Sister May, one of Mom’s friends, whispers “blessed Seraph” as we pass. The whisper starts a ripple, blessed Seraph, blessed Seraph, and Mom beams in the perfection of it all. She’s smiling so wide, it shows every tooth, even the ones too far back in her mouth, like her lips are being stretched unnaturally. After so long in the ALC, it’s unsettling to see everyone unmasked. They’re all barefaced, showing their emotions to the world with nothing to hide them. Their smiles don’t look right anymore. Or maybe they’ve always been this wrong.
“This is for you, Esther,” Mom murmurs, resting a hand on the back of my neck. I want to grab it and break it. That or tear off the rest of my skin.
We’re greeted at the sanctuary by Brother Hutch.
I stop in the middle of the room, accidentally jerking Theo’s arm. Sister Nelson’s playing has softened to something light and dainty, but every note still pounds in the back of my head.
No, this isn’t the Brother Hutch I watched die in the street. This is a relative—his younger brother.
“Reverend Mother Woodside,” the younger, living Brother Hutch says in greeting. “Brother Clairborne.” That’s Theo. “Oh, Sister Woodside. I’m so happy to see you’ve made it home. We prayed every day for your safe return.”
When I don’t respond, Mom pinches the back of my neck, but Brother Hutch continues anyway.
“Please, I’m forgetting myself. Let me show you to your seats.”
The sanctuary is far too big, another belly swallowing me up just like at Reformation. Reverend Brother Ward, one of Mom’s closest friends in the clergy, stands at the pulpit, surrounded by curtains the color of fresh blood. Everything else is white—the robes, the hands, the faces. It’s wrong. I want to smear everything with dirt and make it right again.
Brother Hutch takes us to the front row, where Sister Nelson’s playing is so loud, I can’t make out my own thoughts. Maybe it’s better this way. I don’t want to think about anything.
I just have to make it until tomorrow. This will all end, and I can see my friends again. That’s it. That’s the plan, that’s what Nick promised. Just until tomorrow.
All of New Nazareth crams itself into the chapel. Even soldiers on duty lurk near the entrance, guns resting across their backs. Brother Hutch leads Sister Kipling to the seat next to Mom’s, but the prophet refuses to make eye contact no matter how hard Mom tries. Sister Nelson moves on to a gentle rendition of “There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood”—Lose all their guilty stains, and sinners plunged beneath the Flood lose all their guilty stains. Theo hums along.
“Now,” Mom murmurs, leaning her head to me. Her gaze doesn’t move from the pulpit. “I hope you’re prepared for what’s coming tomorrow.”
I nod. Her expression sours. I say, “Yes, Mom.”
“Today is all about how happy we are to have you back,” she says, “but tomorrow is when we make things right. I hope you understand that.”
I remember my first absolution, the day we stepped foot in New Nazareth. My leg starts to shake. I have been out in the world of sin for too long. Theo went out in that world as a servant of God, but me? She knows I would take any opportunity to turn on my faith. It needs to be hammered back into me. I have to be cleansed again.
I say, “Yes, Mom.”
“Good,” Mom says.
The last note of the song slowly fades out. The doors to the sanctuary close. The only light comes in through the tall, high windows and the lanterns set on the stage, the candles flickering on the pulpit. The lack of electricity makes Kincaid Chapel feel like twilight, even at the height of day. Theo sits up straighter and lifts his chin, just like we were all raised to do.
“Good morning, all!” Reverend Brother Ward crows. “What a wonderful, glorious day we’ve had. Oh, what a blessing!”