Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(13)

For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face. To me, this meant my vision was muddied, that I hadn’t been seeing clearly until coming face to face with Gideon Fortunati. Those tiny quiet moments I had been thinking were a divine spirit, those minuscule miracles I thought were the answers to my prayers, all of that I now dismissed as fleeting moments of insanity. I hadn’t been seeing the truth. Insignificant things, finding a parking spot close by when I went into St. George on business, my adding machine tape coming out right the very first time, the clothes washer actually getting out the wet stain on the back of my dress after the encounter with Mr. Fortunati—all these things suddenly became just coincidence. Given the laws of odds, it was a likelihood that some of the things would work out some of the time.

Every time I struggled to find meaning in my existence, my brain was trying to arrange incidences into a pattern that it could grasp. Now I saw there was no pattern. My life had been a futile and ceaselessly patient waiting for Mr. Fortunati to wander by, only to see him ride off forever once more. Or had he? Kimball had overheard Allred on the phone asking Mr. Fortunati to oversee his mine for a short time. Immanuel Zabriskie, the old manager, had also mysteriously disappeared, mostly likely to “Texas.” His wives had been quickly absorbed by elders.

But that news came after Allred had a stern discussion with me. I was actually expecting him. After watching Mr. Fortunati ride off toward the gates that day, I’d tried to quickly clean up in Allred’s kitchen. But I wasn’t quick enough.

“Evil flourishes when good men do nothing.”

I actually gasped and dropped the rolling pin I was about to wash. It fell with an excruciating thud right smack onto the big toe of my shiny black shoe.

My natural reaction was to wince and bend over, but he was right behind me, so I had to stand erect and face him. “Yes, indeed,” I said hollowly, having no idea what he meant. I blinked back tears of pain.

He came closer. It was always menacing the way he practically crawled like a spider when he walked, making great swimming motions with his hands. “The God that dangles you over a hell pit, just like one dangles a bug, he loathes you, Mahalia. When God looks for neophytes, he will have no mercy upon you.”

The next time I blinked, a tear did roll down my face. “Yes, my Prophet.”

I truly had no idea what he was referring to until he added, “I am the hand that giveth and the hand that taketh away! That demonstration you put on in there for the benefit of our guest was inexcusable.”

“Demonstration?”

He was now close enough to see my tears, and for me to smell his whiskey breath. How many times had I wished we were a sect that had abolished liquor! But the tears seemed to soften him up. He must’ve mistaken them for repentance. “Only one man on the planet at a time has the jurisdiction to do God’s will, Mahalia.”

Of course, that man was him. “I understand.”

“Your lack of fellowship with me is driving me away. You will lose your place in the heavenly line if you do not exhibit more warm enthusiasm for me.”

“Yes, sir. I agree, sir.”

Now this was where he’d grab my boob. Allred Lee Chiles was very interested in boobs, and bottoms too, I suppose. Oh, he was into anything that was base or sexual in nature. Every corrupt and perverted version of a sexual act and Allred was an expert in it. He didn’t just mildly paddle a woman to achieve her sexual arousal, as my first husband had done with his hand from time to time. No, he had to beat her silly with a painful weapon, like the rolling pin he now snatched up from the floor.

Shoving me so I caught my balance with my hands on the edge of the counter, Allred went about gathering my skirts above my waist. “Why do you persist in wearing red? Don’t you know it’s the color Christ will wear when he returns? Ah, your ass is just begging to be whipped!”

He tucked my skirts into the waistband of my apron and set to whacking my bottom. He made women wear those long johns with the drop door in the seat for just this purpose. It was unbearable in the summer, like now, but he’d never made any exceptions for our comfort. Being wed to Allred Lee Chiles was a living hell. Some of his other wives, mostly the newer, younger ones, had even admitted it to me. They found their life a burden to be endured until they walked once again in the celestial kingdom.

I had no choice but to see it that way, too. “Ah!” Allred enjoyed bizarre proclamations while beating us. “God has restored the celestial law of polygamy just for me!” Whack! The rolling pin hit my bottom, and I’m telling you, it’s a good thing I have a lot of padding back there. I knew of some wives who would’ve been in serious trouble after being hit with a wooden pin like this. To me, it just stung, it would leave purple bruises, but it would do no lasting damage.

As he whacked me, he humped the bundled-up fabric at my hip, like a dog. Even through the layers of fabric I could feel his bone-like dingle-dangle jabbing away at me. I knew it was abnormally knife-shaped because, well, Field had been shaped normally, like the men on the internet. And I had looked at my fair share on the internet before being brought here.

“Ah! You did wrong because you chose to do so. Your guilt will now display that you knew you had free will and you could have done otherwise than to make eyes at that filthy biker!”

I knew better than to protest. What I could do was reaffirm my loyalty to Allred. “But Prophet! You know I would make eyes at no one but you!”