The Chosen One - Carol Lynch Williams Page 0,39

Hyrum says and he balls his hands into fists.

WHEN THE BEATING STARTS, I think of Mozart. Concentrate on Mozart. Wish for Mozart to come back from the dead and sweep me away.

MY FACE IS BRUISED, one eye closing shut, both lips busted, split wide-open. I feel that with my tongue.

“The lesson of the kingdom,” Uncle Hyrum says. He wipes his hands on a towel that one of the God Squad brought him. “Be glad it isn’t worse, Miss Kyra.”

I’m too busy crying to answer.

The Prophet doesn’t even look my way, just dismisses us both with a wave like he’s grown bored.

MOTHER FAINTS when she sees me. Laura screams and runs for help. I lie down on the sofa and Margaret hurries to the bathroom. I hear her running water. She comes back with a wet cloth.

“Here,” she says. I can almost not hear her voice.

Carolina looks at me with wide eyes, then starts crying. Then my other mothers are there. Mother Victoria rushes to my mother, who looks like a broken doll, that braid twisting away from her head like a rope. Mother Claire pulls me onto her lap. Tears fall from her eyes.

“Kyra,” she says.

Please, I think. No more preaching. No more. I wonder if I will have to use Mozart to drown her out. I wonder if he will be with me again.

“I tried to run,” she says, her voice a whisper.

I grow paper-thin. This woman, the meanest of my father’s wives, she tried to get away?

Her voice is low in my ear.

I look at her through one eye. I hear Mother Victoria murmuring to my mother, hear her go into the kitchen and start herbs to boiling on the stove.

“There’s no getting away.” Mother Claire strokes my hair, touches her lips to my bruises, lets her finger trace the cuts. “I tried three times. They meant to break me. But the man who was supposed to be my husband, he wouldn’t have me. Called me wild. Said I was a whore. So I got your father instead. A blessing if ever there was any.”

Her voice is like cotton. Her fingers almost not there. I must be lost.

Mother Claire puts her arms around me. “I’m here,” she says.

She hums, and I lean against her shoulder, letting her rock me.

FATHER COMES RUNNING into our home, slinging the door open.

“What in the hell?” he says when he sees me. “Who did this, Kyra?” He kneels before me, still cradled in Mother Claire’s arms.

“Hyrum,” Mother Claire says.

He leaves. And is gone for hours. The sun has set.

Finn brings a rumor that Sheriff Felix will be running several boys off the Compound. Please, I think, though my prayers haven’t helped me at all, please let Joshua still be alive.

Mother goes to bed with Carolina and Margaret. My other mothers go home to their families. I stay up, sitting in the dark, waiting for Father. There’s a knock on the door, then Emily walks in, grinning until she sees my face.

“Oh Kyra, oh Kyra,” she says. “Mother said to visit. She did. She said to visit. She says to tell you.”

“Tell me what, Emily?” I say.

Laura comes into the living room with us. She turns on the light over the stove, opens the oven door so that light shines too. Outside a soft wind blows. Someone’s dog barks like crazy, then stops with a yelp.

Emily, simple Emily, hovers near me. She kisses my hairline.

“Kyra,” she says, her speech slurred. She leans into my face. “Jesus is listening to you.”

“He is?” Tears spring to my eyes. I stare at my sister, seeing how she looks a little like Laura.

“He told me to tell you,” Emily says. “He knows you here.” She touches my chest where my heart is. “And here.” She touches my forehead. Then she whispers, “He loves you. No hell for you.”

She kisses at my face until Father comes home.

“Laura,” Father says, “walk Miss Emily home, then hurry up to bed yourself.”

They both hug him good night.

“Let’s sit outside,” he says to me.

We go out on the back porch. I can feel the worn wood under my feet. I can hear the chickens settling in for the evening.

“Sit down,” Father says. He puts his arm around my shoulder, pulls me close. I can smell leftover aftershave on him. I close my eyes and breathe deep the smell of my father. I’m leaning against his shoulder, just resting, just loving him, just wishing he could save me when he says, “Do you remember