A lesson in beginning, p.1
A Lesson In Beginning, page 1
A LESSON IN BEGINNING
TEMPLE DUNGEON
ELLE SPARROW
CONTENTS
Authors Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright © 2023 by Elle Sparrow
No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without the written permission from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2023 Elle Sparrow
All rights reserved.
To the resilient women who have conquered their past and found solace in the embrace of their own strength, may this novel remind you that love and self-discovery can heal even the deepest wounds. Your journey inspires us all.
AUTHORS NOTE
Hello my smut lovers,
This story is very near and dear to my heart and while I know you will love it, there are a few things I want to discuss.
First, this book is the first of a new series: The Temple Dungeon. It is a series of interconnected standalones, so you do not need to read every book if one isn’t to your liking. That being said, this is a spin-off series from The Temple Brothers, a previous series I wrote. While you do not need to read that series first, I would suggest it. There are references to the first series that may be a little confusing at times.
You can find the first book of the Temple Brtothers series here: Leviticus
If you have read The Temple Brothers, there is a fun little short story between the two series that you can read here:
https://BookHip.com/KKCQWDV
Second, as with all my stories, this book contains adult material, some of which may be triggering to some. With that being said, here are a list of trigger and content warnings:
Religious cults
Religious deconstructing
Talk of past abuse
BDSM & sexually graphic content
Adult language
Talk of past child loss (No child death, only losing custody)
Anxiety
Talk of past arranged marriage
Divorce
Talk of past child trafficking (non occur in the book, only past situations)
I want to make sure my readers are safe in their literary fun. So please read over the list and make sure this book will be safe for you to read. Not every book is for every reader and your safety in reading is important to me.
With all of that being said, please enjoy the story of Adah in A Lesson In Beginning.
Xoxo,
Elle
CHAPTER 1
“On all charges, this jury finds the Defendant guilty.”
Inky clouds filled the corners of my vision as I watched the courtroom erupt into a maelstrom of emotions; I should have felt those emotions alongside them, but nothing penetrated the shock that held me frozen in time and space. All movement in the courtroom slowed as I watched the convicted man’s form turn in his seat, the vibrant orange jumpsuit a stark contrast from the sea of neutral-colored suits around him.
His eyes met mine.
Brow furrowed and eyes narrowed into slits of rage, he stared directly at me.
I felt that any other woman’s husband would look to her for strength, for hope in a desperate situation, even perhaps for pity.
But not my husband.
No, Josiah Price was not that kind of man. The roaring, rushing sound of chatter, gavels pounding, and cries of joy and anger in equal measure made my ears ring. Bodies moved around me as the weight of such a conviction descended upon the inhabitants of Courtroom Two.
And still I sat there, frozen and unmoving, as the weight of dozens of judgment-filled eyes leveled on me, holding me down, tortured by the dagger-like, piercing glare of the man who had sworn before God and congregation to love me and protect me for all of my days.
“Adah? Adah!” The social worker beside me — Jenn, I think her name was — shook my arm, pulling me back to the present, tearing my attention away from the rage my husband silently threw at me with mere looks alone.
“What did you say? I apologize. I did not hear you.” My tongue moved against my gums and teeth like sandpaper against dry wood, barely able to form the words in anything resembling an articulate manner.
With a roll of her eyes, she repeated herself.
“I said that they will be taking him away now. If you’d like to arrange a meeting to speak with your husband, I can arrange that for you. The judge will schedule a sentencing hearing, and now that it’s official, you’ll need to make a decision on those divorce papers we’ve been discussing for the past month.”
“I understand.” The words were past my lips before I could really think about the words she had spoken. It was all muddled in my mind, twisted and gnarled by the tangled web laid out by the Elders of the community I had loved my entire life.
“I’ll reach out to you tomorrow about signing the papers to make everything official, but you will probably want to go home and rest now.” There was a glint of kindness in her eyes, though from where I sat, it was looking less like kindness and more like pity with each passing moment.
My stomach pitched and yawed like a ship on the sea as the thought of signing those divorce papers settled over me.
“I need a moment, please.” I leaped from my seat, covering my mouth as I fled from the courtroom. To any onlooker, I was simply the wife of a criminal, upset about her husband, but as I raced down the courthouse hallway, flinging open the door to the bathroom before the contents of my stomach came bubbling back up out of me the way they had come in, I knew the truth was much more complex than simply that.
I barely had time to fling open the stall, the metal door clanging loudly as my knees nearly cracked against the hard stone tile flooring, my stomach rebelling as I retched into the toilet.
It was too much. Too much, too soon, and with too little information.
I felt completely discombobulated. The Temple family had ripped apart my home, the brothers having brought down the law of the ungodly lands around Zion upon our home, our refuge. Agents of the law had descended upon our town in swarms, pilfering through the businesses, private homes, and even our sacred church in search of every scrap of evidence against those most esteemed in our community. It was barbaric. It was invasive. And it felt like the most gross misconduct of justice I had ever witnessed.
Until the trials began.
Until they laid the evidence out for all to see.
Until my parents were on the stand, accused and convicted.
Until my own husband was the one facing the jury.
And he was guilty. On every count, guilty. The man I had sworn to trust, obey, and honor all the days of my life — the man I had born a child for — had not only been privy to the information, but had actually taken part in the kidnapping of other people’s children. And to make matters worse, he had been a part of the masterminding of it all. He had helped to plan it out. He had actually sat down and thought of ways to lure innocent lambs from the protection of their parents and take them away. He had worked with the Reverend and the other Elders to sell those children. To whom I did not know, nor did I want to.
I retched violently into the toilet for the second time, beads of sweat pearling against my brow and the small of my back as my very body rebelled against the evil doings of those I loved most in this world.
Slumping over onto the cool tile of the floor, my mind raced with the truth that I could no longer deny. My husband had committed atrocious acts that went against everything we believed — or, everything I thought we believed. He had made a willful choice to kidnap those children, those infants. And not only that, but our own child! Our eldest, the beautiful little girl we had adopted; he had stolen her away from her parents, indifferent to the tattered remnants of once-happy lives he left in the wake of his crimes.
Finally, gathering what was left of my wits about me, I wiped my mouth off with a piece of toilet paper, flushing as I stood back up on wobbly legs. I cleaned up at the sink, taking deep breaths and allowing my heart to settle back into a more normal rhythm. The cool water washed away any mess, and helped to clear my head further.
I looked into the mirror, taking in my appearance. My hair was pulled back into a simple French braid, but the edges were loose, frayed, and frizzy from my near constant fidgeting during the hearing. I looked like a mess.
But no more.
“It’s time to pull yourself together, Adah Price.” It didn’t matter that my throat was scratchy, or that my voice wobbled as I spoke. “You have bigger things to worry about than that piece of paper.”
I dabbed cool water against my eyelids and cheeks, hoping to reduce the redness and swelling from my tears. I didn’t want to look any weaker than was absolutely necessary. With a renewed sense of purpose that laid solely with the child that waited for me at a nearby hotel, I squared my shoulders and left the bathroom, the hallway already filled with people and loud chattering as those congregated in the courtroom had now vacated it, and had found a new place to gossip in the suddenly claustrophobia-inducing hallway.
“There you are.” The social worker’s voice called from my left. I could barely see the top of her curly hair over the crowd of people. She shoved and pushed her way past people until she was standing beside me, just in the nick of time. Suddenly those gossiping voices turned, almost in sync with one another, towards me. I could feel the weight of dozens of eyes landing squarely on me. There was a moment of near silence before the roar of questions assaulted me, making me wince.
“This is going to be a shitshow.” The social worker’s vulgar language made me cringe, but she grabbed me by the elbow, steering me through the crowds while barking orders at anyone who stood in our path. I kept my head down, doing my best to ignore the barrage of questions that flew my way, their voices accosting me, one question after another, with not even a breath of space for me to answer. It was for the best; I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t feel like I could answer.
I focused on the few feet in front of me, keeping my head lowered as we made our way out of the building and down the courthouse steps. In what felt like only seconds and somehow also hours, we were standing beside the social worker’s car.
“Let me drop you back off at the hotel, so I know you get there safely. Remember, don’t answer any questions. You don’t want that kind of press. Any press on top of all of this nightmare will only make things worse.” I didn’t trust myself to speak, emotions still threatening to overtake my better judgment. Instead, I quietly got into her car, strapped myself in, and focused on the one important thing: Samuel.
“Sweetheart, Mommy’s home!” I plastered a smile on my face, shutting the hotel room door and flipping the security latch for good measure. It had become a habit after weeks holed up in this tiny room, but it helped.
“Mommy!” The pitter patter of my son’s toddling feet shuffled across the floor as I dropped everything in my arms without a thought, kneeling down on the ground with arms wide open, awaiting my son’s loving embrace. “Mommy was gone a long time.”
The poor thing was caught in the middle of a complete whirlwind of drama he had no idea about. I wrapped my arms around his small frame, pulling him into my chest and holding his head into the crook of my neck. The scent of his baby shampoo gave me a comfort I desperately needed. In truth, I need much more than that. I needed a support system. I needed my family. I needed my husband. I needed —
“Do you have my payment?” Nadia’s voice called from above me, my eyes lifting to the woman’s face as she rolled her eyes, hand held out for cash. Nadia was from Zion and was literally the last person I had to help me in my time of need. Her family had been able to leave Zion unscathed by the drama and crime of the last two years, having relocated here to the city of St. George. She had thankfully agreed to come watch Samuel while I was with attorneys and at the courthouse, though I could tell from the eye-rolling that she wasn’t exactly happy with the arrangement any longer.
A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.
The reminder of what Proverbs had to teach us replayed in my mind as I pondered how to best handle Nadia’s ire.
“Of course, Nadia. Give me just a moment. Samuel, why don’t you go play with your blocks while Mommy handles this?” I watched as he toddled off back towards the far corner of the room, where I had set up a small play area for him. It wasn’t much, but the Lord blessed those who endured in the midst of suffering. I turned to my purse, pulling out the cash I had stowed away. There wasn’t much left, but it would have to do. “Here you are, dear. Thank you again, so much for —”
“Twenty dollars isn’t enough. It’ll be forty.” Her acerbic tone was like a slap in the face.
“Forty? We agreed on twenty.” I felt anxiety bubble up inside my chest.
“And we also agreed that you would be back by noon. It’s now nearly three o’clock, so I’d say forty is more than fair.” She rolled her eyes, fixating her gaze off towards the small kitchenette and refusing to meet my gaze. All the while that hand stayed perfectly poised for payment.
“I really don’t have the cash to spare, Nadia, but maybe —”
“Listen, Adah. I’ve been more than kind by helping you out so far. No one else would touch you with a ten-foot pole after what you and your family did.” She spat the words at me, slapping me in the face with the shame my family now bore as she leveled a hateful glare in my direction. “Not to mention, that kid of yours was a complete nightmare, constantly begging for his mommy and daddy. The little gremlin doesn’t even know that he comes from criminals.”
I gasped at her words, feeling the hot pin prick of tears gather in my eyes.
I would not cry in front of her. I could not.
I quickly dug through my purse, pulling out another piece of paper and handing her both bills in payment.
“I understand. Thank you for your time and for watching him, Nadia.” The words had to be forced past my lips, but I could not contain the grimace of distaste at her decidedly irreligious tone. She grabbed the money from my hand, stuffing it into her purse and flinging open the door.
“Do me a favor, Adah.”
“What’s that?”
“Forget my number and do not call me with your needs again. Find someone else to manage your brat while you clean up your family’s mess. If you ask me, they should throw you in prison with the rest of them.” With that, she exited, slamming the door shut with a loud crack as metal met metal.
“That was loud, Mommy!” Samuel drawled, looking over at me from his play area where he had assembled blocks up as high as his knee.
“You’re right, it was, Samuel. What do you say we read a story together?” I re-fastened the safety lock on the door and sat on the bed, pulling my Bible from the bedside drawer.
“Not right now, Mommy. Samuel play blocks!” I smiled at him, letting my heart fill with joy at the sight of his innocent play. He built the blocks up one by one until it was near toppling over, and then would smash them all to the ground, giggling with delight all the while. His mirth was contagious, making me laugh along with him and push my troubles to the side, though not for long.
I opened my purse while he played, pulling my wallet out and counting the money that remained. There was very little left, and dread threatened to overtake me. We had no way of surviving. I had no job. We were low on food and even lower on funds, with no way to replenish what I had spent. I had tried with all my might to be frugal, to do as Mother had taught me. But Mother had not prepared me for living life outside of Zion with no husband, no provider, and most of all, no family.
Well, I supposed that wasn’t entirely true. I still had Ruth. If I could even call her family any longer. Both my parents and my in-laws were in prison alongside my soon to be ex-husband. The rage I felt at the havoc the Temple family had created boiled up inside of me, threatening to spill out. I could not let Samuel see that.
“Mommy will be right back, love.” I quickly slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I took a deep breath and silently screamed with all my might, throwing my whole body into it as I doubled over in half, letting the anger fill me. My hands fisted, my toes curled into the cool tile floor, and the tears that had threatened to spill over at Nadia’s tirade finally slipped and slid from my eyes and down my cheeks.
