As soon as Jacob opened the cabin of the second jet, I knew it was different. If he flew in it often, the luxurious interior undoubtedly added to his signature scent. The furnishings in the passenger cabin were covered in the softest leather I recalled ever feeling. Walking up and down the aisle, I ran my fingers over the multiple chairs and the sleek interior. Unlike the smaller plane, this jet required two pilots. Jacob laughed when I sat in one of the cushy chairs and told him I was ready for him to take me someplace, now or later. Since the jet held ten people and usually flew only Brother Micah, Jacob, and Father Gabriel, I’d been serious. If Father Gabriel had been restricted to the smaller plane while I was in the clinic, I understood why he wanted Jacob back to work.
Even though I was essentially as trapped in the pole barn as I had been in the clinic, I wasn’t in a hurry to leave. I knew this was punishment, and I shouldn’t like it, but I kind of did. It gave me a chance to stop worrying about a past I couldn’t remember and relearn my role as Jacob’s wife. Things were continuing to improve since the first day when I’d forgotten to greet him at the door. Thankfully our banishment was the only punishment I’d endured since the previous week. My goal was to keep it that way. As long as I kept that eerie calmness out of Jacob’s voice, I was even beginning to enjoy his company.
Sometimes the wind would howl, and I’d think about the polar bears. However, knowing how big the pole barn was eased some of my worry. The living quarters were only a tiny part compared to the building as a whole. After all, the hangar had to be large enough to hold two jets, as well as all sorts of other things, like cool carts that attached to the jets and moved them in and out of the hangar. There was also a whole shop area with tools and an office area with desks and computers. When I thanked Jacob for my tour, he said I’d been out there before. Of course, I didn’t remember.
Just as I finished rewinding Father Gabriel’s lesson, the sound of the rising garage door startled me. After that first day, I’d gotten very good at distinguishing that sound from other clatter. I hurried to the clock, wondering if I’d slept more than I’d realized, but it was only twenty minutes after three. Jacob wasn’t due back for more than three hours.
My pulse raced as I stood in dark silence, waiting for a knock. With each moment my nerves stretched and my palms moistened. With my blood pumping in my ears, I wondered what to do. I hadn’t gone through the door to the garage without Jacob and suddenly wondered if it even had a lock.
The knock never came; instead I held my breath as my fear materialized and the door opened. As soon as the click of high heels upon the wood floor registered, I recognized my guest.
She wasn’t alone. When she entered I’d heard two distinct sets of footsteps. Figuring the other person was either Sister Ruth or Brother Timothy I sighed with relief, knowing that they were people with whom I could speak. I was also glad that I’d restarted the lesson. If they’d entered with the recording near the end, with the way my mind was wandering, I’m sure I would’ve failed their round of twenty questions.
“Sister Sara,” Sister Lilith finally greeted me.
“Sister Lilith,” I replied.
“We heard that Brother Jacob would be gone and decided this was a good opportunity to speak to you.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”
“Hmmm,” she hummed.
Her strange reply brought the fine hairs on my arms to attention. While the unique scent of her perfume, as well as her steps, let me know she was getting closer, the citrus reminded me that I didn’t smell vanilla. Sister Ruth wasn’t the person still near the door. I took a chance and turned in that direction.
“Brother Timothy, welcome.”
“Sister,” he said.
“I see you’re adapting well without sight,” Sister Lilith said. “I do hope that your eyes will be better soon.”
“Thank you; I’m patient for God’s time.”
As silence filled with the click-clack of her high heels, I envisioned her taking a white glove and evaluating my housecleaning skills. If she was, I wasn’t concerned. I’d dusted, pushed a dust mop back and forth, and even washed and put away my dishes from lunch.
“Sister, we have questions and feel it’s time for your answers,” Brother Timothy said.
This wasn’t right. Jacob had said I didn’t need to go before the Commission. I struggled with my next move. If it had been only Lilith, I could’ve questioned her, but it wasn’t. I knew from experience that I couldn’t question Brother Timothy. Reaching for one of the four chairs at the table, I did my best to weigh each word. “Brother, Sister, if you’d like, we may sit, and I’ll be happy to answer anything that Brother Jacob has given me permission to discuss.”
Chairs moved, the screech of the legs over the floor indicating my guests’ locations. Since the person on my right sat first, that was Brother Timothy. I waited until Sister Lilith was seated before I sat.
“Sara,” Sister Lilith began. “While I’m pleased with your progress, I’m here on behalf of the Commission and Assembly wives.”
I couldn’t believe her. She’d lied about that before. Nevertheless I was careful about what I said. “Thank you for taking the time to come all the way out. I know that I’m only allowed to speak to the Commission and Commission wives. Your visit means a lot.”
“This is more than a visit,” Brother Timothy began. “This is officially part of your correction.”
My stomach twisted.
“Sister, I’m going to get straight to the matter at hand. Do you remember when I came to your room, right after you awoke after your incident?”
I turned toward his voice. “Yes, Brother Timothy, I do.”
“Do you remember me asking you questions about your incident?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember your answers?”
My pulse quickened. “Brother, I must obey my husband. I haven’t received his permission to discuss this with you or anyone.”
“Sara,” Sister Lilith said. “Father Gabriel teaches that next to him, the Commission rules our community. Brother Timothy is one of Father Gabriel’s chosen. Brother Jacob may be on the Assembly, but he does not supersede my husband.”
“Sister, I’ve learned so much through your training. Thank you. I believe I learned that what you said is true for you. Since only Father Gabriel has the power to supersede our husbands, I must obey Jacob.” Though my heart was about to leap from my chest, I sat tall, confident in my response. Turing toward Brother Timothy I added, “I’m sorry, only with my husband’s permission may I answer your questions.”
“Sister,” he asked, his volume lowered. “Did Brother Jacob inform you that you could only speak with the Commission and their wives, or did he not?”
Shit!
“Yes, Brother, he did.”
“Are you aware that I’m on the Commission and that makes Sister Lilith a Commissioner’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Does it not seem that Brother Jacob then indeed gave his permission?”
My head went from side to side, swinging the low ponytail I’d secured earlier this morning across my back. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe that he meant—”
“Sister.” Brother Timothy slapped the table. The reverberating sound caused me to jump as it echoed throughout the living quarters. “Do you presume to know what Brother Jacob meant? Are we to understand that you’ve been given the gift of discernment concerning all men or only your husband?”
“No, I don’t presume . . .”
“Rest assured that this will be discussed with Brother Jacob.”
My breaths came fast and shallow with the realization that I was not going to win. If I didn’t answer, Brother Timothy and Sister Lilith would tell of my lack of cooperation, if I did, I was disobeying Jacob. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t.
Lilith spoke. “Sara, obeying your husband is your duty; however, so is being truthful. You told us, through Brother Jacob, that you remembered why yo
u were in his truck. You said that you were obeying Brother Jacob. Now we’ve been told you don’t remember. Tell me, were you lying then . . . or now?”
“I’m not lying. I wasn’t.”
“So it was Brother Jacob then? An Assemblyman was the one who lied?”
“N-no, that’s not—”
“Brother Jacob testified before the Commission saying that you’re having difficulty with your memory. That was why my wife was helping you remember your training. Tell us, Sister, are you truly having problems with your memory, or are you selectively forgetting details to justify your behavior?”
“I am . . . I’m really having trouble.” I couldn’t think straight. They were twisting my words. I moved my slick palms to my lap and rubbed them over my skirt.
“So if you don’t remember what happened before your incident, tell us, who lied in your hospital room, you or Brother Jacob?” Brother Timothy questioned.
Shit!
“Please, please,” I begged. “If we could wait for Brother Jacob, when he’s home we can answer everything together.” Tears streamed from my bandages.
“Sister Sara, you do remember that this isn’t your home, don’t you?” Sister Lilith asked.
“Brother Jacob told me that we have an apartment. We’re only here for our banishment.”
“That’s correct. You’re here as punishment for your sins. When one among us transgresses, Father Gabriel teaches swift appropriate retribution for their disobedience. Do you remember that?” she asked.
“Yes, I mean, I know that now.”
“So you didn’t know that before, when you drove away in Brother Jacob’s truck?”
Once again my head moved from side to side. “I don’t remember what I was doing, but I do know about punishment.”
“Yes, Sister, I believe you do, and not solely in theory.” She leaned closer. “Tell us what Brother Jacob did last Wednesday after your lapse in judgment, after you had the audacity to question Father Gabriel.”
I wanted to disappear. That was supposed to be over. Jacob said it was over, but the glares I couldn’t see burned my skin, expecting my response. Balling my fists in my lap, I willed my tears to stay hidden; instead they slipped from my bandages onto my charred cheeks and interrupted my words. “He . . . punished . . . me.”
“Did you deserve your husband’s punishment?”
I nodded.
“Sister?” Brother Timothy said.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Her interrogation continued.
“Because I questioned Father Gabriel.”
“Will you do that again?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to embarrass my husband again.”
“Is that the only reason?”
I took a ragged breath. “I don’t want to be punished.”
“What form of punishment did Brother Jacob choose to implement, to help you reach this decision?” Brother Timothy asked.
My heavy chest heaved as I fought with myself, not wanting this conversation. “He used his belt.”
“After his correction was complete, did you remember it?”
“Yes.”
How could I forget?
“How?”
“I don’t understand”—I hiccupped a breath—“why we’re having this . . .”
“Sister, what did Brother Jacob say about the evidence he left on your skin from his correction?”
“He said . . . it was my reminder.”
“Sister,” Brother Timothy’s deep voice echoed. “Calm yourself.”
Though I nodded, calming myself wouldn’t happen as long as their interrogation continued.
“Do you believe his reminder was useful?” Sister Lilith asked.
“I won’t forget.”
“Very good. Now this correction that you and Brother Jacob are currently enduring,” Brother Timothy said, joining the cross-examination. “What will help you remember—be your reminder—not to lie to a Commissioner again?”
My breaths stuttered, as panic infiltrated my reply. “I-I didn’t lie.”
“What will be your reminder, Sister?”
“I-I don’t know . . . memories?”
“But you said you’re having difficulty remembering.” Sister Lilith’s condescending tone twisted my already knotted stomach.
I shook my head. “Sister, I have difficulty remembering before my accident. I recall everything since.”
“Isn’t that convenient?” Brother Timothy asked.
“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I should say anything else.” I tried unsuccessfully to fill my lungs.
“Very well,” Sister Lilith said, her chair moving.
Thank Father Gabriel, they are leaving.
“Sister, stand,” she demanded.
My body stilled. “What?”
“Is the ability to hear another of your medical problems, or is it only obeying?” Brother Timothy asked.
I scooted back my chair and reached for the table. With shaky knees I stood. The movement of Brother Timothy’s chair let me know that we were all standing.
“As we told you, we’re here on behalf of the Commission. While Father Gabriel’s decree has far-reaching implications, The Light believes that retribution of sin cleanses the soul. Playing house out here alone is hardly severe enough punishment for lying to my husband.”
“Sister, I didn’t lie. I was confused, and this punishment was Father Gabriel’s ruling.”
“Yes, and we’re here today to deliver your reminder, to help you not commit this sin again.”
“M-my reminder? What . . . why are you . . . ?”
“Rest assured,” Brother Timothy said. “I’ll discuss your continued questioning with your husband.”
My body trembled as I contemplated Jacob’s response. I tightened my grip on the table, and then a strange sound caught my attention.
“Hair,” Brother Timothy explained in a tone that reminded me of Jacob’s eerie calm, “is a woman’s crowning glory. The reminder you’ll receive today will help you to remember to be truthful. This reminder won’t only be for you, but also for your husband. Each time he sees your short hair—”
What the hell is he saying?
“—he’ll remember the shame you brought to him. Sister, the entire community will see your reminder and know of your punishment.”
“My hair? What do you mean?”
“Sister, expect your husband to be informed of your continued disobedience.”
The next few seconds occurred in a blur. The sounds I heard, the snip and clip, suddenly made sense. It was as though my darkened world moved in slow motion; nevertheless I couldn’t catch it. As I reached for my hair, Sister Lilith lifted my ponytail and cut.
“No!” I screamed, my ponytail sagging in my grip. “Why?!”
Sister Lilith’s hand connected with my cheek. “That is enough questioning. You’re in the presence of a Commissioner. Apparently the reminders you’ve been given require reapplication.”
Stumbling to the table, I found that my knees no longer held my weight. I fell into the chair I’d recently vacated, still gripping my detached ponytail.
Oh my God. What did they do? What will Jacob say? Will he punish me for this?
Though their voices were close, I couldn’t distinguish them with any clarity. Their phrases faded into my internal mayhem.
“. . . when you think about this, remember that it was done for your own good. It seems as though Brother Jacob has more work ahead of him.” What am I going to do? “Your willfulness needs continued correction.” Why are they doing this? “Remember this reminder was your doing and, as always, avoiding future reminders is your choice.” My hair! Jacob! “Prepare yourself for your husband’s additional correction when he returns.” Oh, please. This can’t be happening. “As you yourself said, you are his responsibility; only he can truly correct your behavior.”
Perhaps I was in shock, but I didn’t respond. There was nothing
I could say as their accusations and warnings swirled through the air and my mind. The meanings of their words, the shock at my loss, and the promise of impending punishment paralyzed me. The weight of it all held me captive until their footsteps disappeared behind the closing door and the garage door went up and down.
Finally freed, I moved and took a ragged breath.
When I did, my entire body revolted. Shock waves swept through me from my head to my toes. The knotting in my stomach painfully twisted, propelling the remnants of my long-ago-eaten lunch upward. With perspiration dotting my brow, I hurried toward the bathroom. Falling to my knees, I emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Over and over I retched until nothing but heaves racked my body. My clammy and trembling body, as well as the reality of what had happened and would happen, pinned me to the floor.
As the fog lifted, I remembered my ponytail. Panic erupted when I realized that in my desperation I’d dropped it. “No . . . no . . .” I cried, making it shakily to my knees and desperately searching the darkness. The strands were scattered, like the shards of my heart. With painstaking determination I gathered the pieces together. Once I had them in one place, I hugged them close. The uneven tips of my hair brushed my wet cheeks as I held my detached ponytail, pulled my knees to my chest, and cried.
Time lost its meaning.
Finally I made my way to my feet and the sink. After carefully placing my hair on the vanity, I cupped water in my hands, rinsed the awful taste from my mouth, and washed my tearstained cheeks. Slowly thoughts began to surface, reminding me of my choices. Brother Timothy had said it was my choice, and so had Jacob.
What if I chose to leave?
Obviously there wasn’t a lock on the door. I could leave. Tears resumed as sobs resonated from deep within. Instead of fear, sorrow overwhelmed me as my thoughts went to my husband. I recalled how he’d helped me wash my hair and the way he’d run his fingers through its length. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself reach for the hair now dangling near my cheeks. My haircut of disgrace. Though my trembling had stopped, my rapid pulse remained.
Did I want to leave? If I did, where would I go? Would I take Jacob’s truck again? Was this why I’d taken it last time? Had it been because of fear? Had the fear been of Jacob or others? Driving wasn’t an option. I couldn’t see, much less drive, but I could walk . . . to where, to whom? Wouldn’t I have had the same questions before? Where had I been going then?