“Is that why you came to the meeting?” she asked sadly. “To satisfy your curiosity about some…baseless accusations?”
“I came because, like you, I have hopes of living a better life. But before I can join your church, I have to trust your prophet. I can’t support a man who’d murder one of his followers.”
“The Bible tells us that the wicked will be punished.”
That was no answer. Rachel peered into her face. “But punished by God, right? Not by his people.”
“By Him or His servants, it is the same.”
“Then how do you know who’s doing His will and who isn’t? Anyone could claim to be His servant.”
“‘Ye shall know them by their fruits.’”
Rachel wasn’t interested in quoting scripture or debating its meaning. That was an argument no one could win, or half the religious wars in history would never have been fought. “So you’re saying it did happen?”
She seemed rattled. “I’m not saying that.”
“What are you saying?”
“It didn’t happen.” Sarah spoke more clearly, but she was wringing her hands and had broken into a sweat.
“Did you know Martha?” Rachel asked.
“I—I’m sorry. It was really nice meeting you, but…I have to go. I—I promised to visit someone,” she said, and hurried away. It wasn’t until Rachel saw Bartholomew approaching that she realized it was probably more than just the conversation that’d chased Sarah off.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Sister Mott?” he asked when he reached her.
“I am. Are you?” she countered.
“For the most part, although I’m not much for dancing.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
He seemed taken aback by her frank response. “I haven’t seen you out on the floor, either.”
“I’ve been hoping to get to know a few people, so I won’t be such a stranger.”
He waved toward Sarah’s departing back. “And how did you like Sister Sarah?”
“Is that her name? She left before introducing herself.”
“She’s quite shy.”
“What happened to her? To cause the scarring?”
“Her mother fell asleep in bed with a lit cigarette. Sarah, who was staying the night at a neighbor’s, was still awake when the house started to burn. She spotted the flames through her best friend’s window and ran home to see about her mother and her two siblings. But it was already too late. They were either unconscious or had already died of smoke inhalation. She couldn’t get them out and got trapped in the process.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Fortunately, the firefighters arrived soon after and were able to save her, but not the rest of the family.”
“How sad—to lose so many loved ones.” Rachel should know. She’d lost most of her family, too. Just not in the same way. “She was badly burned, then?”
“She spent months in the hospital, recovering. After that, she had to move across the country and live with her father.”
Rachel could hardly imagine how terrible that would be. “Is she married?”
“She was for a short time, to one of our members. Alpha and Omega asked him to marry her and give her children, but he left her for a nonbeliever and was excommunicated. He’s since died of cancer.”
“That’s a lot of pain for one person.”
“The refiner’s fire has made her heart very pure. She has a great deal of faith. That’s what pulls her through.”
Before Rachel could respond, the crowd parted and Ethan stood before her.
“Whenever we celebrate the blessing of a new pregnancy, we have a special dance,” he said. “I was hoping you might do me the honor of being my partner tonight.”
The rumble of expectation overtook the last strains of the previous number as the Covenanters cleared the floor. “I’m not sure I’ll know how.”
“Anyone can slow dance,” he said with a far too innocent smile.
Rachel glanced around, searching for Nate, and saw him near the makeshift bar. He had a beer in his hand, scowling as if he didn’t like what he was seeing. But he was the only one who seemed unhappy. Everyone else smiled brightly in anticipation of the ceremonial dance.
Although Rachel preferred to say no, she couldn’t embarrass Ethan in front of his entire flock. Not if she hoped to gain his trust.
“I’ll do my best to follow your lead,” she said, and let him take her hand.
Nate felt the eyes of several of the people he’d just met resting on him as Ethan danced with his “wife.” He got the impression that the Covenanters—especially those who’d been introduced as Spiritual Guides—were watching his reaction. Knowing Ethan’s background and what he was capable of doing, Nate was tempted to step in. He needed Ethan to take an interest in Rachel, but he didn’t want that interest to become prurient or it could be difficult for him to protect her. It wasn’t as if anyone else would help him stop Ethan, if necessary; the stoning suggested that much.
“You have a very lovely wife.”
Joshua Cooley, a man about his own age with thick sandy hair and a Roman nose, whom he’d met a few minutes earlier at the bar, approached him.
“Thank you.”
Joshua gulped some of his beer. “Are you a religious man, Nate?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“You weren’t raised Catholic? Protestant? Methodist?”
“No.”
“Do you ever feel the need to seek God?”
Ethan was holding Rachel too close. It was an insult to Nate as her husband, and Nate felt compelled to stop him. “Excuse me.” He was about to set down his drink when Joshua caught him by the arm.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
Nate felt his eyebrows rise. “Wouldn’t what?”
“Interrupt.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because it’s always better to be in Ethan’s good graces.”
The bitterness that infused that statement surprised Nate. “Why?”
“He’s the prophet. He can bless you in ways no one else can.”
Was he being facetious? No. Joshua was a Spiritual Guide. That meant he was a true convert—didn’t it? “From what I can tell, Ethan’s as human as you or me. I don’t need the blessing of another man, someone who might be as fallible as I am. I’d rather trust my own instincts.”