Into the Light (The Light #1)(63)
Though I knew from his tone that I wasn’t truly in trouble, I lowered my chin, ashamed that I’d suddenly forgotten all my training.
He lifted my unseeing eyes to his. “This is it,” he continued to explain. “This is our punishment. No one, other than the occasional Commissioner or his wife, will be allowed to see us or speak to us for the next two weeks. No friends, no service, only isolation.”
My chest pounded, and then after a moment I squeezed his hands and asked, “May I still have you? May we have each other?”
“Do you still want me?” Jacob asked.
I nodded. “I don’t know why I did what I did. I don’t remember taking your truck, but please, believe me, I’m sorry, and I won’t do it again.” I leaned toward him and rested my cheek on his chest. “From what I’ve learned since I’ve awoken, I do. I do want you. I don’t understand everything that you expect out of me, but I do want you.”
His embrace surrounded me. “I can’t tell you how good that is to hear.”
I sat back, pulling away. “Wait.” The alarm was louder than my words. “Do you still want me?”
He pulled me back to his chest and chuckled. “You have no idea how badly I want you, but Sara, you have at least one broken rib.”
I let the tips of my lips move upward and shrugged. “I think I gave you an option. I’m a little scared to repeat it.”
He brushed my cheek. “There are some things that, while said in the privacy of our home, or personal space like a clinic bed . . . are not only acceptable, but valued.”
“Valued, not heeded?”
Jacob lifted my face toward his. The tips of our noses brushed one another as he shook his head. “So much questioning . . .”
Though he’d just reprimanded me, his breathing told me that correction was not uppermost on his mind. I tilted my lips toward his, and his gentle kiss lingered.
“Heal, my dear wife. We’ll get through this, and when we do, we’ll have forever ahead of us.”
“As long as you’re with me, they can banish us for as long as they want.”
“We’re in this together; however, even with our banishment, I have a job to do. Tomorrow I must fly.”
My breathing hitched. “Please, tell me how long you’ll be gone.”
“I’m not sure. I’m transporting Father Gabriel. If you have an emergency, there’s a phone in the kitchen.”
“I don’t know who to call or how.”
CHAPTER 20
Stella
Dylan and I made a deal the other morning when he took me to the house on Cortland Street. We agreed to keep our work to ourselves unless we believed it held a connection to Mindy. The problem with that deal was that after going through Dr. Howell’s files, I was convinced everything had to do with Mindy’s disappearance. Even the woman at Starbucks was suspicious.
I mean who writes an S like that?
Dr. Howell’s information didn’t point to a conspiracy, more a compilation. Each case was a piece of a larger puzzle. Unfortunately, each piece didn’t necessarily belong to the same puzzle. I found myself constantly second-guessing and wondering if I was trying to make the wrong pieces fit. After all, there was probably a good reason that members of The Light were going back and forth to Canada.
Back at WCJB I worked on my research. The Light made for a very broad Internet search. There were literal lights, lighting stores, lighting-supply chains. Though I didn’t think he realized what he’d done, Dylan’s comment about a church was responsible for narrowing my search. While there were hundreds of churches with Light in their names, there were only a few churches named The Light. It just so happened that one of them was located in Detroit, Highland Heights to be exact. According to the website, The Light was a beacon against darkness and a home of healing for the lost. It was a self-sustaining place of devotion founded on fundamentalist beliefs that offered enlightenment to its members and freedom from the constraints of the dark.
Gabriel Clark had begun The Light in Detroit over fifteen years ago. The relatively short biography of the founder spoke of Gabriel Clark’s personal calling to The Light and his willingness to share his journey with those in need. His picture was the stereotypical promotional picture showing a smiling, handsome man in his late forties or early fifties. His slicked-back blond hair and expensive silk suit reminded me of a television evangelist. However, neither Gabriel Clark nor The Light offered sermons through social media. To hear Father Gabriel, as he was referred to on the site, a prospective member was required to attend a visitors’ assembly at one of the church’s campuses or informational hubs. The website mentioned that there were campuses throughout the country, but the locator page indicated only the one in Detroit. There were no local informational hubs.
Out of curiosity I clicked the form one was required to fill out to attend a visitors’ assembly. It didn’t give a time or date for an assembly; instead it was more of a questionnaire, pretty straightforward at first, but as I scrolled the questions became more personal and intrusive. It went from name, address, sex, age, marital status, number of children, and religious affiliation to essay-type questions. These had unlimited space for answers that were to include the personal background, triumphs and challenges, and even employment history of prospective members and spouses. Near the bottom was a statement I’d also seen on the website that discussed the applicant’s willingness to participate as a full-time committed believer.