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“I have lost your father, but I have not lost my faith in him. This land can heal me, and his love can sustain me. And if it doesn’t, it is because I have failed, not because he has. I pity you for not believing in anything as much as I believe in him.”
Her mother had not talked like this in years. She’d been meek and somber. Now as life drained from her body she was somehow emboldened. Bailey prayed exhaustion might take over suddenly and end this climbing tension. The last thing she wanted to do was argue with her mother when she was this ill.
“I just want you to be comfortable,” Bailey said, rushing to her mother’s side and taking her hand. “You can have faith in whatever you want, and think my father is some sort of Messiah. You can hate me for what I did. But please don’t suffer when you don’t have to.”
“That was always your problem, Bailey.” She edged out the words as she seemed to get paler by the moment. She looked more like an over-exposed photograph than a woman as she continued to scold Bailey.
“You were never willing to suffer for what you believed. You were born selfish and I was not a good enough mother to free you of that sin. It’s my fault. But the best I can do is model what it looks like to be a martyr for your faith and hope someday you’ll be willing to do the same.”
Something broke in Bailey as she shouted back her frustration. “I have already lost enough for this faith. I came back when I was free of it, just to try to help anyone who was left. Anyone who could be saved from the poison Dad was leeching into this place. I’ve given up my entire life for what I believe. Because I believe Cinderhill and the people who live here can be better than he was. That’s what I have faith in.”
“Maybe I’ll be gone next time they come,” her mother whispered ominously. “Then all will return to the way it was meant to be.”
Her mother’s breath was rapid and then slowed suddenly as sleep or some version of it took over. Bailey, still there, released her mother’s hand and stared down in disbelief. She had fought so hard to convince her mother all these years that there was a better way. A safer way. There were times she thought she had persuaded her mother that everything her father had done was harmful and insane. But now she understood when it mattered most, her mother was still loyal to her father. Even on the edge of death, she couldn’t seem to see it clearly.
Bailey needed air. The walls were closing in around her. Bursting from the room as though shot from a rocket, she spilled out where the sun was blindingly bright. Stumbling forward she felt the familiar grip of King’s arms around her. The tears were coming furiously fast and she gulped for air like a dying animal.
“What happened?” King asked as he leaned down to look into her eyes.
“My mother,” Bailey stammered frantically. “The doctor came. He wants her to go to the hospital, but she’s refusing. She’ll die a very painful death here, and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t want medicine or anything. That’s the power my father still has over her. She believes it’s her penance for her lack of faith that has her dying this way.”
“That’s madness. She shouldn’t have to suffer. You can talk to her again and try to explain the options. She needs to go to the hospital or at least get some sort of medication to ease her pain.”
“No one understands how powerful my father is. Even when he’s locked away. He has a hold on Cinderhill and my mother. There is nothing I can say that would change her mind. I thought I had swayed her a little to see my father for who he was. But I failed. And worse, the rest of Cinderhill is vulnerable once she dies. We’ll lose all our leverage.”
“Leverage?”
Bailey covered her face, wishing she hadn’t said anything. She pulled away from him and shook her head. “It’s complicated, King. People don’t just stop being brainwashed. They don’t get over the type of control my father had over them. I had to have intensive care to get his voice out of my head. There are people who don’t live here anymore but still hold the same loyalty to the ideology my father preached. My mother’s death will be a catalyst to set them all off again.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He breathed his promise into her silky hair and squeezed her tighter.
“It’s never just been about me. Never. If it was, I would have stayed gone. I have a responsibility here. He is my father and I went along with him for years. Harming many people. I am going to make that right.”
“It can’t be all up to you. Don’t do this alone. Let me help you.”
Staring up into his face, she wanted to believe he could save her. Save Cinderhill. Maybe he was the one thing that could finally break this place of the hold her father had. But in her heart, she knew it would take more than his good intentions and a desire to protect her. A war was coming. And they were not prepared.
CHAPTERTWELVE
King
Wiping sweat off his forehead, King stared at the massive dam that had collapsed. The sound of rushing water was deafening, and Moe had explained if they didn't fix it soon, Cinderhill would face a severe water shortage.
The situation was dire, and King was starting to realize how fragile this lifestyle was. There was no running to the grocery store. No calling in for help when you needed it. For all the peaceful benefits of living in a place like Cinderhill there were constant threats to their survival. Now he was aware of an external threat. People who might want to do them harm. Moe had to have the answers King needed, and he wouldn’t stop asking until he learned the truth.
The challenge was, Moe was a man of few words. He liked to work quickly and quietly. Read silently by the fire. Even eat without saying much. King could sense the sorrow and regret that weighed heavily on him. Moe had obviously seen bad things in his life. It was written all over his face.
"Do things like this happen a lot?” King asked, gesturing to the broken dam. “An awful lot of work has to be done to live this far outside of civilization.”
"This dam has held up for the last twenty years. So not too often. But the work is worth it. Cinderhill is a slice of heaven."
King nodded. "What happened to finally make it collapse then? Do you think it could be sabotage?”
Moe didn’t flinch, seeming unbothered by King’s concern. He just kicked at a few loose rocks by the base of the river and assessed the situation. He didn’t answer and didn’t seem to feel obligated to. In any other situation, King would appreciate that about Moe. But under these circumstances, he wanted answers.
They worked in silence for a few minutes, King shoveling dirt into the hole while Moe added some wooden planks to stabilize the structure. King couldn't help but notice the scars on Moe's arm and wonder if they’d been there before Cinderhill. He knew Moe’s wife was killed in an accident and maybe he’d been in the car too.
If he couldn’t get his basic questions answered, he was sure Moe would not break into a long diatribe about all his deep dark pain. Instead King started with something he hoped would seem innocuous.
