Page 23 of Lesson In Faith

Merrick pinned her against the pillows with one hand on her upper chest, grasping her injured arm near the elbow. Lowering it carefully to the bed, the quietshushing sounds he gave her merged with the panicked pulse of blood deafening her. “All right, darlin’. It’s okay. That answers that question, doesn’t it? Ain’t no going back to wherever you’ve been.”

Her chest was too tight, her breath hindered by ropes of stress.

If the elders found her, if Jedidiah knew where she was, there was nowhere she could hide. They would take her back kicking and screaming, spouting community laws and relaying every single infraction she’d made.

She’d be lucky if she was conscious when they hauled her to the altar for her groom.

How stupid was she? Staying here, letting herself be drawn into the wonders of the television, sitting like a duck in the middle of the pond without even realizing the crosshairs of a gun were trained on her head.

The urge to run was overwhelming.

“Easy, little owl.” He didn’t move his hand, just kept holding her down with firm pressure. “That’s some fucking trigger we just hit. No, lie still. Catch your breath, breathe out nice and slow. No one’s gonna get you here.”

They would.

They couldn’t afford not to.

Runners never made it far, usually not more than an hour or two from the community. They were ill-prepared for life outside, too used to order and commands to think for themselves. Scared of the lies they were told to keep them within the boundaries, lost without a lifetime of tended paths and allocated buildings to guide them.

In the last twenty-six years, there had been a dozen runners. Twelve women who were too strong in mind to accept the fate thrown at them. Twelve women who had died trying to get their freedom, and to ensure others weren’t tempted to rebel.

Beyond her control, Tamsyn’s hand shot into Merrick’s hair, fisting the silver strands fiercely. She knew she hurt him by the way lines creased around his eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself from clinging to him. She was shaking, her distress palpable, and she swore the scent of fear leaked from her pores.

“Darlin’, it’s bad enough being a silver goddamn fox before my time,” Merrick murmured. “Adding a bald spot is gonna be a serious kick to my pride.”

Nothing could persuade her to release him. Her fingers were frozen, the joints locked, her body jittering as though in the throes of a seizure.

“Tamsyn, listen to me carefully. One day, you’re gonna find your voice and be able to tell me what scares you. Right now, you need to look at me—in my eyes,” he added when her gaze flickered to his nose and stayed there. “A little higher, darlin’. That’s it. Focus on me. There, right there.”

Her breath shuddered out when her eyes locked on his. The steadiness in his voice coaxed her not only to keep eye contact, but to look deeper. Past the beautiful shades of green and the inky black of his pupil intohim.

He didn’t falter, didn’t blink.

There was just strength and unwavering confidence, a calmness that didn’t waver even when her grip tightened on his hair.

“Take a breath and let go,” he said quietly, holding up the hand not on her chest. “We’re going to make a trade—my hair for my hand. You can do that, right?”

Mouth dry, heart in her throat, she nodded slowly.

“Yeah, you can. On three, take the breath, Tamsyn. One… two… three.”

She sucked in enough air to strain her lungs and willed her fingers to relinquish their grip. They loosened fractionally, but she couldn’t lose that connection.

Merrick smiled slowly, lifting his hand to rest on hers. Gently, he linked his fingers between hers, forcing them between hers to loosen her fist and keep the bond alive. “There, a painless transition. Don’t know what spooked you so bad, darlin’, but if it happens again, all you gotta do is look in my eyes. You’ll find what you need.”

What she needed was to crawl into him and hide until it was safe to come out. Thirty or forty years should be sufficient—her father and the majority of the current elders would be dead and gone by then.

Her head jerked up, her body jolting at the quicktap-tap-tapon the bedroom door. Every muscle went rigid as Linnie stepped in, bag in hand.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doctor said, weighing up the situation. “I’d offer to come back, but I’ve only got an hour before I need to check on another patient.”

“Anything serious?” Merrick asked, squeezing Tamsyn’s hand when she tried to wiggle away.

“Just a knock on the head,” she replied cheerfully. “Someone didn’t check his knots properly, dropped his… partner,” she told him cautiously, “onto her head. She’ll have a nice goose egg for a few days, maybe a mild headache. I’m just running observation on her for a few hours.”

“Eli will be thrilled about the paperwork.”

“Part and parcel with ownership of… a place like this.” She walked over to the bed when no one objected, setting her bag on the floor. “How are her feet holding up?”

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