Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(45)

Brother Raphael greeted us as he stayed seated behind his desk. Sister Rebecca moved a chair next to her husband and sat, leaving Jacob and me standing. It was probably their way of making our visit about the matter at hand and not a friendly visit.

Though Brother Raphael had always been nice to me in the lab, as we stood before him and Sister Rebecca, I remembered his position. Not only was he a Commissioner, he was second in command at the Northern Light, second only to Father Gabriel. With Father Gabriel gone, he was in charge. Nothing, not even banishment, was outside the scope of his power. That knowledge, plus Jacob’s warning about the next eighteen hours, weighed heavily on my mind as I waited to speak. If our story was to be disputed, it would probably be here and now.

“Sister Sara, I’m glad you’re not ill. Go ahead. Brother Jacob said you wanted to say something to me.”

Though I didn’t remember having said I wanted to do this, I nodded and began, “Brother Raphael and Sister Rebecca, I’m here today . . .”

I attributed my emotional outbursts to my lack of sleep. Just as had happened when I talked with Raquel, as I apologized to Brother Raphael, tears coated my cheeks. It wasn’t an ugly cry, but it was enough that Sister Rebecca stood, even as I spoke, handed me a tissue, and gave me a hug.

I didn’t tell them why I didn’t go to work, only that I was upset and selfish, thinking only of myself. When I was done, Brother Raphael asked me whether I enjoyed my job at the Northern Light. I assured him—I did. Then he asked me a similar question about my husband, did I love him and accept his decisions? When I turned toward Jacob and saw the pride in his eyes, more tears flowed. “I do. I really do,” I answered.

I didn’t think about Stella or how wrong this was. I didn’t think about how I was essentially telling the person in charge that I was all right with my husband blackening my eye, which he hadn’t. In that moment all I thought about was what Jacob had told me to remember when I had the nightmares: I was Sara and he was Jacob.

Sara loves Jacob, and Jacob loves Sara.

Brother Raphael didn’t respond; instead he looked at his wife. “Rebecca, please take Sister Sara into the kitchen. I need to speak with Brother Jacob privately for a few minutes.”

As far as Commissioners’ wives went, Sister Rebecca was more like Sister Ruth than like Sister Lilith. Though she was thin and always well dressed like Sister Lilith, she was also sweet, with the maternal quality of Sister Ruth. Whenever I’d spoken with her, she’d been kind, and her lessons during Tuesday and Thursday prayer meetings were thought provoking and often emotional. We Assembly wives didn’t know which Commission wife would lead the meetings until we arrived. Whenever I learned it was Sister Rebecca, I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed.

Once we were in the kitchen, Sister Rebecca gave me a new tissue and smiled. “My dear, I’m glad you’re all right. When you weren’t at work, Brother Raphael was concerned that you may’ve been ill. I heard Brother Benjamin was concerned too.” She patted my hand. “It’ll be all right. My husband’s a fair man.”

My head began to ache as I hiccupped and nodded. After the way Jacob had scared me the night before, I knew I didn’t want correction or reminders. I also knew that it wasn’t up to me.

Setting the teakettle on the stove, Sister Rebecca said, “Let me make you some decaffeinated tea. That always helped me relax. Though I did miss coffee while I was pregnant.”

My eyes opened wide. “W-what did you just say?”

Her soft hazel eyes sparkled. “Come now, you heard me.”

“I-I’m not . . .” I shook my head. “I don’t know if I am.”

“But you want to be, don’t you, Sister?”

“I’m really not sure anymore.”

“Is that why Brother Jacob corrected you? Did you not tell him?”

Oh, shit! Where is this going?

I swallowed. “Sister, I have a problem with questioning. I try, I really do, but sometimes I think all I do is try his patience.”

“Brother Jacob seems to be a patient man.”

“He is. That’s why I’m so embarrassed. I don’t want people to think less of him.”

“You do love him,” she asked, “don’t you?”

I smiled a closed-lipped smile. “I do. I know that God had a reason for bringing us here. I’m so thankful I’ve had Jacob to help me, and”—I lowered my eyes—“to correct me.” Though the words once again hurt my pride, they flowed easily from my lips.

Again she patted my hand. “Let me get you that tea.” Once she set the cup in front of me, she whispered, “I doubt Brother Raphael picked up your signals. You know how men are.”

“My signals?”

“Your hand protectively covered your stomach the entire time you were apologizing, you’re emotional, and the way you looked at your husband . . . goodness, if you’re not sure yet if you’re expecting a child, you certainly think it’s a possibility.”

I shrugged as my cheeks blushed. “I mean, I know how it works. There’s a chance.”

“When I was pregnant, I had all sorts of strange cravings.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, and odd memories. I’m not even sure they were real. They seemed real. Have you had any of that?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. She was good, and she was sneaky. I shook my head. “No, I haven’t. Do you think that means that I’m not pregnant?”