with someone who wouldn’t compete with her. She wanted a man who wouldn’t require huge amounts of work and energy when she was at the end of a long shift. Was that too selfish?
“In eight hundred feet, turn left.” Her GPS jolted her back to reality and she looked for the name of the road Rachel had given her.
Turning onto the blacktopped street, she was dismayed when it turned into a gravel road. At least it hadn’t snowed, so her mother’s practical SUV traversed it okay. She pulled up at the end of the “street,” where a modern-looking ranch house with a steep roof and round attic windows perched on a slight ridge.
It looked menacing in the fading December light. No porch or indoor lights appeared to be on, but it was definitely the address Rachel had given her. Single electric candles were visible in each front window, a typical decoration in many homes in central Pennsylvania. The window candles were a sign of welcome, a holdover from a century ago when Pennsylvania Dutch culture had thrived in the area. But, like the rest of the lights surrounding the property, they weren’t lit, either.
“So much for Pennsylvania Dutch hospitality,” she muttered to herself as she got out and slammed the car’s door. She almost jumped when she saw the lace curtain of the far right window move to the side a few inches. She couldn’t make out a person but she knew she was being watched.
Nika walked up the middle path to the front door and before she rang the bell the door popped open.
“You found it. Welcome to purgatory.” Rachel stood in stockinged feet as she deadpanned her quiet greeting.
“Yeah, the drive up here was a little crazy, especially in my mom’s car.” Staying as close to the truth as possible in her story kept being undercover much simpler.
Rachel craned her neck to see the vehicle. “You don’t have your own?”
Nika shook her head. “With the move from Iowa and all, it was too expensive to get a car, especially since we don’t know for sure where I’m going to college. If I go to Temple or Drexel, I won’t need a car, you know? In Philadelphia?” She hated speaking in questions but it was how the kids did it.
“Rachel, who’s at the door?” A woman’s voice called out from the darkness behind Rachel.
“Just a friend, Mom.” Rachel turned back to Nika. “Come on in, and remember, my mother is bat-shit cray-cray.”
Nika entered a polished wood-floored hallway and immediately sensed the lack of warmth. It felt colder than outside. “Is your heater on?”
Rachel shook her head. “We haven’t used it since Mom decided we should only use our woodstove. She hasn’t ordered the cord of wood we need for the winter yet. She says I should be out collecting twigs to make sure we can always get a fire going in the woodstove. It’s all her nutso-survivalist crap.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she motioned for Nika to follow her into the kitchen.
“Hello.” A tall, skinny woman sat at a round table in a nook in the far corner, her eyes huge and bug-like behind rimless glasses.
“Hi. I’m Nika.” She gave Rachel’s mother the typical teen mini wave.
“I’m Belinda Boyle. I’m sure Rachel’s complained to you about me.” Dry skin that flaked on her nose and around her lips stretched across what Nika thought had once been a pretty face. Beautiful, even. The flatness in her eyes and stilted manner in which she spoke was unnerving. No question, this was a woman who’d lost touch with herself and maybe even reality. Nika had seen it with compulsive shoplifters, gamblers, drug addicts and alcoholics. Rachel might be right—her mother might very well be addicted to the sick liturgy of Leonard Wise and his cult.
“Drop it, Mother.”
“Don’t speak to me with such disrespect, Rachel.”
Nika knew a teen would be uncomfortable in such a situation so she tried to look pained when in reality she was eager to find out what was causing the friction between the two. And it wouldn’t be so awful if Belinda Boyle came a little unhinged and revealed some of the cult tactics.
“We’re baking cookies, Mom. Would you like to join us? We’re going to talk about boys.”
“Very funny.” Still, Rachel got her way as Mrs. Boyle stood and gathered the books and notebook in front of her. “I’m going up to my room to continue my studies. Dinner will be at six.” With that, the spindly woman was gone, her back stiff as she exited the room.
Nika waited until she heard footsteps above them. “Wow, is she always that formal?”
Rachel huffed. “‘Formal’ isn’t the word I’d use. ‘Zombified’ is more like it.”
“Is it since your dad and she divorced?”
“I didn’t say they divorced, although they’re headed there. Dad left for Pittsburgh last summer and hasn’t been back. He invites me to dinner when he’s in town on business, wants to spend time together.”
“But?”
Rachel waved her hands. “Whatever’s he’s doing with work in Pittsburgh is more important than checking in on me. Except when it’s convenient for him.” Rachel shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to being on my own since my brothers and sisters are so much older and have families of their own.”
“But he left you here knowing that your mother was losing it?”
Nika watched as pride warred with bare need in Rachel’s expression.
In that moment Nika knew she’d do whatever she could to make Rachel’s life easier.
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