Micah's startled cry had broken the brief moment in the cornfield. Rebekah pushed past the golden stalks, trying desperately to see what was wrong with her little brother.
"Micah!" she called worriedly, and the corn finally ended. There sat her little brother on the ground, the elbow of his beloved black shirt ripped to expose a good sized scrape. "What happened?" she murmured, dropping to a knee beside the little boy. Jedediah spoke up from somewhere near the hedges.
"We were playing tag," he said quietly. Mordechai nodded to affirm the statement. Micah was crying softly, rubbing at his eyes with a fist.
"It hurts," he sniffled. Rebekah ran her hand soothingly over his hair and peered at his elbow.
"It's not too bad, sweetheart. Come on." She took his free hand gently, pulling him to his feet.
"Control yourself, young Micah," said a dry voice from behind. Rebekah looked over her shoulder to see Isaac, looking cold and serious with his arms crossed. "The Lord looks down upon such weakness." Micah's dark eyes grew wide; he tried to stop crying, but couldn't hold back the tears.
"Brother I-I-Isaac," he stammered. What was left of Rebekah's tolerance of Isaac withered immediately. Just two seconds ago, he was out there crying in the cornfield, and now he was criticizing her nine year old brother? And to think, she thought bitterly, I felt sorry for him. Arms protectively around Micah, she turned to glare at Isaac.
"Brother Isaac," she said in a soft, deadly tone, "how soon we forget our own weaknesses." Isaac's pale face tightened; something in his dark eyes flashed dangerously.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Rebekah." Jedediah and Mordechai watched in wide-eyed silence. Micah was still crying.
"I'm sure you don't." Rebekah pressed a light kiss to the top of Micah's head and pushed him towards the door. "Come on, honey. We'll get you cleaned right up." Tossing a contemptuous glance over her shoulder at Isaac, she added, "Jedediah, Mordechai, you come inside too." They obeyed quickly. Rebekah glared a little longer at the pale, unmoving figure right outside the corn. Then she slammed the door.
Isaac's hands clenched tightly. You were so close, his mind hissed hatefully. So very close at making her see!
"It was the boy," he murmured, turning away from the house. "His fault, not mine." Isaac began walking slowly down the road into the center of Gatlin. But he did help in one way, he admitted resentfully. At least the boy stopped me from making a total fool of himself. He rarely cried, but after his disastrous talk with Malachai, it couldn't be avoided. And some idea that had been, wandering into the cornfield behind Rebekah's house. Isaac didn't think well when upset. At any rate, it had been terribly weak of him to shed even one tear. He was their leader, and when the leader shows such a weakness, all respect is lost. He would not lose their respect. Isaac paused by the schoolhouse. But he would continue to work on Rebekah. She would see things his way. After a moment of contemplation, he smiled to himself and headed into Gatlin's vandalized school. This would be a good place to think. And he did have a lot to think about. Because he would do anything to make Rebekah see -- and Isaac thought he had discovered a crack in her icy surface.
"Here. Almost done." Rebekah dabbed at the scrape with a washrag. Micah winced and glanced at the floor, trying to hide the weakness Isaac had accused him of.
"Is he gonna be okay?" asked Jedediah meekly. Rebekah laughed quietly and turned to dig in the bathroom cabinet.
"It's hardly fatal," she chuckled, discovering a long-lost unused band-aid. "He'll be fine, won't you, Nathan?" Micah sniffled into his sleeve and scowled at the floor.
"That's not my name." Rebekah paused.
"It was once." She frowned a little, then peeled the plastic off of the band-aid and positioned it on the little boy's elbow. "Jedediah, Mordechai," she said over her shoulder, "do you remember what you used to be called? Before Isaac renamed you?" There was an awkward silence; Micah's dark eyes stared up at her expressionlessly.
"No," Mordechai said slowly, but Jedediah hesitated.
"Yes." He said it almost as if he were afraid of the reaction. It was a reasonable fear, too -- Mordechai scowled and punched Jedediah on the arm.
"Hey!" Rebekah whirled and snatched Mordechai's wrist. His eyes immediately widened. He was only 11, after all, and this was the girl who had just made Isaac look nervous. She saw the fear in his eyes, however, and loosened her grip. "No hitting," she said quietly, releasing his arm. Rebekah turned back to Micah and pressed a light kiss against the band-aid. "All better."
"Isaac said," Mordechai muttered sullenly from behind. "He said that our new names were like rebirth, and that we must never go back to the old life of sin." She turned again to look at the two boys. Jedediah was frowning too, but it was a thoughtful one.
"I'm not asking you to go back to the 'old life of sin'." Rebekah crossed her arms over her chest. "I just want to know if you remember your names or not." Mordechai's scowl deepened.
"Isaac said," he repeated. She glanced at Jedediah, who caved beneath her serious gaze.
"I used to be Brian," he said softly, and pointed to Mordechai. "He was Brad."
"Shut up!" Mordechai's glare darkened. Rebekah calmly lifted a hand over his head. The boy flinched, but she simply put her palm on his hair.
"Quiet, Bradley."
"STOP IT!"
Rebekah, Mordechai, and Jedediah whirled in surprise. Little Micah had jumped down from the counter, hands clenched and face a whiter shade of pale than normal.
"All three of you," he gasped, breathing irregular, "defy the word of Isaac. You defy his word and his ways." Rebekah raised her eyebrows.
"Nathan--" she began, but he pointed a finger at her.
"Micah," he snarled, and pushed past Rebekah into the living room.
That night, Isaac gathered all of Gatlin's children in the clearing of the cornfield. It went as usual: a blessing over the corn, a few readings from the Bible, even several town announcements. Yeah, it's a regular PTA meeting, Rebekah thought drily. She idly placed her hand on the back of Micah's neck, but he jerked away from her touch and scowled.
"Don't," he whispered, and returned his attention back to Isaac. Rebekah stared at him in disbelief. Something was most definitely not right.
"Go now," Isaac said importantly, interrupting her thoughts, "with the word of our Lord on your lips and in your heart."
"Thanks be to the Savior," recited the crowd mechanically. They began to filter out of the field. To return to their parentless houses, Rebekah thought bitterly. She took her brother by the hand, desperately hoping he wouldn't jerk away again.
"Come on, Micah. Let's go home. It's nearly your bedtime." The little boy didn't object. They started walking, but a hand fell on her shoulder and Rebekah drew away automatically.
"Rebekah--" Isaac began. She whirled, still holding Micah's hand protectively.
"No," she said firmly, and turned back around. "Come on, Micah. We're going home." They only got a few steps away before Isaac spoke again, his voice small and careful.
"Rebekah," he repeated. "Please. I need to speak with you." Rebekah's steps faltered. Damn, her mind whispered. Why does he have to do this?
"What do you want, Isaac?" she asked softly, not turning. He paused, then spoke again, sounding hopeful.
"Please, I just want a few moments to speak with you. It won't take long, and you can send Micah ahead." Micah looked up at her with dark eyes. Rebekah was startled at what she saw in them -- he looked angry. Envious, even.
"I'd... I'd better walk him home." She didn't glance over her shoulder. She was afraid of what she'd see.
"I'm not a baby," Micah muttered, pulling his hand away. Rebekah opened her mouth to object, but Isaac interjected.
"He's right. The house isn't that far away. Let him do it on his own." She turned, ready to counter-attack, and immediately scolded herself for doing so. Isaac was chewing his lower lip unsurely, glancing from her to Micah in a desperate manner. Damn him, her mind hissed again. He's so much easier to hate when he's not on the brink of tears.
"Go on, Micah," Rebekah said defeatedly. "I'll be in later to tuck you in." Micah didn't say anything; he had already begun to leave the cornfield. The rest of the children were gone -- except for Malachai, who stood, smirking, behind them. Great, we're going to have an audience, she noted bitterly.
"Follow him, Malachai," ordered Isaac abruptly. "Make sure he gets home all right." Malachai's red brows knitted.
"But--"
"I said follow him," Isaac commanded, and the tone of his voice made it clear that there was no negotiating the subject. Glaring, Malachai stalked out of the cornfield.
They were alone.
Isaac turned slowly back to her.
"Rebekah," he said for the third time, something of a plea in his voice. Rebekah groaned mentally. Dear God, he's going to lay it on thick, isn't he?
"What, Isaac?" she asked, hoping to sound bored. He chewed his lower lip again, and suddenly she noticed how pale he was. Moreso than normal.
"I'm sorry," Isaac whispered. Rebekah blinked.
"For...?" There's plenty for you to be sorry for, her mind hissed. Pick a random evil deed.
"Everything." That startled her; not only the word, but the tone of his voice. He sounded very... sincere. "For what happened with the adults, for what happened in the kitchen, for what happened with Micah. For..." Isaac waved his hands around helplessly. "...everything." Rebekah stared at him, fairly shocked. This did not make sense -- especially the fact that he sounded like he meant it.
"That's..." She drifted off, then caught hold of her words. "That's not going to bring my parents back, Isaac," she said quietly. " 'Sorry' is not going to bring everyone's parents back." Isaac winced.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I know." STOP THAT! snapped her mind. STOP SOUNDING SORRY!
"I suppose that's better than nothing." Rebekah hated the fact, but she was starting to believe him. Isaac turned away from her suddenly.
"Don't," he murmured. She frowned and moved closer.
"Don't what?" He shook his head rapidly, dark hair moving slightly in the wind.
"Don't feel sorry for me. There's no reason to." Rebekah hesitated, then placed her hand lightly on his shoulder.
"I don't feel sorry for you," she assured him. "But I do believe that you're truly sorry about what you did. Even though you can't change it, you can help it." There was a long pause. Isaac took a breath, then placed his hand gently over the one on his shoulder. Rebekah felt a short brush with intuition
(this is bad)
but didn't pull away.
"Do you know," Isaac said softly, "why you were given the name Rebekah?" It was an odd, irrelevent question, but she shook her head all the same.
"No." He paused, then took another deep breath.
"In the Old Testament, in the book of Genesis, Isaac, son of Abraham, was promised by God a wife. A servant of the family found the sworn girl at a well. Her name was Rebekah." She swallowed a little; Isaac went on. " 'The girl was very beautiful, a virgin, untouched by man.' Genesis, 24:16." He hesitated, then added, "When he realized that this was the one, the wife of Isaac, the servant placed two gold bracelets on her wrists. 'Blessed be the Lord, the God of my master Abraham, who has not let his constant kindness toward my master fail.' " Rebekah frowned, not sure where the conversation was heading -- and not sure if she liked the hunch that she did know where it was going.
"I don't understand," she murmured. Isaac paused, then turned to her again. His face was pale and solemn.
"I do not have gold bracelets," he whispered, "so this is the best I can do." And then, quite abruptly, Isaac pressed his lips to hers. Ah, the little PERVERT! her mind hissed, but Rebekah wasn't sure she agreed.
She didn't pull away.