Into the Light (The Light, #1)(69)

“Sara,” Sister Lilith said. “Father Gabriel teaches that next to him, the Commission rules our community. Brother Timothy is one of Father Gabriel’s chosen. Brother Jacob may be on the Assembly, but he does not supersede my husband.”

“Sister, I’ve learned so much through your training. Thank you. I believe I learned that what you said is true for you. Since only Father Gabriel has the power to supersede our husbands, I must obey Jacob.” Though my heart was about to leap from my chest, I sat tall, confident in my response. Turing toward Brother Timothy I added, “I’m sorry, only with my husband’s permission may I answer your questions.”

“Sister,” he asked, his volume lowered. “Did Brother Jacob inform you that you could only speak with the Commission and their wives, or did he not?”

Shit!

“Yes, Brother, he did.”

“Are you aware that I’m on the Commission and that makes Sister Lilith a Commissioner’s wife?”

“Yes.”

“Does it not seem that Brother Jacob then indeed gave his permission?”

My head went from side to side, swinging the low ponytail I’d secured earlier this morning across my back. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe that he meant—”

“Sister.” Brother Timothy slapped the table. The reverberating sound caused me to jump as it echoed throughout the living quarters. “Do you presume to know what Brother Jacob meant? Are we to understand that you’ve been given the gift of discernment concerning all men or only your husband?”

“No, I don’t presume . . .”

“Rest assured that this will be discussed with Brother Jacob.”

My breaths came fast and shallow with the realization that I was not going to win. If I didn’t answer, Brother Timothy and Sister Lilith would tell of my lack of cooperation, if I did, I was disobeying Jacob. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t.

Lilith spoke. “Sara, obeying your husband is your duty; however, so is being truthful. You told us, through Brother Jacob, that you remembered why you were in his truck. You said that you were obeying Brother Jacob. Now we’ve been told you don’t remember. Tell me, were you lying then . . . or now?”

“I’m not lying. I wasn’t.”

“So it was Brother Jacob then? An Assemblyman was the one who lied?”

“N-no, that’s not—”

“Brother Jacob testified before the Commission saying that you’re having difficulty with your memory. That was why my wife was helping you remember your training. Tell us, Sister, are you truly having problems with your memory, or are you selectively forgetting details to justify your behavior?”

“I am . . . I’m really having trouble.” I couldn’t think straight. They were twisting my words. I moved my slick palms to my lap and rubbed them over my skirt.

“So if you don’t remember what happened before your incident, tell us, who lied in your hospital room, you or Brother Jacob?” Brother Timothy questioned.

Shit!

“Please, please,” I begged. “If we could wait for Brother Jacob, when he’s home we can answer everything together.” Tears streamed from my bandages.

“Sister Sara, you do remember that this isn’t your home, don’t you?” Sister Lilith asked.

“Brother Jacob told me that we have an apartment. We’re only here for our banishment.”

“That’s correct. You’re here as punishment for your sins. When one among us transgresses, Father Gabriel teaches swift appropriate retribution for their disobedience. Do you remember that?” she asked.

“Yes, I mean, I know that now.”

“So you didn’t know that before, when you drove away in Brother Jacob’s truck?”

Once again my head moved from side to side. “I don’t remember what I was doing, but I do know about punishment.”

“Yes, Sister, I believe you do, and not solely in theory.” She leaned closer. “Tell us what Brother Jacob did last Wednesday after your lapse in judgment, after you had the audacity to question Father Gabriel.”

I wanted to disappear. That was supposed to be over. Jacob said it was over, but the glares I couldn’t see burned my skin, expecting my response. Balling my fists in my lap, I willed my tears to stay hidden; instead they slipped from my bandages onto my charred cheeks and interrupted my words. “He . . . punished . . . me.”

“Did you deserve your husband’s punishment?”

I nodded.

“Sister?” Brother Timothy said.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Her interrogation continued.

“Because I questioned Father Gabriel.”

“Will you do that again?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to embarrass my husband again.”

“Is that the only reason?”

I took a ragged breath. “I don’t want to be punished.”

“What form of punishment did Brother Jacob choose to implement, to help you reach this decision?” Brother Timothy asked.

My heavy chest heaved as I fought with myself, not wanting this conversation. “He used his belt.”

“After his correction was complete, did you remember it?”