Down from the Mountain (12 page)

Christmas

Seventeen

Annie plops down on the empty chair next to me in the dining room. “Are you sick or something?”

“No!” I say, not meaning to sound defensive.

“Well, what’s wrong with you, then? It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake!”

I manage a smile. “I know what day it is. Wasn’t the service beautiful this morning? I love all the extra singing we get to do on Christmas. Especially the carols.”

“But you hardly ate anything! This is the best meal I’ve ever had, and your plate is still full.”

It’s true. The mothers did an incredible job with the brunch. They made scrambled eggs and bacon and coffee cake for the breakfast part of the brunch. For the lunch part, they made roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans with slivered almonds, and French rolls. In this room, right now, is more food than we usually eat in a week. Thank God Rachel and MaryAnne managed to go grocery shopping before the blizzard hit.

“This feast is incredible, Annie. I’m just taking my time to appreciate every morsel,” I lie. In truth, I’m in such agony over the mistake I made giving Trevor the money that I don’t feel I deserve this feast. I have to figure out what I should do about my betrayal of Righteous Path. Should I find a way to pay the money back? But doing something behind Ezekiel’s back would be another disobedience. Should I confess at the next Community Concerns Meeting and risk being thrown out? Or should I try to let it go, forget about it, and resolve never to do anything disobedient again?

“Well, eat up. We’re practically the last people here,” Annie says. “We have the whole afternoon to play, and I don’t want to miss any time.”

I look around. The only other person still eating is Mother Martha, who smiles at me and dives into a piece of beef. I pick up my plate and walk over to where she’s seated, motioning Annie to follow. “I really don’t think I can eat all of this. Can you two help?”

Annie looks at my plate greedily. Even with a feast like this, the portions are small and seconds are not allowed.

Mother Martha is hesitant. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “I think my stomach has shrunk from all the fasting.”

“I don’t mind stretching mine some!” Annie says.

“Me neither,” Mother Martha says, pointing to her big belly.

We all laugh. I hand Annie my unused spoon and Mother uses her own utensils. Between the three of us, the food is gone in no time at all.

Mother Martha stands. “Now, I must excuse myself and take a nap.”

I give her a quick hug and a kiss on her forehead. She smiles. It’s great to see her looking fairly strong, and her color is good.

Annie looks a bit irritated. “You better be careful,” she says.

I’m surprised. The kiss I gave Mother on her forehead is the only thing that’s “special.” And no one saw me. I made sure the mothers in the kitchen couldn’t see. I wonder if Annie is jealous. Mother Rose never tries to spend time with Annie. In fact, nobody would ever guess that Rose was Annie’s mother. Rose is like a little mouse, with her squeaky voice and nervousness. She wouldn’t break a rule unless Ezekiel commanded her to.

But I can tell that Annie wants what I have. I’ve seen how she looks longingly at her mother at times.

“So, are we going to spend our special afternoon together or not?” Annie asks.

I actually forgot about the free afternoon we get on Christmas. “Sure, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Annie says. “It looks like Jacob won’t be with us, though. He’s going shooting with Brother Paul.” She shakes her head. “Things are sure changing around here.”

“I know,” I say. “Let’s think of something special and fun.”

Annie brightens. “We could do the Noah’s Ark puzzle.”

From the dining-room window, I can see that the sun is out and it’s gorgeous outside. What a welcome relief after three days of blizzard conditions! “Let’s do something outside, Annie.”

She doesn’t respond right away. I see Brother Paul and Jacob walking out of the barn, and I’m inspired in a flash. I swing around to face Annie. “Let’s see if Brother Paul will let us ride his horses!”

Annie hisses. “Not
his
horses. Aspen and Berthoud belong to Righteous Path now.”

I’m taken aback by her anger. “Of course. But Brother is still in charge of them and he’s the person we need to ask.”

“Okay, let’s go ask before they go off to the shooting range. It’s not that cold today, and the snow is still white and sparkly.”

We hurry outside and flag down Brother Paul and Jacob, just as they’re headed toward the range.

“Go ahead,” Brother Paul says. “But stay on the driveway. We’ve got deep drifts in the fields.”

I can’t hide my disappointment. The drive is only a half mile, and I want to ride and ride and ride. “I wish we could go outside the gate,” I blurt out without thinking.

Brother Paul looks alarmed. “Don’t be crazy. Ezekiel would have your neck. Besides, I doubt that the roads are plowed. We might not even make it to the shooting range.” He gives me a knowing smile. “I understand. I get claustrophobic myself. Try running the drive two or three times to get it out of your system.”

He helps me saddle up while Jacob helps Annie. I’m glad to see that Jacob is wearing the warm gloves and hat the mothers picked up for him in town. He was one who sure needed a Christmas gift.

“See you later,” I say to Annie as Berthoud and I speed ahead.

“Wait!” I hear her yell. But I don’t slow down. Berthoud and I fly through the snow, the cold whipping my cheeks. I feel alive. Exhilarated. Free.

Berthoud and I pass Annie several times as I run him back and forth, back and forth on the half mile. I catch the dirty look Annie gives me when we fly past for the third time, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It isn’t until poor Berthoud is panting that I slow him down. The snow mutes the sounds of Aspen trotting leisurely behind us. But I can hear Annie making clear tsking noises. Berthoud and I stop so they can catch up.

Just as Annie almost catches up, the chapel bell begins to ring urgently. I strain my eyes to see that Mother Helen is ringing it.

“We have to go in already?” I complain to Annie. “I thought we’d get the whole afternoon.”

“And I thought we were going on this ride together,” Annie says, sounding huffy.

This isn’t like Annie. I’m taken aback. “I’m sorry. I needed to feel the freedom of racing for a while. I thought you’d join in.”

“I wanted to
talk
to you. We can’t talk if you’re racing.” She shakes her head. “You’re in a different world lately.”

“I know. I’m really sorry, Annie.” I am sorry and I can’t think of anything else to say.

Everyone seems to be hurrying toward the chapel. Mother Esther cups her hands over her mouth. “Hurry, girls. Chapel. Right away.” She rushes inside.

Neither Annie nor I pick up the pace. I can see that Annie’s truly distressed. We trot along in silence as we see everyone else race into the chapel.

When Annie speaks again, her voice is hushed and serious. “I had a dream last week,” she says. “I dreamed that you went somewhere in the middle of the night and I couldn’t figure out where you were.”

My veins are filled with ice. “That’s a weird dream,” I say, trying to sound normal. We are almost to the barn. “How did it end?”

“It ended okay,” she says. But her words are careful. “In my dream I woke up and you were in your bed as if you’d been there all night.” She gets down off Aspen to open the barn door.

“Thanks, Annie,” I say, sliding off Berthoud. I close the barn door behind us, but when I see Annie’s face, I know the situation is dire.

“I was relieved that it was just a dream,” she says. “If it were real, I would have to report you.”

I’m so cold that I begin to shiver. And I know that the chill is not from the weather.

In the chapel, Ezekiel bounces to the altar as if he has springs in his shoes. He pulls the matchstick out of his mouth and places it on the pulpit. Whatever the Lord has said to him has given him more energy than usual. But I’m still so shaken by Annie’s words that even his jubilance doesn’t hold my attention completely.

“Alleluia, the Lord has spoken on this Christmas day. Praise the Lord!”

“Praise the Lord,” we all repeat.

I want to look at Annie, but I don’t. What happened to our understanding? It was never spoken, of course, but we always talked out problems. We never reported each other, or threatened to. If one of us stumbled on the path, we’d encourage the other to make it right. Like the time I sneaked an apple for each of the horses. She didn’t have to say a word to correct me. I told her I would give up fruit the next four times we were offered it, and she had smiled her approval. Maybe she senses that I’ve lost my fervor. Maybe I crossed a line this time.

“Our dear Lord has blessed us with good news today,” Ezekiel proclaims.

I can hear little sounds of delight from behind me, stifled giggles and sharp, surprised breaths. What a Christmas present to see Ezekiel with his old exuberance back!

“The Lord came to me when I was settling in for a nap. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ He said. At first I was frightened that He saw me as wicked, but then He laughed.”

I hear snickering from several people, including Annie who’s right next to me.

Ezekiel begins to pace back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself.

“I wish you could have heard His laughter. It was like thunder—not too loud or too close—and a flash of lightning at the exact same time. The Lord said, ‘Ezekiel, you are not wicked. I have made you my prophet for all those who have ears to hear.’”

Now Ezekiel’s voice becomes timid, and he seems slightly embarrassed. “God said ‘From now on, your flock is to call you Prophet.’”

The congregation breaks into applause. Several people practice the new title, “Prophet Ezekiel.” Their voices are filled with awe. Annie notices that I haven’t said the title, and she glares at me. I quickly join in. Behind me I hear MaryAnne say, “Of course Ezekiel’s a prophet.” Suddenly everyone is talking, making supportive comments. It’s clear that the group is delighted.

Ezekiel holds out his hand, signaling for us to stop. But he’s laughing. “One at a time,” he says. He signals to MaryAnne to repeat what she said.

“Our Ezekiel’s a prophet! Of course he is!”

Everyone claps again.

Ezekiel acknowledges another hand. “I didn’t know God laughed and joked,” Annie says. “It makes me so happy.”

He walks over to where Mother Martha is sitting and pats her tummy. “The Lord also told me about the child Mother Martha carries,” he says.

We take in a collective breath.

“She will have a boy.”

More clapping, of course. This time I clap enthusiastically. The sounds all around are joyful.

“And this boy child will be a prophet as well.”

The room erupts into cheers.

“As a child he will be taught by me. When he is an adult, he will go out in the world to gather those who are yet to be saved.”

I raise my hand and Ezekiel calls on me right away. “I’m so grateful to God that the baby will be all right, but Ezek—Prophet Ezekiel, um, did God tell you if Mother Martha will be all right as well?”

“I didn’t ask him that, Eva, because I know she’ll be fine.” His face softens and he takes Mother Martha’s face in his hands. “You will be fine,” he repeats. Mother Martha smiles and tears stream down her cheeks. I’m touched by seeing how much he cares for her.

After a moment his attention returns to the congregation. “Any other comments or questions before we move on?” Ezekiel asks.

“It sure sounds like we don’t have to worry about the world ending anytime soon if God is sending a baby prophet who will grow up and carry on Prophet Ezekiel’s work,” Rachel says.

I had thought of the same thing. Twice we’ve been given signs that the world was coming to an end, and twice God changed his mind at the last minute.

“Now I understand,” Mother Cecelia says. “I mean, I still don’t get why God makes the decisions He makes—like having you stop seeking souls when we counted on that income. But I do see that He has a plan, and that plan is unfolding bit by bit. My faith is strengthened.”

“God always has a plan. We have to trust that plan,” Ezekiel says.

I squirm a bit and notice that several people look uncomfortable. Cecelia just brought up something we never discuss, the fact that our primary financial support has always come from the monies and possessions new members brought in. Ezekiel would be gone for weeks at a time, often returning with a new member. But that practice abruptly stopped a few years ago after he came home from an unusually long trip exhausted and anxious. When a few of the mothers asked if something had happened, he refused to talk about it.

“I’ll take one more comment or question, and then we’ll pray,” Ezekiel says.

We hear the timid voice of David from the back of the room. “I have a question,” he says. “Since you are a prophet and the baby will be a prophet, who will be in charge, you or the baby?”

This brings a fresh round of laughter, especially from Ezekiel.

“We don’t need to worry about that for a long time. I certainly won’t take orders from a baby.”

Ezekiel silences us again by holding out his hands, palms up, head bent slightly. “Praise God for great news and great gifts,” he says.

“Praise God,” we repeat.

Eighteen

The day after Christmas, I wake up before the sun and tiptoe to the window. Another whole week before we go back to the bead store and I’ll know for certain whether Trevor is a thieving heathen or the kind man I thought he was.

Everyone was so happy yesterday when Ezekiel shared his visitation and the news that God gave him. I loved seeing the women’s excited faces when they learned that the baby would be a boy and a prophet. No one hesitated when we were told to call Ezekiel “Prophet.” No one except me. I’m totally confused. If Mother gave birth to a healthy baby boy, would I be back on track with Ezekiel? If Trevor came back with beading supplies or the money, would I believe that Ezekiel is wrong about the heathens?

I don’t know. What I do know is that I long to be back in a life that is simple. I used to know what to do and when to do it. Being obedient wasn’t always easy, but at least I knew what was expected of me and what to strive for. Now everything is one big question. I’m jittery inside and so very lonely. No one can know my doubts and fears. But I am no longer thinking of turning myself in to the Community Concerns Committee. No good can come of a confession. And I’m sure I’d never see Mother Martha again.

I stare into the darkness and pray for strength. Little by little the sky begins to lighten. I love this part of the day. I love how the dawn takes on the darkness and gradually forces it to surrender to daylight. It reminds me of when Aslan brought spring back to Narnia. If God can bring light to the whole world, surely he can bring the light of truth into my heart and soul. This is my prayer. I say it over and over.

Suddenly a dark figure sprints down the driveway toward the dining hall and chapel. As the person gets closer, I see that it’s Jacob and he’s wearing a holster with two guns. He dashes to the chapel and urgently rings the bell.

Lights begin to shine in room after room as people hurry to their windows. Nobody’s dressed yet, of course, so instead of joining Jacob in the courtyard, we all open our windows to hear what he has to say. He says something but I can’t make out the words.

“Use the megaphone!” Ezekiel orders.

Jacob races into the dining hall and returns seconds later with the megaphone.

“We had an intruder,” he says. Now his voice is loud and clear. “Don’t worry. I got rid of him and taught him a lesson.” His voice sounds totally grown-up. He’s no longer the kid he was two months ago.

Jacob holds out the arm that isn’t holding the megaphone to quiet the chatter. “We’re not in danger now. He was trying to climb over the gate, but he got a shock and fell back. I ordered him to leave. But he didn’t move fast enough so I shot.”

“You
shot
him?” Ezekiel roars.

“No. I shot toward him to let him know I meant business, but I only hit his car. I think I took out one of his mirrors.”

I can’t help wondering why it’s such a shock to Ezekiel that Jacob shot at the intruder. If someone tries to enter, shoot to kill. That’s what we’ve been taught.

“Did he say anything?” Ezekiel asks.

“Yeah. Just one thing. He said he wanted to make sure everyone was all right.”

“Okay,” Ezekiel says. “Everybody get dressed and we’ll have our morning service. Brother Paul, I want you to go to the gate in case there’s more activity. Make sure you’re armed. Use your whistle to let us know if you need backup.”

I take in a half breath and move away from the window to get dressed. “Prophet Ezekiel doesn’t sound terribly distressed, so that’s good.”

“You’re right,” Annie says. “And Jacob too. He actually sounded excited.”

A dreaded knowing settles in the pit of my stomach, like lead. The news will probably involve fasting, heightened patrols, even bloodshed. This is not good for any of us, but especially Mother Martha, who’s having enough trouble with her pregnancy.

And I’m right. The next hour is spent in the chapel as we listen to Jacob getting interrogated. Jacob seems to handle the interrogation, but it sends shivers through me. When he describes the outsider, he mentions blue in his hair and something sparkling on his ear.

He could be talking about Trevor. No, that can’t be. Trevor doesn’t know where we live. Out of guilt, I consider confessing about Trevor, but I see Mother Martha’s pale face and instantly change my mind.

For a moment Ezekiel considers the idea that maybe the intruder knew Rachel and me. But Rachel is quick to refute this and suggests that, with all the shooting going on here, someone probably heard and decided to check it out for himself.

“It’s better that he decided to check for himself rather than call the police,” Mother Esther says.

Ezekiel stands up straighter, and he looks frightened all of a sudden. “He could still call the police. He could report that Jacob shot out his mirror.”

“But he was on our property,” Jacob says. “Didn’t you say that trespassing was against the law? Why would he call the police when he broke the law?”

Ezekiel seems to relax some. He tells us that we will need to pray and fast, but Mother Cecelia reminds him that we have lots of Christmas leftovers that will go to waste if we don’t eat them. Considering this, Ezekiel decides that we will begin a fast on New Year’s Eve. In the meantime we will have an extra chapel session after lunch each day.

New Year’s Eve is a beautiful winter day. The sun is shining, and much of the snow from last week’s blizzard has melted. There have not been any more incidents with an intruder, and in spite of the fast we are now starting, the mood at Righteous Path is almost cheerful.

The best thing of all is that Ezekiel has already given permission for Rachel and me to make a trip to Boulder the day after New Year’s. I’m not even thinking about seeing Trevor. I’ve let go of that possibility. Besides, Rachel and I have to bead shop and grocery shop so it will be busy. This morning Mother Mary Anne joked that we don’t even have enough food to go on a fast. Plus several of the mothers are in need of personal items—shampoo, deodorant, and soap.

My secret hope is that I can sneak to the corner store on the Boulder mall and buy Mother Martha something nutritious to eat.

New Year’s Day is not a holiday for us, so we go about our normal activities. In evening chapel Ezekiel wears the first smile I’ve seen since the attempted break-in. Good. Maybe he’ll talk about something else for a change.

It’s so tiring to hear the heathen horror stories, especially the ones about how the government may try to murder us like they did in Waco. I’m also tired of the idea that everyone outside Righteous Path is bad. Even if Trevor doesn’t turn out to be a good person, I’ve still seen enough goodness on the outside—the friendliness of vendors and customers at the flea market, the gifts two people gave me for Christmas—that I can’t lump everyone into the “bad” category.

But Ezekiel is in a great mood today. The only thing that makes me nervous is that he keeps smiling at
me.
After prayers he makes an announcement. “God has spoken to me once again. We must remain aware of the heathen, but God says that we are not in any danger now. The heathen who tried to break in has gone away, and God said we didn’t need to think about him anymore.”

I boldly turn around to see how everyone is reacting to Ezekiel’s mood change. Annie always wants to sit close to the front so we’re in the second row, which is really the first row since no one ever wants to sit that close to the pulpit. She seems more relaxed than usual. Behind me and to my right sit Rachel and Mother Martha, who both look relieved. In fact, Rachel looks downright happy.

I find Jacob in the end of the third row. He’s been moving closer and closer to the front ever since he became the star gunman. He seems to be frowning. I think he’s disappointed that he hasn’t had a chance to use his skill more. And Daniel and David remain in the back along with Mother Helen and Brother Paul. The rest of the mothers are in between.

“And he gave me good news.” Ezekiel pauses dramatically.

Every muscle in my body tightens as he smiles at me again. I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming.

“I am to marry Eva.”

The response is mixed—some make happy sounds; others sound shocked.

I am too numb to respond, but I know it’s a grievous error not to appear happy.

I recognize Mother Martha’s voice, though it sounds shaky. “Prophet Ezekiel, Eva is only fourteen years old.”

“She will be fifteen in a few months,” he counters. His voice is clearly angry.

Mother Martha begins sobbing. Ezekiel looks as though he wants to slap her, but she doesn’t stop.

“Why would you want to spoil this moment?” he yells.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s just that Eva’s so young.”

“You would argue with
God’s will
?”

Mother looks as if she might faint. She leans against Rachel.

Rachel laughs. She actually laughs! “Prophet Ezekiel,” she says, “it’s just hormones. She’s not realizing what a huge honor this is for Eva.” She faces me. “How exciting!” Her smile is huge, but there is a warning in her eyes that I can read perfectly.

I do the impossible. I smile as happy a smile as I can manage. And I turn toward Mother Martha to make sure she sees my face.

Ezekiel approaches me. I force myself to look in his face, keeping the fake smile in place. He takes my hands in his. Everyone around us claps politely.

Miraculously Prophet Ezekiel has calmed way down, and Mother Martha is silent. I’m in awe of how great Rachel is with him.

“My dear, your hands are way too cold,” he says. He blows his sulfur breath on them. The smell makes me sick to my stomach.

“Stay in chapel after the others are dismissed so we can talk.”

He says a closing prayer and everyone files out. A few people stop to congratulate me, but mostly they just leave in silence.

He sits next to me in the pew. I know that there’s nothing I can do. If he says God has proclaimed the marriage, then the marriage will happen. But it occurs to me that I need to delay it somehow.

“May I speak, Prophet Ezekiel?” I ask. He considers this for a moment. Maybe he’s afraid that I’ll protest.

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Did God tell you when we should be married?” I ask.

“He did not give me a date, but I’d like to do it as soon as possible.”

“With your permission, I’d like to make a suggestion.”

He nods.

I strive to be like Rachel—offering a bright smile and enthusiasm. “I would love to have a Promise Ceremony the way you did with Rachel. It was beautiful. And we could have a spring wedding.”

He looks like he’s about to protest so I quickly continue. “If we married in spring, Prophet, we could celebrate the wedding and the baptism of the baby at the same time. The wildflowers would all be up by then and it would be beautiful.”

He looks to be considering the idea, so I keep going. “I’m thinking about Mother and her messed-up hormones.” I chuckle a little, making it light like Rachel did. “In the spring she’ll have had the baby, and I’ll bet she’ll feel better about it then.”

Ezekiel is silent for a bit. He paces, deep in thought for what seems an eternity.

“Okay,” he says finally. “We’ll have the marriage and baptism together, but I want the Promise Ceremony tomorrow night.”