Page 26 of Wolf, Willow, Witch
Tehlor cleared her throat and repeated the phrase. “The Lord will keep her.”
“Ashleigh used to be a member at Haven,” Amy explained, cringing. “We tried to come to an understanding, but going against Phillip’s decision to keep the—”
“God forgives all. As his shepherds, we must protect the flock,” Rose interrupted. She shot Amy a silencing glare before switching her attention to Tehlor. “She posed a threat to our mission, so we parted ways. Amicably, of course.”
“Of course,” Tehlor said. She wondered if Ashleigh was alive. If she’d been sacrificed on a stone table or left to rot in a confessional. She sipped her wine and cleared the chalky bite from her throat. “Is everyone excited for the revival?”
“Oh yes,” someone said.
“Very much so.”
“Obviously, babe!”
“Tehlor, you’re looking forward to being baptized, aren’t you?” Rose asked, careening over delighted voices. Every sound was snuffed out. She lifted her brows and tipped her head, snaring Tehlor in another challenging stare. “Under the moonlight, surrounded by those who will bring you closer to God. You’re one of a few scheduled baptisms, actually. Kimberly, of course, the new carrier, and then Mary, Lucas's new betrothed.”
Carrier. Tehlor cocked her head.
“Daniel, too,” Amy added.
Rose nodded. Her smile came and went, as fleeting as a hummingbird. “Yes, Daniel will be anointed and returned to his wife, sinless and reborn.”
“Wife?” Tehlor asked.
Amy smiled, weak and solemn. “Yeah, we’ve been married for a little over a year now.”
“And he isn’t baptized?”
“Baptism isn’t a one-time blessing at Haven. We baptize our brothers and sisters after transgressions, honoring both the sin and the act of washing it away. Baptism is a reintroduction to God and his people, so we invite newcomers and anyone in the congregation to participate. You claim your sin, drown it, and then resurface as God intended. New, clean,” Rose said, drawing out the second word. “A disciple remade.”
So, Rose and Phillip controlled the home Amy and Daniel rented in Gideon. It wasn’tunpredictable, but the calculated manipulation still made Tehlor reconsider the ease of her and Lincoln’s little heist. Haven felt dangerous the same way most large-scale organizations did—oppressive and volatile—but it was something else, too. Radical. Like a starving thing let in from the cold, looking for food, hunting for resources. Tehlor remembered to smile and offered an appreciative nod. She sipped her wine, turned toward another glistening Haven girl, and sighed blissfully.
“I can’t wait to see what midnight mass has in store,” Tehlor said.
The women exchanged glances, bright-eyed and secretive.
Rose whispered, “Great things,” so seriously Tehlor’s breath caught.Maybe Lincoln’s right. Maybe Rose is the ringleader. “Obedience is holy. In Haven we trust.”
Again, the kitchen filled with radiant voices. “Obedience is holy. In Haven we trust.”
Tehlor swallowed the rest of her wine. “Amen.”
Laughter boomed in the hall followed by footsteps. All at once, the women scattered, grabbing plates and serving spoons. Nervousness lit in Tehlor’s stomach. She didn’t know whether to mimic their behavior or wait for instructions. Everyone moved precisely, still smiling, still chatting, wiping hands, serving each other, sayingthank you. Once the casserole dishes were properly gutted and the rest of the congregation filtered into the kitchen, Tehlor understood.
Each woman carefully handed a perfectly fixed plate to someone else. A man, specifically. Rose to Phillip, Amy to whom Tehlor assumed to be Daniel. An undercurrent ofthank you sweetheartandappreciate you, honeyhummed like a beehive.
Lincoln appeared at her side before she realized he’d entered the room. He placed his hand on her lower back, palm secure on her tailbone. It was a risky gesture, touching her intentionally, intimately. She hadn’t seen other couples show affection. Handholding, yes. Some mild embraces, sure. But partners didn’t tug at each other like Lincoln tugged at her, hauling her close to his side. He wrapped his hand around her hip and splayed his fingers over the soft pout below her navel, scratching playfully.
“Have you eaten already?” Lincoln asked. “I can fix you somethin’.”
The question burned through the room. She glanced around, unsure if she should jump into her role as a good-to-do-wife or let the attention fester.
“Oh, Lincoln, I can get you a plate, dear,” Amy said, batting at the air. “Here, let me—”
“That’s all right, Amy. I can get it,” he said, cutting her off.
Amy paused mid-reach. Her hand hovered over the stacked plates before she brought it to her chest, clutching her wrist awkwardly.
Lincoln stepped around Tehlor, grabbed a plate, and went to work assembling food. “Mac ‘n cheese, babe?”
