Thelma interpreted her response. “Nothing. The man standing next to him—she doesn’t know his name—told him to keep his mouth shut, and he laughed and said, ‘What does it matter? It’s not like she can hear me.’”
“They didn’t say any more about the pit?”
Abby shook her head.
Did the words Abby had read on Grady’s lips mean anything? Martha hadn’t mentioned a pit. She’d been stoned in the courtyard. If there was a pit, why hadn’t they used it for the stoning? “Do you think they put Courtney in the pit?” she asked Abby.
The child nodded sagely.
No wonder she was frightened of the Covenanters. Whether this pit existed or not, hearing about it would be unnerving, especially considering the absolute privacy in Paradise. “I’ll be careful,” she promised, and started to get up.
Abby took hold of her hands long enough to detain her. Then she pointed at her face.
“She wants to know what happened,” Thelma said.
Rachel wasn’t immediately sure how to respond. She’d already given them the story she and Nate had concocted. “I told her.”
Eyebrows knotted in frank refusal, Abby shook her head.
“She doesn’t believe you,” Thelma said, and Rachel wasn’t surprised. Abby was too adept at reading body language. And Rachel’s body couldn’t lie, not when it came to telling a lie she found so repugnant.
Standing, she caught Abby’s chin and tilted it up so their eyes met. “Trust me, okay?”
“Trust you?” Thelma repeated. There was uncertainty in her voice, but Abby was already nodding.
The gate loomed larger than ever as Thelma came to a stop a few feet from the guards’ station. This time there were no other cars passing through, and any activity inside the compound was taking place behind closed doors. Probably due to the weather. Dark clouds rolled across the sky and the wind whipped up the dirt and the dust, promising another monsoon. But until now, Rachel had barely noticed. She knew she had to sell her lie more effectively than she had at the café or, if there was a pit, she might become far too familiar with it. That was all she could think about on the drive over.
The young man on duty spotted their vehicle and passed through a small gate in order to approach them. “May I help you?”
Rachel climbed out of Thelma’s van to meet him. “I’m here to see Ethan.”
His eyes zeroed in on her swollen lip. “Is he expecting you?”
“No. But…I hope he’ll see me, anyway. Will you tell him I’m here? My name is Rachel Mott.”
A brief hesitation ensued, but as soon as Thelma started to turn the van around, he hurried to the station and made a call. Rachel could hear only a few words above the blustery wind. “…Mott…no, he’s not with her…that woman with the deaf child…van…yes, I’ll tell her.”
His lips were pinched as he walked toward them again. “I’m afraid you’d better not let your friend leave. The Holy One is busy right now. He can’t see anyone.”
“Did he say that? Was he the person you just talked to?”
“It was Brother Bartholomew, but—”
“I can’t leave,” she interrupted. “I won’t leave. I—I have to stay here. It’s the only place I’ll be safe.”
The C on his forehead wrinkled as he raised his eyebrows. “You need to go home.”
“No! I won’t! I can’t go back to him!”
“Ma’am, there’s nothing we can do for you here. Please, get in the van.”
Tears streamed down Rachel’s face. Something was going on in the commune. The Covenanters weren’t generally all that friendly, but they were even less friendly tonight. They had their hands full with some problem, and she was pretty sure she knew what problem that was.
“Ethan!” she called, going to the gate. “Ethan, let me in! I—I have nowhere else to go. Please!”
The appalled guard didn’t seem to know what to do. “Ma’am, I don’t want—”
“Call him,” she broke in. “Call him and tell him I need him. Bart hates me. Don’t talk to Bart.”
“But he’s head of security.”
Ignoring him, she began to yell. “Ethan! Ethan, come out! You said you’d help me!”
The guard grabbed her arm, trying to peel her away from the fence. Poor Thelma sat in her van, looking horrified, no doubt unsure whether or not to proceed.
“Go!” Rachel told her, waving in her direction. “I’m staying. I’m staying no matter what!”
The brake lights flickered, but the van didn’t move.
“No, don’t leave! She’s going with you!” the guard called.
Rachel’s arm was beginning to hurt from the young man’s fingers, so she jerked away and slapped him when he tried to grab her again.
Clearly surprised that she’d resisted physically, he scrambled away and headed back to the guards’ station. He was probably going to place another call, but he didn’t get that far. Bart came charging out of the building where they’d had dinner.
And Ethan was right behind him.
Nate was waiting for Thelma when she returned. Considering what she believed about Rachel’s injury, he expected her to look at him as if he were pond scum, but as he watched her climb out of her van, she seemed more shaken and confused than anything else.
“Is Rachel okay?” He figured that question was general enough. It certainly wasn’t as revealing as, Did she get in?
“I think so. But her face…”
“I feel bad about her face,” he admitted, which was true, even if he hadn’t caused the damage.
In an obvious attempt not to respond to the contrition in his voice, Thelma leaned in to get her purse. “You should.”
Rachel must’ve gotten inside the compound. She’d still be in the van if she hadn’t.
He stepped between Thelma and the café. “Where’d you take her?”
She studied him, apparently trying to determine whether or not she could tell him the truth. He sensed that it was as difficult for her to lie as it was to be rude. “I’d rather not tell you,” she finally murmured.
“I’ll find out, anyway.” He cringed to think his behavior—his persistence and his questions—would solidify Rachel’s story and convince Thelma that he was an abusive husband. But he wanted to hear as much as she’d say about what had occurred when they reached Paradise, and that meant playing along.