Beyond His Control (His 2)

Tears fill her eyes, and it hurts so much to see the misery oozing from them. I never knew what it felt like to wish for someone else’s pain to disappear so badly, but now I know.

I reach for her face and caress her cheeks. “This will not be like this. This baby will survive. I will promise you, right now, I will make it happen.”

“How?” she says with a shaky voice.

I lean in and press a kiss to her forehead. “You have to believe me. It will be different this time. You’re stronger now, more capable. Your body has learned how to cope with this. It knows what to do now. You can do this. I believe in you.”

She leans against my lips, the weight of her responsibility showing. She sighs and closes her eyes. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” I say.

But I know I won’t be able to support her when it’s time to give birth even though she might want me to be there. In this community, men aren’t allowed to be present during the birthing process. Men only provide blessings for the child once it has arrived, and that’s it.

Women take care of their children.

Women do … all the hard things us men couldn’t ever dare.

She places her hand on top of mine, the gentle squeeze setting my soul ablaze. “Thank you.”

I nod in agreement even though I know I probably won’t be allowed to do what she asks …

But a man can’t say no to the woman he loves.

And love makes you say things without thinking them through.

Chapter 16

Natalie

Weeks later

The first time out of the temple is a blessing in disguise. Smelling the fresh air after having been cooped up like a chicken brooding her eggs feels so nice, but at the same time, it’s a bitter pill to take … because I’m being chaperoned into the prayer hut, where the patriarchs pray to God and bless marriages and pregnant women.

Us women just stand behind them and witness the ordeal like good wives do as an example to the other women in the community. The prayers and the ritual are the only events where we wives are allowed to have a choice.

Join and witness the ordeal or stay at the temple in your comfy room, pretending the world is great and the people are happy. Like Trisha, Meghan, and Ashley. They aren’t here today. Neither is my mother, as she’s still not well enough to get out of her bed. The guards won’t even allow me entry into her room; the president is keeping her far away from visitors … even me.

Is it to protect her, or to protect me?

After all, he must know she had something to do with the escape. He must’ve noticed the fire was too much of a coincidence. I pray he won’t hurt her. She’s already in so much pain.

All I can do is wait and hope she recovers enough to join us again.

Sylvia and Abigail are here at the prayers too. Apparently, their men are the patriarchs David and Lucas. I don’t know the names of the other women’s patriarchs, and I don’t care. I’m here because I have to, because if I don’t attend these events, people will think I’m dead. And President Lawrence doesn’t want people to worry. Worry would undermine his authority, and he loves authority more than anything in the whole damn world.

My hand curls into a fist as I try to contain my rage while we go inside. The people are all nicely lined up again, just as before when I was still down there in the crowd, wearing my white dress, completely oblivious to what was about to happen to me.

Now I step onto the stage as a matriarch accompanying her husband. As he sits down, I stand behind him, hands clutched together in front of my body as all women do.

The crowd gazes at us with their lips parted, eyes filled with hope, as though these seven men provide the faith they need in their own religion. It’s ludicrous, cult-like, and I don’t understand why anyone would ever willingly choose to join this Family.

Unless you’re a man, of course.

Men get everything.

I swallow hard as the president begins to speak, and the eyes of the crowd settle on him. But mine scour the room for someone else. Emmy. She’s in the back, on her knees, eyes down to the ground. She doesn’t dare to look up even though she knows I’m here. The man clutching her hand tightly might be the reason, and it makes me cringe.

Then I spot someone I haven’t seen in a very long time.

April.

When I find her, an electrical current rushes through my spine, and I struggle to remain standing. Our eyes connect. A visceral reaction bursts through my veins, and I want to scream and lash out.