The Prophet's Wives

The Prophet’s Wives

By

Susan Wells Bennett

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Inknbeans Press on Smashwords

The Prophet’s Wives

Copyright © 2009 by Susan Wells Bennett

And Inknbeans Press

Cover art by Nikki McBroom (nikkimcbroom@cox.net)

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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This book is dedicated to my parents, Mary and Jerry Wells, both of whom have always supported me despite their bewilderment at just how different from them I am. Mom and Dad, I love you.

But there were also false prophets among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you. They will secretly introduce destructive heresies, even denying the sovereign Lord who bought them—bringing swift destruction on themselves. Many will follow their shameful ways and will bring the way of truth into disrepute. In their greed these teachers will exploit you with stories they have made up. Their condemnation has long been hanging over them, and their destruction has not been sleeping.

2 Peter 2:1-3 (NIV)

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Part I - Alpha

I’ve never been one of those people who has trouble sleeping. Lazarus used to toss and turn, spend half the night reading or writing, turn the lamps on and off, walk noisily to the bathroom – he never woke me up. The next morning, I’d be up and out for a walk with the rising sun, fully rested. Lazarus would sleep until lunch.

I’m a stomach sleeper, too – a position I understand is uncomfortable for most women. Occasionally I look in a mirror and wish I had a fuller bosom, but, for the most part, being small is a benefit, not a curse.

So that’s why, when I found myself staring at the night sky on our rooftop deck at two in the morning a few months ago, I made a doctor’s appointment.

I thought this child that I’m carrying was a miracle – Lazarus had always told me that he believed himself incapable of impregnating me. After fifteen years of marriage, I’d started to believe him. That’s part of his myth, really – having been born dead, he can’t produce life and he knows things that others can’t know about the other side. For instance, he knows that there’s no God – not in the Christian sense, anyway. Instead, he teaches that the Keeper is the ultimate authority.

Of course, only his true devotees know these things. He certainly doesn’t talk about them at the basic Learning to Listen Well seminars that he conducts around the country. However, if you invest two-hundred-and-fifty dollars for a one-hour personal session with him, you just might be a big enough sucker to become a true devotee, and therefore privy to the special knowledge of your leader.

Listen to me: I sound so jaded. I wasn’t always like this; in fact, I was his very first devotee. I’ve been following him since I was fourteen. The very first time I saw him, I loved him. He was at least twenty-five then, with coal-black hair and these blue eyes that seemed to be able to pierce through skin right into your very heart. He worked for my father at his car dealership for a year. He even dated my sister Heidi for a while. But the night he announced to our family that he was leaving, he told me something that gave my life a purpose.

He was sitting in my mom’s rocking chair staring out at the road, almost as if he were trying to remember the way out of town.

I wish you weren’t leaving.

He looked at me and said, I know.

I sat down against the porch railing in front of him so that I could watch him. Where are you going?

Back to India, I think.

You’ve been there before? I looked at him with wide eyes.

Yes. He smiled as if he were seeing the country in his memory.

What was it like?

Incredible. I met the most amazing teachers there…holy men, of a sort. They taught me so much. He frowned. But there is so much more I need to learn.

I sucked in my breath, awed by him. Wow.

He looked back at the door, saw that it was closed, and said, I have an important secret to share with you. You can’t tell anyone else, okay?

Okay, I agreed, thrilled to be let in on something Lazarus Dale considered private.

I’m not who I appear to be.

It didn’t seem like much of a secret, then or now. As far as I’d been able to discover in my fourteen years, none of us were who we appeared to be.

He smiled as if he could read my thoughts. You’re not who you appear to be, either. I know that. He stood up and held a hand out to me, saying, Let’s take a walk."

I put my hand in his and he pulled me up. We walked down the dark street, my hand through his arm as if he were escorting me into a debutante ball. He led us to the park, and then took us under the big tree that stood in the middle of it. He put my back against the tree and took my face in his hands so that I could see only him. You are more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen, and you were put on this earth for me.

I felt a hot flood inside of me as he said these words and I trembled under his touch. I prayed that he would kiss me, and then he did, pressing firm lips against my inexperienced mouth, coaxing my teeth open with his tongue. When our tongues touched, I felt as if my bones had melted – I doubted I’d be able to walk under my own power. I felt his hand slip into the top of my pants and down to my private parts, his fingers probing the nub of nerves I’d only recently found myself. His touch made the flood of heat rush in two directions – first to my mouth and then to my sex, back and forth like waves of ecstasy running through me.

He abruptly withdrew his hand from my pants and pulled his lips from mine. With the tree’s support, I managed to keep from falling to the ground like a rag doll. I watched as he slipped his fingers – the ones that had just been touching my nether regions – into his mouth.

You were put on this earth for me, he repeated, and I believed him. You’re not ripe yet, but you will be soon. I’ll be back for you when you are ripe.

From that moment on, I was his. I have been his for twenty years. And now I’m not.

I waited until the house was empty of everyone but Lazarus and me – a more difficult feat than one might think. Our house seemed to have a constant flow of visitors from morning until night. Lazarus was in his office on the third floor, so I made my way up from the living area carrying him a glass of his favorite scotch. The ice clinked in the glass as I mounted the last step and he was watching his office door for my arrival. He smiled at me and said, Thank you, Ava.

I sat down on the sleek black leather couch by the window. During the day, this room had the best view of the Pacific from inside the house. Lazarus had his desk facing the window for just that reason. He said watching the ocean kept him young.

Maybe it did because I’d been looking at his face every day, but he didn’t seem to have aged at all in twenty years. His hair was as black as it had always been; his eyes still pierced the hearts of all who met him. If I studied a photo from 1965 and one from this year, maybe I’d be able to identify new lines or a changing hairline…maybe. I need to talk to you, Lazarus.

He put down his pen and looked at me, his head tilted slightly to indicate that he was listening. Okay.

I went to the doctor today. I have some amazing news for us.

He nodded for me to continue.

We’re going to have a baby.

His eyes widened for a moment. Then he shook his head and said, That’s not possible.

Yes, apparently it is. The doctor says I’m three months along.

He put both hands flat on his desk and closed his eyes. The clock on his desk seemed to be ticking more loudly than I’d ever noticed before as I waited for him to speak. I forgive you, he said, but you’ll have to abort it.

I was stunned; I didn’t really understand what he meant. I didn’t create this life alone, I said. A confused laugh escaped me.

And that’s why I’m forgiving you.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I understood that he was accusing me of infidelity. When I finally did, though, I felt as if I’d been stabbed. I took a sharp breath in and said, No. Lazarus, this is our baby.

You forget yourself, my dear. I’m infertile.

No, you’re not. You can’t be, because I’m pregnant.

He steepled his fingers under his nose and said, Until you are ready to accept the truth, we have nothing more to talk about.

That night I tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. He didn’t come to bed at all.

I helped Lazarus build LLW Seminars into the self-help empire it is today. I served as his personal assistant and travel companion for fifteen years, and I was treated like royalty everywhere we went. Over the years, we acquired some Hollywood devotees, so he and I went to more than a few movie premieres as honored guests. Even though we lived in San Diego, I did most of my shopping on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. We were invited to all the best parties, enjoyed fabulous seats at any event we wanted to go to, and had a beautiful, modern three-story house on Coronado Island, not far from the Hotel Del Coronado. It was a far cry from where I’d grown up.

Even though my father had done better than a lot of his contemporaries, he was still just a big fish in a little pond: just a car salesman in the middle of the desert. And, of course, he was supporting a lot of family. Even as successful as he was, my four siblings and I never thought of ourselves as rich. There were no nannies or maids or chauffeurs; Mom did all the cooking and we kids served as the cleanup crew. I was responsible for the bathrooms, which meant that I had to wipe up my brothers’ inaccuracies around the toilets. It was a disgusting job, and one that my older sister Heidi had thrust upon me when I’d turned eight.

As soon as Lazarus could afford a maid, he hired one. I haven’t cleaned a bathroom in more than a decade. Nor have I run a vacuum, cooked a meal, or made a bed. I was used to being served, so when I was awakened by a sharp knock the morning after I announced my pregnancy, I thought Felicia was bringing me my breakfast. Come in, I called.

The door opened and Bridget, one of Lazarus’s more nubile devotees – this one from Oklahoma City – entered and asked, Where do you keep Mr. Dale’s appointment book?

Why do you need to know?

She looked away from me as if embarrassed. She stared at the wall to my right as she said, I’m Mr. Dale’s new assistant.

Out! I commanded. Now.

But Mr. Dale—

Tell Mr. Dale I need to see him.

She looked like she was about to burst into tears. Please…I just need the appointment book.

Bridget, so help me, if you don’t leave this room right now, you’ll never be able to look in another mirror.

She backed silently out of the room, closing the door as she went.

I found my dressing gown and wrapped it around me, fury flooding my vision with violence. When I opened my door, I saw Bridget slipping down the stairs and away from the coming storm.

I walked across the hallway and into Lazarus’s office. What the hell are you trying to pull?

He looked up at me with that infuriatingly calm stare and said, It’s important that I have people I trust around me, Ava. You have proven yourself untrustworthy.

I have been one-hundred-percent loyal to you for twenty years! I’ve never even looked at another man.

He chuckled and gestured at the small bump of a belly that was just becoming noticeable. Clearly, that’s a fallacy.

My head throbbed as if it were about to burst out with poisonous snakes, like the fabled Medusa. I screamed in frustration.

Calm yourself, my dear. This is obviously as upsetting to you as it is to me. If you will just confess your infidelity – be honest with me – we can overcome even this. He walked over to the window and stared out at the ocean.

I…have never…cheated on you. This is your baby. I said each word slowly, clearly enunciating them. You need to listen to me, Lazarus. I’m pregnant with our child.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Ava, if you won’t tell the truth about this, there’s nothing I can do for you. You are going against one of the principle tenets of our beliefs: truth, above all else, is tantamount.

What can I do to convince you?

Search yourself, Ava. You need some listening therapy. Admit your infidelity and abort this child; if you do these things, I will reinstate you as my wife and my assistant. If you don’t, you will be cast out.

Cast out. It was Lazarus’s final punishment for those who refused to clear out their preconceptions and truly listen to what others were saying. No one could prescribe it but Lazarus; once you were cast out, no one who continued to follow LLW teachings would talk to you. It was like being set adrift on an ice floe. Just the thought of it made my stomach clench in terror. I’m listening to you, Lazarus. You want me to admit that I’ve cheated on you and get rid of the child. But what you’re asking me to say isn’t true and what you’re asking me to do would be murder.

I’ve arranged for Richard to conduct a therapy session with you. I’ve told him the situation. He’s the only one who knows, Ava. For your own sake, don’t tell anyone else, or you will make it impossible for me to fix this.

Richard. That vile little reptilian man. If anyone was pouring poison into Lazarus’s ear, it would be him. I turned toward the door to leave.

Oh, and would you please tell me where my appointment book is?

It’s in the bedroom on your nightstand.

Thank you. Would you set it outside of the bedroom door so that Bridget may retrieve it, please?

I left the room without answering, but did as he requested.

Bridget knocked on my bedroom door again when Richard arrived an hour later. Through the door, I requested that she seat him on the rooftop deck. I waited a few minutes, steadying myself for the session to come. I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror and reminded myself to remain calm. No matter what statements I was made to repeat, I would remember the truth.

I heard Bridget retreat to the main level of the home. I walked the stairs up to the roof and saw Richard seated under one of the large umbrellas. Good afternoon, I said.

Good afternoon, Ava. How are you feeling?

I smiled bitterly and said, I think you probably already know the answer to that question.

He ignored my response and said, Come join me, please.

I walked over and sat down next to him.

You know how this works. I say something and you repeat it to indicate that you are listening well.

Do you really think this is what I need?

Lazarus thinks you do.

Lazarus needs it more than I do. He’s the one who’s not listening to me.

Let’s start. The sky is blue today.

The sky is blue today.

The sun is warm.

The sun is warm.

Your hair is red.

My hair is red.

Statement after statement followed. The effect was relaxing and hypnotic, as always. Lazarus had created this protocol early on in LLW’s evolution. The first twenty statements were always basically the same, varying only in details like weather conditions and the subject’s own physical details – such as hair color and height. Lazarus had hypothesized that after the first twenty questions, he would be able to assert truths that would change the subject’s perceptions of the world around him or her. For the most part, he was right.

You have been unfaithful to Lazarus.

I…have never been unfaithful to Lazarus.

Richard sighed. Ava, you know the protocol. You repeat the statement exactly as it is presented to you whether you believe it or not.

I can’t, Richard. It’s not true.

You don’t want me to tell Lazarus you were uncooperative, do you?

I stared straight into his beady little eyes.