“And how long will it take for you to teach her all that?”
She grasped at straws. “A month? Two?”
He drummed his fingers against the table. “God’s will, once revealed, should be done quickly. It’ll look like you’re resisting. And how does that reflect on me?”
God forgive me, but I need more time.
Agnes whittled her voice small. “Mr. Jameson admires how I look after the children. With Mother sick, don’t you think he’ll understand I must help them?”
“This is a mess of your own making.” He scowled, near anger now. “You should’ve prepared her better.”
It was dangerous to press him, but she had to try. “We can’t have even a little time?”
Father slapped the table. “You’re a special girl, Agnes, but you’re not that special!”
Unstoppable tears burst from her chest, surprising them both.
Agnes had lived in harmony with Red Creek’s ways her entire life, and she’d never thrown a tantrum when the Laws cinched too tight. But Ezekiel’s illness had thrown her off balance, and she couldn’t marshal her strength in time.
The words went round and round like her mother’s record on its turntable: He’s going to die, Ezekiel’s going to die, God’s going to take him and he’s going to die.…
“I’ve been a horrible sister,” she said through her hands.
Father looked disgusted, like he’d do anything to stop this tearful, female drama.
“Enough,” he said at last. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll talk to Matthew. Now clean yourself up and go to bed.”
Agnes stood shakily and did as she was told.
7
BETH
Resist not, want not.
—PROPHET JACOB ROLLINS
Beth heard every word about Agnes’s upcoming marriage—and terror engulfed her.
She’d known marriage was the ultimate fate of every girl. But she’d built a fortress around the idea that Agnes could be married, cordoning it off with bricks and stone.
What she overheard left her trembling and repentant. All her anger evaporated at the thought that she and the kids might lose the true head of their household, the one who’d mothered all of them.
Beth gripped the bedsheets. Losing her sister and being left to raise her siblings alone… it felt like the end of the world.
“Agnes,” she cried as her weary-looking sister lifted the covers and crawled into bed. “You won’t let it happen, will you?”
The sisters clutched each other, shivering like they’d just come in from the rain.
“I tried to buy time.” Agnes’s teeth chattered. “I had to lie to Father. I hated it.”
“Who cares a fig about lying to Father?” Beth whispered intently. “As long as you stay. If you leave—Agnes, it will kill the kids.”
Agnes stiffened. “Don’t say that!”
“It will. And I couldn’t bear it.”
They were silent, listening to the sleeping children’s breaths, like wavelets breaking on the lakeshore.
Beth pulled back enough to see her sister’s face. Shock had shattered her firm, familiar features. In her eyes was a look of stunned disbelief.
Agnes hadn’t truly believed she could be married, either.
Beth felt like she was falling—tumbling from the red edge of the canyon—and not even Cory could catch her.
If I don’t do something, I’m going to lose her.
Red Creek girls had a way of disappearing into marriage. Once acquired like furniture, they rarely ventured beyond their homes. Married, Agnes would stop attending Sunday school, and then she’d be too busy with her domestic duties to socialize. Beth would glimpse her in church, maybe, or on the road to church.
She’d be a ghost.
“You can’t marry,” Beth said decisively. “I won’t let you.”
“It’s God’s will. The Prophet saw it in a dream.”
She shook her head forcefully. “Agnes, why would God destroy Mother like He did and then also take you? Why would He persecute our family? If He’s righteous, then why?”
Agnes looked incredulous. “Don’t you remember the Book of Habakkuk?”
Beth didn’t. Nor did she think it was fair for Agnes to belt her with theology.
“The vision awaits its appointed time,” her sister quoted. “But the righteous shall live by His faith.”
Beth ground her teeth. “What. Does. That. Even. Mean!”
“It means that faith is meaningless when life is easy. Beth, God doesn’t owe us any answers. He never did.”
The sisters locked pinky fingers beneath the covers—their secret sign since they were small. Beth sighed. She regretted messing around with Cory that afternoon, when she might’ve been with the one she loved a thousand times more.
“Agnes, what if—” She paused, gathering thoughts she’d never quite admitted even to herself. “What if your marrying isn’t God’s will?”
She’d never courted rebellion so plainly. It scared her, made her long to retreat into the shell of her old thoughtless indifference. It was so much easier to simply accept the way things were, and so very painful to start asking why.
Agnes peered at her. Beth’s face burned under her sister’s scrutiny, and her tongue went dry. She sensed Agnes’s beloved faith raised before her like an iron shield.
She forced herself to press on. “Can’t you see there’s something wrong with this place? Look what it did to Mother. Look what it’s doing to you.”
“That’s blasphemy,” Agnes warned. “You’re risking your soul.”
“Enough with the souls! I’m sick to death of hearing about them. I’m sick to death of—of—oh, let me show you!”
Ablaze, she dug beneath the mattress for her diary. This was her moment. Her chance to convince Agnes of what she’d guessed, though never dared speak—Red Creek wasn’t as holy as it pretended to be.
If you find some money you can check into a motel, her mother had said. One with a little pool. Stay until you find a job.
Such a vague dream! Find money—how? And a job—what could she do? Her mother’s words were so much vapor, and she couldn’t abandon her family for a puff of air.
Now the truth streaked like a comet, bright and clear. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough to run alone, but—
They could run together.
She and Agnes.
They could run and take the kids.
She brandished her diary, hymnal thick with a cross on the cover. In fact, it was a hymnal—but a misprint, and all the pages inside were blank. She’d found it in church years ago and taken it home. Inside, she’d made a list. An inventory so shocking, she’d almost torn it out.
She flipped quickly through the pages. She was flushed, sweating beneath her nightgown.
“There.” She jabbed the page. “Read that. Then tell me it isn’t horribly unfair.”
“Beth—”
“Just do it.”
Agnes squinted.
THE LAWS ACCORDING TO RED CREEK
BOYS
1. Wear starched collars, long pants, closed-toed shoes.