Into the Light (The Light #1)(62)
I brought my feet together, straightened my neck, and said, “I’ll stand, thank you.”
He reached for my chin and lowered it.
“This is where you are to be when I arrive, and if you choose to stand, your head will be bowed.”
“Yes, Jacob.”
I didn’t move from where I had been told to be, as the rustling of his coat filled the silence.
“Reach out your hands. You may take my coat and hang it in the closet under the stairs.”
It was heavier than I’d expected, causing me to wobble slightly when he laid it in my arms. Inside the closet I fumbled until I found a hanger. Once his coat was secure, I closed the door. When I turned he was right in front of me, grasping my shoulders. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth and waited for the order I didn’t want to hear.
Will he tell me to go to the bathroom like last time, or our bedroom?
“Sara, we have so much happening right now. I do not want, nor do I have time, to rehash basics. You must remember.”
The tears teetered as I nodded within his grip. “I’m trying.”
“Trying and doing are two different things. Remember that. If you can’t, the next time I won’t be as lenient.”
My body sagged with the rush of relief that I wasn’t going to be corrected. “Thank you, Jacob. I will be waiting next time.”
He took my hand and led me to the couch. Handing me a tissue, he said, “I’m going to tell you exactly why we came out here, out of the community.” His calmness was gone. The voice beckoning me was my husband’s, that of the man I wanted to know.
“Thank you,” I said cautiously, taking the tissue.
“They figured it out.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They know that I answered for you, when Brother Timothy was in your room.”
My trembling resumed. “What . . . I don’t know what that means. He said I needed to go before the Commission.”
“You don’t. At least not right now. I’ve been before them, multiple times.”
“You have? In my place?”
Devotion and sadness rang in his words. “You’ve been through enough. I tried.”
“But you told them the truth.”
His grip on my hands tightened. “I told them what I thought was best.”
Everything inside me screamed to ask, to question. Instead I waited.
“Do you remember the way you reacted in the hospital, before I slapped you?”
Ashamed of the memory, I nodded and softly replied, “Yes.”
“That’s how you were before the accident. You were upset, grabbed my keys, and rushed out. I didn’t know your intentions, but the Commission decided that you were trying to leave The Light.”
I shook my head frantically. “No! I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t leave you, or The Light, or Father Gabriel.” The shaking of my head slowed, and I tilted it to the side. “I don’t think I would.”
“I want to believe that. I want to believe that it was a misunderstanding.”
My head ached as I desperately searched my memories. “I don’t remember anything . . .”
His large palms framed my cheeks. “Sara, I’ve put everything on the line for you. We must be honest with one another.”
I nodded.
“Would you rather leave and go back to the dark, than be here . . . with me?”
I pulled from his grip and stood. The sudden disconnection gave me the strength I needed to think. One minute I’d fantasized about him, the next I’d feared him. Each step that took me away from him shed light on my answer. Stopping on the other side of the sofa, I took a deep breath and began, “I’m being completely honest. I don’t remember anything before waking in the hospital.”
“Anything?”
My head moved slowly from side to side.
“And?” he asked.
“And all I know is what’s happened since.” I paused. “I know that you’ve been with me. Not just with me, but I’ve heard you fight for me. I heard what you said to Dr. Newton. I trust that you were protecting me with Brother Timothy, and now you just said that you’ve testified for me.” I took a deep breath. “I know that you care for me, that you want me, and you love me enough to correct me.” Sighing, I made my way back to him, sat, and palmed his cheeks. His stubbly jaw abraded my hands and reminded me of the way it tantalized my breasts. “Jacob, I’ll continue to apologize for not remembering, but just because I don’t remember, doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I have no idea what I was doing that day or why I took your truck, but I promise, now, I want to be here, with you.”
“Sara, here isn’t where we should be.”
My hands dropped to my lap as I tried to comprehend his meaning.
Compared to the hospital, I like here.
“We’ve been temporarily banished,” he explained.
Unable to think or reason, I stopped breathing. That was the word Brother Timothy had used. Banished. “What about your position? Are they taking it away? What about your job? Why did they do this? What will happen to us? What about our friends? Is there anything we can do?”
He reached for my hands and held them still.
“Stop. I can’t even count the number of times you just questioned.”