1
Fifteen Years Ago
Rachel Ayers clutched the cloth bags tighter as she walked beside her Aunt Shiloh through the Pennsylvania mountain community that had been her home for all fourteen years of her life. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, made worse by the long-sleeved black dress that hung below her knees. Mourning clothes. She'd been wearing them for almost a year now, ever since Uncle Edward died.
The memory of her parents and grandparents dying in the mountain road accident when she was nine had faded to a dull ache. Shiloh and her husband, Edward, had become her guardians, kind and generous as parental figures. Now Edward’s death was still sharp and painful, leaving only her and Aunt Shiloh to cling to each other in grief.
But it was the change in their community leader that frightened her the most. Things were not the same, and she felt stifled all the time.
Rachel kept her eyes down as they approached the small market, a skill she'd learned well over the past few years. Don't draw attention. Don't speak unless spoken to. Be small, be quiet, be invisible.
It hadn't always been like this. She remembered a time before Master Isaiah took over from Pastor Aaron. The kind pastor had died in the same car accident as her parents and grandparents. Back then, she'd worn pants and her hair styled in ponytails with ribbons. Back then, they sang whenever they wanted. Back then, she’d gone to a nearby public school. Back then, her family was alive, and the community felt warm instead of cold.
Now everything was controlled by one man who called himself their leader but acted more like a tyrant.
Inside the market, Rachel's gaze lingered on the candy display. She couldn't remember the last time she'd given in to the urge to purchase something frivolous. But when she glanced at Shiloh, her young aunt shook her head. Rachel moved back to her side without complaint. She understood. Money was tight, and Shiloh was saving every penny she could. For what, Rachel didn't know. But she trusted her aunt with everything she had.
The walk home should have been peaceful. The mountains were beautiful, the air fresh with pine. But Rachel's shoulders tensed when she saw the men blocking their path.
Isaiah stood in the center, tall and wiry, his black hair slicked to the side. His white shirt contrasted starkly with his black pants and jacket. Three other men flanked him, silent and imposing.
“Rachel, you may take the groceries home by yourself. Your aunt will be along soon.” Isaiah’s voice was oily smooth.
Fear sliced through Rachel's chest, but she knew better than to protest. She accepted the bags from Shiloh, careful not to meet Isaiah's dark eyes. As she walked past the men, she felt their gazes on her back, heavy and assessing.
She looked over her shoulder once, catching Shiloh's worried expression before Isaiah's form blocked her view. At home, she put away the groceries with shaking hands, then stood at the window watching the lane. Waiting and praying. Please let Shiloh be okay. Please don't let him hurt her.
When Shiloh finally appeared, walking quickly toward the house, Rachel threw open the door and raced into her arms.
“Oh, Shiloh, I was scared.”
“Shhh, it's okay. I'm fine.” But Shiloh's voice trembled, and Rachel knew she wasn't fine at all. Inside, with the door closed firmly behind them, Shiloh pulled Rachel close. Her aunt was shaking too.
“I don't... I don't like him,” Rachel whispered.
Shiloh nodded but said nothing at first. Then Rachel leaned back and asked the question that had been burning in her chest. “Are you safe?”
The pause before Shiloh answered was too long. “Yes. I'm still officially in mourning, so I have no fear of having to take another husband.”
The words should have been reassuring. They weren't.
Rachel watched Shiloh pace. Her aunt had been different today, tense, and filled Rachel with fear. Months had passed, and yesterday marked exactly one year since Uncle Edward died.
“Rachel, I need to talk to you.” Shiloh sat down across from her and took her hands. “There's so much I want to tell you, but we don't have much time, so you need to trust me.”
Rachel's heart hammered. “I do. I trust you, Shiloh.”
“Good.” Shiloh's grip tightened. “Remember that your memories are important. Always keep them. They'll remind you of when this community was warmer, more loving, more trusting. Before Master Isaiah.”
Rachel nodded. She did remember. Her mother’s smile and the way her father would sometimes tug lightly on her ponytail before hugging her. She remembered the way Uncle Edward would read at night as she fell asleep. She remembered her grandmother canning vegetables from the garden her grandfather tended.
“Isaiah came to see me today,” Shiloh continued. “He's decided he wants me to marry him.”
Horror washed over Rachel. “No. He can't make you.”
“He will not take no for an answer.” Shiloh's voice was steady despite the fear in her eyes. “And if I don't marry him, he's threatened to take you away from me.”
“No!” Rachel started to rise, but Shiloh's hand clamped down on her arm.
