Beyond the Cabin Read online

  I blinked. It was real. Mal was leaving. I had to say goodbye. He’ll be back. He’ll come around. I took the few steps back to him and hugged him tightly. Mal’s arms wrapped around me and squeezed. I felt strength. I felt hundreds of empty, alone days stretching ahead of me.

  After a minute, Mal said, “I’ll come around. But I gotta go now.”

  I nodded. He’ll come around.

  “Bro. You’re killing me here,” Mal said, feigning being out of breath.

  I stepped back from him. Blood flowed back into my arms. “Sorry.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Alright,” I said. I can’t talk! I should say something cool. Something to make this better.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine,” Mal said, opening the passenger door of the car.

  I swallowed. I remembered I was hungry. “Okay.”

  “I’ll come around.”

  “Bring donuts.”

  Chapter 3

  The car kicked up small clouds of dust as it rolled down the gravel driveway. I headed back to the rough wooden porch and watched the car disappear into the woods. My stomach reminded me it was empty, so I made for the kitchen. But as I turned, movement caught the corner of my eye and I glanced toward the woods that Hanks’ car had driven into. At that moment, Mal leapt from the woods, his arms wide, a huge grin on his face.

  He’d been kidding! A big joke! My heart surged and I took a step toward him.

  I blinked.

  He was gone. I stared at the spot Mal had leapt from. Frantically, I scanned the open space between the woods and the house. What the heck?

  I’d imagined it. Or hallucinated or something.

  What was that all about? Feeling kind of shaky, I went into the house. Maybe it was lack of food. Maybe I was going nuts.

  I slapped together a sandwich and had taken a big bite when I heard Miriam’s voice cut through the house. Somehow she wasn’t shouting, but her voice seemed like it would carry all the way to the darkest corners of the attic.

  “Children. Come to the living room.” From the sound of it, Miriam was already there. We had like thirty seconds to get there or the lecture would be worse. I shoved a huge bite of peanut butter and bread into my mouth, grabbing a gulp of water from the faucet. I set the sandwich down and hustled into the living room. Now we all get it—thanks, Mal.

  Miriam sat in her usual spot, the easy chair off to the side of one of the couches. Which meant she had her back to me as I came out of the kitchen into the dining room. I forced myself to swallow, praying I wouldn’t get the hiccups. I was first. Usually that was a good thing.

  I stood at attention in front of Miriam and met her eyes for a half-second as the sound of thumping kids’ feet echoed down the stairs.

  Crap. It’s gonna be a bad one. When Miriam’s face went all flat like that, all of us kids knew she was on the warpath. Usually we tried to stay out of her way.

  But you couldn’t stay away if she ordered you to the living room. Was this what it felt like to have a firing squad aiming at you?

  Luke, walking fast, took the spot at my left, followed by Saul slipping into place at my right. I avoided looking at him, since I would have had to crane my head up. The kid was tall like his father, Abraham. Is my father tall?

  I had no way of knowing. I was already as tall as Miriam, but would I get taller than her? Did sons usually get taller than their mothers?

  Did it matter?

  Mary showed up, although she was so quiet that I only knew she was there when her swinging curly brown hair caught my eye. Something about her, maybe it was the way she walked or stood there, made her seem like she was always, somehow, happy. Esther came last, with the two small girls, Rachel and Sarah, holding her hands. I glanced at Esther from the corner of my eye.

  The way she watched out for those two kind of impressed me, but also made me feel guilty.

  I should be doing something like that for David and Ethan.

  “Where are David and Ethan?” Was she reading my mind? Miriam’s voice already sounded like two rocks scraping together. This was going to be bad.

  What’s it gonna be? Raking the entire yard again? Pruning every freaking rose bush?

  I forced myself to stop clenching my jaw. She’d yelled at me for thirty minutes for doing that one time.

  “I didn’t see them,” Luke said. His kiss-up voice grated almost as bad as Miriam’s voice.

  “So go find them.” Miriam stared Luke down and he shot off, yanking the front door open.

  I almost called after him to tell him I’d just been out in the yard and I didn’t think the two little boys were out there. Almost, but no. He would figure it out and Miriam might blow up at me for talking without permission.

  “Saul, go see if they’re in the attic.” Miriam’s head bobbed slightly in the direction of the stairs. She sounded like the act of talking to us wasn’t worth her time.

  Of course, it would be nice if that were the case. Then these ridiculous lectures wouldn’t happen.

  Saul straightened his glasses and took off, his huge feet slapping the hard floor and one long, gangly arm reaching for the railing on the stairs to help him take the turn up toward the attic.

  The rest of us stood in silence, hands at our sides. I felt myself begin to slouch but forced my back straight again. Now the others had to do the same or we would have to march around the house. Again. Last week, Estelle had made us go around the house five times, yelling at us to stay in synch with each other as if we were soldiers.

  And freaking David and Ethan, since they were four, always made us have to start again. Next time, I’ll help them. Like Esther does. I stared at the wall behind Miriam’s head. I wonder why Mal never did that.

  As always, I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Did the adults think they were training us to be fighters or something? Warriors for the Fundamental Faith in God?

  Luke came back in, shaking his head. “They’re not out there.”

  Miriam simply nodded silently and Luke took his spot again. Aaron showed up and stood at Luke’s other side. I’d almost forgotten about him. My other brother kept to himself so much that it felt kind of easy to overlook him.

  Saul’s voice came down from the landing. “Because Miriam said so.”

  “But we were playing.” That whiny voice was David’s. When was he going to figure it out?

  Finally Saul and the little boys stood in line with the rest of us.

  “Straighten up, Saul,” Miriam said. “Look at Mary. Can’t you stand at attention like her?”

  I sensed the movement as Saul forced himself up from his usual slouch.

  “David, Ethan.” Her voice sounded like an angry dog barking. “Stand still.”

  I resisted the urge to glance at the two little boys. Sarah and Rachel couldn’t be much older than the squirmy boys, but they somehow knew how to stand still and keep this as short and painless as possible. Probably Esther again.

  Total silence. Miriam swept her gaze across our faces. “When will you children learn to come when I call you?” She made a show of looking at her watch. “I have had to wait several minutes, and my time is very valuable.”

  Nobody said anything as she stared us down.

  “You have nothing to say?” Her voice dropped in volume, a signal that she was getting madder.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. The others joined in, making it impossible to hear what we were saying.

  “Sorry for what?” Exasperation filled her voice.

  “Sorry for making you wait,” I said. The others joined in again, each of us with our own variations.

  “That certainly doesn’t sound very sincere.” Miriam sat a little taller. “But what can I expect from ungrateful children who refuse to take responsibility for themselves and their surroundings?” All I heard was very carefully controlled breathing. “David, will you be still?” Her voice slashed through the space between her and the line of kids.

  “So, what do I do with children w
ho are always ungrateful and disrespectful?”

  She let that sink in as she trapped somebody over to my right in her angry stare. “Did you think that you could treat everything you’re given with no respect? Do you somehow think I won’t notice when your rooms are a pig sty?”

  I had no idea how to respond. Did she want us to answer? I fought the urge to look at the others. Did they know if we were supposed to answer? Standing in this line without Mal felt different, like there had been a tree I could hold onto before but that now I could fall over any second.

  Besides, what was she talking about? Our room was clean. Or had somebody forgotten to make their bed? Had I forgotten to make sure Ethan did his bed? Maybe Saul had forgotten to help David.

  “Your beds are a mess—in both rooms—and there are clothes shoved haphazardly into your drawers. Most of your drawers won’t even close.” Miriam glared at us, somehow making it seem like she was looking at everyone at the same time. How did she do that? “David. Since you cannot be still, you will stand in the corner. No, not now.”

  David jerked back into place.

  “Boys, the bathroom in your room stinks, and girls, your towels are crumpled to one side of the racks. They will not dry properly that way.”

  We stood silently, waiting for what we all knew was coming.

  Miriam caught my eye, still glaring. “We give you all of this. We feed you, teach you, make sure you have a roof over your heads, and you spurn it all and treat it like garbage.” She sucked in a loud breath. “You are ungrateful and unbelievably disrespectful and it will not stand.”

  Here we go. Please not the rose bushes. I felt like I still had a thorn in one of my fingers from the last time.

  “You will make your rooms pristine, immediately.” She spoke quickly, maybe thinking we were all about to take off to obey her right away. “And after that, you will wash every window in the house, inside and out. Nobody will stop working until all of it is done. And when it is done, David, you will return to the living room and stand in the regular corner. Thirty minutes. You must learn to hold still.”

  Holy piss. I pictured the house, trying to count up all the windows in the huge thing. That was going to take forever. And poor David.

  “And you will keep your rooms clean. For all we do for you, you can at least do that,” Miriam said.

  All you do for us? I tried to think of one nice thing that Miriam or any other adult in the Faith had ever done for me. Sure, they made food and we had a place to sleep, but wasn’t it against the law to not feed kids?

  She was even my mother, although—what did that mean anyway? Was she supposed to, like, hug me or something? What would that even be like?

  I shoved the stupid idea away. No, all you do is yell at us and treat us like a cross between slaves and messed-up soldiers in training.

  After what had to be a full minute as Miriam glared at us more, letting her words sink in, she sighed loudly. “Rooms first, then windows. Move it.”

  She stood and crossed the living room as all nine of us made for the stairs. Well, all of us except for Aaron, who headed back to the computer room. I wondered if he was going to help clean windows.

  The next three hours were ammonia and vinegar-scented misery. Most Saturdays, Mal and I would go work on the cabin. But no. He was gone and I was stuck cleaning windows with foul-smelling blue stuff and tattered rags.

  By the time we were done, I had a pounding headache from the glass cleaner and I knew my hands would stink of the stuff for days. As usual, I’d been stuck with David and Ethan. Trying to get them to work sucked, so I made them stick close while I did all of it. Did Rachel and Sarah help Mary and Esther?

  I reminded David about going to the corner and he trudged down the stairs. I followed him down. “Hey, remember, hands down, nose on the wall or you have to stay here longer.” David leaned into the corner as I passed.

  What a stupid punishment. Gwen had made me stand in that same corner for two hours last week after I’d forgotten to wipe the counter next to the sink I’d been using to wash dishes. And Sarah had spent thirty minutes there last night after she spilled her water. Sometimes I thought I could see a growing spot where kids’ noses pressed into the corner.

  I tossed my pile of rags into the laundry bin in the room behind the kitchen and put away the cleaner. After scrubbing my hands, I left the house and went to the bench next to the pond. With the cold stone under me, I stared at the ripples that drifted out from the minnows that darted around beneath the surface.

  I felt like Mal was just beyond where I could reach, as if he would step into view any second. This morning had haze around it in my memory, like a dream or something. I couldn’t believe he had left. Left me.

  Man, this Saturday sucked.

  * * *

  I blinked in the shadows of my bunk. Saul was moving around above me, probably getting ready to drop onto the floor. Looking around the room, I had the impression that it was empty, despite the four other boys who were only now waking up. Mal’s empty bunk seemed like a magnet; I couldn’t stop looking at its mussed blanket. It looked like Mal had just gotten up, like he was in the bathroom or something.

  But he was gone. Yesterday had been real. Mal had yelled at Miriam and then taken off with Hank, promising donuts. I wondered where Mal had met Hank. Had it been during the library trips? That seemed unlikely.

  Dinner yesterday had been quiet, as if people were shell-shocked that Mal had left. I had taken some satisfaction in the mess caused by Mal’s dramatic departure, but now I had to get through a Sunday without—Seriously. I couldn't remember a Sunday, or any day really, without Mal around to make things suck less.

  I poked my head out from under my bunk, glancing up to make sure Sauly wasn’t about to land on me. I dressed quickly. By the time I left the room, Luke and the two little ones had gotten up and Sauly was in the bathroom.

  I trundled down the stairs, eyeballing the spot I usually took for Prayer Circle. Settling into my seat next to a couch, I slid right up next to the fabric of the old sofa. Wait, Mal’s not coming. This is all me now. I looked around, imagining everybody would be looking to the place Mal always sat. I slid away from the couch, taking up more of the choice seat. Mal's voice came to me in a memory. He had explained very clearly why this was the best spot to park in for Prayer Circle.

  “You’re close to the door so you can jet as soon as the stupid thing’s over,” Mal had said, “without having to dodge anyone else. And you’re kind of low and hidden by the couch, so nobody notices you.”

  Nobody’s getting this spot. At least until I can get out of here. I needed my next birthday to not be only my fifteenth.

  I crossed my arms and leaned forward onto my knees, waiting for the Prayer Circle to begin. I heard and felt the rest of the kids tromping down the stairs, with the adults arriving in ones and twos as well and taking their privileged places on the couches. I only raised my head when I heard Miriam’s voice, and I only did this because I'd been yelled at for not paying attention during the daily ritual.

  “God bless you, brothers and sisters.”

  Already bored, I moved my lips in time to the expected response, “God bless you.”

  “What a wonderful Sabbath day we’ve been given,” Miriam said, standing in her usual place in front of her chair. “A perfect day for our weekly worship. I hope that we can all use this morning’s Prayer Circle to prepare our hearts for this afternoon’s Celebration. Let us open our spirits to the love that awaits us in Scripture.”

  Not that I was surprised, but not even a word about Mal leaving. She had a freaking heart of stone.

  With that, Miriam turned the meeting over to Abraham, who read from the Bible. I imagined my ears were smooth pieces of skin, unbroken and unhearing. Or maybe extensions of my scalp, my hair covering them. My mouth could be my ears, so I could close it tightly and not hear a thing. For some reason, I couldn’t bring up a soundtrack in my head this morning, which usually helped me kill time while the b
oredom droned on.

  I might have listened if it seemed like any of these people really meant what they were saying. Miriam always spoke in such a formal way, and I always had the impression that Abraham's artificially soft and sincere voice, with that annoying British accent, was hiding something really nasty or dark. I spent all day with these people, although I did my best to avoid them. I had never felt like any of the adults really believed the religious stuff they blabbed about. Maybe it was because they would talk about moral purity and separation from the world, but then they would rent movies every weekend evening, and sometimes during the week too.

  It all felt false, like an act. Maybe it was because God only came up at the rituals and when Miriam was chewing somebody out.

  As Abraham droned on, I thought about the movies the adults watched. This was another thing that had struck Mal as idiotic and he had ranted for what felt like days about the hypocrites we lived with. And us kids? Yeah, they had us and forgot all about us, apparently so they could keep us all “safe and free from the harmful influences of the world.”

  But then they would let us kids watch all kinds of movies too, only forbidding us when the flick was apparently filled with sex.

  And Mal was right. It didn’t make sense if you thought about it. Be separate from the world, but rent movies every week and even let us watch them?

  Mal had joked that those movies were the only window we kids who had been born in the Faith had into the real world. He was probably right. I’d only seen a mother give her kid a hug in a movie and in the books I read.

  The thing is, I thought, I can sort of see Miriam’s point. The world, at least in some of those movies, seems pretty messed up. But living in a cult, or maybe it’s only this one, doesn’t seem much better. I looked around at the faces of the people who made up the world I'd lived in since I was born. Too strict, too boring, too much hypocrisy.

  I moved my mouth in time with the final ‘Amen.’

  And now it’s even worse. Mal’s gone.

  I stood and made for the front door. Food could wait; I had to get outside.

  “Where you headed?”