Becoming Calder(16)
I stood there for a minute digesting her meaning, and although anguish still clawed at my heart, I let out a surprised breath. It was the first hint at freedom I'd had in over five years.
CHAPTER FOUR
Calder
The small amount of water at the bottom of the jugs on my shoulders sloshed as I made my way down the steep slope. I usually carried smaller containers in a pack, but today I needed extra. Helen Whitney was in labor and the midwives required plenty of the holy water in the birthing tent to assist in a healthy delivery.
I walked as fast as possible, lost in my own thoughts. It was a peace I craved, to be away from the others for just a little while. These days, I constantly longed to be away from the incessant noise of Acadia, away from my parents who were always discussing Hector's sermons late into the night. And most of all, away from those tiny two rooms of our family cabin that I had outgrown¸ literally and figuratively, years before.
This was my seventeenth year. I'd be eighteen soon and it was almost time for my water purification ceremony. I didn't know if it would happen right on my birthday or not since Hector was gone on another pilgrimage. If he wasn't back by then, it would have to wait until he returned.
Being purified meant I'd be washed clean of all my childhood sins and officially be part of the Temple. I would be responsible for my own choices, and I'd reap the consequences if I sinned.
As I walked, I considered what that was going to mean. First of all, it meant no more enjoying the benefits of Xander's trips to the ranger's station. This in turn, meant no more Coca-Cola for me when and if he brought it back—which, for the salvation of his own soul, I hoped he wouldn't. He would be eighteen in a couple months, too.
I groaned in despair. The Coca-Cola was going to be the worst of it.
It could be argued I was employing a loophole by acting like it was okay to sin at all when I knew it was a sin, "child" or not. Still, that washed clean part of the deal made it really tempting to get as much good stuff in while I still could. Yeah, I knew it wasn't supposed to work that way, but I was still only human after all.
My mom told me I had a wicked way of justifying things in my own favor, which I admitted was probably true. It was just that life seemed so full of so many pleasures. I wondered why every single one of them had to be sins. I couldn't help but to picture the gods in Elysium with pinched faces and constant displeased expressions, which didn't make it seem all that great if I was honest. But I supposed there was no way I'd be disappointed in Elysium. After all, it was paradise.
My dad said we just had to prove ourselves here, with all the temptations the gods put in front of us, and the rewards for our sacrifice would shower down on us in the after life. Although there probably wouldn't be Coca-Cola in Elysium, and that was a truly depressing thought.
So I needed to stop thinking about Coca-Cola. And I really needed to stop thinking about sex. My body tightened at the thought of the word alone—which spoke for itself as far as how much I needed that purification. I didn't know if the ceremony itself would help redirect my thoughts somewhere more appropriate, somewhere more befitting of a council member, but I sure hoped so.
I had been working on my irrigation system for over two years now, and I was pretty sure it would work as I'd planned it to and using only the materials available to us from the land. I also hoped fervently it was what would convince Hector I deserved a place on the council, and I'd be able to go out into the big community and work like some of the other members did.
Hector said we should use only the tools and materials from the land the gods had bestowed upon us, rather than the wicked instruments of society, where laws and rules were all based on greed, sin, and selfishness. It pleased the gods that workers only used that which was provided by them. It made us a holier people.
I couldn't help but wonder, though, why so many of those tools and instruments seemed to be in use up at the main lodge. I watched my own mother scrub our clothes down at the river on a flat river rock, and from what Maya told me, there was a big machine that did the job up at the main lodge—just toss a whole bunch of clothes in there, push a button, and they all came out shiny and clean, she'd said. I figured Maya was exaggerating, but it couldn't be denied that life was a lot easier for Hector and the council members.
I tried not to think about it too much because a sinful feeling of anger, and way more questions than I wanted to consider, would bubble up inside of me, and I knew that was wrong.
I made it to the spring and set the water vessels down on the grass. I noticed immediately that the plants and brush had been moved aside and the crack in the rock that led to the larger spring was visible.