Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(7)

“Dear Father Gabriel,” I said between sobs, “please take away these impure thoughts. I confess I remember my life before . . . no, I confess I have allowed evil . . .”

I took a deep breath.

The thoughts weren’t evil; The Light was.

I stared at the stove where I’d cooked dinners for my husband. I was a good cook, even though I remembered that as Stella I didn’t cook. As Stella I hadn’t been ready to co-own a fish, yet in this life that I’d been forced to live, I’d been ready to have a baby.

Why had I been forced to become someone I wasn’t?

Yet I was . . . I’d been Sara. None of it made sense.

Standing, I walked toward the cupboards and reached for a bag of decaffeinated tea. As I began to fill the teakettle with water, I decided I wanted coffee. I needed coffee. I’d gotten the decaffeinated tea in preparation for pregnancy. With the confusion and hurt filling my heart and soul, I refused to consider that pregnancy was possible. After all, I’d been without my birth control for only . . . I did the math . . . almost two weeks. People didn’t usually get pregnant the first month.

How had they done it? Why had they done it? What would happen now that I knew?

While the coffeepot began to sputter, I made my way to the kitchen table and collapsed back into a chair. I needed more than coffee. I needed to get away from the Northern Light and back to my life. I needed to find a way to be free from The Light.

The Light!

The incomplete slivers of scenes were forming complete movie reels. I, Stella, had been investigating The Light. It was the last thing I could recall doing in Detroit.

Other facets of my life came back: my parents, my sister, Dylan; Bernard, my boss; Tracy, my friend; and Foster, my coworker.

Although the lies that I’d been fed and willingly consumed sickened me, to have a past—when I’d had none—excited me. My head ached as the gaping holes that I’d accepted would forever remain void were closing with record speed, filling with a real past that had been hidden away.

Or was it more lies? I couldn’t be sure.

If I didn’t belong here, why was I here?

And then it hit me. I wasn’t the only one here.

I thought about Tobias, all the other babies, and the children who called my name from the depths of the day care. I envisioned the followers, the chosen and the ones I didn’t know as well—the women, men, children. How many of them were living lies? How many were lying?

My friends . . . more heartbreak. Did they know they were lying?

My thoughts were all over as my eyes roamed our small apartment and I clenched my teeth.

Father Gabriel lives as we do—bullshit!

Bloomfield Hills. The new images clawed at my newly founded belief system: Father Gabriel had a huge, sprawling, multi-million-dollar mansion in Bloomfield Hills with a landing strip.

My heart continued to crumble.

For the past nine months I’d been conditioned to turn to Jacob, to seek not only his approval but also his guidance. Admittedly, there was still part of me that wanted that. I wanted to close my eyes in his arms and give this all to him, but the newly awakened part of me knew I couldn’t.

Jacob had told me stories of our past, a past I now believed had never existed. Our entire relationship was based upon lies that he’d perpetuated over and over until I believed his every word. Had he invented those stories, or had he been told to tell them to me? He’d said more than once that he had rules to follow too.

Despite the evidence, I wanted to believe that my husband had done what he believed.

My head fell onto my folded arms as I willed my new thoughts to stop.

He wasn’t my husband.

An internal battle raged between desire to know and willingness to accept. My heart told me that Jacob loved me and would always do what was best, but the images, the memories, all painted another picture.

Grudgingly I acknowledged that Jacob had to be part of this deception. After all, not only had he played into the lies about our being married and about our past together but also he flew planes. He flew Father Gabriel. He was with him right now at the Eastern Light.

A new thought surfaced.

Could the Eastern Light be Detroit, more accurately Bloomfield Hills?

If it was, Jacob knew about the mansion. He knew about the landing strip. He knew that Father Gabriel didn’t live as he professed.

My recently emptied stomach continued to twist. Not only did I need to get away but also on the off chance I was pregnant, I needed to get my baby away from this madness.

I peered out the window at the bright, clear summer sky. I was in Alaska—Far North, Alaska. There were walls and polar bears. This wasn’t only a physical prison but a mental one. I had to think. I had to plan. I had to tell my heart to forget the man who’d been my comforter, disciplinarian, and rock. For my survival, my possible child’s, as well as others’, I needed to think.

I poured a cup of coffee, and as the cream swirled through the darkened liquid, questions continued to swirl within my consciousness. As flickers of my former self fought through the uncertainty, I realized that I no longer needed Jacob’s approval to question. I granted it to myself. My mind went to my parents, my sister, and Dylan, and how they must be suffering with my disappearance. It had to be as it had been with Mindy’s disappearance.

Shit! Mindy!

My hand fluttered over my heart. Mindy was here too, with me. I was confident. I remembered the blonde woman who’d spoken to Elizabeth a few months ago. Now it made sense that she’d looked familiar. She wasn’t Mary; she was Mindy Rosemont, my best friend from the dark. However, just as I hadn’t recognized her, she hadn’t recognized me. More than likely her past had been erased, leaving her without memories of her true identity.