Page 131 of At Her Will

Teena Joy didn’t let him watch the news much, but he recalled a story of a man who’d killed his wife and kids. Teena Joy had said he had a powerful sickness in him. Rev asked if she thought it was best for them to put him to death. She said God made those decisions, though sometimes He did it through a court and a judge or jury. She’d said, “That man might like donuts, Karman. He might go into a donut shop every day and pick out one, sit at the counter, drink his coffee and enjoy it.”

He’d asked her what that had to do with him killing his family.

“Everything and nothing. You just think about that whenever you’re dealing with someone, with things they’ve done. Be just, and don’t allow harm, but don’t decide you’re their judge, either. You offer love and forgiveness, and let God take care of the rest. You be human, and let God be God. Your soul will be lighter because of it. Lighter in weight, and more lit up, with less darkness to hide things from you.”

It was far easier to follow that path when the person harmed wasn’t someone you couldn’t breathe without. He gazed at his hands. He’d held Veracity, willed her soul to stay in her body, even as he could feel it being cut free. It had terrified him. Made him determined to change its mind. Change God’s mind. Had that been wrong?

No. Because God would have taken her, if it was meant to be. Rev had no power to stop Him. But it still felt like his effort had torn the fabric of the universe a little. “I afraid there’s nothing I can do to fix this,” he said.

“It’s been my experience,” Dana said carefully, “when we think we’ve failed our Master or Mistress, what we’ve really failed to do is trust them enough. There are only two things they expect. For us to trust and serve them. Just like with God. They’re not God, but the principle is the same, because they’re both based in love and devotion.”

He stared at her, then his heart eased a little more. God had sent him to someone who understood, who could stand on the ground where he was floundering. “Yes ma’am. Guess that’s true enough.”

She cocked her head. “There’s another poison in your gut.”

“If…they’d succeeded. If they’d…killed her.” When his voice broke, her surprisingly strong hand gripped his shoulder again. “They were going to make me think she’d just left. If they’d convinced me of that, I would have looked to my family for comfort, never realizing they was the ones who took her from me. Why people like this? How they make that okay in their minds? How they let hate and fear and lies take them over that way?”

“We are flawed creatures,” Dana said softly. “But it didn’t happen, and maybe that’s because this time good triumphed over that kind of evil and darkness. We take our victories where we get them.”

Her voice became firmer. “Though she needs some time, when she’s ready, your Mistress will need you to trust her enough to show her just how badly this affected you. You have to show your hurts, because to fully heal from them, you have to do it together. Open your souls to one another.”

She tapped his hand, resting on the back of the pew. “You start opening that door when you’re falling in love, but when things like this happen, you have to open it wide and take each other into the back rooms, into the basement and attic. We talk about how love can handle anything, but it’s another matter to have the courage to trust it, and each other, that much. The depths of love are infinite, and it will go anywhere you need it to go.”

She paused. “Just like the love you have for your family. They’ve done something terrible, but you love them because that doesn’t go away. And since you say your Mistress has been downa difficult road with her family herself, she can help you with that.

“We need to stand on our own two feet, but we also need to know when we need help. When we need healing and care, too.”

She drew his attention to her blind eyes and a cochlear implant behind her ear. “I nearly died from an IED when I was in the Army, but worse than that, I wished I had. It took my Master to bring me back to myself. Both of them. The earthly one and the Heavenly one.”

Because of her proximity, he’d noted the name stamped on her dog tag.Winston, Peter R.He nodded toward it.

“He the earthly one.”

“Yes.” She clasped it, her lips curving with a hint of mischief. “Sometimes he tries to convince me he’s the Heavenly one as well. Doms can get carried away with the whole know-it-all, protective thing.”

Her humor opened his heart to more light. “I didn’t expect to find a pastor called to the same thing I am.”

“No? Faith is all about the beauty and challenges of submission.” She offered her hand to him, palm up. “If you want, we can pray together. For you, your family, and especially for your Mistress. We can give thanks, because she’s alive, and you have the chance to show her how much you love her and want to be with her.”

“And hope she feel the same way.”

“If it’s God’s will. Or the Lord and Lady’s.” Dana winked. “I have a friend who worships your Mistress’s chosen path.”

She touched the dog tag again. “Rev, I don’t pretend to know God’s plan for you, but I’d be surprised if it didn’t include your Mistress wanting you back at her side. Just be patient and allow time for her to heal. To think and pray.”

He took her hand. “And most importantly, have faith.”

“Amen. And blessed be.”

Vera stared out her kitchen window at the birds wrangling for the best position on the tray of her feeder. The whimsical metal piece, designed to look like an antebellum house, was swinging from the jockeying birds. It was twilight, the setting sun glinting dully on the metal.

It had been nearly three weeks. Jasmine and Joss’s wedding, their handfasting, was coming up. She thought of Jasmine’s phone call, that day in the car with Rev. Her delight when she heard the girl was ready to set a date, that two people who were good for one another were choosing to walk forward together in this life.

Last night, she’d sat in her living room and recalled the henna exercise with Rev, every moment. Marking his flesh, enjoying his body, the way he responded to her. The feel of his eyes upon her, when she let him open them.

She hadn’t mailed the card to her family. She’d considered burning it in the cauldron she kept on her home altar. Instead, it rested on that same altar, until she was in the right frame of mind to know what to do.

Her head would be fucked up for a while. No one had ever committed violence against her the way Witford and Tisha had. She’d had several sessions with Maureen to talk it out, and it had helped. So had a wine and chocolate dinner with Ros and the other women. At work, Bastion made sure her tea was always hot, that she had the best of the baked goods, and fielded her calls as if he was a knight protecting the walls of her castle. When she told him she was fine, he pretended he wasn’t doing any of that. And kept doing it.

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