Children of Eternity Omnibus Read online

  Samantha instinctually put a protective hand to her throat. “Then I owe you my life.”

  “Don’t let me catch you out here alone again. Next time I’ll let him shred you.”

  Samantha gulped and nodded. Prudence came down the path and gasped when she saw Pryde and his dogs. “There you are. It’s time for chores,” she said. “Come on.” Prudence took Samantha by the arm and tugged her through the brush and onto the main path. “Do you know what almost happened?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Thanks for looking for me.”

  Prudence stopped and looked Samantha in the eye. “Samantha, you have to be more careful. Please.”

  “I will. I’m definitely not going to go running around in the forest anymore.”

  “This isn’t funny. His dogs could have killed you.”

  “He told me that.”

  “Did you see the notches on his hunting knife?”

  “What about them?”

  “Those are for people who weren’t as lucky as you.”

  “You mean people he killed?” Prudence nodded. “I could have been a notch on his knife?”

  “No, of course not. You’re under the reverend’s protection. He’s only allowed to kill outsiders.”

  “Then why didn’t he kill me before?”

  Prudence shrugged. “Maybe he thought you were one of us.”

  “Maybe,” Samantha said, but she doubted it. Pryde didn’t seem like the kind of man who made such mistakes. There was something she wasn’t being told. If only she could remember what happened to her.

  As she and Prudence started back towards town, she heard the dogs howling; she and Prudence ran the rest of the way.

  Chapter 7: The Seamstresses

  Prudence led Samantha along the circle of cottages. “How do you tell them apart?” Samantha asked. “They’re all alike.”

  “There are little differences. After you’ve been here a while you’ll understand.” She stopped at the fifth cottage they passed and pointed to a gray blotch on the bottom of the doorframe. “That happened when I spilled some of the dye we use on the wool. I didn’t want to waste any of the whitewash on such a small spot.”

  “And it makes yours different than the others.”

  “That is an added benefit,” Prudence said. She twisted the doorknob and Samantha followed her into a dark room. While Samantha squinted to make out anything, Prudence went to the windows and opened the curtains without hesitation.

  Sunlight filled the room and Samantha found herself standing next to a strange contraption. It was a wooden frame shaped like an L with strings along each side. A bit of gray fabric hung from the lower half of the L. “What is this?” Samantha asked.

  “This is my loom. It’s how I make the clothes.”

  “You make everyone’s clothes with this thing?”

  Prudence patted the gray fabric on the loom. “I was working on fabric to make you a new set of clothes.”

  “Really? That’s nice of you.”

  “It’s nothing special. I make everyone’s clothes. I even made a suit for the reverend.”

  “All by yourself?”

  “Sometimes Miss Brigham or one of the girls will help me if it’s something complicated or important. I’ll teach you how to use the loom so you can be my assistant.”

  “Assistant? How about co-seamstress.”

  Prudence giggled at this and then put a hand to her mouth. “If that’s what you want. First, let me alter your dress so it fits better. I need you to stand on this stool so I can take measurements,” she said.

  Samantha did as she was told, standing on a stool in the center of Prudence’s workshop. Prudence went back to the windows, closing the curtains except for a crack. She lit a fire in the hearth, dim orange light filling the room. “Could you take off your dress, please?”

  Samantha shrugged off the oversized dress and shivered in the sudden cold. Not knowing what else to do with her arms, she crossed them over her chest. From off a table, Prudence picked up a measuring tape. She started with Samantha’s waist, sighing at the low number.

  “Have you ever wanted to live in a place where you could tell jokes or sing a song or read a book?” Samantha asked.

  “Those are wicked things to do.”

  “No they aren’t. There’s nothing wrong any of those. Do you do everything the reverend tells you?”

  “He’s like a father to us.” Prudence measured Samantha’s neck, tightening the tape until Samantha choked. “Sorry. You should be grateful to the reverend for letting you stay.”

  “I am. But if he’s so great, why does he need a creep like Mr. Pryde and those dogs of his?”

  “You shouldn’t talk like that. Mr. Pryde keeps the bad things out. He keeps us safe.”

  “You think there are really monsters and savages out there waiting to swallow you up?”

  “Of course there are. Why would Miss Brigham lie to us?”

  “But you’ve never seen any of them.”

  “I haven’t seen God either, but I know He exists,” Prudence said. She forced Samantha to lower her arms to measure them. “Even if you could leave here, where would you go?”

  “I don’t know. Somewhere else. There must be other towns with other people. People like me.”

  “If you ask the reverend, he might let you go out with Mr. Pryde on one of his hunting trips to look for your parents.”

  “He gets to leave here but we can’t?”

  “He goes out to hunt game sometimes. Deer, moose, even bears. Last Christmas he brought back a turkey for us.”

  “I don’t think he’d like my company very much. I don’t have four legs and I can’t hold much in my mouth.”

  Prudence giggled and again stopped herself after a second. “He’s not friendly, but he helps us. We wouldn’t be able to survive without him.” Prudence finished her measurements and motioned for Samantha to get off the stool. “I have a blanket on the chair over there you can use to cover yourself.”

  Samantha took a gray blanket exactly like those in the dormitory off a rocking chair and threw it over her shoulders. From a pincushion, she took a handful of pins and turned the blanket into an improvised gown. She spun around for Prudence. “What do you think? It’s the latest style.”

  “You better not let the reverend see you like that.”

  “Relax. I’ll take it off when you finish, so the quicker you are, the sooner I’ll take it off. In the meantime, what do you want me to assist with?” Samantha picked up the thimbles from Prudence’s worktable, sticking one on the end of each finger. She waggled her metal-tipped fingers at Prudence, whose face turned bright red.

  “What are you doing? I had those arranged in a certain order. Now you’ve gone and made a mess of everything.”

  “I’m sorry,” Samantha said. She tried to put the thimbles back on the table the way she remembered them. “What can I do?”

  “Just sit in the chair and watch me,” Prudence said. Samantha did as ordered, leaning forward to watch Prudence string thread through a needle in one fluid motion. As Prudence stitched up Samantha’s dress, Samantha tapped her feet to a beat that seemed familiar somehow, but the exact rhythm escaped her. She opened her mouth to say something, and then thought better, seeing the look of intense concentration on Prudence’s face.

  Samantha reached over to pick up a ball of white yarn from the table. She tossed it into the air and caught it in one hand. She challenged herself to toss it higher and higher into the air, catching it every time with one hand or the other. Emboldened by her success, she threw the ball as high as she could. The yarn struck a rafter, changed direction, hit Prudence in the head, bounced to the floor, and then rolled across the cottage to come to rest between a stack of firewood and the hearth.

  “What are you doing? Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

  “I was tossing a ball. What’s so bad about that?”

  “You were playing a game when you were supposed to be watching me. Miss Brigham will expect
you to do this soon. You have to pay attention,” Prudence said, her voice getting higher until it bordered on panic.

  “All right, I’m sorry. But watching you sew isn’t fun.”

  “It’s not supposed to be fun. Everyone’s counting on us. You remember what Miss Brigham said about Wendell and the firewood? One person shirking their chores affects everyone.”

  “I’ll watch you like a hawk from now on. I promise.” Samantha dashed across the cottage to retrieve the yarn. In her haste, she didn’t see the stool she’d stood on earlier and went flying across the room. She skidded across the floor, scraping her bare arms on the rough wooden planks and rolling against the wall like the yarn.

  Prudence rushed to her side, but Samantha refused to allow her to examine the red streaks on the backsides of her arms. Samantha moved each limb, wincing with pain, but she held back any tears. “Are you all right?” Prudence asked.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing. Really.”

  “Samantha, don’t lie. You know what the reverend says about telling even little lies.”

  “All right, my arms hurt like someone lit them on fire. Are you happy now?”

  “No.” Prudence took Samantha’s arms, studying the scrapes. “You’ve got some splinters. I’ll find a pin to get them out.”

  Samantha examined the tiny shards of wood sticking out of each scrape and bit down on her lip to keep from crying. Prudence returned and held up a pin six inches long. “Hold still,” she cautioned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “More so, you mean.” Samantha held her arms straight out and then turned her head away as Prudence set to work. Each time Prudence flicked out a splinter, a lightning bolt of pain shot through Samantha.

  She tried to focus her attention on the hearth, counting the number of stones along the side. Then she noticed one of the stones near the back appeared loose with the hint of something yellow sticking out. “It looks like something is hidden over there,” she said, motioning with her head.

  “Hold still,” Prudence warned again. Samantha tried to follow her advice, but curiosity got the better of her. She pulled her arms away, the pain forgotten, and hurried over to the hearth. She pulled aside the brick to reveal a bundle of papers torn, soiled, and yellowed with age. “What is that?”

  “It’s part of a book,” Samantha said. She unfolded the pages on Prudence’s table and heard Prudence gasp.

  On the papers were drawings of adult women wearing colorful clothes. Samantha pointed to one where a woman with Samantha’s figure and hair color wore a pair of blue trousers and a pink short-sleeved shirt. The woman posed in the picture with her hands defiantly on her hips and her hair thrown back over one shoulder. “Look at that. Could you make me something like that?”

  “No, I couldn’t. It’s wrong. Girls aren’t supposed to wear trousers and shirts like that. Those are for boys.”

  “Why? Because the reverend says so?”

  “It’s wrong. We shouldn’t have these.” Prudence snatched the papers away from Samantha and tore them into tiny pieces that she spread among the hearth. Samantha sank to the floor, the pain in her arms returning at this senseless destruction. “Forget you ever saw those. Promise?”

  Samantha nodded. She held out her arms for Prudence to work on, craning her neck so she could see the fragments of the pages in the hearth. She wouldn’t forget what she saw. Not ever.

  Chapter 8: The House on the Hill

  By evening Prudence had finished with Samantha’s dress, which now fit her snugly instead of like a tent. Samantha accepted the dress without a word before sitting on the rocking chair and turning to face away from Prudence. Samantha had nothing to say to her former best friend.

  “I know those meant something to you,” Prudence said. “I’m sorry to throw them away, but I had no choice. Images like that are against the rules.”

  “Everything is against the rules.”

  “Everything sinful.”

  Samantha said nothing. She felt too sore and tired to continue arguing. Tonight I’m going to get out of here, she decided. She didn’t care anymore if Pryde’s dogs tore her apart; she couldn’t take another day like this.

  The church bells sounded and Prudence stopped working the loom. “It’s time to turn in,” she said.

  “Already? It’s still light out.”

  “First dinner, then evening prayers, and then bedtime. You don’t want to be outside after dark.”

  “Why not?”

  “Mr. Pryde’s dogs guard the town at night. They’ll kill anything that moves without a second thought.”

  “Don’t they ever sleep?”

  “No.”

  Despite this bad news, Samantha remained undeterred to escape from Eternity tonight. She could find a way around a couple mangy mutts. Then she would be free.

  She followed Prudence out of the workshop and back to the dormitories. The dining room was situated between the sleeping areas for the boys and girls with rows of rough-hewn tables and benches packed into the room. The girls all sat on the side near their dormitory while the boys sat on the side nearest to theirs. For now the boys’ side was empty except for a handful of toddlers. Prudence and Samantha sat at their own table in the back, nearest to the door.

  “Where are the boys?” Samantha asked.

  “They’re coming back from the fields.”

  The doors opened and the boys filed in, marching in two columns like soldiers. They lined up at their respective tables and sat down as one. Behind them came Miss Brigham, who gasped and hurried over to Samantha’s table. “Oh dear, what happened to you?” she asked loud enough that everyone in the dining room turned to stare.

  “A little accident,” Samantha whispered. She looked down at the table, but still felt everyone staring at her. “It’s nothing serious, really.”

  “We should see the reverend about this immediately.” Miss Brigham clucked her tongue and shook her head in Prudence’s direction. “I would have expected you to use better judgment, young lady. I’m very disappointed in you.”

  “It’s not her fault—”

  “Come now, dear and we’ll get you healed.” Miss Brigham raised her voice for the other children to hear. “I expect all of you to behave yourselves in my absence.”

  Samantha continued to protest as Miss Brigham dragged her from the dining room by the sleeve. “It’s nothing. I just need some rest.”

  “Nonsense. We can’t have those getting infected.” Miss Brigham led Samantha down a path leading away from town. The farther they went, the more the forest thinned, replaced by clusters of granite like that used to build the church. Samantha looked down at her shoes to keep from tripping over the stray rocks strewn about the path.

  “Why does the reverend live out here? Why doesn’t he live in town like everyone else?”

  “The reverend needs peace and quiet to meditate so he can hear God’s words.”

  “God talks to the reverend?”

  “Of course, my dear. How else do you think he would have the wisdom to lead us so well?”

  “If he can talk to God, can he find out about my parents?”

  “Now you’re being silly. The Lord speaks and the reverend listens. Reverend Crane does not pester God with questions.” A narrow pathway wound up a hill of solid granite to a cottage like those in town with the same whitewashed finish. Miss Brigham went up to the heavy wooden door and rapped on it with an iron knocker in the shape of a bear’s head. Samantha stayed back, not looking forward to another stern lecture and punishment for her clumsiness.

  The reverend came to the door dressed like one of the boys. “Is there a problem with the children?” he asked Miss Brigham.

  “Only one, sir. Samantha has had a little accident. Go on, dear, show the reverend.” Samantha cautiously stepped forward and held out her arms for him to inspect.

  “It looks like you took quite a fall. Come inside and I’ll take care of you. Miss Brigham, you can go back and see to the children. I believe Samantha
and I need to have a discussion.”

  Samantha gulped and looked up at Miss Brigham, silently begging her not to leave. “As you wish, Reverend Crane,” Miss Brigham said instead and curtsied to the reverend.

  “Now, young lady, come inside. Nothing will harm you inside.” He put a hand on her back and steered her through the doorway. Inside, he led her into a sitting room and onto a rocking chair similar to the one in Prudence’s workshop. “How did this happen?” he asked.

  “I was helping Prudence and I fell.”

  “It doesn’t appear serious. Wait here a moment.” After the reverend left the sitting room, Samantha got up from the rocking chair to survey the room. Besides the rocking chair, the reverend’s sitting room contained a pair of uncomfortable straight-backed chairs and a stool. The only decoration was an oversized cross with a bloodied Christ staring at Samantha with plaintive eyes. She backed away, bumping one of her arms against a wall, yelping from a fresh wave of pain. She returned to the rocking chair, holding up her arm like an injured bird.

  The reverend returned with a glass bottle of a white, shimmering liquid. “This may sting a bit, but you will feel much better,” he said. Samantha bit down on her lip as the reverend dabbed a rag with the liquid and applied it to both her arms. As promised, her arms stung for a few moments, tears escaping her eyes despite her best efforts. “Would you like some dinner?”

  She nodded and followed him down an empty hallway to the kitchen. He motioned for her to sit on one of the stools set around a wooden table while he opened a cabinet to prepare their meal. The kitchen was no grander than the sitting room with only a hearth and the cabinet.

  Before her, he set a plate with a single roasted potato, a thin slice of beef, and another crust of Phyllis’s tasteless bread along with a cup of water. He served himself the same and sat across the table from her. He said a brief prayer thanking God for their meager dinner and then sliced off a strip of beef with his knife.

  “I am sorry about being so severe with you during services this morning. I did it not for you, but for the others. They need to know who is in charge.”