Page 22 of Wait For It

I’d come to learn all of this because the woman hadn’t stopped talking since she discovered who I was. My silence went unnoticed as she filled our days with everything from her thoughts on battling Houston traffic, to the best sermons Tristan had ever preached.

“Pastor James is just like such a light, you know?”

Agreeing to come to True North had just like obviously been a stupid, horrible decision, you know?

She paused long enough to suck in a breath of air before launching right back into it. “At the time, I was waiting tables and just like, saw myself going nowhere. Once I read your father’s words, though, I realized, my vision wasn’t big enough. Now, here I am. He is a true prophet. I mean, like how blessed are we to have him right here in Houston?”

I scrunched my face up.Like, just so lucky, I can’t even stand it.

“Oh, listen to me! Rambling on and expecting you to answer. I’ll let you eat, and then we’ll get you back to your room for a little rest.”

My weekly schedule was really just different variations of the same thing. I’d spend thirty minutes with my physical therapist, Natalie, in the gym before meeting Fynn for an hour of speech. Then, it was occupational therapy with Andi, followed by lunch.

I couldn’t decide if the lingering exhaustion was due to the rigorous classes or just an inability to hear one more person drone on about how great Tristan James was.

On top of that, I was growing increasingly frustrated because I was no closer to discovering the truth. Trying to force my brain back to where it was before the accident was a monumental task, leaving me in constant need of a nap.

Not that those helped any.

I would doze for what seemed like minutes before Tiffani, or another tech would flip on the lights, announcing it was time for a second physical therapy session with Natalie. I took another nap before dinner at five and was back in bed by eight. The medicine the nurses gave was supposed to help me sleep, but it only seemed to make the nightmares more real.

The mesh tent surrounding my bed didn’t help—becoming a prison once it was zipped closed and locked—trapping me inside until the morning tech arrived. The staff insisted it was a safety precaution for brain-injured patients, but I knew the truth.

It was just another way for Tristan to exert his power over me.

A cage was a cage, no matter how shiny the metal.

“Your father is just like,” Tiffani sighed almost dreamily. “He’s just—”

Bigoted?I offered.Chauvinistic?A murderer?

Well, if Mama was to be believed. As we’d been told she’d passed from a brain aneurism, it seemed a little far-fetched. Those first two were spot on, though.

“I really hope Fynn can help you get your voice back.” Her eyes softened. “I’d really like to know what you’re trying to say. I literally cannot imagine how hard that must be.”

I immediately pressed my lips together and nodded. Pitching a fit and thinking ugly thoughts would get me nowhere. It wasn’t fair. No one knew what Tristan was really like, and being irritated at someone’s ignorance over the matter was just plain mean-spirited.

My injury had given me the chance to observe the goodness and generosity that people outside the church had to offer. And Tiffani, despite her misguided devotion, only wanted to help.

On the rare occasions I asked for assistance at home, I was expected to give something in return—very quid pro quo.True Northwas almost a foreign land, by comparison. The staff seemed not only willing, but eager to serve, expecting nothing in return. I longed for the days before the accident, when I could go to the bathroom alone and shower without an audience, but I was also grateful.

Grateful I’d been given the privilege of witnessing beauty in my brokenness.

Tiffani’s only real flaw was placing her faith in the wrong hands, just one of many who’d fallen under Tristan’s spell over the years. They dropped every dime in the offering plate, imagining they’d somehow stand out in a sea of forty-five thousand attendees, but it was never enough to gain favor with their idol. Tiffani blamed herself for not being enlightened enough spiritually—If, like, only she’d prayed harder…

In reality, her income alone would never be enough to set her apart from the politicians and celebrities vying for a coveted spot among Tristan’s flock. And if it were, she’d be forced to give up any ideas of gender equality, fully embracing her divine purpose to serve.

There was a distinct difference between church members and church followers. Church members were welcome to every Sunday service and heavily encouraged to‘step out in faith and tithe.’

With the exception of Brad, the followers who lived within the community were connected to our family through either marriage or blood. They were also ridiculously wealthy and pledged more per year than most people probably made in twenty.

No, Tiffani was better off outside the walls.

“So, like, I think I keep missing him. When exactly does Pastor James drop by to check on you?”

Never,I mouthed.It seems I was sacrificed on the altar of a BMW Z4.

“I’m sorry,” Tiffani apologized. “I’m trying to read your lips but can’t quite—did you say Sunday at four?”

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