Paul stumbled out of the truck, held up by Zeke who gripped his collar. I recognized him by his body and his hair but not by his face because it was swollen and bruised.

The blood drained from my face and I suddenly felt as though I was going to throw up. Paul’s right eye was swollen, and there was a gash on his cheek, dried shut with blood.

He’d been beaten. Badly. His father had discovered our secret and had punished him. In the space of one breath, my whole world came crashing down around me because I knew that I had done this to Paul.

Zeke hauled Paul toward me, still holding him up by his collar as if he was nothing more than one of my straw dolls. He stopped by the front of the truck, eyes now burning a hole through me.

Paul was staring at the ground with his one good eye.

“Take a good look, Eden.” Zeke’s voice was calm and cut straight to my heart. “I can’t say that I’m surprised by Paul; he always was a rebellious little turd. But I’m deeply disappointed that you so fall so easily.”

I felt myself shrinking away to nothing under his glare. Guilt, the kind that made me feel like a worm, wiped away all of the courageous thoughts that had filled me with such happiness just a few minutes earlier. In that moment, I hated myself. It was all my fault. I should have known better.

Zeke jerked Paul backwards, nearly off his feet.

“Get back in the truck.”

Paul stumbled toward the cab, limped around the open door, and disappeared inside. He’d been too afraid to even look at me. I lifted my eyes to take in Zeke’s hard stare as he strode toward me.

He’s going to do the same to you, Eden. He’s going to punish you and he should.

Zeke stopped within arm’s reach, towering above me.

He’s going slap you hard and hurt you bad.

But as I stared up into his eyes, ready for what I deserved, his face softened. His mouth formed a thin line—a half-smile.

He lifted his hand and gently brushed my hair back from my face. “You’re a very pretty girl. I wouldn’t think of hurting you.” He paused. “No. No, that wouldn’t do.”

Zeke lowered his hand.

“Do you know why I punished Paul?”

I didn’t think I could talk; my throat was in a knot.

“Please don’t be rude, Eden. Answer me when I speak to you.”

I tried to tell him, but had to clear my throat. When I did speak, my voice sounded distant and frail.

“Because he disobeyed you.”

“And why is that a problem?”

“It’s disobeying God.”

“That’s a good girl. You see? You do know better.” He paced to his right, hands held loosely behind his back. Mine were trembling by my sides. I was already shutting down my mind—I had long ago learned that it was the easiest way to endure what couldn’t be avoided.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile. Is that how a child of God returns their gratefulness for his blessing?”

He paced back to his left, eyes back on me.

“No, I don’t think so. Clearly, you need to be reminded of a few things. The first is that I know everything that happens. Everything. There’s nothing wrong with an innocent kiss, now is there? But breaking a rule isn’t innocent. One rule becomes two and before you know it, you’re burning with the rest of them. But you already know that, don’t you, Eden?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.” He flashed a grin. “You see, already you’re breaking more rules. So let me put this in very simple terms for you. Without me, you would be nothing. I gave you your life back and provided a way for you to bless us all in a very significant way. But with great blessing comes great responsibility. You, of all people, know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I trusted you, Eden. I entrusted you with my son, thinking it would be a nice gift on a day of such blessing, knowing that you would never break the rules. And yet here we stand.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I felt like dropping to my knees and begging his forgiveness.

“I . . . I won’t do it again. I promise . . .”

“No, of course you won’t. You won’t see him again until I’ve determined that you know your place.”

“Yes, sir.”

The thought of not seeing Paul again struck a new fear in my heart.

“I’ve decided not to tell your mother of your indiscretion. God knows she wouldn’t take it well. So we’ll keep this between us. Consider it my small gift to you, however undeserved.”

A measure of relief washed through me.

“Thank you, sir.”

“But if you so much as take one misstep in the next thirty days, that changes. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t be so selfish, Eden. Think about the rest of us for a change. You saw what happened to Paul. Think of your mother. Think of me. Think of God.” He eyed me, steadfast. “Think of Bobby.”

I could not mistake his veiled threat. If I disobeyed, he would hurt Bobby.

I think something deep in me snapped then, thinking of Zeke laying his hands on Bobby. It was just a subtle shift, but I felt a small part of my guilt turn to anger.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re surrounded on all sides by swamp and alligators—the only way out is by my good grace. Earn it and maybe one day I’ll give it to you. In the meantime, you will be a good little girl and follow your mother to the letter as God has instructed you to do. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Zeke looked at me as if trying to decide whether or not he could trust me. Not just a moment or two, but a silent spell that stretched out until I thought he might change his mind and punish me anyway.

When he spoke, his tone was soft.

“Have you ever seen one of those pictures of a shepherd carrying a lamb around his neck? A soft white lamb over the shoulders of a strong caretaker in a brightly colored robe.”

I’d seen one of Jesus like that.

“Yes.”

“What most don’t realize is that the shepherd has an errant lamb on his back. One that tried to break out of the flock and in so doing lead others astray. So, if the shepherd is good, he does them all a favor. He breaks the lamb’s leg so that it can’t go astray. That’s why he’s carrying the lamb around his neck.”

Zeke’s right brow arched.

“When you get tempted to feel sorry for yourself, think of that lamb, Eden. All that I do, I do in yours and the flock’s best interest. Can you accept that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Consider this your final warning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew the straw doll that I’d given to Paul, and calmly twisted the head off as I watched. Then he dropped it on the ground, broken and torn.

“Paul won’t be needing this anymore,” he said.

And he left me like that, staring after him with my doll at my feet.

18

IT TOOK all of my courage to present myself at peace when I got home after seeing Paul beaten at the field that afternoon. I didn’t dare show the slightest concern, because Mother had a hawk-eye for my disposition and would immediately begin digging. So I smiled as best I could, ate supper with the family, and thankfully retired to my room for my evening prayers.

But inside I was falling apart. Kathryn had never beaten either me or Bobby. She was stern to the bone, don’t get me wrong, but she used words, disciplines and rituals, not her hand, except around my throat to push me under the water each week. Seeing Paul beat up terrified me.

Alone in my dark room, I wept for him. For me. For us. It felt like God had immediately and forcefully yanked back his blessing, which had been Paul. And why? Because I’d disobeyed. So I lay in bed sobbing silently into my pillow, begging him for forgiveness.

But there was more than just guilt and sorrow in my heart. I was angry at Zeke.

He could have put Paul in a closet for a day or something instead of beating his face with his fist. God might do that and more, sure—he sent people to hell, didn’t he? And Zeke was his prophet on earth, sure, so he could be God’s voice. But no matter how much I prayed for forgiveness that first night, I couldn’t get the anger out of my heart.