The House That Built Me (Strawberry Inn Book #3)

Chapter 2

KELSEY

“Thank you for coming by, Mr. Pinkerton. Here is your change.” I hand the older gentleman his change and then slide the wooden box of produce in his direction. 

“No, thank you, Miss Kelsey. Make sure you tell your mom that the blueberries are extraordinary this year. My wife made three batches of blueberry jam two weeks ago with my first purchase and begged me to pick up more today.”

I smile and nod my head, “We had a really great harvest this year. I’m glad you two have been able to enjoy them so much. Please tell Mrs. Pinkerton that I said hi as well. It has been far too long since she’s been in.”

The old man sighs while he puts his change away in his worn-out wallet, “Yes, she’s not getting out of the house as much lately. The up and down temps have done a number on her arthritis. It is a shame because she loves shopping for her own produce.”

“Well, we will be here when she’s healthy and ready to come back for a visit.”

Mr. Pinkerton smiles once more and then picks up his box and exits the small shop. He says bye to Orem, who is helping me in the shop today, but Orem just gives him a nod rather than saying anything back. 

The clock says 3:45 pm, which means we will be closing in fifteen minutes. I don’t expect any more customers, so I start the process of closing down. For the last ten years or so, my parents have run this small shop that carries produce grown on our family farm. My parents don’t own the actual shop, it is run by the leaders of the church community, but most of the product comes from the farm that my mom and dad run. I was lucky enough to start working here about five years ago.

I say lucky because the four days a week that I am here are the only days that I get to leave the gated community that we call home. They call it a gated community, but it is really more like a jail. The truth is that my parents fell for a religious zealot and his fake prophet a decade ago and they sold everything to move here and start this community. I was fifteen when I left my former hometown. Unlike my parents, I was not all in for this new belief system. I was born and raised in the Christian church. I believed in God and went to church every Sunday and bible study every Wednesday.

My earliest memory of the Prophet of the Sun “church” was when I was about thirteen. Dad and Mom invited two men over to our house after they had seen an advertisement online for the church. They believed that taking everything back to nature was going to be part of our salvation. My parents were farmers and they thought it sounded like something they’d be interested in. There was no building to attend church services, but there was a weekly call that they would go on to listen to the prophet speak.

Everything seemed normal at first, but over the course of the next two years, the church services got more and more intense. I was young and didn’t understand a lot, but I did know that my parents were planning for something big, the second coming of Jesus, or something like that. One day when I got home from school, young men in dress clothes were packing up our house. My parents informed me that we were moving to Missouri to the new community that the Prophet of the Sun church was creating. 

I was fifteen at the time and moving away from my friends was the last thing I wanted to do. There was nothing about this move that seemed normal, when I tried to tell my parents I thought they were being conned, I was punished by them and sent off to retreats to become “closer to God.” I was a smart gal and realize the only way I was going to survive was if I just did the right thing, behaved, and counted down the days until I turned eighteen. Once I was eighteen I would move away and leave this sham behind me.

Little did I know that leaving this place was damn near impossible. The gated community didn’t just keep outsiders away, but it kept us in. Anybody who tried to leave was threatened by the armed guards and punished by the so-called Prophet. By the time I was twenty, I was broken down and lost my will to fight back. The only way I was going to survive is if I just conformed. If they thought I was on their side, I could earn back freedoms. It took some time, but eventually, I was allowed to leave the community to work at the market. 

I wasn’t free out here, Orem wasn’t here to help with the market or take care of customers. He was here to watch me and make sure that I was good. He was mostly here because in two weeks I would be placed into Orem’s “care” when my parents finally for their wish for me to be married off. At twenty-five, I was old for a bride, but that is because I was a bit of a pain in the ass and have to prove I was worthy of marriage. They thought this marriage was a blessing from the prophet, I thought it was hell on Earth. 

While Orem counted the money from the day, I went through and picked out any of the fruits, vegetables, and flowers that were too past their best date to purchase. I propped the box on my hip and walked past Orem, “I’m going to take this out to the compost pile. Are you almost done?”

“Shouldn’t be much longer. Did you need help?”

I looked in the box, “No, not much today. We might want to tell my dad to discount the remaining tomatoes for tomorrow though.”

“I’ll do that tonight.”

“Thanks, Orem.”

He nodded and I was dismissed. Orem wasn’t a man of many words. I think he kind of resented having to be here so often to babysit me. We were set to be married, but we certainly weren’t in love. While he’s the only man besides my father I’m allowed to be alone with, it is strictly against the rules to touch in any way romantic until we’re married. It may be the only rule that I’m actually okay with in this godforsaken place.

After shutting the back door, I walk to the composting area to dispose of the food that has gone bad, I keep looking behind me to make sure that Orem isn’t watching. He’s never followed me out here before, but with my luck, today would be the one day. The sound of tires on the dirt road behind the market catch my attention. I wait for a moment to make sure the vehicle is who I think it is. Once I see that faded blue Ford, I know that now is my one chance.

See, I have no intention of getting married to Orem in two weeks. I’ve been biding my time and I finally have my one shot at freedom. I drop the box in the compost pen, hike up my dress and run to the back road. With nothing but the clothes on my back and a few personal belongings that I’ve been able to sneak away over the last few weeks, I’m leaving today and never looking back.

The truck stops for just a moment and I make a run for the truck. I know that he won’t wait long for me and he will drive off without me at the first sign of danger. Staying undercover is the only way he can continue to help others find freedom as well. Without a second thought, I pull open the door to the backseat and jump in. I shut the door and hide under the large canvas blanket purposefully placed in the back, just in case. The truck pulls off down the road once again and I say a small prayer that this will all go as planned.

“How are you doing back there, Miss Kelsey?” My getaway driver asks.

“Best day of my life, Mr. Pinkerston”

He chuckles and turns the radio up just a bit. I find a more relaxed position and let out a deep breath. I’m free. I’m finally free.