It was a lovely day. Full of sunshine and warmth. Summer had finally arrived on the mountain and I for one was glad of it.
Winter was my least favorite time at The Retreat and it felt that year it had lasted longer than usual. The mountain held onto the cold and it felt as though I could never get warm enough. It snowed often and I hated the short days. Pastor said we should find joy in all of the seasons for God provides them as tests and challenges. As a means to grow and blossom.
It was hard to be spiritual when my toes felt as though they were going to fall off.
I had learned to enjoy the warm months while they lasted.
I didn’t have much time before I was expected at the solarium, so I planned to plant new vegetables in the garden. I spent as much time as I could there. It was the place I felt the most joy. Not the painful kind.
The kind that took away all black thoughts.
Our days were structured and routinized to such a degree that free time was a rare concept. Especially once you were old enough to assume more responsibilities. And today I was blessed with an hour that was well and truly mine.
I hadn’t exactly expected company though.
And Bastian’s presence beside me felt jarring in ways I didn’t want to think about.
I hadn’t seen much of him after our talk at the cliff. It had been three weeks since he and David had arrived at The Retreat. I had made a promise to myself, to Pastor Carter, to keep an eye on him. I was supposed to make sure that a wolf hadn’t found its way into our flock. But when he wasn’t with David, he seemed to keep mostly to himself.
He woke up every morning and joined us at the Sun’s Morning Blessing. He sat silently during Daily Devotional. He ate his meals beside David. He read the scriptures. He helped the men fix broken siding on the houses. He cleaned out gutters. He went into the forest to collect firewood.
But he still felt apart from everyone. As if, regardless of the way he seemed to be acclimating to our way of life, he still judged it. He still regarded us with disbelief and insincerity.
As if he still dreamed of theoutside. Longed for a life far away from here…
And that was dangerous. For all of us. But I worried for me most of all.
Bastian’s brother was another story. David seemed to be throwing himself into The Gathering’s ways. Pastor included him in Morning Prayer Circle, usually reserved for the elders and select disciples. He was tasked with building new tables for the dining hall, a job he appeared to enjoy. He was becoming a part of our family. He and Bobbie spent time together and seemed to have developed something of a friendship. Gail, one of the oldest members, made him extra flaxseed cookies when he commented how much he liked them.
He was still quiet. Talked very little. Kept his eyes down. His shoulders still hunched and burdened. But he wasthere. He waspresent. He wasdevout. And my brothers and sisters embraced him as we embraced all our new sheep.
Not so much for Bastian. No one spoke to him much. Minnie stopped trying to engage in her useless flirting. The only person he sought out was me. And I avoided him as much as possible.
The brothers were very different.
I kept expecting one day to wake up and Bastian to be gone. Sent to The Refuge.
Or having walked away from all of us.
“I was on my way to the garden,” I replied shortly, quickening my stride.
“I’ll tag along if that’s okay.” He hurried to catch up with me.
“Suit yourself,” I muttered, wishing I could ignore him. But I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me.
“Maybe you could show me how to garden. You said you would,” he reminded me.
“If you want.”
“Why do I get the feeling you don’t like me very much?” he asked, half-jokingly.
“I don’t know enough about you one way or another to decide if I like you or not,” I snapped.
“Do you want to get to know me, Sara?” he asked, his voice going husky in a way that made my belly flutter a little. I knew he was teasing, but I didn’t quite know how to deal with flirting. I had never really done it before.
It was something other girls in other places did. Not me. Not the disciple. Not Pastor’s chosen one.
“No, not really.” I felt awkward. And maybe a little foolish.
