Into the Light (The Light, #1)(4)

The throbbing returned to my temples as Jacob’s fingers unlaced from mine and both of his hands encased my one. I tried, again, to recall the accident, but incomplete memories of dragon-sharp teeth and fiery breath created an unfinished mosaic.

Before my mind was able to fill in the blanks or I could respond, Jacob verbally agreed to everything that Brother Timothy had just said.

“Sara, do you remember why you took Jacob’s truck the day of the incident?”

I had no recollection of having taken a truck. If Jacob and I were married, wouldn’t it be my truck too? I lowered my chin to my chest and squeezed Jacob’s hand twice.

“She said yes, Brother. She remembers.”

My face snapped toward Jacob’s voice, sending pain surging through my head. I hadn’t indicated yes—I’d squeezed twice, which meant no.

Brother Timothy continued, “Did you have your husband’s permission to drive his truck?”

“I told you that she—”

Brother Timothy interrupted Jacob’s reply. “We’re here to get answers from Sister Sara. If you’re not willing to wait for your wife’s responses, we can have Lilith hold her hand. Sister Sara, yes or no?”

I now understood why Jacob had completely covered my hand with both of his. He was going to answer the questions the way he chose, regardless of how I replied. I squeezed twice—no—and waited.

“She said yes, she had my permission. Which I believe is the same answer I gave the Commission.”

Brother Timothy went on with his questions, asking if I remembered where I’d been going, if I knew that what I’d done had been beyond my approved scope.

My approved scope?

My heart thundered in my chest with each question and each answer that Jacob gave on my behalf. In a short time, I learned details about the accident that I couldn’t recall. Apparently I had been driving Jacob’s truck to pick up supplies he needed. Since I’d been following my husband’s instructions, I hadn’t realized that driving alone outside the community was forbidden.

“Do you remember who was responsible for your incident?”

The room waited for my answer. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know who was responsible or recall anything relating to the accident; I wouldn’t be the one to answer. As the silence grew, I fidgeted against the mattress. My leg and ribs ached and even swallowing hurt. I squeezed Jacob’s hand twice.

“Yes, Brother, she remembers.”

As the voices murmured among themselves at this response, a chill passed through me, then the temperature of the room seemed to rise. I wanted to scream. Perspiration beaded on my chest and dripped uncomfortably between my breasts. Jacob’s grip tightened and I flinched as someone touched my neck.

Brother Timothy raised his voice above the din. “Sister Sara, your current physical suffering is a sign of the correction you deserve for your actions. God taught us, saying, ‘I will punish the world for its evil and the wicked for their iniquity.’ God doesn’t punish the righteous. Therefore your suffering is evidence of your evil intent.”

“Brother,” Jacob replied, my hand still in his. “She just respectfully indicated that her intent wasn’t evil. She did what I demanded. Her intent was to obey her husband. With the icy roads I should have considered her lack of driving experience before sending her to complete my errand.”

“When Sara is able to speak, you’ll both be brought before the Commission. It’ll be up to Father Gabriel to determine if correction is complete.”

“As her husband, I take responsibility for her actions. I guarantee that my wife didn’t willfully disobey the laws of The Light. If she had, I’d see to her correction myself.”

I fell back to my pillow, unable to comprehend the discussion around me. Why is this happening? Why are they discussing me, without me?

Mute as I was, with my eyes covered and my hand encased in Jacob’s, no one but my husband noticed my lack of participation. I remained still as he continued to relay my nonexistent responses, leaving me a bystander to my own story and unable to affect its outcome.

Maybe this wasn’t real, maybe it was a bad dream and the scene would soon fade. My stomach twisted as their exchange continued and they discussed my insubordination and correction. Each time Brother Timothy condemned, Jacob reminded him that my transgressions were alleged, not proven. It was as if suddenly I were on trial in my hospital room instead of in a court of law.

It wasn’t until I heard the word banishment that their conversation again registered. Whatever had been said had apparently been the parting word. Murmurs floated above the sound of various sets of feet exiting, then finally there was silence. When the door clicked closed I released my breath.

Turning toward my husband, I waited for an explanation. Nothing. I was about to pull my hand away when I felt a tug on my right arm and a woman spoke.

“Brother Jacob, Dr. Newton would like to examine Sister Sara now.”

So many brothers and sisters. So unfamiliar.

“Are you giving her more medicine?” Jacob asked.

“After the doctor comes. He’d like her to be awake.”

“Tell him he’ll need to wait until morning. She’s had enough commotion for her first day. Bring her medicine, something to drink, and let her sleep.”

I pressed my lips together in protest. Not that anyone noticed. They were doing it again. Discussing me while I was right there. Why does no one else find this wrong?