Into the Light (The Light #1)(94)
His grip on my chin tensed.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” I added hastily.
“Have you felt this way lately? Have you awakened in the middle of the night upset without telling me?”
I shook my head. “Not since the night you asked me who we were. Well, only once, and when I did, I did what you said: I reminded myself of us and stayed close to you. Since then, nothing.”
Jacob exhaled. “Sara Adams, what does that tell you?”
“That I should be punished for not telling you sooner?”
His hands slipped to my arms, moving up and down with a ghostly soft touch. “It does say that you should have told me sooner, but no, this isn’t about correction. It’s about learning. Thoughts come and go; it’s dwelling on them that’s detrimental. The way you let them go is to release them to me. If I punished you for your thoughts, why would you share them with me?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way.
“The accident,” he went on, “is over, and now that you’ve shared your sense of guilt, it’s over. I want all of you”—he caressed my cheek—“even if it’s a part that hurts and makes you cry. Give it to me. Once it’s mine I won’t let it hurt you anymore, and no more apologizing for what’s in the past. Remember, it’s as if it never happened.”
Nodding, I fell against his chest. Even though in my mind our history was short, as his arms wrapped around my shoulders, I knew I was where I was meant to be. My earlier feelings of doubt no longer existed.
As we made our way through the temple, when Jacob slowed or stopped to speak to other followers, I’d slow or stop with him. As we arrived at the room where the Commission and Assembly wives met for prayer, he reached for my hand, and I peered up through my lashes. When my light-blue eyes met his, my heart swelled at his silent message. I might not remember the beginning of our life together, but we’d found our way back. In the crowded hallway, his brown eyes, the slight upward turn of his lips, and the squeeze of his hand said more than words. The shimmer of suede in his eyes and partial smile told me that he loved me, while the grasp on my hand warned me to think before I spoke. I didn’t need the warning because I had no intention or desire to receive his correction.
Though I’d relearned Father Gabriel’s lessons well and knew my place, my continual area of downfall was my inquisitiveness. No matter how hard I tried, there were times when my mouth spoke before my brain could tell it to stop.
Eleven of the women gathering in the room I’d entered were my sisters, equal sisters under Father Gabriel. All the Assembly wives had made a significant sacrifice for me when they cut their hair. Truthfully, it had also been a show of support for Jacob. Without their husbands’ consent, it never would’ve happened. As I glanced about, I was glad that all our hair was growing. Most of us could at least gather it at the backs of our heads, but nevertheless I’d never forget their gift. As we gathered together, we showed affection with a hug, squeeze of the hand, or warm greeting. Although the Commission wives hadn’t cut their hair, they’d also welcomed me back without reservation, even Sister Lilith.
Father Gabriel taught to forgive and forget. That was what Jacob said I should do with Brother Timothy and Sister Lilith. While I’d forgiven, forgetting wasn’t as easy. Not only did I remember, I also wondered why they hadn’t been punished for the way they’d treated me. After all, Jacob had said it wasn’t their place. The night I voiced that question aloud, to my husband, gave a prime example of my mind not controlling my tongue. As soon as I had asked my question, it hung in the air like a cloud, and I immediately knew it was wrong.
“Sara?” Jacob said, using his emotionless tone and narrowed gaze. “Who are you that you can question Father Gabriel’s decisions?”
In the past he’d told me not to kneel; an Assemblyman’s wife shouldn’t be on the ground. The first time he’d mentioned kneeling, the idea had seemed incomprehensible. Yet four months later, when his voice and eyes reprimanded, I had an almost irresistible urge to fall to my knees. It wasn’t that I wanted to beg for mercy; mercy was at his discretion. It was that his simple cues filled me with an overpowering sense of shame as I realized that I’d failed him once again. Instead of kneeling I respectfully bowed my head and, through veiled eyes, apologized: “I’m sorry. You’re right; I don’t have the right to question Father Gabriel’s decisions.”
Thankfully, that night I received only the tone and the gaze. Though Jacob was probably more lenient and patient than many of the other husbands, since I’d awoken I’d received correction by Jacob’s belt a total of three times. Never, other than when I first awoke, had he struck me with his hand, and never had he willfully harmed me. He made it clear that it was as he’d explained: discipline, not abuse, and even though each time my transgressions outnumbered one, he never gave me more than five lashes. That was more than enough to help me remember to try harder.
As everyone sat for prayer, I noticed Deborah, one of the Assembly wives, wince. It wasn’t obvious; however, since we’d all experienced it firsthand, we were proficient at catching the subtle signs of correction. Each time, we’d offer support, while reminding our sister, as Raquel had reminded me after my first correction—in my new memory or new past, as I liked to think of it—to thank God and Father Gabriel for a husband who loved enough to correct. Yet as Deborah settled into her chair, I knew my thinking was wrong and I needed to confess it again to Jacob. Instead of telling her to be thankful, I wanted to tell her to talk to one of the Commission wives, and I wondered why they didn’t notice.