I couldn’t argue with that. Nor could I agree with it. It was contrary to my entire life. To my entire world. We sought silence and peace. We removed ourselves from the chaos of the outside. It wasn’t something to desire. Something to find joy in. His words confused me.
But I found them interesting all the same. I didn’t want them to be. But I couldn’t help it.
“Have you been to New York?” I asked though my better sense stopped me from asking anything more, even if I wanted to. Before coming to The Retreat, I had never really been anywhere outside of the small town in Oregon where I grew up. Mom didn’t take me on vacations. I vaguely remembered Dad driving me to the ocean once before he left. But the recollections were hazy. I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined it.
I tried not to think about all the places I wouldn’t visit. All the places I could only picture in my head.
I had to find my happiness where I was. I had to accept my place in life. I was destined for greater things. I couldn’t want for anything else.
Yet I listened to Bastian. I wanted to watch him paint a picture I would never see.
“Yeah. A few times. I went on a tour of NYU when I was looking at colleges.”
I gave him a blank look.
He frowned. “NYU. New York University? The college in Manhattan?” I didn’t respond. “Shit, you really have been living in a bubble.”
“You’re being a jerk again,” I reminded him sharply.
Bastian gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Yeah that was jerky. I just forget that you haven’t—anyway, yes I’ve been to New York.”
I swallowed. My throat felt scratchy and dry. I knew I had to get back for breakfast. But I couldn’t make myself hurry anymore.
Not right now…
“What’s it like?”
Bastian blew out a breath and looked beyond the cliff again. “Nothing like here.” His eyes were far away. Somewhere else. “It’s loud. There’s always something going on. It’s chaotic and you can easily get lost in the streets and shops.”
“Sounds…overwhelming.” It was the only word I could think of. His words scared me. The idea of that kind of frenzy seemed terrifying. I was glad I was here. In my safe, quiet world.
“It is. But it’s amazing too. You can eat any type of food in the world. Go to world famous museums. See plays about life and death and every other thing in between. You can get the best burrito you’ve ever tasted at two in the morning. Or walk through Central Park and watch a guy playing Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles on his guitar. You can be surrounded by people or you can be all alone. It’s the best of everything. It’s full of interesting people from everywhere. It’s crazy and yes, overwhelming. But it’s exhilarating too.” He looked back at me. “It’s what living should feel like.”
My chest felt tight. I could picture New York from his description. I could almost taste the food. Hear the noise…
“I need to get back. We both do.” I pushed it all away. Every unwanted feeling. Every invasive thought. It had no place in my heart.
Bastian remained seated for a few more seconds but then stood up. He didn’t talk about New York anymore.
I was grateful for that.
I was horribly disappointed.
I hurried back through the woods. Bastian’s long strides easily kept up with me. He didn’t question why I was all but running. Which was good. I didn’t want to explain the conflicted fear in my belly.
Fear of getting in trouble.
Fear of his stories that I hated myself for wanting to hear.
He followed me to the kitchen hall. Our brothers and sisters were already seated but nothing had been served yet. I rushed to my spot by the kitchen door, ready to serve the dishes of hot food.
Bastian made his way to his brother, who was sitting at the center table with Pastor Carter, my mother, and the other elders. Our eyes met briefly as he sat down and I quickly looked away.
Anne handed me a pair of oven mitts, which I put on before taking a cast iron pot filled with warm oatmeal out of the oven. I opened the top, the steam hitting me in the face.
“Where have you been?” Anne whispered, leaning over me to stir the oatmeal.
I wiped sweat from my face with the back of my hand. It was warm from the open ovens. I tucked my hair behind my ears, wishing—perhaps for the first time in a long time—that I had smoother hair. Prettier hair. I felt a stirring of embarrassment over my appearance.
“There was some trash up on the outcrop. I stayed behind to make sure the area is was clean,” I lied.
Oh, how I lied.
And to my best friend.
I glanced out towards the central table. Everyone bowed their head for Pastor Carter’s prayer. Everyone but Bastian. He felt me staring. He smiled. Then bowed his head too.
My cheeks felt too warm. As if they were on fire.
“With Bastian?” Anne prodded.
I gave my attention to my task. I took the large spoon from Anne and continued stirring the oatmeal myself. “Uh, yeah. He stayed behind too.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Was he helpful?”
I snorted. “Hardly. He’s actually pretty annoying.”
Anne chuckled. “He’s nothing like his brother then.”
That gave me pause. “And what’s his brother like?”
Did Anne just blush? I peered at my friend curiously. “Anne—”
“It’s time to serve,” Minnie interrupted. “Go on, this stuff is heavy.”
Anne and I rolled our eyes but walked out to the dining hall, our arms laden with food. One at time we served our family.
“Many blessings,” each of them said as I spooned oatmeal into their bowls. Anne followed with trays of wholegrain toast.
We came to Pastor Carter’s table. Mother’s eyes were narrowed as she regarded me, but she made sure to thank me. The appearance of a loving mother.
“Smells lovely, Sara,” Pastor Carter said as I spooned his food into his bowl. “I hope you found what you needed by the cliff this morning.”
I couldn’t help but look at Bastian. What was Pastor talking about? I bowed my head dutifully anyway. “Yes, Pastor,” I demurred. He touched my hand, murmured a prayer, and I was then permitted to move on.
I felt shaken. I didn’t know why. Pastor’s words rattled me for some reason. When I got to Bastian I went to spoon oatmeal into his bowl when he held his hand up, stopping me.
“I can do that. You don’t need to wait on me,” he insisted, reaching to take the spoon from my hand.
“No. This is my job. I’m supposed to do it,” I argued, taking a step back. I felt Pastor and Mom’s eyes on me. I smiled. Sweet and simple. “Please. I like doing it. It is my duty to serve my family. We all must be humble in the eyes of the Lord,” I said blandly. I scooped the oatmeal and slopped it into his bowl with a loud splat before he could say anything else.
“Thanks,” Bastian said. But he didn’t seem happy about it.
Anne put the toast down in front of David. He looked up at her. She looked down at him.
She touched his shoulder. Very briefly. His hollow cheeks seemed to flush.
There was definitely a moment happening.
But no one seemed to notice but me.
Which was good.
Love wasn’t a choice we could make for ourselves.
Our fate was the only dictate of our future.
Anne needed to be careful.
There were some lessons we could never forget.
My heart pounded painfully in my chest.
Or we’d have to live with the consequences.
“Hey, Sara, where are you going?”
I was just coming out of the dining hall when Bastian caught up with me. I had cleaned up from lunch and was planning to tend to the garden for a bit before my one-on-one meeting with Pastor Carter.
It was a lovely day. Full of sunshine and warmth. Summer had finally arrived on the mountain and I for one was glad of it.
Winter was my least
favorite time at The Retreat and it felt that year it had lasted longer than usual. The mountain held onto the cold and it felt as though I could never get warm enough. It snowed often and I hated the short days. Pastor said we should find joy in all of the seasons for God provides them as tests and challenges. As a means to grow and blossom.
It was hard to be spiritual when my toes felt as though they were going to fall off.
I had learned to enjoy the warm months while they lasted.
I didn’t have much time before I was expected at the solarium, so I planned to plant new vegetables in the garden. I spent as much time as I could there. It was the place I felt the most joy. Not the painful kind.
The kind that took away all black thoughts.
Our days were structured and routinized to such a degree that free time was a rare concept. Especially once you were old enough to assume more responsibilities. And today I was blessed with an hour that was well and truly mine.
I hadn’t exactly expected company though.
And Bastian’s presence beside me felt jarring in ways I didn’t want to think about.
I hadn’t seen much of him after our talk at the cliff. It had been three weeks since he and David had arrived at The Retreat. I had made a promise to myself, to Pastor Carter, to keep an eye on him. I was supposed to make sure that a wolf hadn’t found its way into our flock. But when he wasn’t with David, he seemed to keep mostly to himself.
He woke up every morning and joined us at the Sun’s Morning Blessing. He sat silently during Daily Devotional. He ate his meals beside David. He read the scriptures. He helped the men fix broken siding on the houses. He cleaned out gutters. He went into the forest to collect firewood.
But he still felt apart from everyone. As if, regardless of the way he seemed to be acclimating to our way of life, he still judged it. He still regarded us with disbelief and insincerity.
As if he still dreamed of the outside. Longed for a life far away from here…
And that was dangerous. For all of us. But I worried for me most of all.
Bastian’s brother was another story. David seemed to be throwing himself into The Gathering’s ways. Pastor included him in Morning Prayer Circle, usually reserved for the elders and select disciples. He was tasked with building new tables for the dining hall, a job he appeared to enjoy. He was becoming a part of our family. He and Bobbie spent time together and seemed to have developed something of a friendship. Gail, one of the oldest members, made him extra flaxseed cookies when he commented how much he liked them.
He was still quiet. Talked very little. Kept his eyes down. His shoulders still hunched and burdened. But he was there. He was present. He was devout. And my brothers and sisters embraced him as we embraced all our new sheep.
Not so much for Bastian. No one spoke to him much. Minnie stopped trying to engage in her useless flirting. The only person he sought out was me. And I avoided him as much as possible.
The brothers were very different.
I kept expecting one day to wake up and Bastian to be gone. Sent to The Refuge.
Or having walked away from all of us.
“I was on my way to the garden,” I replied shortly, quickening my stride.
“I’ll tag along if that’s okay.” He hurried to catch up with me.
“Suit yourself,” I muttered, wishing I could ignore him. But I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me.
“Maybe you could show me how to garden. You said you would,” he reminded me.
“If you want.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me very much?” he asked, half-jokingly.
“I don’t know enough about you one way or another to decide if I like you or not,” I snapped.
“Do you want to get to know me, Sara?” he asked, his voice going husky in a way that made my belly flutter a little. I knew he was teasing, but I didn’t quite know how to deal with flirting. I had never really done it before.
It was something other girls in other places did. Not me. Not the disciple. Not Pastor’s chosen one.
“No, not really.” I felt awkward. And maybe a little foolish.
“Wow, Sara, tell me how you really feel,” Bastian laughed. I liked the sound of it. It came from deep down. I hated that I liked it.
“I just did,” I replied.
Bastian snorted. “You don’t get sarcasm, do you?”
“I get a lot of things, Bastian. More than you think,” I retorted, feeling the need to defend myself. “Now come on. I don’t have much time,” I sniffed. Unmoved. Unconcerned.
I covered my discomfort well.
“You’re always in a rush. I don’t get why we have to be in a hurry all the time,” he complained.
I opened the small metal gate to the fenced off garden. Anne’s father, Vince and Miriam were watering some of the plants in the far corner. Miriam lifted her hand in greeting. I did the same but made a point not to get too close, otherwise I’d be forced into polite conversation. And I wasn’t in the mood. Not with Bastian Scott on my heels.
I headed to the small patch of dirt reserved for the tomato plants. I wanted to start seeding and tilling the soil. I had planned to plant some cucumbers and peppers as well.
“I’m not in a hurry. My time is scheduled. We live by routine and punctuality here if you hadn’t noticed. Pastor says it shows obedience and respect,” I responded, reaching down to the base of a dead tomato plant and pulling it out of the ground.
“It doesn’t sound very peaceful having every moment of your life accounted for,” Bastian criticized, sitting down on the ground beside me. He began to pull wilting leaves from the plants that had been left over from the last growing season, obviously not knowing what he was doing.
I swatted his hand away with a cluck of my tongue. “Not like that. Have you never gardened before?”
Bastian shrugged. “I have a long, complicated history with gardening.”
Was he teasing again?
He grinned at me. Yes, he was definitely teasing. I rolled my eyes. “God forbid you exhibit patience in anything.”
“Are you judging me, Sara?” Bastian raised an eyebrow.
I puffed up indignantly. “I don’t judge anyone. It’s not my place to judge. That’s up to God.”
Bastian put his hand on my arm and I felt as though my skin were on fire. “I was joking, Sara. Don’t have a coronary.”
“I’m not having a coronary,” I muttered.
“So, what am I doing wrong then?” he asked, plucking a few more leaves off the tomato plant.
“That’s a waste of time. You’ll be here all day. Pull the whole plant up. Like this.” I demonstrated what to do. “It’s not that hard.” I dropped the dead tomato plant on a pile of rotting vegetation that I would need to take to the compost heap. “And having consistency in your day is very peaceful, just so you know,” I added, still needing to argue the point.
Bastian ripped up a tomato plant with a little more zeal than was required. “Monotony is kinda boring, you know.”
“There’s nothing monotonous about preparing your soul,” I barked, raising my voice. I noted Miriam and Vince shooting curious looks in our direction, whispering together. Gossip was a malevolent serpent within our family. It was sinful but most indulged in telling stories about their fellow disciples to those who would hear about it. There wasn’t much that happened, that others weren’t immediately aware of.
The feeling of being watched was strong. Particularly with Bastian beside me. I smiled sweetly. “Maybe you need to spend more time praying then. Clearly your soul is in need of quite a bit of work.”
“Do you ever think about what you’re missing by praying all day?” he asked pulling up another plant.
“No. I do not. Because I have everything I need here. I’m not missing anything,” I replied shortly.
“Spoken like a woman who has never experienced anything,” he shot back, though not unkindly.
“Wow, Bastian. Tell me how you really feel,?
?? I parroted him and Bastian laughed again. I found I liked it when he laughed. It was a lot better than when I felt him judging me.
“Nice one, Sara. Maybe you have a sense of humor after all.”
I put a hand on my hip. “I’ll have you know, I can be very funny.”
Bastian smirked. “I’m sure you’re a riot, Sara. With all your praying and bowing and scrapping.”
“If you hold what we do in such contempt, why don’t you leave?” I retorted, my annoyance raring to life again.
“I’m here because I want to be.” He pulled up another plant, refusing to look at me.
“It’s hard to tell,” I said, tugging at the roots, ripping them out of the ground.
Bastian was quiet. No more witty comebacks or sarcastic responses. I waited for another volley and was a bit let down when he didn’t say anything else.
We finished pulling up the tomato plants and when we were finished I pulled out a packet of seeds from my pocket that I had saved from last summer’s planting. “Here. Plant these,” I instructed vaguely. I dumped seeds into his hand.
“Uh, okay. Do I need to dig a hole or something?”
I tried not to look as frustrated as I felt. It was hard around Bastian. He poked a lot of my buttons. “Yes, you need to dig a hole.” I handed him a small hand trowel. “Dig only a couple of inches and plant a seed. Then cover it up and water it. Think you got that?”
Bastian gave me a mock salute. “’Aye, aye captain.”
I didn’t use a trowel. I used my hands to dig into the soft, rich dirt. I liked the feel of it between my fingers. Maybe it was left over from my distant childhood when I had spent hours playing in the mud. Maybe it was some small part of me holding onto that girl I once was.
“My mom loves her garden. She spends a lot of time on her flower beds. She tried to get David and me to help her out when we were kids. She gave up pretty quickly when David tried to feed me worms,” Bastian chuckled, patting the dirt over the seeds he planted.
“Is this part of that long, complicated history?” I asked.
Bastian let out a world-weary sigh. “Yes. It was all quite traumatic.”
“Eating worms would be.” I made a face and Bastian was smiling again.