“Is your aunt treating you…well? If you need anything, we can help you,” she signs, and I translate.
“I’m okay. I’m…I’m alive. After you left and the Shepherd was buried, the Elders voted on who should lead us in the future. They chose a close friend of the Shepherd. An even older man. More strict and repulsive. He set out new rules about women and what we were allowed or not allowed to do, to eat, words we couldn’t use anymore, and he scheduled prayers every twenty minutes with new chants and rituals. It turned into…hell.” My Rose fidgets, and I see guilt settling its claws on her heart. “A few girls started regrouping in the powder room of the Institute, because that’s the only place we were safe from the Elders. At first, just a few, but then… One or two girls joined me, exchanging thoughts and ideas, and…it kind of grew.”
“What do you mean?” Rose signs.
“When I left, we were about twenty-four girls, meeting a few minutes a week to discuss escape plans, talk about the Elders or our parents who wronged us, or how things were done without a single explanation. And…I guess we all got a bit mad.” I make a silent prayer for her story to keep going in the right direction and not into tragedy. “After a wedding ceremony where a girl almost died two months ago, I was done. I couldn’t stomach the cruelty anymore. And also because I knew it wouldn’t take long before my parents tried to marry me too. I didn’t have siblings to leave behind, so…the only people I miss are my friends, and when I think about what will happen to them…” She winces. “I always knew I had an aunt in Oregon. It was a hush-hush thing in my family. The one aunt who didn’t enroll in the Faithful Lambs.Mom and Dad called her impure. A crazy woman.” She takes a breath. “The night I escaped, I ran out through the roof of my house and fell onto the lawn. I broke my arm, but, you know, I didn’t have a choice; I couldn’t stop and get help. It was my only shot. So I held my broken arm all night and walked through the forest until I found a bus station. I had saved a few dollars from a trip to the fabric store my mother didn’t know about, and I paid for a ticket to Missouri. When I arrived there, I collapsed, and my arm was killing me. They called the police, and I started running away from them, thinking they’d bring me back. But then I explained everything, and they contacted my aunt in Portland. She flew out the same day to pick me up. I understood then why my parents never wanted her in our lives. She’s kind and smart and nothing like the women from our community. She’s definitely not afraid to… speak her mind.” Carolina smiles faintly. “Anyway, she took me in. And yeah…it’s been a month. A journalist asked about my case, and I gave him my story. I thought maybe it could help another girl out there. Just like you helped me.”
A few seconds pass before Rose signs. “I don’t get it, how…how did I help you?” Carolina rests a tentative hand on Rose’s, and my girl accepts it, turning her palm to squeeze back.
“You…you showed me that,” she pauses, “that it was…possible. To leave this hell, to escape. You changed everything, Rose. Everything.” Their hands join above the table. “Thank you,” Carolina says, and Rose mouths the same words back. I don’t translate this time, the girl gets it. For the first time since hearing about her, I’m grateful she came. My Rose never had the closure she needed when she left, and this stranger just gave her a piece of it.
“How are you doing now that you’re out?” Rose asks.
“Honestly, not so bad… I’m still struggling to eat, though. I’m not used to the food here, I mean—well, you know what I mean.My aunt brought me to a doctor, and I have a new diet now. To introduce new foods without feeling sick.”
“If you need money for any treatment or healthcare, just ask, we’ll cover it,” I tell her. Rose glances at me with a reverent smile, and I wish I could take her into my arms and tell her how damn proud I am.
“Thank you, really, but my aunt said we’re okay. The real shock is how behind I am. I don’t even know how to use a cell phone.”
Rose signs. “It took me time, too. For me, it was the noise and people everywhere. I was overwhelmed…sensory-wise.”
“I get it,” Carolina says. “I’m still not over the fact that men can talk to me in a store or in the street. It’s so…odd.” Rose smiles.
“You’ll get used to it. To freedom. It took me weeks to get out of the house on my own, and you’re already doing it. You’re already good at it.”
Carolina shakes her head. “I’m…I’m trying.”
“Do you have anyone to talk to? A doctor or a friend?” Rose signs.
“My aunt’s a great listener, but no. Not really.” Rose writes an address on the notebook, tears out the page, and hands it to her.
“I’m in a support group,” she signs while I translate. “We meet once a month. It’s called Second Lives. It's for, um…survivors of spiritual abuse. You can go with us, or call them; maybe they have another group in Portland. It helped me a lot to hear others who went through the same thing. To feel less alone.”
Carolina folds the paper with care. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will. I definitely will.”
“Are you staying in Seattle?” Rose signs.
“No, I’m leaving today.” Rose looks at me, a question burning in her eyes, and because I know my woman well, I nod.
“Would you like to visit our home?” Rose signs. “We could talk more and I could show you a few things I’ve learned since I left.” Carolina thinks for a second before nodding.
“I just have to ask my aunt, but I don’t see why not.” Rose turns to me with a soft smile, and I rest my hand on her thigh. She was right about doing this, and I think it’ll help her just as much as it’ll help Carolina. And while they catch up at home, I’ll start figuring out how to get the rest of those girls out of that nightmare. If I grease the right hands and get help from my brothers on the ground and a few cops on our payroll, perhaps we can make it happen.
After all, I got my girl out.
Miracles do happen.
Chapter 5
Rose
“And this is a GPS.It’s like a map, but inside the phone.” I write the sentence slowly in my notebook, then turn it toward Carolina and tilt the screen of my phone so she can see the little blue dot and the line that marks the way to our house. The app looks busy, streets and names everywhere, yet to me it feels simple now. Much more familiar than when I discovered it. Her eyes narrow, studying it the way we used to study Scripture, careful and a bit afraid to get it wrong. We came back here after meeting her at the restaurant. Her aunt agreed she could spend an hour with me before picking her up for lunch. Vox disappeared into his office after we walked through the door, shoulders still tense, but his guard was finally down enough to let us sit alone. While I have nothing to hide from him, I remember how it felt to have a man’s gaze on me when I had just come out. Carolina has only been out for a month. There's no point adding pressure to her already overwhelmed state. I, on the other hand, do not mind my fiancé looking at me in the least. Vox can stare as long as he wants and I'll have no objection to it.
“How do you… How do you remember how it works?” she asks. Her fingers fidget with the edge of her sleeve while her eyes remain on the screen.
I smile and start writing again. “You’ll get used to it. Really. It’s confusing at first, but then it becomes normal. It makes me feel safe, I always know how to come back home,” she reads, lips moving silently, and nods. Our conversation keeps pausing while I write, yet it flows anyway. We sit in the kitchen nook by the big bay window, the one that looks out over our lavish garden. This corner is my favorite piece of the house. My little heaven. The wooden round table between us is smooth under my fingertips. Vox sanded it himself, and I oiled it three times to make sure the wood kept its rich shade. The old blue cushions on the curved bench are striped and a bit faded. I found them at a flea market and loved them instantly. White hydrangeas bloom in the middle of the table inside a cream ceramic vase. The whole setup stands a world away from the hard benches and sharp corners of my past home.
“I was wondering…” Carolina says, scratching her temple with her thumb. I tilt my head, waiting.
