Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(5)

My lips formed a straight line. “I’m sorry,” I said with an edge to my voice. “I didn’t realize I was speaking to Elizabeth.”

The recognition in her dark eyes told me she understood my remark. Elizabeth was our friend; however, she never strayed from the straight and narrow. Besides her job with new followers, she was the poster child for obedience. She would never mention the dark, anywhere, and definitely not in the temple.

“What?” Elizabeth said as she turned toward us, her green eyes shining and her lovely red hair pulled back to the nape of her neck. “Did I hear my name?”

Raquel shot me a just stay quiet look and scoffed. “Sara and I were discussing going back to our apartment building. Will you and Luke be walking with us?”

“That’s up to Luke,” she answered without reservation. Then her eyes narrowed. “But Sara, you can’t go alone.”

I sighed. “I walk alone during the day. It’s July. It’s daytime all the time.”

She shook her head dismissively as the other Assembly and Commission wives were claimed by their husbands one by one. Beyond our chosen seating I noticed the other followers, mostly couples leaving the benches and heading toward the doors. There were so many people I didn’t know. Being chosen was a blessing and a curse. The followers I saw had the pleasure of sitting with their spouses, yet they all looked exhausted.

When I thought about the hours Priscilla and the others worked, I understood.

Elizabeth was still talking. “. . . if it’s light or dark in the sky. Brother Jacob left instructions for either Luke or Brother Benjamin to accompany you. You can’t argue.”

The pain behind my eyes had intensified, making my response less censored. “I’m not arguing. I’m tired. That’s all.”

“She misses Brother Jacob,” Raquel volunteered.

The judgment present only a millisecond earlier on Elizabeth’s face dissolved. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry. Of course you do.”

“Ladies.” Brother Benjamin’s deep voice interrupted our conversation. “It’s time to head home.”

Beyond Brother Benjamin was Brother Luke. We all nodded in agreement and followed the men from the sanctuary out to the evening sunshine. Though the two men continued to talk, I allowed myself to fall into silence. It was the obedience I’d been taught, but more than that, it was my private way to make sense of the rush of uncertainty I was now feeling. I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and wake revived.

In the morning I’d feel like my old self.

That was my last thought as I closed my eyes with my head on Jacob’s pillow. His signature leather scent surrounded me as I fell asleep.





CHAPTER 3


Sara


Shrill screams echoed throughout our dimly lit bedroom, accelerating my heartbeat and pulling me from the terrible nightmare. I waited for more, until the realization struck. The screams were my own.

“Jacob?” I called, my voice shaking with dread as I reached for my husband. Instead of reassurance, my fingers met cold empty sheets. He was gone—still away at another campus.

What just happened? Was it a dream?

I clung to the covers as I puffed my cheeks and slowly exhaled. While each breath helped to still the chaos, the exercise wasn’t enough.

Who am I? Who is he?

Jacob’s questions from months ago came back. They were my security. They’d worked before.

I am Sara Adams and my husband is Jacob Adams.

Pushing the images from my dream, or nightmare, away, I imagined Jacob’s comforting embrace. Slowly I threw back the down comforter and willed the cool air to soothe my perspiration-drenched skin. From the way my heart galloped in my chest, I might have been running a marathon, not sleeping.

In my sleep I’d been battling to escape a vehicle, and then an explosion of heat.

It had been a dream, I reassured myself—a nightmare. The accident I’d had, nearly nine months before, had been different. I couldn’t remember it, but I’d been told that I’d been injured and gone unconscious. In the nightmare I had been out and away from the wreckage.

I shook my head.

It seemed so real.

In my dream I hadn’t been able to see past the darkness, yet I’d known I wasn’t injured.

My arms surrounded my midsection as the memories replayed like pictures in my mind. Someone was hurting me—purposely harming me, and there was a voice—a deep voice.

Jacob’s voice?

No. He wouldn’t hurt me.

My entire body shuddered as goose bumps peppered my skin. Sitting upright, I reached for the bedside lamp. With trembling fingers I turned the knob and my eyes adjusted as the soft light combined with the sun’s perpetual summer glow.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on Jacob’s questions.

Who am I? Who is he?

This time I said the words aloud, praying that if I spoke the truth, the images would disappear. “I am Sara Adams. He is my husband, Jacob Adams.” I pulled myself from the bed and walked to the bathroom. Turning on the light and the faucet, I cupped the cool water and splashed my face. As I reached for the cup and began to fill it, a metaphoric dam that had been constructed to hold back my past burst.

My mind was flooded—no longer with simple images, but with scene after scene.