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“Maybe I need to do the same. Something to appease and sustain them. We can spare more food. We’re struggling with supplies, but if we could round up what they need to get some solar power of their own, it could help. Maybe some better shelter would be good.”
“Screw them,” King bit back. “This isn’t a fairy tale and they are the source of the danger, not the potential protectors you’re hoping they could become. They are blind followers of your father’s toxic bullshit. I know you haven’t shared a lot, but it sounds like his reign was violent and cruel, especially toward you. You aren’t going to take things from the hard-working people here and try to tame these wild animals. It’s not symbiotic. It’s a deal with the devil.”
“But it might work.”
“Maybe for a little while. It’s not sustainable. Believe me. I know men like this. My entire life I’ve been surrounded by people who pretend to have a code. As though they live by some honorable set of rules when, in fact, they are fueled by their base instincts. They take what they want. Hurt who they please. And because it’s a pack mentality where they’re all doing it, it’s somehow excused away. Deemed necessary for survival. No matter what you give these men, it will never be enough. You don’t appease these men, you crush them.”
“How? Our group is made up of older men and women. Young children. These are peace-loving people with a simple life. We’re not built to go to war with religious zealots who are on the verge of starvation.”
“You’re right. Which is why you need an army. Some kind of backup. Are there any cops you can trust? The people who arrested your father must still have some kind of vested interest here.”
“Detective Arnaldo is retired. Originally Arnaldo was determined to take my father down but it didn’t prove easy. People here were either loyal or terrified. Either way, they weren’t talking. It made his job very difficult. But once he was no longer on the force, no one was paying attention to Cinderhill. They saw how I’d changed things and seemed to just move on.”
“How did he find out what was going on here in the first place?”
“We’re still governed by the same laws as you and everyone else, even though we live out here. We had to show records of schooling the children. That wasn’t being done effectively because of all the chaos my father was creating. In turn, the police came to investigate. My father, charming as he was, smoothed it all over and promised to do better. But Detective Arnoldo was not as convinced as the other three officers who came up. He kept popping in. Chatting with any of us he could get alone. My father warned us of the punishment if we let the corrupt law of the country have a hand in our community. No one talked.”
“Until someone did?”
“Me,” she admitted gloomily. “I was out at the shop where you and I met. It was raining and I was dreading the walk back. My arms were sore from the bruises my father had left and we were so low on food and supplies I wasn’t sure how we’d make it another month. My father was on this kick about how our lack of faith was causing us to be punished with poor crops. It was really just a lack of work. No one was tending the crops. They were too busy praying and squeezing the life out of everything here. But he was adamant it was our fault. I sat there alone in the shop, sobbing. Detective Arnoldo came in and told me again he could help.”
“And you trusted him?” King squeezed her a little tighter, kissing the top of her head. His arms felt like a protective cage in shark-infested waters.
“No I didn’t trust him. Not even a little. I argued. Explained. Defended. He listened, and now I realize he could hear all the hallmarks of someone who’d been brainwashed. I was so far in; I couldn’t see a way out. He understood we wouldn’t be able to agree on anything that day, but he kept coming. Kept trying to help. And he did. For more than two months, when I was alone working in the shop, he would visit. Bring things that might help us survive. I would tell my father I’d traded a traveler for them. He was so blinded by his own ego he hardly pressed for details.”
“Did you eventually tell Arnoldo about the abuse?”
She sniffled and leaned in tighter to King. “I didn’t have to say it explicitly at first. He could see it. He knew I was taking the brunt of it in the community and he offered a way out. I told him there would be no safe place for me. I couldn’t believe I’d ever be able to get far enough to be free of my father’s reach. I was so indoctrinated into our belief system that, even though my father had no resources and likely couldn’t find me if I left, his teachings told me otherwise. He convinced me he had the ability to see into the past and the future. That he could teleport himself to any day in time. I sound like a nut when I say those things now.”
“You were young and he was your father. Of course you believed him. I did some pretty terrible things in the name of blind loyalty. Looking back, I can’t imagine I was ever that person. But you did get out. That’s what matters.”
“Arnoldo had been right. There were people willing to help. Connected and kind people who were willing to pay for me to be taken somewhere safe. To be cared for. Somewhere I could relearn right from wrong. Up from down. I just had to give a statement about what was happening in Cinderhill, who was to blame, and what I’d seen and endured.”
“It’s hard to turn your back on the only thing you’ve ever known, even when you realize how wrong it is.”
When she’d first met King, she never imagined how much they’d have in common. He seemed like a formidable man. The kind who knew who he was and was completely sure of himself. But the more they talked the more she realized just how much he’d been through and how hard it had been to leave. There were moments she was glad for the kindred feelings and other times she wished neither of them had to deal with the pain and regret.
“It was a whirlwind from that point. I was taken to safety. My father was arrested and the other men who might have been considered culpable fled. The police and lawyers took what they could get by prosecuting my father and tried to offer as much support as possible to those left at Cinderhill, but people were shell-shocked. Questioning everything. It isn’t as though you just snap out of it when someone like my father is pulled out of a cult. There is this vacuum left behind. A lack of air. I was gone for some time. Just a safe place, it’s not important where. But I knew I needed to come back. Someone had to help other people heal and keep those men who’d fled from returning.”
“I’m sure you were worried about your mother.”
“I was worried my mother would be a puppet my father would find a way to control from prison. That the men who’d fled would wait until the coast was clear and weasel their way back in. So, against all the advice of everyone who’d helped me escape, I wrote a letter to Mrs. Tully. I wanted to know what was happening. How things were. If they needed me.”
“And she told you to come back?” King looked down at Bailey curiously.
“God no. She wrote back and said to stay as far away from this place as I could. She was happy I was free of it and she understood, now that all the secrets were out, how much trauma I’d endured. Mrs. Tully reminded me I was worthy of a good life and I’d never be able to get one in Cinderhill. Not after all that had happened. She said the police were still popping in often enough to keep the other men away and she thought that would keep up for a little while.”
“Why didn’t you listen to her?”
“Guilt. The shame was so suffocating. I needed to do everything I could to make it right and that couldn’t happen with me hiding out somewhere worrying only about myself. I walked away from the place that was helping me and returned.”
“What was it like when you came back?”
“Awful. Everything needed to be reorganized. Planted. Planned. People looked lost. My mother was frail. She was in need of someone to follow. I knew if I didn’t step up someone else would and their intentions would be evil. I could do it better than my father had. And I was right. It worked in a lot of ways. Not only did some good people return who were scared off by my father, but for first time in years we welcomed new people. We had open doors again. Freedom for people to choose what was right for them. And we’ve done it. My presence had kept the men away. My mother’s vague agreement that it was better for them to stay away for now was enough. All that is going to change now.”
“What you did was miraculous,” King replied. “Completely brave and selfless. But at what cost? You can’t stand in the gap forever, trying to keep the danger at bay.”
“I feel so lost,” Bailey admitted, turning her head so she could hear his heart beat, wishing it could lead her to a better answer. Some clear path forward.
