Chapter 13
T
he uniformed man sitting across from her seemed nice enough. His name was Officer Smith. He had a friendly smile. Kind eyes. Sunny didn’t trust him at all. Papa had often warned them to avoid the cops when they were passing out literature, because they could be arrested for soliciting without a permit. Sometimes the police had come to Sanctuary to investigate complaints about different things, and when that happened, it had always been bad for all of them. There’d been punishments. To keep them safe, Papa said. To make them extra-aware of how their behavior outside could bring trouble inside.
“Let’s go over everything again, just to make sure I have it all straight. We’re just trying to figure some things out. Okay? Just a few more questions.”
Sunny nodded. Liesel and Christopher had taken the children into the other room, and her lap felt empty without a baby on it. She had a mug of hot tea on the table in front of her, but she didn’t want to drink it.
“Your mother woke you, is that right? Your mother is…” He looked at a small notebook. “Patricia Bomberger?”
Sunny nodded. “Yes.”
“She’d already packed for you?”
Another nod. “Yes. She gave me a backpack with some clothes in it. And some money.”
“Where’d she get the money?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie. It hadn’t occurred to Sunny before, but her mother must’ve stolen it. Probably from John Second. Sunny swallowed, hard.
“She told you to take your children and get out.”
“She told me to go to my father’s house.”
“And you’d never been here before? You had no previous relationship with your father? That would be Christopher Albright.”
“My mother left him before I was born. I never knew him,” Sunny said quietly. “The only father I ever knew was John Superior.”
“John Alvarez,” said the cop’s partner, Officer Dugan, reading from his own small notebook. “Also known as John Superior, John the Prophet and John Mashiach.”
“I don’t know if he had other names. He was John Superior to us.”
“Your children called him Papa,” said the cop.
Sunny hesitated. “Yes, we called him Papa. He was our spiritual father.”
The cops exchanged a look. “And John Alvarez had two biological sons, is that right? John Alvarez Junior and another son? Josiah? He’s the one who notified the police about what had happened.”
Sunny hesitated. She’d said nothing about Josiah to them, but they already knew. They’d already known a lot of things about the family. “How did he know? He left a long time ago.”
“He and—” Officer Dugan paused to check his notes “—John Alvarez Junior had a falling-out? They fought?”
“After Papa died, they didn’t agree on Papa’s teachings. So…” She looked back and forth to the police. “How did he know what had happened?”
Silence. The cops looked at each other again, then her. Officer Dugan cleared his throat. “We’re really not at liberty—”
“Apparently, John Alvarez contacted his brother to tell him the…plans.” Officer Smith leaned forward just the slightest bit. “Unfortunately, Josiah Alvarez didn’t get the message in time and wasn’t able to notify the authorities before…well…”
Sunny tried to make sense of this. “Why would John Second have called him?”
“Miss Albright—”
Startled, she looked up at Officer Smith. “What?”
There was no need for last names in the family. It had never occurred to her they would think of her as Christopher’s daughter, with his name. It had never occurred to her that legally, it probably was.
“Had John Alvarez Junior, alias John Second, been behaving erratically or…um…was there a change in his behavior?” This came from Dugan, who wasn’t quite as nice as Smith.
Sunny thought about the lockdowns. The forced fasting. The punishments had become more frequent, more severe over the past year. “John Second was angry that some people thought Papa had lied to us about what we needed to do to get through the gates. He said we all needed to work harder, that it was our fault Papa hadn’t left the right way. He blamed us.”
Officer Smith gave her another kind smile, but this one didn’t reach his eyes. “Did you know he was going to order everyone in the compound to kill themselves?”
“We had drills.” Sunny drew in a breath and fought to keep her voice steady. “Rainbow drills. It was important that we be ready.”
Dugan sighed. “Ready for what, exactly?”
Sunny lifted her chin. They were blemished; of course they’d never understand. “To leave. Ready to go through the gates.”
“By killing yourselves?”
“Physical bodies can’t reach the spiritual plane.” Papa’s words sounded strange in her voice. Tasted weird. “Our physical bodies are the vessels we use to contain our spiritual bodies until the time comes to go through the gates. That’s why it’s so important to take care of them, because a flaw in the physical can scar the spirit.”
She’d said too much, she saw it in both their faces. Skepticism. Disdain. Pity. She’d seen it before, on the faces of the people she’d offered literature to.
“I need to ask you again, Sunny. And you need to answer me honestly, okay?” Officer Smith leaned forward just a little, those kind eyes sincere but digging far too deep inside her. “The night you left, did you know that John Second was going to order everyone to take the pills that would kill them?”
Sunny shook her head. Her throat ached and her eyes burned, but she lifted her chin and took some more deep breaths to give them nothing but a face of stone. “No. I didn’t. I thought it was just another drill, like all the others.”
Officer Smith stood, and after a second, so did his partner. “That’s all we have to ask for now.”
Sunny didn’t stand. She warmed her hands on the mug. “What’s going to happen to me? And my children?”
The officers exchanged glances. Once again it was Officer Smith who answered her. “Your father and his wife have already assured us that you all have a place here with them. The social worker who was here earlier—”
“Mrs. Umberger.” That had been the woman’s name. She’d had kind eyes, too, but her gaze had been sharp enough to pick out anything dirty, unsafe. Sunny’d seen social workers in Sanctuary, checking to make sure they weren’t living in squalor or beating their children. This woman had looked around Liesel and Christopher’s house as though it were a dungeon made from a garbage heap.
“Yeah. She’ll have to write up a report—”
“A report?” Sunny frowned. Report was what they did in Sanctuary when someone chose not to share their discretions and needed someone to do it for them.
“That’s right. A report about whether or not she thinks your children will be protected here with you.”
Sunny’s fingers tightened on the mug. “Of course they will! I love my children!”
“Nobody doubts that,” said Officer Smith. “And I’m sure Mrs. Umberger will put that in her report. And since your dad and his wife have assured us and Mrs. Umberger that you’ll be taken care of, I’m sure it will all be fine. You and your kids are very lucky, Sunny.”
With that, they left her sitting at the table. Not even the hot mug could warm her. She hadn’t known it wasn’t just a drill, Sunny thought. But she should have. John Second using Papa’s voice instead of his own should’ve told her that. Or else she should have known when she listened with her heart. There should’ve been the small, still voice Papa had told them would let them know when it was time to leave, except that Sunny had heard nothing.
Had her mother heard it?
“Sunny? Hon, are you okay?” In the doorway, Liesel held Bliss. “Did they leave?”
Sunny nodded. “Is she hungry? I can take her.”
Liesel looked into the baby’s face with soft eyes and a small smile. “Yeah, I think she is. What a little cutie. I changed her diaper, too.”
“Thanks.” Sunny held up her hands to take the baby as Liesel handed her over. “Happy? Peace?”
“They’re fine. They’re playing Candy Land with Christopher.” At what must’ve been a confused look, Liesel chuckled. “It’s a board game. They’re having fun. They’re okay. They’re just in the den. I know it must be weird for you, all of this. If you want to talk about it, hon…I’m here.”
“I don’t have anything to talk about.” Sunny put Bliss to her breast, noticing how Liesel’s gaze slid away, as if it embarrassed her to watch. The blemished were okay with parading women’s breasts across billboards to sell cars, but feeding children with them seemed to be completely out of line. “Thank you, though.”
“More tea? I can warm it up for you.”
“No, thanks.”
Liesel looked as though she was about to say something else, but then didn’t. “I’ll just go check on Christopher and the kids. Give you some privacy.”
Sunny fed her daughter. This house was cleaner than any place she’d ever lived, even despite the hours she and many of her sisters had spent on their knees scrubbing floors. It was warm, too. Smelled nice, like flowers, even though it was winter. The water was hot, the food was plentiful and varied.
They’d bought her clothes. Given her toys for her children. Disposable diapers, which went against everything Papa had ever taught them about being kind to the earth, and yet were so much more wonderfully easy to use than the cloth diapers she’d used for all her kids.
This could be a good place for them, she thought. Except she couldn’t stop thinking about Sanctuary. After years of preparation, training that had gone on as long as Sunny could remember, John Second had actually done what his father had always promised was coming.
Her mom. John Second. All the men and women Sunny had thought of as her brothers and sisters, no matter if they didn’t share actual parents. Everyone was related in the family.
And the children.
Oh, the children. A strangled sob tore at her throat, and she pressed her lips together to hold it inside. Why had her mother sent her away if she knew John Second was going to have them all leave, make it more than just a drill? Sunny slipped cold fingers over the top of her infant daughter’s head, and thought she understood.
Chapter 14
“S
he’s not a baby. She has three kids of her own, Christopher.” Liesel rubbed lotion into her elbows and arms, then squirted another palmful and started to work on her thighs and calves and butt. Her skin got so dry in the winter, itching, and it drove her crazy. “I’m sure she’ll be fine here by herself.”
Christopher looked at her from over the top of his glasses. He had a finger shoved into the middle of a thick book, a biography of some rock star whose music he didn’t even listen to. “Yeah, and she escaped with her life from a crazy cult that just all offed themselves only what, two days ago? I’m just saying, I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to be left alone.”
Liesel flipped back the comforter and slid beneath the flannel sheets. “Lower your voice! Do you want her to hear you?”
Her husband would certainly never win any awards for subtlety, but at least he managed to drop his voice to something just above a whisper. “You’re the one who thought it would be such a great idea for her to stay here. And I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he added before she could interrupt. “I think we’re the only place she has to go. But there’s no question that she needs some attention. I mean, for God’s sake, the police will probably want to talk to her again, and didn’t they say something about the possibility of another social worker coming out for another inspection or something? Didn’t you see her face splashed all over the TV? They’re calling her the Angel of Superior Bliss or some such shit. Soul Survivor. Christ. What a bunch of crap.”
Reporters had been calling, too, though so far none of them had shown up at the house. Liesel and Christopher had let the phone ring without answering. Their voice mail had filled up with messages.
Her neck and shoulders still ached. The bruises from her fall had bloomed spectacularly. Yesterday and today had been spent dealing with all the official stuff that went along with the tragedy. Another day at home wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It just wasn’t as easy for her to get time off as it was for Christopher, who got vacation and sick time.
“You should do it,” she said, leaving the reason unspoken because she’d said it so many times already. Sunny was
his
daughter.
His
responsibility.
Again he peered at her over his glasses. “I have meetings. I can’t just cancel a national conference call to stay home and play patty-cake.”
It was so much more than that, but she could see by the set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to budge. Liesel sighed. “You know what a hassle it is if I call in. They count on me there.”
Christopher rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we’re going to go hungry if you miss a few days’ pay.”
His comment probably hadn’t meant to sound as derisive as it did, and Liesel tried hard not to take it that way. “Wow, thanks.”
Christopher shrugged. “Maybe if you miss a few days, they’ll see how much they need you there and appreciate you more. Did you ever think of that?”
She found a laugh for that. “Oh, that’s hardly likely.”
Liesel had been working at a local print shop for what felt like forever. Owned by a husband-and-wife team who’d been in the printing business for thirty years, the shop did a little of everything, from mugs to T-shirts to calendars, and Liesel did a little bit of everything for them—some accounting, some sales, almost all the design.
“I told you. I’ve got meetings. I can’t miss them,” Christopher said flatly. “Besides, you’re better with all that…stuff.”
“You’re going to have to find a way to be better with it, Christopher.”
He shrugged, focused on the book she knew he wasn’t really reading.
“You were okay with them when I took her shopping. You had a good time playing Candy Land with them, didn’t you? They’re sweet kids.”
He shrugged again. “They’re fine.”
“They’re your grandchildren,” Liesel said.
He looked at her. “And she’s my daughter. Yeah. We’ve been over this. Get off my back, okay?”
“I didn’t mean to be on your back about it.” Liesel scooted closer to him to put her head on his shoulder. He warmed her better than the blankets did. She let her icy toes slide along his warm calves and laughed a little at his muttered curse.
Christopher sighed and stuck his bookmark in to mark his place. “This is all a real mess, you know that, right? I mean, this isn’t normal. It’s bad enough she shows up here after almost twenty years, but with three kids in tow? How the hell are we supposed to cope with that?”
“We’ll manage. Have you called your mother yet?” She let her hand rest on the tiny slip of belly exposed between his T-shirt and his pj bottoms. She was still itchy, despite the lotion, so she scooted back across the bed to get another couple of squirts. She pulled up her pajama shirt and rubbed, then looked over her shoulder to find her husband grinning at her bare chest. “Focus, Christopher.”
“I’m focusing.”
“On what I asked you, not my boobs.”
When the phone rang, they both looked at it. Liesel glanced at the clock. It was just past 9:00 p.m. Nobody ever called them after nine.
“It’s your mother,” she said, checking the number on the caller ID. “Let me guess, you didn’t call her.”
Christopher’s mother had moved in with his sister a few years ago after their dad died, but stories like this traveled. It had made the national news. And of course, Liesel realized with a small curl of her lip, her mother-in-law would’ve known all about Trish.
Funny how she’d never been jealous of her husband’s first marriage before, and now the thought of it made her want to kick something. Christopher had been married right out of high school, a concept so foreign to Liesel she’d been able to pretend it hadn’t been real, a feat made so much easier by the fact he never talked about Trish. Ever. She might as well never have existed, except for the four people in Liesel’s guest bedroom.
He sighed. “No. I haven’t. Did you call yours?”
“I did, actually. Left her a message to call me. But you know, Sunny’s not her granddaughter. She’d be a lot less…invested.”
Christopher hooked the phone off the cradle. “Mom.”
Liesel pressed her grin flat. She liked her husband’s family just fine, but they exasperated her husband constantly. Probably the same way her own parents worked her very last nerve yet barely bothered Christopher at all. They were lucky, she thought, watching him. She knew a lot of people who hated their spouse’s family.
“Yes.” Christopher swung his legs out of bed. Then, incredibly, he got out of bed altogether, and stalked into the dressing room. He closed the door behind him.
Liesel stood at her side of the bed, her hands still full of lotion she rubbed quickly into her skin so she could pull down her shirt. She could hear her husband’s voice, muffled through the door, but not exactly what he was saying. Just the fact he’d felt the need for privacy told her more than anything else.
Her stomach cramped with a slow, rolling wave of something close to, but not quite, nausea. With all the excitement she’d forgotten to be mournful about her period. Liesel got into bed, under the blankets, and pressed her palms to her belly to ease the pain. If it got worse she’d have to get out the heating pad, maybe even take some medicine. But that would mean passing through the dressing room to get to the bathroom, and she didn’t want Christopher to think she was spying on him, desperate to hear what he was saying, even if that was pretty much the truth.
During the first few years of their marriage, Christopher’s dog had liked to try to get into bed with them at night, so they’d gotten into the habit of sleeping with the door closed. Buster had died three years ago and neither of them had felt the need for another pet, but the habit had remained. Tonight though, Liesel had made sure to leave the door cracked open a little bit so she could hear if Sunny or the kids got up or needed anything in the night.
It hit her hard, this sudden punch of a realization that an open door now meant something so much more than a matter of preference. Beneath her palms, her belly ached and cramped, then a sharp pain pricked at her deeper inside.
Half giddy, half terrified, Liesel had a realization. Something that hit home harder than anything had yet. Leaving a door open in the night to hear if someone needed her. This was what it was like to be a mother.