I caught Matthew's eye. He motioned me over. When I was by his side, he whispered in my ear. “It’s not a blessing they’re giving us. They’re cursing us and casting us out. It’s a lesson for the others.”

  The reality of what we were doing hit me then. We were being tossed out to the street with no money. Inside here, we used a different currency. A barter system. For my seamstress skills, I was able to trade for food and shelter. We all did our part to make up a successful community. How would we survive on the outside?

  I looked over to where my father stood with Elder Ryan. They both wore a strange expression. One I'd not seen on either of them before. Uncertainty? Or disapproval?

  Elder William handed a glass of clear wine to Matthew. One of his wives handed me one as well, served in a glass I’d never seen before. Small, with a slender flute that felt as if it would burst with the slightest pressure in my fingers. This was not the thick glass we had in the cafeteria. Was this what the elders used at night in their private room? I sniffed. A wave of nausea churned my stomach; I swallowed against the gag reflex in my throat. The wine smelled off; my senses were jumbled from nerves. I’d only had it once before, at my fourteenth birthday ritual. The first sip had made my eyes water, and I’d discreetly poured it onto the grass. Now I lifted the glass to my mouth and pretended to take a drink, never actually bringing any into my mouth. I’d had years of practice with milk. “Drink up, boy,” Elder William said to Matthew. “It’s a big day for you.”

  Matthew drank from his glass and then screwed up his face as if he’d had something sour. “Thank you, sir.”

  Everyone gathered closer, forming a semicircle around us. I couldn’t look up, afraid of the angry eyes of my father. The matching gray skirts of the women were a blanket before me. I lifted just my eyes to scan the mob for my siblings. What were they holding in front of their chests? My vision widened and sharpened. The women and girls were holding long, skinny candles that we used during religious holidays and baptisms. The wicks were lit, almost imperceptible under the bright sun. How had I not noticed before? Some of the flames shuddered from their holder’s breath. Why were they breathing hard? They weren’t on display as Matthew and I were. Suddenly, I hated them all. They were like a many-headed monster, all staring at us with malice in their eyes. Why had it been necessary to gather everyone? Wouldn’t it have been better to let us slip away unnoticed? They could simply pretend we’d never existed. That would be enough of a warning to the others. The elders did not see it that way, obviously.

  "Today, Matthew and Michelle have decided to leave us—to forge out on their own without any support from those who have loved her and cared for her.” Elder William looked out to his flock. His words were as calm and soothing as the creek from which we gathered water. Yet the flat nature of his eyes was more like the rocks banished to the creek bed, gray and hard. What was happening? My bones and muscles seemed to have shriveled and left me standing on hollow legs.

  “With this betrayal,” Elder William said, “a curse will follow them the rest of their days here on earth and follow them into hell. As you know, once this choice is made, there is no returning.”

  Dead silence met us. I imagined I could hear the wicks burning into ash.

  Elder William raised his glass, then paused dramatically, something he did often in his sermons. “This little piece of trash, who we realize is just like her mother, has made the choice to betray the only home and family she’s ever known.” He changed his voice to more conversational, as if we were all sitting around a table for a meal. “Should we drink to her and Matthew? I suppose we should. We do not need to pass judgment, for the Lord will do that for us.”

  I’d started shaking even harder than before. The world tipped slightly. Trash. I was trash. Next to me, Matthew took my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I gave my glass to my father’s most senior wife, Martha. “Do I say goodbye to Father?” I whispered in her ear.

  Martha’s mouth thinned out as she shook her head. “Just go while you have the chance,” she whispered.

  I looked at her in surprise. She’d never given any indication that she’d contemplated leaving? Did she?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you’ve spent a lot of time grooming me for my marriage to Elder Ryan.”

  “It’s all right. There are enough of us.” Father had five wives. “We’ll be fine.”

  The crowd parted as Matthew and I, hand in hand, made our way to the front gates. Gravel shifted under our feet. Behind us came the sounds of people following. The entrance comprised two heavy sheets of metal that operated on a track. One of the guards pushed them open. We stepped closer, hesitating at the precipice between the community and the other side. I looked back. Everyone was still there, staring at us with moon faces. Some wore scornful expressions. Others simply looked confused. A few watched us with open mouths, as if they weren’t sure what kind of creatures we were. I made one last search for Father but he must have left, unable to watch his daughter’s betrayal.

  My eyes were blurred from unshed tears. I could no longer see individual faces. This was my home. These were the only people I’d ever know. But out there? Freedom. A life with Matthew. Escape from the servitude and depravity of an old man.

  Matthew and I stepped outside the gates. In my short life, this was the first time I’d been outside the compound. Before us, a long driveway lined with aspens on either side curved and then disappeared behind a cluster of trees. What was beyond that curve? Would it be as Matthew remembered? Or were we headed to a pack of coyotes waiting to be torn apart?

  “The highway’s at the end of the driveway. If I remember correctly, it’s about a mile.” Matthew pointed. “We’ll walk to the highway and hope we see cars. Perhaps we can get a ride?”

  We locked eyes. For the first time, it occurred to me how little we’d planned for this. Neither of us knew what we were doing or how to do it even if we did. I’d relied on Matthew, but now I could see he had no more idea than I of what came next.

  The metal gates closed behind us with a bang that made me jump. I drew in a deep breath and turned back to Matthew to give him my support and encouragement. The words we can do this fell away at the sight of him. His features were pale and twisted as if he were in pain. “Matthew?” His eyes widened for a split second before he crumpled to the ground. I cried out and fell to my knees beside him. My bag around my shoulders hit me in the face. The gravel of the driveway cut into my bare knees under the thin fabric of my skirt. His complexion, always so rosy, had gone a chalky white. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth. And he was still. So very still. Only his eyes seemed capable of still moving. His eyelashes fluttered. He gasped for breath.

  “Matthew?”

  He uttered the words with only a trace of sound, as if his vocal cords no longer worked. “They’ve poisoned me. It was too good to be true.”

  “No, no. That can’t be it. Just get up. We’ll take you to a real doctor. Like you said were out there. We can find help.” Like the morning after a snowfall, a hush befell the world around me. No breeze to ruffle leaves. Not a bug or bee buzzing. Even the birds had quieted. They knew death was near, creeping closer and closer.

  I was losing him. “Matthew, fight. Please. I’ll get help.”

  With what appeared to be his last bit of energy, he whispered to me, “Run, please. Run as fast as you can away from here. Make a life. Don’t go back. For me, promise? Just keep running until you find people. I love you. Don’t ever forget how much. It was all worth it for you to have freedom. Please, promise me you’ll make a life for yourself. One that will make me proud.” A smile played around his mouth. His eyes were no longer blazing with anger or fight. They were placid now, accepting of his fate.

  “I’ll make a life. I promise.”

  The life drained from his eyes until I was left with only the husk of him. I curled over him and cradled his head against my chest. Why hadn’t I done that when he was leaving me? If not for my denial, I could have comforted him. “Oh, Matthew, I’m sorry.” Grief came, consuming me with its darkness, its utter unforgiving permanence. I sobbed, chest shaking. And then I began to howl like an animal caught between the blades of a trap.

  Run, he’d said. Run and run and run. I kissed him one last time, his lips already cold, and then I did as he asked. I ran.

  2

  Breck

  My morning flew by as they usually did while I was at work. A dog with a thorn in his paw, a pregnant cat the owners had thought was a boy gaining weight, Luci Wentworth's lethargic bunny. Stomach growling, I went out to the lobby to see if there were any stragglers. To my relief, the waiting area was empty. My nurse, Scooter, was at the front desk, looking grumpier than usual. Last week, our middle-aged receptionist, Lori, had given her notice, saying she was leaving town with a man she’d met on the ski slopes. Without her, we were running on fumes, as my mother sometimes said. Scooter was doing both jobs and not happily. Not that it mattered. She was one of those people who were never happy, always finding something negative to which to cling as if it were life-giving instead of the opposite.

  When I took over the veterinary practice—a veritable institution here in Emerson Pass run by my family since the 1920s—my mother had made sure I understood Scooter came with the building, clients, and even the tools we used on people’s beloved pets. I was now the fifth generation of Stokes to head up Emerson Pass’s veterinarian clinic. Scooter, however, hadn’t seemed to get the memo that told her I was now the boss. She muttered under her breath at least once a day that Dr. Stokes wouldn’t have done it that way. Meaning my mother, not yours truly, even though we were both Dr. Stokes.

  “Go to lunch,” I said to Scooter. “It’s half-price pizza slices over at the grill today.” I said this in attempt at humor and camaraderie.

  “Pizza is the food of college boys who live in disgusting dorm rooms, not a woman in her fifties.” Scooter pulled at the hem of her pink scrubs, loose over her scrawny, angular frame. Her silver hair was cut in the style of a Dutch pageboy, including the straight-across-her-forehead two-inch bangs. She walked five miles every morning to stay in shape, rain, snow, or shine. I, too, was careful about how I fueled my body. In fact, it was the only commonality between us. One I’d often tried to exploit it as a way to bond. No such luck. Unlike me, her discipline seemed to be carried out as a way to prove her superiority over her fellow humans, rather than a desire to live a robust existence.

  “I brought my lunch. Lentil soup I made myself,” Scooter said. “It’s a nice day, so I think I’ll wander over to the square to see what’s going on in town.” The words might have seemed innocuous except for her tone, which implied she was a spy about to head out to observe the enemy.

  “That sounds like a great idea,” I said, trying to be agreeable instead of apologetic for my presence here in the world Scooter seemed to think belonged to her.

  “Did you meet any good candidates for the receptionist position?” I asked as I moved out of her way so she could get her purse from under the counter.

  “No. They were all idiots. Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with these young people. No one wants to put in a hard day’s work.”

  Nice, I thought. She invariably included me in the group of young people who would rather play than work. Yes, I did a lot of skiing and hanging out with my best friends. And then there was the nap thing. She’d turned a frightening shade of purple when I had a cot installed in my office. Scooter did not approve. The first time she’d seen my napping cot, she’d rolled her eyes and asked, “Do you need milk and cookies too?” A nap might improve her disposition, but I wasn’t about to suggest it.

  “Are you sure you’re not being too picky?” I knew better than to poke the Scooter Bear, but I couldn’t help myself.

  She gave me one of her looks that told me in no uncertain terms that no, she was not too picky and in fact I was not picky enough. “It took me five years to train Mermaid. Then she just up and leaves.”

  “She’s getting married. It’s romantic and wonderful that she found someone,” I said. “And she hated it when you called her that.” Mermaid’s real name was Lori. Scooter had thought she looked like Daryl Hannah in the eighties movie Splash and had continued to call her that despite Lori’s protests.

  “She said she hated it, but she actually loved it.” Scooter let out a long sigh. “I miss the ding-dong, if you want to know the truth.”

  “I do too. She brightened up the place.” Lori had one of those smiles and personalities that made a person feel as if nothing could stay bad for long.

  Scooter scowled. “What? Am I not bright enough for you?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?” I smiled, hoping to tease her into a better mood.

  “It’s a luxury I don’t have.” Scooter lifted her chin. “I’m the only grown-up left here. Someone has to keep us from flying off the rails.”

  The sound of tittering came from the break room. Our two vet techs were eating together and had presumably overheard Scooter.

  “I’ll see you later, then.” You old battle-ax. “After lunch, I have to go out the Martins’ farm. They have a horse that needs a checkup.”

  She rolled her eyes. “The Martins. More money than brains.”

  That may have been true, but I didn’t comment. My mother had taught me long ago that this was a small town. Making any sort of judgments on our clients or their pets was ill-advised. We were to provide care, not opinions.

  “Set your alarm if you’re going to nap,” Scooter said.

  I grinned. “No need. My internal clock wakes me up at five minutes to one.”

  “Of course it does.” Scooter headed out, muttering something else under her breath.

  Before I could put the Closed for Lunch sign on the door, Tiffany Birt rushed into the lobby. My breath hitched at the sight of her. Those ice-blue eyes did not leave me cold but rather sent waves of longing through me. I’d never seen eyes that color except on a Siberian husky. She had her long brown hair pulled into a bun and wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a flannel shirt. Strange. Most of the time she dressed professionally for her work as a wedding planner. She must not have any clients today. Since the forest fire last summer, tourism was down, as were destination weddings.

  For almost a year now, I’d been trying to muster the courage to ask her out. I’d had plenty of chances. As pretty and sweet as she was, she was also a bit of a worrier about her white fluff ball of a dog, Muffy. There had been more than a few times Tiffany had brought her in when nothing at all seemed to be wrong with the puff ball of a dog.

  Something about her stopped me from asking the simple question, Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime? Was it the wariness in her eyes? Or the way she often covered her chest with her arms in a symbol of self-protection? Or the skittishness to her that reminded me of a frightened kitten? One who had been harmed by a man. Who had hurt her? I’d spent a lot of time pondering this question but had not found any answers. As a healer of animals, I knew on an instinctual level that she’d suffered trauma of some kind. Our pasts followed us into the present. Just when we thought we’d moved away from all that had hurt us, they came roaring back, crushing hope with a cruel fist.

  “Are you just closing for lunch?" Tiffany asked, slightly breathless. She had Muffy in her arms, who tilted her head at the sight of me and rewarded me with a few tail wags.

  "I was about to, yes.” But my nap could wait. “Is something wrong with Muffy?"

  "I don't know. She won't eat."

  "Have you changed her food? Sometimes they can be finicky." Not sometimes for my friend Muffy. She was possibly the most spoiled dog in town, and that was saying a lot.

  Tiffany glanced down at her shoes. Adorable feet in cute black sandals. Cuffs on her pants reminded me of beachcombing. A walk on the beach with Tiffany? Now there was an idea. Only the beach was far away from Colorado. If I were to ever ask her for a date, it wouldn’t be to the beach. That could wait for the honeymoon. Very funny, I told myself. You can’t even ask her out to dinner. "Well, yes. I had to start buying the cheap kind. Business hasn't exactly been booming."

  I reached out to take Muffy from her. The little dog licked my hand and then nestled against my chest. “She’s such a doll.”

  Tiffany gave me the proud mom smile. “Isn’t she, though? She’s all I have. If anything were to happen to her…” She drifted off without saying what she thought would happen to her if she lost her furry baby. However, I knew. I’d seen this with many of my clients and their pets. There was no love like the one we felt for our pets. They filled even the loneliest of lives with unconditional love. Income or education didn’t matter. Not even the size of one’s dwelling. As long as they had a spot beside you, they were happy. Which meant their owners were too.

  “I know she’s spoiled," Tiffany said. “Responsible party right here.” She pointed at herself with her thumb. Her nails were short, possibly bitten. No polish. Ragged cuticles. She wore a little makeup, but not much. A pink gloss on her lips had smeared onto the skin next to her mouth. Such a nice mouth, full and kissable.

  I stroked Muffy's head and ears to distract myself from thoughts of Tiffany's kisses.

  "What kind of food do you normally give her?" I asked.

  “The Millford brand. Chicken cutlets is her favorite."

  "I have some cans in the back. Let me get them for you. To tide you over." I borrowed a phrase I often heard my mother use.

  She protested using her hands like a traffic cop. “I can't take your food. Don't you need it for your dogs?"

  "Nah, these are some samples the sales rep dropped off here. We sometimes send new owners off with a few.”

  She breathed what had to be a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I've been so worried."

  I handed Muffy back to her. "Hang on. I'll grab them."