Carrie Weaver - Secrets In Texas

“Yes, I believe I saw him arrive a few moments ago.” Eleanor gazed out the kitchen window.

Angel hadn’t noticed his arrival and she’d been right by the window, too. But then again, she was beginning to believe Eleanor had almost otherworldly powers of observation. The woman didn’t seem to miss a thing.

“I’ll show you to his study.” Eleanor dried her hands on a towel, then patted her hair into place.

Angel thought it was kind of cute that the woman still cared what she looked like when her husband saw her. She also thought it was kind of sad, because Eleanor could never have the security of being Jonathon’s one and only love.

They followed her down a hallway. She stopped at a closed door and tapped. “Jonathon, Matthew’s here to see you.”

She didn’t include Angel in her announcement. Smart woman. She was going to let Matthew explain why he’d brought the little woman to a guys-only meeting.

MATTHEW TOOK A DEEP breath, steeling himself to see his uncle in the light of day. His hand at Angel’s elbow, he urged her forward.

Jonathon sat behind a large mahogany desk, a desk Matthew remembered from his childhood. It had been his father’s.

He suppressed a flash of anger as he followed Angel to the lone chair opposite the desk. When she glanced inquiringly at him, he nodded toward the chair. He stood behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Forcing a smile, he said, “Good morning, Uncle.”

“Matthew.” His uncle inclined his head, appearing every inch the regal leader. “I didn’t anticipate you would bring your wife. I imagine Angel would be more comfortable chatting with Eleanor and Ruth this morning. You and I will be meeting with the elders later.”

Matthew chose to ignore the underlying command in Jonathon’s observation. He intended to keep Angel as close as possible until he was sure she was safe. “Angel will stay with me this morning.”

“Do you really think that wise?”

“I don’t see a problem.”

“You’ve indicated you wanted your wife to be tutored in the ways of our life. God made men and women with different strengths and weaknesses. Women are better suited to tending the home, not interfering in men’s business.”

Angel’s shoulders tensed beneath Matthew’s palm. He didn’t blame her for being angry. Unfortunately Jonathon’s thinly veiled condescension was the least of his crimes. And Matthew intended to prove it.

“Of course I want Angel to learn the proper ways. But we are newlyweds, Uncle, and I want her at my side today.”

“I was a young man once myself and remember the passion of youth. However, I’ve found self-control to be a valuable trait. You will be all the more glad to see your bride this evening. As the old saying goes, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’” Jonathon smiled, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye.

Angel shifted. Matthew knew she had to resent being discussed as if she weren’t in the room. He squeezed her shoulder. However appalling he might find his uncle’s values—or lack of them—he had a job to do. And to be effective, he had to appear to agree.

“I understand, Uncle.” He stepped forward, catching Angel’s eye. “It is my heart’s desire to spend every waking moment with you. But my uncle is right. You should join the women while the elders meet.”

Her eyes flashed a warning. Then she lowered her gaze, her voice barely audible when she said, “Yes, Matthew.”

He exhaled in relief. He’d worried she might tell him what he could do with all this crap. He reminded himself she was a professional and very good at her work.

Undercover gang assignments. A far cry from posing as a pliable Zion’s Gate wife.

He turned toward Jonathon. “It’s my fondest desire for Angel to meet my whole family. That is not possible if she secludes herself at Aunt Eleanor’s house.”

“We will hold a celebration of your homecoming after services on Sunday. There will be ample opportunity for Angel to meet everyone.”

“Good. I look forward to introducing her to my sister Rebecca. She will also be there Sunday, will she not? Or could we perhaps visit with her this evening?”

Jonathon frowned, leaning back in his chair and gazing out the small window set high in the wall.

Matthew’s heart pounded. He’d pushed too hard, too soon, possibly tipping his hand. Please, God, please let her still be alive.

“Rebecca hasn’t been feeling well, but possibly she can be persuaded to attend on Sunday.”

Matthew released a breath. She was alive and he would see her Sunday. That was all that mattered.

“AMEN,” JONATHON intoned. The closing prayer officially completed the meeting of the elders nearly four hours later. Their only break had been for lunch, cold chicken served by two of Jonathon’s wives. Matthew didn’t know the women, who appeared to be in their early twenties.

Matthew fought the urge to make a run for the door and the fresh, cool air outside. He’d almost forgotten the claustrophobic feeling of never, ever being alone.

He managed a leisurely pace as he headed for the door.

Raphael fell in beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, Matthew.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Brother.” Half brother, to be precise. Raphael’s mother had been Matthew’s father’s third wife.

“I’ll walk you back to Eleanor’s house.”

“Not necessary. I can find my way.”

“I’m sure you can. But Uncle Jonathon has indicated you are not to be wandering around unescorted.”

“He doesn’t trust me?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone. Except maybe Eleanor.”

Matthew sighed, longing for his Phoenix condo. Solitude was a luxury with the brethren, a luxury he’d grown to appreciate in his time away.

“Did you marry Theresa? You two were sweethearts as long as I can remember.”

Raphael glanced away. “No. Uncle Jonathon received a vision. Theresa is Brother Benjamin’s eighth wife.”

“Benjamin must be nearly seventy.” He couldn’t quite keep the outrage from his voice.

“Yes. But it was ordained.”

Matthew wanted to grab his brother by the shirt and shake him. God didn’t ordain that kind of marriage, man did. One very selfish, evil man.

“It’s been over twenty years since Theresa became Benjamin’s bride. I have three faithful wives of my own. It was for the best.” Raphael’s voice held a note of resignation.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Matthew muttered, the lie sticking in his throat. He didn’t suppose anything of the sort. Truth be told, he ached for his brother’s loss.

And wondered, not for the first time, if he himself was any better off for having left the brethren. Yes, he had freedom, wealth and the ability to execute decisions based on what he valued and held true, not simply what Jonathon decreed as truth. But he didn’t have a wife or family to show for it. At least not a real wife, he reflected wryly.

Maybe there was a trade-off involved. He’d won his freedom but paid a price.

The thought saddened him. Sure, he’d had relationships, but he seemed to seek out women who weren’t interested in the long term. It worked well on many levels. At least most of the time.

“Your wife is beautiful, according to Uncle Jonathon,” Raphael commented.

Matthew was disoriented for a second. “Angel. Yes, she’s very beautiful. She has a fine spirit, too.”

“I look forward to meeting her Sunday.”

“She’s at Eleanor’s. Why don’t you come in for a few minutes. We’re almost there.”

“I’ll meet her Sunday. It’s what Uncle Jonathon wants.”

Matthew shrugged. “Suit yourself. See you later.”

“Yes.”