Into the Light (The Light #1)(23)
“For right now, you may speak only to me and only when we’re alone. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Sara, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. No one has the authority to override my rules. No one except Father Gabriel. Remember that.”
I nodded.
“This is of the utmost importance.” He lifted my hand and intertwined our fingers. “Who is your husband?”
“You.”
“And who makes your rules?”
Heaviness filled my chest. Though I didn’t like the answer I was about to utter, I’d learned my lesson—or Sara’s lesson—and didn’t hesitate. “You do.”
“What will happen if you disobey me?” His warm hand tensed as he waited for my answer.
“You’ll correct me.” I hated the words the second they left my mouth, but by the way his lips brushed my forehead, it was the right answer, or at least the one he wanted. “May I please rest?” I didn’t want to talk anymore.
He petted my hair. “I’ll put the bed back a little so you can sleep.” As it began to recline, he said, “Sara, I want what’s best for you. The responsibility that Father Gabriel and God bestowed upon me as your husband is great. A component of that responsibility is your correction. It’s only one part of the overall picture, but it’s a part I’ve always taken seriously. We don’t want another incident like the one that got you in this bed. To help you, I won’t hesitate to reinforce your obedience. Remember that.”
The bed stopped, and my thoughts drifted to the ache in my cheek. Obviously he wouldn’t hesitate.
“As long as you behave appropriately,” he continued, “you have nothing to fear. Father Gabriel often says that this arrangement is a blessing for wives. As a wife you don’t question. By doing as you’re told, you’re relieved of the responsibility of decisions. Correction is at my discretion, and once it is delivered, the transgression is over. For example, today’s outburst, your disobedience with speaking—you’ve been punished and it’s done. Once the correction is complete, you no longer need to feel guilty. It’s as if it never happened. It’s a blessing. Don’t you agree?”
Though I was sleepy, his explanation ricocheted around my brain. I didn’t agree. I wasn’t a child or a pet. Nevertheless I saw the appeal of putting things behind us and moving on. Then I remembered what Brother Timothy had said, that only Father Gabriel could decide if my punishment was complete. The anticipation of what was yet to come was unnerving. Instead of answering I asked, “Are corrections always corporal?”
“See what I mean? Isn’t it better to not worry about that and move on?”
I was fading into sleepiness. I wasn’t sure if the answer I was about to utter was mine or Sara’s, but either way, it felt like the easiest way to end this discussion and allow me to rest. “Yes, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep.”
I nodded against the pillow. I didn’t want to think about the people with the strange familial titles or about governing bodies that held unknown power. As much as I hated myself for condoning any part of Jacob’s correction, I was thankful that my outburst was behind us. For my sanity I needed to fall asleep thinking about the man who’d defended and helped me, not the husband I couldn’t remember who claimed to be my disciplinarian.
Is that what Sara did? Is that how she survived?
CHAPTER 8
Sara
I can do this . . .
To survive I needed to convince myself that I could reclaim my life. No matter how hard I wished, my current situation wasn’t a dream or even a nightmare—if it were, I could wake and it would be over. So far three days and nights had passed and I was still here, in Sara’s life.
During the last night, I had awakened to the sound of Jacob’s steady breathing. Knowing he was asleep, I lay awake thinking about everything. I thought about the things that people took for granted and vowed to myself that in the future, I’d value the mundane knowledge that most people never questioned. I would, because I now knew what it was like to have it outside my reach. Simple, basic facts were gone. I couldn’t recall my own reflection, the color of my eyes or hair, or the shape of my face. My birthday and even my age were mysteries. I didn’t know if I had family, other than Jacob, though I assumed that if we had children he would’ve mentioned them, especially during some part of his responsibility discussion.
Sadly, I didn’t know me.
Yet there were some aspects of this life that had felt clear. Like Raquel and Elizabeth. With them everything seemed right, as if I were safe. The opposite was true about the strange people with titles that seemed unfamiliar. Merely the mention of their names and the brother and sister references caused my chest to tighten and pulse to quicken. Though I couldn’t recall my past, the anxiety those people and their power instilled in me was palpably real.
Jacob remained unclear. As I had listened to his breathing, knowing that he was once again sleeping with his head upon my bed, I’d found myself conflicted by his dichotomy. His presence, even in sleep, gave me a sense of protection from the outside world. With him near, I didn’t fear the Commission, Dr. Newton, or even the apparently all-powerful Father Gabriel. Jacob was my husband and my protector. And yet a sense of uncertainty also nagged at my soul. Yes, he kept me safe from everything outside our bubble—it was inside our bubble that concerned me.