Winston would be coming for me soon if I did not return.  And I was so weak.  From hunger, from shock, from being used like a battering ram.  I kne
w I wouldn’t be able to stop Winston from folding me back into the Escalade and taking me with him.  

I stumbled and the man quickly caught me under the arms.  His face registered alarm as he pulled me up.

“Hey there,” he said in a gentle, rich baritone.

I looked him in the eye. I couldn’t even be sure he actually knew Rachel.  Or that he would be moved enough to get involved in what was obviously a messy situation.  But he was the only chance I had.  “My name is Promise Talbot.  Rachel Talbot is my cousin.”  Tears rolled down my face.  “I need help.”

The man stared at me for the longest second I had ever known.  Then his deep brown eyes showed an instant decision.  He snapped his fingers and the second man, who was still sitting in the booth, turned and abruptly headed toward us.

He looked me up and down in confusion.  “What you got there, Grayson?”

“She says she’s Rachel’s cousin.”

“Looks like she just walked off the set of Little House on the fucking Prairie.” 

Grayson scowled, his eyes never leaving my face.  “Mad, come on.  Something’s off here.” His clipped accent was reminiscent of the handful of films I’d seen which took place in those churning cities of the northeast. 

The man called Mad nodded at me.  “You really Rachel’s cousin?” 

I nodded, swaying a little as Grayson tried to hold me steady. “Yes.  Can you take to me to her?  Please?”

Grayson’s voice dropped and his dark eyes glanced around.  “You’re not here alone, are you?”

Before I could shake my head and issue a warning, the door to Burger King opened and Winston Allred stalked inside. At the sight of me being held up by the leather-clad brown-skinned stranger his eyes went wide with rage. 

But Winston was a man who could keep his evil hidden when he wanted to.  So he smiled icily and walked over, reaching for my hand.  “I’m afraid my wife isn’t used to his heat.” 

As he came closer I issued an involuntary little moan and shrank against the strong arms which were the only things holding me up. 

Grayson noticed.  I saw the way his eyes narrowed as he glared hatefully at my husband and I realized he might be capable of doing something violent.  Winston appeared to realize that too.  His extended hand wilted slightly. 

Grayson’s voice was cold with threat.  “It looks to me the heat’s not all your wife can’t get used to.” 

Winston kept his phony smile pasted to his face.  “Promise,” he said.  “We need to be leaving now.” 

“No,” I whispered. 

“What did you say?”

“No,” I said again, my voice rising more clearly.  “Hell no.” 

The other man, the one Grayson had called ‘Mad’, chortled in the background. 

“Promise,” said Winston in a voice which dripped with venom.  “We are leaving.”

Grayson spoke for me.  “Look asshole, I don’t know what your fucking game is here, but it’s over.  We all heard her refuse.”  He gently pushed me behind him and stood not six inches from my husband, glowering down at him.  Winston glanced uncertainly at me and then blinked up at Grayson.  The other man skirted casually behind him, standing close and with the silent promise of menace.  Winston’s fearful glance over his shoulder made him look every ounce the cornered rat, a fact which made me feel flatly satisfied.

Suddenly Winston Allred’s carefully cultivated veneer wavered and his voice turned into something of an indignant snarl.  “You can’t steal away with another man’s wife, dark devil.” 

Mad erupted in an open howl of laughter.  “Jesus,” he sputtered, “is there a fucking candid camera in here somewhere?”  He pretended to look for it.  “This dickhead’s got some seriously pre-evolutionary notions.” 

Grayson, however, didn’t laugh.   The tattooed girl behind the counter watched us avidly as did the handful of nervous patrons. 

When Grayson finally spoke again his voice was so toxic even I shuddered.  “Go ahead,” he growled in Winston’s face.  “I dare you to move the wrong fucking way.  This dark devil’ll rip out that little worm between your legs and shove it so far up your puckered ass it’ll roll right out of your pasty mouth.  Now,” he said, smiling grimly and shifting closer to a visibly perspiring Winston, “I’ve got a special place of hate for a man who abuses women and from the way this girl looks at you, you’re the sort of motherfucker who hangs out on my hit list.” 

Mad was still smiling.  But his words were equally deadly as he leaned in close to Winston’s ear.  “In other words,” he said, “get the fuck out of here while your arms and legs are still movable.” 

Winston tried to crane his neck around Grayson to see me, but Grayson blocked him easily.  “You’re done here,” he said with finality. 

Mad shoved Winston toward the door.  “You can wipe your ass later,” he ordered and then pushed my husband outside.  He stood holding the handle of the door for a moment, his eyes intent on Winston’s departing figure. 

Grayson finally turned around and touched me lightly on the shoulder.  “It’s okay,” he said in such a gentle voice I couldn’t believe it was the same one threatening to rip penises off and shove them up assholes.  He looked at where his friend was still focused on the door.  “’Wipe your ass later?’” he laughed. 

“Yeah,” the man smiled.  “Didn’t you smell those Hershey squirts on his backside after you threatened his ah, ‘puckered ass’?”

“You’re full of shit.” 

“No,” Grayson’s friend cracked up.  “He is!”  He sobered up, frowning, when he saw me cowering silently.  “So what are we gonna do with her?”

Grayson glanced around the Burger King.  A few people still watched the spectacle with worried interest.  “We’ll take her to Rachel, like she asked.” 

“Boss ain’t gonna like it.  These are those cult people on the news.  They’re fucknuts weird.” 

“Hey,” Grayson scowled.  “Enough of that shit.  I’ll make sure it’s my ass over the fire, okay.  Promise, you said your name’s Promise, right?”

I nodded. 

“You still want me to take you to Rachel?”

“Yes.  Please.”

He nodded, smiling in a friendly way.  “Don’t pay any attention to Maddox.  He may look like an Adonis but sometimes he’s just a fucking nervous old woman.” 

“Up yours, dark devil,” Maddox said good naturedly. 

I blinked as we stepped outside into the blistering heat.  I didn’t see Winston or the Escalade anywhere.  Apparently Grayson was looking as well.  “You sure he ran off?” he asked Maddox. 

“Like a goddamn rabbit,” the striking man confirmed and then swung a leg over a motorcycle parked nearby.  “You can take her, right?”

“Yeah,” Grayson agreed, pulling something out from a compartment on the other motorcycle.  He flashed me a grin and tossed me a black helmet.  “You ever been on the back of a bike before?”

“No.”  I gingerly pulled the helmet on. 

Maddox laughed.  “Shit
, what a shock.” 

Grayson climbed over the thick black seat and motioned to the back.  “Just climb on and hold tight.  Might not be too comfortable in that dress but I guess we can’t help that.”   He started the engine.  “You might have caught my first name but I’ll introduce myself anyway.  Grayson Mercado.”  

I was having difficulty raising my leg enough to climb onto the seat.  When I finally managed to swing around a small groan of pain escaped my lips.  Between my bruised legs, my battered center and my possibly broken ribs, I was scarcely able to stand the hard seat between my legs and the uncomfortable position. 

Grayson turned around and stared at me as I tried to get settled, gritting my teeth all the while.  “Worked you over, did he?” 

I nodded, a tear falling down my cheek. 

“Fucking bastard,” he said softly.  He si
ghed and looked at me forlornly.  “Just hold on as best you can.  I’ll go slowly.  We’ll be on the road for less than half an hour.” 

I leaned into him, resting my cheek against the hot leather covering his
back, the angry red word DEFIANT seared into my eyes so that when I closed them the word remained.

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

If he heard me, he didn’t respond.