Page 15 of Ceremony of Lust

My phone ringsas soon as I step onto the porch of Yael’s house. The name on the screen is blocked, and I purse my lips because I know exactly who’s calling me.

“Hello,” I answer tersely.

“Enjoying your first day of courting?” Anders’s voice is smooth but laced with malice. I casually glance around, wondering if he’s having me followed.

“Yael isn’t feeling well,” I inform him as I walk toward the glossy black sedan idling at the curb. I slip in the back and settle my weight against the tan leather seat.

“I’m sorry to hear that. She seemed the picture of health yesterday.” From the other end, Anders sighs. “I have an errand for you.”

“No,” I tell him firmly. “No errands during the seven days of courtship.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, but this cannot wait. We have a wayward sheep in our flock, and she needs to be returned to her family.”

“It can wait until after Yael and I are married.”

“Zev,” Anders says, his voice low. “You will do this, like it or not.”

“Fine. Send me the details.”

“Already sent.” The call ends, and I immediately check my email.

“There’s been a change in plans,” I tell my driver. “We’re going to the city. Here’s the address.”

When someone in Ripley decides they can no longer live in such a strict environment and leaves, I am often sent to persuade them to return. As a community, we believe in keeping the whole family together, no matter the cost. Anything and everything is done to avoid divorce, making it a rare occurrence. When it does happen, it’s often initiated by the husband, and the wife has no choice but to submit to his will because she has very few privileges in our society.

Women usually leave when they have nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to for help, but I bring them back. Sometimes they come back without much persuasion, and sometimes… well, sometimes I don’t like to think about what I’ve had to do to bring them back.

My driver stops in front of a run-down motel on the edge of downtown. I don’t envy the woman staying in a place like this. No doubt she left a home filled with the very best of everything, and now, she is living in filth.

I take my time walking up the stairs to the second floor. Slowly, I walk down the row of rooms, glancing at the numbers until I reach the very end. Behind this door is a woman who wants to give up her life in Ripley. She wants to leave our community, and my job is to convince her she is wrong, even if she might be right.

My hand forms a loose fist as I bang on the door. From the corner of my eye, I catch the fluttering of the curtain. When she doesn’t answer, I pound on it again. “Noemi, open the door,” I call out.

“Go away!” she yells from behind the door. “Leave me alone!”

“You know I can’t do that. You belong with your husband, Noemi.”

The chain scrapes against the door, and it opens just a crack, revealing Noemi’s red, blotchy face. “Please, Zev. Help me.”

“You can help yourself by coming back to Ripley with me.”

Fresh tears pool in her eyes and fall down her cheeks. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “I won’t go back. You don’t understand.”

I sigh and lean against the brick wall. “Tell me, Noemi. Why can’t you go back?”

Sometimes, these women, wayward wives, only need someone to listen to them. Their husbands care little for them, and they feel so alone. If I have to listen to their problems for twenty minutes, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever it takes to get them back to Ripley.

The door closes again, and the chain slides along its track. Noemi opens the door and waves her hand. “Come inside,” she says softly. She shuffles to the bed with its ragged bedspread and sits. “I’m pregnant.”

“Congratulations. How many children will this make?”

“Seven.” She fidgets with her hands and looks away. “I came to the city for an abortion.”

“Noemi. You know that is against our beliefs.” The words come out automatically, and I feel like such a hypocrite saying them.

“I cannot have this child, Zev. If I do, then I’ll die. After Leah was born, Dr. Feldman said I couldn’t have any more. He said the complications were too great, but Eli . . . Eli doesn’t care. He just takes and takes and takes. Even when I tell him no.”

I place my hands on my hips because I can read between the lines. Noemi’s husband Eli raped her, but in Ripley, that doesn’t matter. Noemi’s job as a wife is having children, as many as possible.