Angel
Angel
by Natasha Lockhart
Angel.
Copyright © 2021 by Natasha Lockhart.
All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to use portions of this text, contact the author at theflirtybibliophile@gmail.com.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Books by Natasha Lockhart
A Message from the Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to every woman who has suffered spiritual abuse. Perhaps, you joined a religious cult. Maybe you grew up in a conservative church that favored a patriarchal, misogynistic doctrine. No matter which path you took, my hope is that you will find the courage to stand up for yourself. You have the right to voice your opinions. You have the right to self-expression. You are not a lesser creation. Your reproductive organs do not define you nor should they confine you. You are so much more than the physical features which make you female. You are a beautiful creature, crafted by the Creator for a divine purpose.
If you identify with Celine in any way, then we’re part of the same tribe. I included a message at the end of this book to share some of my own experiences. Together, we are stronger than those who want to suppress our voices.
Prologue
CELINE
My mother named me Celine which means Heaven. Mama told me I was her angel, a little piece of Heaven on earth. When I was three years old, my family moved to New Jerusalem. The gated community was built on an island one mile from the mainland. William Blandois, a wealthy developer, bought the island in 1970 and created his vision of a righteous Christian community.
The access road that connects us to the rest of the world is guarded by two men twenty-four hours a day. Visitors are not welcomed, and those who are granted entrance are viewed with suspicion by the faithful. No one is allowed to leave our community without special permission from the Council of Elders. In the years that I’ve lived here, that permission has only been granted to men who work on the mainland, male college students, and for medical emergencies.
New Jerusalem has nine streets which were named after the nine fruit of the Spirit. The seven streets in the center of our community are residential areas. Every family has a home. Each home is headed by a male relative. Women are not permitted to live alone. If a woman’s husband dies, her oldest son becomes the head of the family. If she has no son, she will be taken in by another male relative or adopted by another family. It is considered a great privilege to take in a widow or orphaned daughter. Families who take care of widows and fatherless, brotherless women are highly esteemed.
The two outer roads of New Jerusalem are for commercial properties. We have just about every business any self-contained community needs. Some businesses operate independently and are owned by individual families. Businesses like the General Store, Manna Market, and the Division of Seamstresses are operated by the church. All nine roads in New Jerusalem end at the hill. Our three common buildings are located at the top of the hill. At the center of the hill, our church stands tall. It has no specific name like most churches. It is simply our house of worship. The fellowship hall, where everyone gathers daily for supper, was built to the left of the church. The community school was erected to the right of the church.
My family lives on Meekness Cove. We rent a three-bedroom home that is identical to every other home on our street. The only noticeable difference from one house to the next is the choice of plants which grow outside each home. Mama is fond of hydrangeas, so pale blue hydrangeas bloom from the bushes along the front of our modest home. Our home is tastefully decorated with the essentials. Daddy said we should live as simply as possible. He cautioned us against the lure of material possessions. The walls of our home are bare save the kitchen calendar and a framed photograph of Reverend Blandois which hangs above the mantle.
My life follows a predictable routine. In the morning, I eat breakfast with my family. My father, an accountant by trade, works in the administrative office in the south wing of the church. My mother packs his lunch every morning before he leaves for work. She takes great care in preparing foods he likes. Just before he walks out the front door, she hands him his lunch bag. Then, Daddy smiles at Mama and kisses her on the cheek. This interaction is the extent of the affection I’ve witnessed between my parents.
When I finish washing the breakfast dishes, my brothers and I walk down the street and climb the steps up the hill to the school. On the first floor of the school, boys and girls learn together from kindergarten to third grade. From fourth grade to twelfth grade, girls and boys are taught on separate floors of the school. I’ve never questioned why we were separated after third grade. It is one of many customs I blindly accept and follow.
After school, I join my mother in the Division of Seamstresses. We make dresses for the women as well as shirts and pants for the men in our community. If alterations are needed, we take care of those too. I enjoy sitting at my sewing machine, listening to the chatter of the older women. Sometimes, they make me laugh. When I work with them, I feel like I’m part of something important.
Other girls aren’t as lucky as me. My friend Priscilla works in the large kitchen in the fellowship hall. She has to help with supper preparations seven days a week. She never complains to anyone except me, but she dislikes having to stand on her feet for three hours, peeling potatoes and chopping vegetables. After supper, the women assigned to the fellowship hall have to clean the dining hall and kitchen before they can go home. Priscilla said wiping tables and mopping floors makes her feel like a servant. She wants to work in the Division of Seamstresses with me, but she has to work where her mother works until she gets married. If her husband agrees to the transfer, she will be allowed to begin working as a seamstress on her 100th day as a wife.
Before we go to bed, my family gathers in the living room for prayer and Bible study. My brothers read scriptures and my father explains the moral lesson of the Bible verses. Mama and I are women, so we must sit in silence as my father teaches us. Daddy said I could ask questions if something didn’t make sense, but I rarely question anything he says. Reverend Blandois is the shepherd of New Jerusalem, but Daddy is the shepherd of my soul. I am accountable to him in all things.
Chapter One
CELINE
January
New Je
rusalem
I pushed the last pin through the pink floral fabric Mrs. Nash had chosen. Grabbing my scissors, I began the meticulous task of cutting each section of the dress. If I worked quickly, I’d be able to get all the seams sewn before supper time. When all the pieces of the dress were cut, I placed them in my basket and went to the Notions Room. I selected a light pink thread and six white buttons.
Today was my first day as an adult in New Jerusalem. Before leaving school on yesterday, I dreaded what adulthood would mean. Sister Williams, the teacher of the junior and senior girls, encouraged us to be virtuous women and wait patiently for our future husbands. She told us the most exciting days of our lives lay ahead of us. She extolled about the joys of taking care of a home and raising babies who would be soldiers for Christ. The senior girls and boys would receive their diplomas during Sunday service at church. Daddy said it was an important day for me because on that day, everyone in the community would know I was eligible for marriage. For most young women in my community, marriage naturally followed the completion of school. Young men were encouraged to attend a college or trade school on the mainland.
“Good morning, Sister Celine.” Sister Coulson placed white lace trim and pearl buttons in her basket. As the sister of Reverend Blandois, Sister Coulson enjoyed a great deal of influence over the women of New Jerusalem. As the overseer of every seamstress in the Division of Seamstresses, she made sure every garment met her strict guidelines for modesty.
“Hello, Sister Coulson. How are you?” I asked.
“I’m grateful to be alive.” She walked past me and stopped at the shelves where the thread was kept. “Today’s a fine day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, we’ve been blessed with beautiful weather this week.” I spied the piles of white silk fabric in her basket. “Are you working on Priscilla’s wedding dress?”
“I am. It won’t be long before someone claims your hand. When that time comes, would you like me to make your wedding dress, or would you prefer to sew it yourself?”
“I’d like to sew my own wedding dress if you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind, child?” She dropped two spools of white thread into her basket and left the Notions Room.
My closest friend, Priscilla Lawson, was getting married in four weeks. Malachi Kittredge had stated his intention to marry her as soon as he obtained his pharmacist license. Now that Priscilla was finished with school, there was nothing preventing her and Malachi from tying the knot. Weddings were a big deal in New Jerusalem. Weddings created new families. As the number of families grew, so did the population of believers in New Jerusalem.
Reverend Blandois encouraged the unmarried women in our community to exemplify piety and meekness, so they would find favor with one of the men. If a man favored a particular woman, he petitioned the Council of Elders for permission to marry. The council investigated the man’s character and work ethic. The woman’s father or closest male relative had the final say so about the courtship. If the proposed suitor was deemed an honorable man, he was given permission to court the woman. Most courtships lasted four to six months. Once a couple became engaged, they were expected to marry within three months.
“My times are in His hands,” I reminded myself. Worrying about when someone would notice me would not hasten my wedding day.
When I returned to my sewing machine, the ladies around me were engaged in a discussion about hair dye. The Council of Elders had decreed a woman could change her hair color as long as she chose a natural hair color, and her husband or father did not object to the change. So far, I’d only seen one woman sporting a lighter shade of hair.
“I love my strawberry blonde hair. We should all love our hair as it is. I think it’s wrong to change what the good Lord gave you,” Sister Purnell insisted. “It’s like you’re saying, ‘I know better than you, Lord.’” Sister Purnell was one of the first people to join New Jerusalem. She had nothing good to say about the outside world. She often assured me I was much safer on the island. “It won’t be long before the women in New Jerusalem are wearing makeup and putting off marriage until they finish college.”
“My brother would never let things progress that far,” Sister Coulson said quickly. “A few of us might change our hair color, but we will hold fast to our principles of piety and meekness.”
“Amen,” my mother replied.
I kept my mouth shut and pressed the pedal on my sewing machine. As I stitched the seams on the side of the dress, I continued listening to the chatter around me.
“Sister Orbach asked if I could make her a collarless dress with cuffs.”
“No collar?”
“Cuffs?”
“I told her the sisters of New Jerusalem dress similarly as a show of solidarity and to distance ourselves from the sin of pride. There’s only one day a woman can alter the dress design, and that day is her wedding day.”
“And rightly so. A bride should stand out,” Sister Purnell agreed. “I know our sweet Sister Celine is looking forward to the day when she finds favor with one of the brothers. What a pretty bride you’ll be!”
“Have you thought about the design for your wedding dress?” Sister Coulson asked.
I removed my foot from the pedal and nodded. I’d dreamt about my wedding dress since I was fourteen years old. “I want lace sleeves.”
“Is that all?” Sister Coulson looked puzzled. “What about a long train or puffy sleeves?”
“You could add ruffles to your skirt,” Sister Purnell suggested.
“Cuffs with pearl buttons?” A voice echoed from the back of the room.
“I could make you a V-neck bodice with a wide lace sash.” Mama smiled at me from behind her sewing machine.
Too many choices! Life was simpler when choices were limited. “I would be perfectly content wearing a white satin dress with lace sleeves.” I resumed my work, guiding the fabric slowly beneath the needle of the sewing machine.
“No one will force you to be fancier than you want to be,” Mama promised. “But this is your one day to stand out from the crowd. I hope you won’t regret your decision later.”
“I don’t think I will.” There would be time enough to contemplate my wedding gown when I had an actual fiancé. Right now, I needed to finish Sister Nash’s new dress. She expected it to be ready in three days.
DURING SUPPER, I FOUND MYSELF glancing at Priscilla’s table. I longed to talk to her about her fiancé and future home, but our jobs and her new obligations were keeping us apart.
“I see you looking at Priscilla,” my father remarked. “If you want to have a word with her, take your tray to her table.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” I picked up my tray and walked to the table where my friend was seated with her family. “Good evening, Sister Lawson. Brother Lawson.” I greeted Priscilla’s parents.
“How are you, Celine?” asked Priscilla’s mother.
“I am well. And you?”
“We are well also.”
I slid as close to Priscilla as I could get. There was no privacy at the table, but at least I’d be able to speak to her. “I saw your wedding dress today. It’s going to be beautiful.”
“I wasn’t sure what I wanted, so I told Sister Coulson to make the skirt fuller and add lace to the hem of the sleeves.”
“The other seamstresses were talking to me about my wedding dress today. They want me to choose as many embellishments as I can think of, but my tastes are simple. I wouldn’t feel comfortable dressed in ruffles and poufs.” I stirred the gravy and mashed potatoes on my plate. Potatoes were a staple food in the fellowship hall. I couldn’t recall one supper where potatoes weren’t served in one form or another. I preferred scalloped potatoes, but in New Jerusalem you ate what was set before you and asked no questions. “They were disappointed when I told them I wouldn’t be happy wearing an elaborate dress.”
“Are you thinking of your wedding already, Celine?” Sister Lawson interrupted our conversation. Every parent with an eligible
daughter wanted to see her married as soon as possible. Priscilla’s mother was no different. She was fortunate to be planning a wedding so soon. “It won’t be long before someone chooses you.”
“God will bring us together at His appointed time,” I assured her.
“Well said,” Mr. Lawson replied. “You will make some man a good wife one day.”
I turned back to Priscilla. “Where will you and Malachi live?”
She peeled the skin off her chicken wings before responding to my question. “He found a home on Peace Avenue that he likes.”
“I’m sure you’ll like it as well.”
“Mama and I are going shopping next weekend to buy linens and rugs for the house.” Priscilla spoke matter of factly about decorating her new home.
I thought a woman ought to show more excitement about her new home, but what did I know? I wasn’t the one preparing to live with a strange man. Well, he wasn’t a total stranger to Priscilla. The Lawsons and Kittredges had lived next door to each other for almost twenty years. Malachi first took a special interest in Priscilla when she was sixteen. Their friendship was closely supervised and encouraged by their parents. If anyone objected to their unofficial courtship, I never knew about it. Malachi asked her to marry him the same day he was granted permission to marry.
Despite the excitement surrounding the wedding, Priscilla and I had spoken about her misgivings. I suppose it was normal for her to be nervous about becoming a wife. Malachi would soon be the shepherd of her soul. She would have to learn his expectations for her in all things. Malachi would also direct her in their marital bed. It was a wife’s duty to please her husband and make herself available to him when he needed her. Sister Coulson said a wife’s sexual submission would help him resist the temptation to stray.
Priscilla grasped my hand and half smiled. I squeezed her hand. I know something about Priscilla that her parents and fiancé don’t know. A month ago, Priscilla told me she wants to teach the younger children at the school, but without a teaching license, she can’t do that. She can’t earn her teaching license because the Council of Elders won’t let women go to college. The only female teachers in the school are the ones who were teachers before they moved to New Jerusalem. For the women born in New Jerusalem or brought here as children, work choices are limited.