“Give my heart and soul to God,” I whispered through clenched teeth.
The pain stopped. She kissed the top of my head, cuddling me close. I loved it when she held me like that. Like a proper mother and daughter.
“Good girl,” she cooed, rubbing the sore spot on my arm. “The best girl.”
I let out a long and even breath. Feeling the weight of all things lift up and out into nothing.
The dark behind my eyelids hid everything I didn’t want others to see. It hid the things I wanted to keep to myself.
So much of my life was spent this way. In silence. In contemplation. Pastor Carter said it was the only way to be at peace. The only way to find certainty in life’s choices. When we separated ourselves from the things that distract us, only then can we find God.
Much later, I watched as Clement and Stanley returned from the woods. They stopped and spoke with Gabby’s mother who was pruning rose bushes by her cottage. Their heads close together.
Clement patted Martha White’s shoulder. She smiled at him. All was forgiven. She understood. Her daughter needed The Refuge. It was part of the plan for some of us. A step along the path.
We couldn’t be resentful if it was a requirement of our souls.
Gabby and her family hadn’t been at The Retreat that long. Only a few months. Gabby was outspoken. Mouthy. A budding teenager with too many ideas and too many opinions.
She refused to join in scripture reading. She was noisy during Daily Devotional. She wouldn’t wake up for The Sun’s Morning Blessing.
It wasn’t surprising that she had been sent to The Refuge.
I was a perfect example of how it could work. How it could save.
My stomach twisted. My chest felt tight. Fire burned my insides.
The pain of happiness flooded me.
I noticed that Anne was watching Martha, Clement, and Stanley. Feeling my eyes on her she glanced my way. But there was no smile.
Not this time.
Her eyes were unusually bright.
The dust must be irritating her as well. It was too dry.
I handed her a cloth and she wiped the wetness from her cheeks.
I returned to my task.
It wasn’t pretending if it didn’t exist.
I stayed late after our meal that evening to help Anne clean up. We made it a game. Humming tunes we barely remembered and making up words to songs we hardly knew.
I twirled Anne around in a circle. “Stop it, you’re going to make me sick,” she laughed.
We shouldn’t be acting so silly. If the elders saw us, we would most certainly be punished. Pastor Carter would remind us that silence and reflection was the only way to ensure our salvation.
But sometimes, only with Anne, Iwantedto be silly. Iwantedto laugh.
Plus, we knew we were alone. There were no prying eyes to be fearful of.
We dropped heavily onto a bench, trying to catch our breath. Anne grabbed a carrot stick from one of the plates and took a bite. I wagged my finger at her.
“Never take more than you need, Anne,” I lectured, but not too severely. I couldn’t admonish Anne over anything. Not really. I loved her too much.
She gave me a guilty smile and dropped it back onto the plate. “I should save it for someone else to enjoy.” She wrapped up the leftover food and put it in the small refrigerator plugged in the corner.
