Free Eden West by Pete Hautman

senses this, and continues.
    “They will descend upon us — the politicians, the police, the media. They come in hopes of destroying us. We must present a unified front.”
    “Why should we allow them in at all?” I ask.
    “If we do not open our gates to them, they threaten to take us by force.”
    “Why?”
    “They twist their Worldly laws to advance their dark agenda. They say we harbor weapons, that we abuse our children, that we are evil upon this land.”
    “That is not true!” I say.
    “Truth is nothing to such people. Still, if we stand together, they have no power. The boy Tobias is an unknown quantity; I fear he will tell lies about us. He must remain in confinement until he understands the error of his ways.”
    “He repented to Brother Enos,” I hear myself say in a small voice.
    Father Grace does not reply immediately, then his hand cups my shoulder and squeezes gently. It is warm; I feel his heat radiating from my shoulder into my core.
    “You have a good heart, Jacob. Would that all men felt such love of their fellows. Do not worry about the boy. He will not be harmed.”
    “How long must he stay there?” I ask.
    “Only until his heart becomes whole.” As he speaks the words, I know them to be true, and my own heart swells with gratitude.
    “Yes, Father.”
    He lifts his hand from my shoulder, and I feel the
loss of it.
    “When the Ark comes, you will be welcomed by Zerachiel with open arms. Repeat the Arbor Prayer three times, then return to your cell and sleep well. May the Lord be with you always.” Father Grace stands. “G’bless.”
    I hear his footsteps receding.
    I speak the Arbor Prayer.
    The next day, Father Grace calls a Convocation. As we gather, there is much whispering. No one seems to know why we are meeting. I suspect that Father Grace is going to tell us of the impending visit from the Worldly folk, but I am wrong.
    The Convocation begins with Elder Abraham leading us in the Prayer of Joining. This is a hopeful sign, for it is the prayer used for espousals, baptisms, and the elevation of Cherubim. Father Grace, his wives, and his girl children are seated beside the pulpit. Von is seated with the congregation, picking at his nose while staring blankly into space. I search the Sisters’ side of the hall for Sister Ruth, but I cannot see her.
    After the prayer, Father Grace rises.
    “Brethren, I have joyful news. The Lord has spoken to me, and He has told me that I am to take a new wife, and she is to bear me a son.”
    A murmur ripples through the congregation. This is good news indeed, for although Father Grace loves and treasures his girl children, we all know that he desires a boy child above all else. I look at Von’s vacant face. Does he comprehend any of this? Father Grace’s three wives sit beside him with their faces carefully composed. I turn my attention to the unmarried women, wondering who it will be. Could it be Sister Judith, Tobias’s mother? Is she young enough to bear another child? Perhaps it will be Olivia or Louise, who have waited longest to be betrothed.
    Father Grace spreads his arms wide and speaks a prayer of thanks, then extends one hand toward the congregation. One of the Sisters stands and climbs the three steps to kneel before Father Grace. She rises and embraces him, then turns to face us.
    It is Sister Ruth.
    My ears are filled with a soundless roar as Father Grace’s wives gather to embrace their newest member. I tear my eyes away and see my mother looking at me from across the aisle, her face soft with pity. I squeeze my eyes closed. I tell myself to breathe. I feel a touch on my shoulder. It is Will, who knows of my feelings for Ruth. I shrug off his hand. I want to run from the hall, to take myself across the field to the Spine, to follow Sister Salah into the gorge.
    Somehow, I do not. I remain, I sit, and I pray. I push the pain and fury and shame into a hard knot and hold it suspended, a bag of broken granite dangling in place of my