Down from the Mountain (11 page)

“Turn you in?” His face registers shock.

Silence.

“What would happen if Rachel turns you in?” He voice is soft now, so sympathetic I almost cry.

“Reverend Ezekiel punishes us to keep us pure for God. We have to perfect ourselves on earth so we can be saved.” Automatically, I bring my hands to my hair, touching what little is there. His eyes open wide, and I see a flash of something on his face—an immediate understanding, shock, horror.

He knows. I can tell that he knows. I’ve said too much again, and now he knows that Ezekiel lopped off my hair as punishment.

I drop down on the chair, exhausted, and look around again for Rachel. Thankfully she’s still not in sight.

Trevor offers a thin smile. “I’m so sorry, Eva. I had no idea that your community was so harsh. I’d never want to be the cause of you being punished. I should leave.”

I shake my head vehemently. I can’t let this chance pass me by. He could help us. He could help me. I could learn from him, even if he is a heathen. Especially if he’s a heathen.

If I spend Righteous Path money on beading supplies, I will betray Ezekiel and all Righteous Path members. But I can’t trust that Ezekiel will use the money for food or supplies.

And Mother Martha looks puny from not getting enough food. She needs good food for herself and for the baby. I have to take control over some of the money if I’m going to make sure she gets fed enough.

There, that’s it. That’s exactly it. Some kind of sickness has swept over Ezekiel—a kind of sick in the head—ever since Rachel and I told him about the stranger asking about a cult. That was weeks ago and we’ve heard nothing from the stranger, yet here we are stocking guns, learning to shoot, patrolling the grounds, ready to attack. Attack what? Attack who?

If I want there to be enough food for the winter, I have to take this opportunity Trevor is handing me. I pick up the sausage and honey, and hide them inside my coat.

Trevor stands in the same spot, watching me intently.

“I want to do this,” I say.

“Really, you’re still interested? Because I’d just put it on my credit card and you could give me cash when I get the bill. It would make your profit margin a lot higher. If—if it’s not too dangerous.”

I bite my lip, thinking. “We can’t have a package come to the compound. Could the beads come to your house and we could meet somewhere for me to pick them up? We shop on Mondays and sell jewelry on Saturdays. So Mondays would be the best day to meet.”

“What about Rachel?” Trevor asks.

“If she’s with me, we’d have to be really sneaky, but I bet I could get her to go to Costco while I’m buying beads. It’s more practical. Otherwise it takes all day for us to buy beads together and then grocery shop together. Especially now that we’re the only ones going into town. We end up with lots of extra errands.”

“We could meet at the library across from the bead store,” Trevor says.

“Perfect,” I say. The library. The idea of all those books and everything I could learn, maybe even about how to help Mother through her labor. Something shifts inside me, and though I’m about to take the biggest risk ever, I feel as if I’m standing on solid ground for the first time in my life.

I look around again. Rachel’s still not coming. It’s been something like two hours, and I can’t imagine what’s taking so long.

Trevor laughs. His face lights up. “This is turning into an adventure. I love adventures.” His eyes cloud over. “But it wouldn’t be worth it if you got hurt.” He drums his fingers on the table again, thinking.

I could get hurt. Ezekiel would be furious and would punish me in ways I don’t even want to imagine. And I could also get hurt by Trevor. He could run off with the money. If Ezekiel’s right, Trevor’s a mere heathen condemned to hell, not someone I should trust. But Ezekiel’s beliefs are becoming harder to believe than Trevor’s kindness. And the idea of someone like Trevor burning in hell for eternity doesn’t make sense to me.

Even if Trevor does run off with the money, at least it won’t be spent on weapons that destroy lives. “Let me show you what I want to order,” I tell him.

Once we’ve done that, I reach into my pocket before I can chicken out. I pull out the fifty that was given to me as a gift and take out a hundred-dollar bill from the bead money. He looks shocked when I hand it to him. I watch him slip it in his backpack.

In the nick of time.

“Hey,” Rachel says in a weak voice. “I’m so sorry. I was sick and fell asleep in the car.” When she sees Trevor, she stops and registers surprise. “Oh, I remember you. Trevor, right?”

Sixteen

When we get to the van, Rachel is so sick with cramps that she can barely drive. She makes it out of Boulder but she pulls into the lookout minutes later.

“You’re going to have to drive. I can’t.”

“But I don’t know how!” She opens her door and throws up. She’s so weak she practically falls to the ground.

“Oh, Rachel!” I jump out of the van to help her.

“You’ve gotta drive,” she repeats.

My belly flips and I feel sick myself. Rachel gets sick with almost every period. I’ve even seen her faint. I have no choice. I have to meet this challenge. I exchange seats with Rachel and study the buttons and controls. “Please try to stay awake so you can supervise. I don’t want us to go over the side of the mountain or crash Ezekiel’s van into a tree.”

“Of course,” she says. “And I’ll pray for you.”

Rachel struggles to stay awake long enough to give me a lesson. Before we leave the overlook, I practice accelerating and slowing down, stopping and steering. The scariest thing is backing up. It’s basically the same as the tractor Brother Paul let me drive a few times last summer, but everything’s so sensitive. I barely touch the steering wheel and the van turns. It’s the same with the gas and the brakes. After a few minutes of this, I take a deep breath and turn my signals on. I wait for a chance to pull onto the road.

While waiting for two cars to go by, I suddenly remember the money I gave to Trevor.
No!
I have to put that out of my mind. I need all my concentration for driving. The cars have passed and I ease onto the road.

“Good job,” Rachel says in a barely audible voice. She drifts off to sleep almost immediately. I slam on the brakes the first time I see a sharp curve ahead. The guy behind me almost smashes into me, but he manages to brake first. He’s mad, though. As soon as we’re around the curve, he pulls up next to me, rolls down his window, and holds up his middle finger. I’ve never even heard some of the words he shouts. It shakes me up to think I made him so angry! I hug the side of the mountain, feeling safest as far as I can get from the drop.

Rachel is sound asleep. She barely responded when I slammed on the brakes.

I’m terrified. I decide to drive slowly, even if that means making people mad. They can pass me and yell obscenities and make their weird gestures, but I’m just learning to drive and I’m taking it slow.

Lord, please help me drive safely. Be my hands on the wheel. Be my eyes seeing clearly and my ears hearing.

I realize I’ve never said a prayer like that. Normally I would pray for Ezekiel to see and hear God’s voice clearly.

The drive goes on and on. Slowly I gain confidence. I’m getting better at taking curves, getting the feel for how fast is safe, when to brake, and when to forge ahead. It helps that the farther we get from Boulder, the less traffic is on the road. When there’s a straight stretch of road, I relax my grip on the steering wheel and even hum a little. But when I see a large icy patch on a narrow curve ahead, I’m terrified all over again and slam on my brakes. Rachel wakes up and I explain that the ice scared me.

“Never brake on ice. You’ll lose control of the van. We’re getting pretty close to Grand Hill.” She drifts back to sleep.

“Really?” The knowledge of how far we’ve come makes me almost giddy. I begin to take in the beauty around me. Rays of sun make the snow glisten. I can see deeply into the pines, where light and shade make everything magical. There are no cars anywhere now, and we could be the only people in the world.

But suddenly a doe darts out in front of me. I hit the brakes, causing both of us to lurch forward. I’m literally inches from the doe. She freezes. She looks right at me with surprised eyes. So innocent, so sweet. “Go on, little doe,” I say, my voice cracking. But she stays frozen.

“Turn the lights off,” Rachel says. It takes me a bit to find the light switch, but when I turn them off, the doe comes alive and scampers away almost immediately. But it doesn’t stop my tears. Where’s her mother? Where’s her family? She’s so young to be her own.

“It’s okay,” Rachel says. “You’re doing so well.”

But it doesn’t feel okay. I almost killed that deer.

We drive through Grand Hill without any problem. Now it’s only three miles to the compound. But it takes another twenty minutes to get there because the road’s so steep. When I can see the entrance, I’m so relieved that I speed up. Then I’m on ice. I forget and brake, and the van slips into the bank.

“Don’t panic,” Rachel says. “I think you can back out if this.”

I look behind me. All I can see is the drop-off. “You’re kidding! We’ll plunge to our deaths.”

Rachel holds her head. “Don’t be so dramatic.” She opens the door on the passenger side and steps into snow to her knees. “There’s more room than you think. I’ll direct you.”

But I can’t. Not until I see for myself. I force my door open and manage to get out. She’s right. There’s room if I ease out. But I’m not sure I’m in control enough of the gas to ease out.

“You do it.”

“No, Eva. It’s better for me to direct you.”

Lord, oh Lord, please help me. Guide me.

Back in the van, I give it a try. The van moves back a few inches but then rocks back to where it was before. I try again. Same thing. I try a third time, but we simply rock like before.

“Give it more gas,” Rachel says.

Sure. She’s not the one who’s going to die.

Don’t abandon me, God. I’ll do anything you want, be anything, but help me live.

I stretch my shoulders and arms because I’m so stiff. This time I give it more gas, and miraculously we’re out. Rachel cheers in a weak voice and gets back in the van. It still takes a while to get the van turned around, and I’m exhausted when we turn into the compound.

I wave at Jacob, who’s riding Berthoud, patrolling just inside the gate. He’s got to be jealous seeing me in the driver’s seat when he’s never been allowed to drive. But he only smiles. His newfound position as protector must be making him feel—what’s that word Mother Martha uses all the time?—magnanimous.

I drive straight into the garage because of wearing heathen clothes, but I’m so concerned about getting Rachel out of the van that I forget to close the garage door. Within a minute, half the mothers are inside, along with Annie.

The women are shocked to see me driving, but that quickly gives way to disgust when they see that we’re wearing heathen clothes. After several gasps, everyone starts talking at once.

“What are you wearing?”

“Why are you wearing those slut clothes?”

“Does Ezekiel know?”

“Yes,” Mother Esther yells over the other voices. “Ezekiel knows. It’s for our protection. But he didn’t want to subject the rest of you to this.”

The sour faces of the women make me cringe. It’s awful seeing myself through their eyes.

A moan from Rachel seems to wake everyone up. She has managed to open the passenger-side door but is crumpled against it, unable to get out.

The mothers rush to help.

“Oh, honey, is it your monthly?” Mother Rose asks.

Rachel nods.

“I’ll run and get Rachel’s regular clothes,” I say. But Mother Esther puts her hands out, palms up, in a signal to stop me.

“We’re not supposed to walk around the compound in heathen clothes,” I remind myself. Mother Esther shakes her head. “She’s too sick to change her clothes. You can run and get her a blanket from the bottom drawer in Ezekiel’s room. We’ll cover her with that, but then it’s straight to bed for her.”

I get the blanket, and after the women wrap it around her, Rachel leans heavily on Mother Rose.

“Wait,” Rachel says. “I have to get this to Ezekiel.” She holds up her purse with the earnings of the day.

“Give it to Eva. She’ll get it to him,” Rose says.

Everything stops, and it gets completely quiet. I drop my eyes, embarrassed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Eva. I forgot you aren’t allowed to handle money,” Rose says.

Esther takes the envelope from Rachel. “I’ll give it to him,” she says.

At bedtime, anxiety pushes through my exhaustion. What was I thinking, giving Trevor that money? Maybe I made a grave mistake with Trevor. But I push it away when I think about the gifts I have for Mother, and I feel better knowing how badly she needs food. There will never be an opportunity to give them to her during the day, so tonight is the time.

When I’m sure that Annie is sleeping, I tiptoe into the hallway. I wait until I can no longer see light seeping from under the door of Mother Rose’s room. Then I sneak down the hall, carrying my boots so they won’t make noise on the floor. When I get to the door, I sit on the wooden bench in the hall to strap them on.

No one is in sight, so I dash across the courtyard to where Mother’s trailer is situated in the farthest corner. The snow crunches under my feet. Usually I love that sound, but now I pray no one hears me or happens to be looking out a window.

Mother’s window is too high to reach, so I throw a snowball against it, then another and another until she appears. Her mouth gapes open in shock.

I smile impishly, but she shows nothing on her face. She offers me a hand, but I don’t want her hurting herself so I hoist myself up onto the ledge and climb through the window. A warm blast of air feels good after the cold.

She looks left and right out the window. “What are you thinking, coming here?” she scolds. But she hugs me fiercely. “We can’t let anything happen to you,” she whispers, still not letting me go.

My fear evaporates in the luxury of her embrace. “I have something for you!” I beam. I reach inside my coat, victoriously retrieving first the honey, then the sausage. I put them on her bedside table.

Her mouth gapes open, and she stares at the gifts as if I had pulled them out of thin air.

“Where? How? When?”

I hold my mouth to stifle my giggles. “At the flea market. This nice vendor gave them to me for Christmas!”

Mother stares at the sausage and honey and swallows. “I shouldn’t … Oh, Eva.” She looks at the food longingly. But doesn’t take it right away. She shakes her head and covers her mouth with her hand. “I shouldn’t thank you. I should shake you because this is so dangerous. But God knows I’m weak from hunger. And if this baby’s going to make it, I need more food.”

Sitting on the edge of her bed, I watch as she reaches inside her bedside table for scissors to split the sausage skin. “God knows this baby is hungry too.” She takes a big bite of the sausage. “I wish Ezekiel didn’t expect God to feed it. With other things, he says, ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ I don’t understand why this is different.”

As I watch her eat, it’s as if my own body is being nourished by the food she takes in. I try to refuse when she offers me a small chunk of sausage, but I’m too hungry. The gift feeds me like Holy Communion, touching me deeper than regular food can reach.

Until now I hadn’t noticed how much Mother’s stomach was protruding, but it’s a perfect ball at five months.

“Won’t Ezekiel allow you to have extra food?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “At first I’d get a bowl of oatmeal at lunchtime during our fasts, but now Ezekiel says that God is nourishing this baby and that I must fast along with everyone else. I still get extra milk and tea, but that’s all. And we’re fasting so much!” She sighs. “I worry about how the other kids are doing, and you’re still growing.”

“I’m okay,” I say. “I get hungry but it’s not as bad for me as it is for some people. Ezekiel has increased the fasting. We’re fasting at least three days a week.”

Mother’s eyes look far away. “It didn’t used to be like this,” she says, her voice resigned. But panic flashes in her eyes as they connect with mine. It’s like she’s realizing that we don’t dare discuss these things. I don’t know if she feels she is committing a sin, or if she’s more worried about what will happen to us if she gets caught.

But I’m grateful that she’s talking to me. And even more grateful to see her eating. I want to know her deeply. To know if, like me, there are cracks in her beliefs about Ezekiel.

I want to ask her a million questions—like what made her follow Ezekiel and why my father allowed me to leave his life, and if I did something wrong because he never came for me, and if she ever thinks about him anymore. I want to ask her these things right then because I worry we won’t have another opportunity to be alone for a long time. But I can see by the worry lines on her forehead that any more forbidden discussion would just cause her more distress.

Life was so simple when I didn’t question Ezekiel. It’s lonely not to be able to raise questions out loud without fearing punishment for lack of faith.

I kiss her one more time before sneaking back out the window and returning safely to my room.

At breakfast the next morning, Rachel looks much better and I tell her so. She gives me a warm hug.

“You were so brave to drive yesterday. Thank you. I don’t remember much about it, but you must have done okay because we got back here safe and sound.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know that our whole bead schedule is getting messed up because of the holidays,” she says.

“What?”

“Sure, next Monday is Christmas so we won’t be going bead shopping.”

I lean on the table for support.

“Then the following Monday is New Year’s Day and the bead store will be closed again,” Rachel continues.

Somebody must have just punched me in the stomach. “Will we go to the bead store on Tuesday then?” I asked weakly. “What day will we go?”

Rachel looks at me strangely. “Relax, Eva. It doesn’t really matter. We have two weeks to figure that out. It’ll be nice to have a little break—unless we run out of food or something. We’re fine. We get a little break. And Ezekiel says we earned enough for a good Christmas brunch.”

“I’m glad you feel better,” I say and excuse myself. I hurry to the bathroom off the kitchen, where I lock the door and collapse on the toilet, letting the words sink in.

Had Trevor realized about the holidays? Maybe the plan to meet me on Monday was always a sham. Maybe he just stole the money and took off. Of course! I should have known. Ezekiel has warned us hundreds of times.