Into the Light (The Light, #1)(47)

As her head moved slowly from side to side her hair fell about her face. “I don’t understand how it’s all gone—my memory. It seems like I’d remember moving to Alaska or where we lived before.”

“We don’t have time to wash your hair,” I said, changing the subject and removing the old hair tie dangling uselessly from a few strands of her hair. Once it was free, I raked my fingers down the length of blonde. “Besides, we washed it this morning and it still looks good. You’ll need to redo your braid—it fell out.”

“Do I have to keep it in a braid?”

The small fraction of emotion in her question made my cheeks rise. “Of course not. That’s how you wore it most of the time in the past. That’s why I mentioned it.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “Raquel mentioned a messy bun once. I think I’d like a messy bun for service.” Her voice softened as she added, “If that’s all right with you.”

“As long as you remember how to secure it, it’s fine. I can help with a lot, but you don’t want me fixing your hair.”

At the sound of my self-deprecating statement, she lifted her face toward mine, and her lips formed a stunning smile. In that grin she planted a glimmer of hope for our future. I felt the small seedling in my chest, its shell broken by roots that needed care, sunshine, and nutrients. I prayed a silent prayer to Father Gabriel that one day it would bloom.

“Here,” I said as I handed her the hairbrush.

These weeks that she was required to spend without sight gave me the clear advantage. I could stare and study my wife without her being self-conscious. As she brushed her hair, I watched, admiring how truly beautiful she was, especially now that her cheeks were mostly clear. The earlier bruising and more recent red blotches were about gone, revealing her creamy soft skin. Though the purple of her throat had faded considerably, now merely a brown tint, it still needed to be covered. That was why Raquel had gotten Sara the turtleneck sweater.

Tonight would be Sara’s first introduction to the followers. Everyone in the community understood the importance of making each follower feel welcomed. Newly acquired members were different. They didn’t realize they were new. For that reason they were primarily surrounded by people who’d help with their acclimation. The entire Assembly and Commission, and their wives, were Sara’s support group . . . well, with the exception of Brother Timothy and Sister Lilith. Since Brother Daniel was my overseer, he’d also become Sara’s. That was why Sister Ruth had stepped in with her training. After Sara’s breakdown, I’d gone to both of them privately and discussed my concern. I didn’t ask for Sister Ruth’s help, as that could have caused more problems with Lilith and Brother Timothy. However, I placed a bet on Sister Ruth’s caring nature; my wager paid off.

As Lilith had explained to Sara, as an Assemblyman’s wife, she held a special place of honor. For that, as well as other reasons, her transition into The Light was more difficult than that of a mere follower. Yet at the same time, the people in this inner circle of the chosen knew the way into The Light better than anyone, and would do their best to facilitate her success.

“There, that will work for my shower,” she announced as she fastened the clip I’d recently handed her behind her head. I grinned at the blanched spot on her lip. She’d had it securely tucked between her teeth as she concentrated on her hair. With her announcement she’d released it, allowing the pink to return.

As the warm water assaulted her backside, her grip on my hand tightened. Insensitively I choked out the words I knew to say. “Will you remember not to question?”

“Yes, Jacob,” she replied through gritted teeth.

It took a little time, but when her muscles relaxed, I knew she was finally more comfortable. Once she was out of the shower, I applied the ointment, explaining the whole time how it had helped her in the past. We turned off the light in the bathroom, and I replaced the bandages around her eyes. It wasn’t until she was dressed and ready for service that she mentioned her punishment.

“I assume I’ll be sitting at the service.”

It was the first time I’d seen my wife, as my wife, in anything other than a nightgown. I couldn’t help but stare at her splendor. She’d done as she’d asked to and secured her hair near the nape of her neck. Her turtleneck was black and ribbed, fitting snugly to her breasts, and disappeared at her small waist into the skirt that stopped about midcalf. The skirt was made of a blue-jean material. Over the turtleneck she wore a jacket that matched the skirt. The boot she wore on her right foot went almost to her knee and had a heel that nearly matched the height of the cast. With it on, she walked better than she had with slippers. Raquel had chosen her clothes, including the white bra and panties hidden beneath. Around Sara’s neck I’d secured a necklace. Dangling from the chain was a silver cross. It was an exact duplicate of the one worn by all the Assembly and Commission wives.

There was something about Sara’s presence and confidence, despite her punishment, that mesmerized me. As I stared at her, the only thing I could think, the only thing that registered, was that she was mine. All mine. Though my mind recognized the errors of our ways, in this world she was mine. Father Gabriel and The Light had given her to me, uniting us as husband and wife.

I tried to concentrate on her statement.

“Yes,” I replied as she walked confidently toward me and the table that held our dinner.