Deconstructing Delilah, page 25
A few moments later, the officer, I think he says his name is Brown, comes back.
“Do you know the man?” he asks Pope.
“No, sir.”
“What about you, ma’am?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t go look.”
“Can you do that with me now?” Officer Brown asks.
“Let me go with,” Pope says.
“No, Pope. You need to go to the hospital.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” he says through gritted teeth. “He was looking for you.”
“Did he tell you that?” the female officer asks.
“Yes,” Pope says on a groan.
“Can this wait until he’s at the fucking hospital, please?” I yell. Two more paramedics come in with a gurney, and Pope scowls at it. “Please, Pope. You go, I’ll be right behind you with Lorelai and Noah. Officer Brown won’t leave my side, okay?”
“Goddamnit,” he yells, and I kiss his forehead before I slowly start to move down the hallway.
“Is there a reason someone would be trying to find you, Ms. Simms?” Officer Brown asks.
“Yes,” I hedge, unsure how much to say. “My father. My family, they’re part of a polygamist cult that the FBI is investigating.” I’m at my bedroom door now but I pause to steady myself for what’s inside. I’ve never seen a dead body.
“You ready?” he asks. I nod and step around the corner.
It’s Paul. It’s Paul, and I don’t know if I want to cry, vomit, or rage for how tragic this all is.
“It’s my brother.” My voice sounds distant even in my own mind. “That’s my older brother, Paul Simms.”
“Why would he want to break into your apartment?”
“Because he’s next in line,” I answer the officer. The next words, I direct to my brother. “You stupid idiot.”
“Next in line for what?”
“To be the Cleric. The man in charge, the one with power over the entire flock.”
“And what does that have to do with you?”
“I’m one of the ones trying to stop them all,” I say.
“Delilah,” I hear Lorelai before I see her pushing her way past another officer who must have just arrived. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
She scans me up and down a dozen times before she accepts that I’m not hurt. Then I’m wrapped tightly in her arms as I quietly breakdown from the stress of the last however long it’s been.
“I want Pope,” I tell her as she leads me back into the living room and huddles with me on the couch.
“We’ll go as soon as Noah talks to the officers. Martha called me today; it’s why I was trying to call you. Your father ran.”
“He ran?”
“Yes. Martha said he got wind of the upcoming charges and tried to flee.”
“Does she know where?”
“Yes. Agent Daughtry knows where he is. He took two of his newest brides with him.”
“Is this my fault?” I ask her.
“Of course not Delilah,” she says sternly, tipping my chin to look at her. “This is on him. Not you, or me, or even Pope. Him.”
“My brother is dead on my bedroom floor, Lore.” We weren’t close. The sons and daughters never spent much time together. Boys were schooled separately, they had different goals. Provide, make money to bring back to the congregation, and learn how to keep your future wives in line. Besides Paul was one of the older siblings, some ten or twelve years older… I’m not even sure.
It’s still upsetting that he came here, presumably at the direction of my father, and died for his efforts.
“I saw. I remember Paul. Martha told me once that he was at the top of list of names to marry Olivia when she was deemed ready.”
“Then I’m glad he’s dead.” I sigh, collapsing in her arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Pope called before I was able to get to the hospital. We were only two blocks away, and he was still being stitched up, but I guess he threw such a fit they acquiesced and let him make the call. He kept me on the line until I was in the waiting room and told me I wasn’t allowed to leave Noah’s side.
I can’t exactly blame him for being Mr. Grumpy Pants right now, though, he did take a bullet for me. A fact I can’t quit freaking out about. I’m a stuttering mess trying to get any words out around the tears and panic that hasn’t subsided in the least.
Between not having seen Pope yet and knowing that my father is out there with two young women as hostages or collateral, or whatever his plan with them is, I’m unable to control my emotions at all.
“Where are the kids?” I ask Lorelai.
“With the McKennas,” Noah answers. “We thought it best they be with someone that isn’t directly connected with you or Lorelai.”
“Do you think he sent someone to your house, too?”
“It’s possible, but the security system will let us know if that’s the case,” he answers.
“Is my father close by?”
“No, Delilah. He’s in Utah, on the opposite side of the state from the ranch. Martha said his plan was eventually to get to the Idaho compound and then cross the border into Canada.”
“I can’t believe she called you,” I say. “It’s been so long.”
“Yeah, but she’s been working with an undercover agent. Daughtry wasn’t allowed to tell us before, but they’re moving in on the ranch now.”
“Wow, Lore. That’s big news.”
When Martha got Olivia out, she got out too. But before too long, she went back. She didn’t tell Lorelai she was going or why, but I’ve long suspected the reason was because she wanted to help others escape. Lorelai has been hesitant to believe that because she’s felt abandoned by her mom her whole life. I can relate, even if I don’t fully agree.
“Blackwell,” a doctor calls, walking into the waiting area.
“Me! That’s me,” I say, jumping to my feet and rushing over to the man.
“Mr. Blackwell was very lucky tonight. The bullet entered and exited cleanly. No surgery needed, but plenty of stitches. He’s banged up but refusing to stay overnight. It would be best for him to limit activities for the next several days, and we’ll send you home with instructions on how to clean and dress the wound.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding my understanding. “I’ll make sure he takes it easy.”
“Good. It will be a little while before we can release him. I’ll take you back to his room.”
“We’ll wait here for you,” Lorelai says.
“Thanks, Lore.”
Pope looks like a giant laying in the hospital bed, a frown on his face that only deepens when he sees me even though I see relief in his eyes.
“Layla,” he says my name like its life itself, something I understand because he’s mine too. “You look like a horror movie.”
I haven’t changed and his blood has dried to a black stain on my clothes. Lorelai offered to find me something else to wear, but I didn’t want her to leave me, nor did I want her to go back to that room with Paul. The sobbing breakdown that takes over me surprises us both. My hands cover my face as I let all the tension of tonight, this week, my whole life release through my tears.
I could have lost him tonight.
Pope grunts loud enough to break through my current state. Removing my hands, I see him reaching out for me, but I’m a step too far away.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I cry, rushing to his side. Placing my hands on his face, I hold it steady as I pepper tear-drenched kisses all over him. “I’ve never been so scared.”
“I’m okay, Delilah.” He tries to wrap his arm around me and groans again.
“You’re not! You got shot.”
“Barely. Look where it hit me so you can calm down.” He throws back the sheet for me to see that the bandages are at the edge of his lower abdomen. It would be the fatty part if he had any fat. With tentative fingers, I trace the outline of both bandages, front and back. “See? It hit nothing but meat. Hurts like nothing I’ve ever felt, but I’m fine.”
“Still, Pope. My brother shot you because of me.”
“Is that who that was?”
“One of them, the oldest, Paul.”
“I’d say he shot me because of me. I’m the one responsible for their dire financial state and I’m the asshole that didn’t put adequate protection on you.” He wipes the steady stream of water on my cheek. “And the one that startled him while he rummaged through your room. That’s when he got the shot off. I’m not even sure he meant to do it. Lucky for me, he was easy enough to overtake.”
“You’re being far too calm about this, Pope,” I argue.
“I’m not fucking calm at all, Delilah,” he says, allowing his anger to bleed through. “What if I hadn’t gone up with you? What if Cookie had been home? Every worst-case scenario keeps running through my head. It’s going to be a long fucking time before you’re allowed to leave my goddamned sight.”
“Okay.” I rest my forehead to his.
“Now who’s being too calm?” he tries to tease. “Take that bloody shirt off and climb in here with me. I need to hold you.”
I do as told, moving to the other side of the bed so I don’t bump into his wound. I climb on the bed gingerly and let him pull me where he’s most comfortable having me.
“Am I bad person for being glad he’s dead?” I eventually ask.
“No more than I am for being happy I killed him. My only regret about that is that I wish it had been your father instead.”
“Agent Daughtry is tracking down my father now. Paul was next in line. Between an arrest, a death, and a raid on the compound, they will be in disarray. It might be the best opportunity for Martha to get more people out. The ones who are willing, anyhow.”
“Then no, neither of us is a bad person for being glad he’s dead. Hopefully, it saves a lot more lives than just yours.”
I send up a little prayer, just in case, a thankful one that Pope is alive, that Pope is in my life, and that it’s me he loves. It’s selfish, more selfish than I like to be. So, I send up a bigger prayer in hopes to save as many innocent souls trapped under my father’s force as possible. As we wait for more news, and for Pope to be released, I keep my head resting on his heart, listening to the strong, steady beat, and for the first time I can fully accept that I’m not alone in this world.
News about my father doesn’t come for several days. However, Giving Hope updates us on every newcomer that makes it to their doors. And it isn’t only women and children. Surprisingly, a few of the younger men have left the congregation as well.
When the call finally came about the Cleric, it was to say he too had been shot in a standoff with federal agents. His two young brides were, thankfully, rescued unharmed.
Martha regularly calls Lorelai with updates on the progress. Many of the members refuse to leave, but Martha won’t until she knows she’s given her best effort to convince everyone. My mother, Beth, is one who refuses, though Martha has gotten her to agree to release those of my siblings that are eager to leave.
Pope has said we can move them all here if that’s what I want. He doesn’t quite understand that we don’t have the same sort of sibling bonds that most families form. It’s another thing the religion designs, they never let us girls develop meaningful relationships with anyone but our fathers and husbands. Not until we were wives, anyway. Then you were encouraged to befriend your fellow sister wives.
I will do whatever is necessary to care for my siblings, but I’m not certain I’m the right choice to provide that care directly. As much as I hate to admit that I want to be practical and do what’s best for them.
Moving them to New Orleans to be looked after by a young woman that works at a sex community seems like a less than ideal choice. It’s early days yet, we’ll figure it all out in time and with the help of people much more qualified to help in making these decisions.
Reality hasn’t sunk in yet. Every day is like a dream, something so close to my fingertips but just out of reach. That too is going to take time. But like Noah still reminds me, it’s a journey and not a race.
Cookie has moved back to Jasmine’s for the time being. At least until we come up with a solid plan. Noah moved all our things out and hired a cleaning crew, but neither of us want to go back there.
As for Pope, he is a horrible patient. Bossy, moody, and rarely follows directions. The first twenty-four hours were easier, as we were both too exhausted to do much of anything but lie in his bed. Even me running to the kitchen to get us food caused him to stress out and try to follow along. He’s eased up since finding out my father is dead, but only just.
His mobility is better now that his wounds are beginning to heal. Moving to sitting is still a struggle, but once up, he’s mostly pain free.
“Good morning,” he says, voice still raspy with sleep as he sidles up behind me while I get the pot of coffee going.
“Morning.” I turn in his arms, stretching mine up around his neck. “How do you feel?”
“Perfect,” he says with a smile. I came down in only a t-shirt and panties, a fact he likes very much if the raging hard-on poking my belly has anything to say about it. Even if it didn’t, the fingers that slide under the lace down through the slit of my ass do.
“Do you think you’re up for whatever it is you’re trying to start, Mr. Blackwell?”
“You can feel the answer, beautiful.”
“Promise to slow down if it starts to get uncomfortable,” I say, slowly lowering into a squat and taking his gym shorts with me.
“Mmm.”
“Say the words, Mr. Blackwell.”
“I promise, you fucking pixie.”
I laugh at him before I suck his cock. This isn’t his first erection in the days since the shooting, every other time I’ve told him no. His healing is more important than his desire to come. If I keep him upright, I think we’ll be okay. Honestly though, I want this as much as he does. I’ve missed it, too.
“Fuck, your mouth is amazing.”
Keeping a slow, steady speed, I suck as I pull back and curve my tongue to cup him as I push back forward, holding his hips as steady as I can keep him so that he doesn’t strain to thrust his hips. He tries to push anyway, but I press my fingers into him harder each time.
“Let me move, Layla,” he pleads.
I draw off him and stand, pulling my tee over my head and tossing it aside. Then I pull off my panties and add them to the floor as well, before kneeling in front of him again.
“You get to come, Pope. You just have to take it easy.” I nuzzle my nose along his wet cock and he fists his hand around it. “If you’re good, as soon as you’re fully healed, you can take my little, tight ass.”
“Fuck,” he moans, his hand working faster.
“Or we can use one of the bigger plugs, so you’ll feel it more when you fuck my cunt,” I purr, pushing my breasts up and fingering my nipples. I don’t talk dirty too much, but I’ve noticed how he reacts when I do. It won’t take him long to lose himself. “Even while I’m choking on that big dick you like to suction to the mirror. You can fill me up, Mr. Blackwell, and spill all over me.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His hand grips my hair, tilting my head up as his other hand hastens.
“I can’t fucking wait.” I stick my tongue out, resting under the head of his cock just before he finds release. As he usually does, he calls my name.
“Layla! Fuck, fuck.” He pants heavily while I swallow him down, all the while keeping an eye on his wound. “I’m okay, beautiful. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, standing back up, wrapping my arms around his hips.
“I’m sure. In fact, I’m better than okay. I’m whole, because you’re here in my life.”
Whole.
I like that. I’m not the whore who betrayed him. Or the dark that blotted out his light. We’re two equal halves making one world. Our own.
EPILOGUE
“It’s so hot.”
“Yes, but it’s a dry heat,” Pope says with an eyeroll.
“I don’t know how that makes a difference.” Frowning at the sun as if it’s caused me personal offense, I close the door of the rental car and scan the horizon while I adjust to the lack of humidity.
Sage Springs, Fabienne’s little dessert oasis, is abuzz with activity. I’m a bundle of apprehensive excitement.
It’s our first trip to Nevada since Fabienne bought this place and my father’s death. We waited only long enough for Pope to comfortably make the flight and for the police in New Orleans to close the case they had opened on the death of my brother. Pope was called in several times for questioning. Officer Brown had a hard time believing Paul’s only motive was that I had given information to the FBI. Eventually, Agent Daughtry made some phone calls and the questioning stopped.
With that came a sigh of relief and immediate plans to get out here and see what my boss lady had accomplished.
The community of Sage Springs is a short drive into the hills from Elko, Nevada. Far enough away to be quiet, close enough to not feel completely cut off from society. It’s a great location for my family members to transition into society at a slower pace.
Contractors quickly worked to make the village not only livable, but functional. A large barn is being built on the far side of the property that can house a few cows and goats for milk. The chicken coop was completed last week and already has inhabitants, and a greenhouse is next on the list. Fabienne’s idea is that not only will it provide food for the residents here, but the excess can be sold at the farm stand she’s having built at the front of the property. Another step at easing into the outside world.
Sage Springs isn’t just a safe place, it’s a therapy center, a half-way house of sorts, complete with a small schoolhouse.
“You ready?” Pope asks, coming around the car to wrap an arm around my shoulder.
“I am.”
“Delilah!” As I turn to the sound of the voice, a crown of strawberry blonde hair perched over spindly legs comes running toward me.
