Chapter Text
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Occasionally, church made Madeline dizzy.
In the Summer, the simmering heat of the bright sun combined with not only a lack of A.C., but, also, at least fifty additional people in close proximity left her lightheaded and threatening heat exhaustion. When Autumn rolled in with months-long holiday cheer brought dozens of new faces every Sunday; those who said the holidays are designed for family gatherings and becoming closer to God, a conversation Madeline heard so often that she practically itched to leave as soon as the sermon commenced.
Then, too, there were the days where sermons went on far longer or became far more intense than usual, and the word of God practically prying into her carved sins suddenly became too much.
And, Christ, how could she forget the days she was in charge of the choir solo.
Madeline was grateful today was not any of those days.
On the contrary, actually. Supple and bouncy Spring air wafted through the perched-open church doors, cooling the air with a gentle and floral breeze. The fragrance of honeysuckles and daffodils carried in, slowly, as the sermon drew to a close, accompanied by the scent of grilled meat and spices.
Lunch wasn't served often after church, but the Father decided today would be a wonderful day to host. The weather was expected to be warmer for Spring, with no hint of rain in the horizon. Thought it was merely a luncheon, the entire community went all out. Various baked goods, more than a dozen sides, and a few types of freshly grilled or slow cooked meat would be available.
Madeline's stomach growled at the scent, the chill breeze blowing against her. It caught against the back of her exposed legs, her cherry-red sundress unable to protect her from it. Shivering slightly, Madeline pulled her woven cardigan closer around her chest, hoping that it would suddenly decide to keep her warm when it had been failing to do so.
Her mother, who just pulled Madeline away from her friend, looked her up and down with vague disappointment. "Haven't I taught you to dress better?"
Any stereotypical Christian woman who wasn't properly Christian would be the perfect summary for Gloria Blue. Short and pushing overweight, large hair done in curlers the night before being held together by a copious amount of hair spray, and an unnecessary amount of makeup. Today, her lips were painted red. "That dress is far too short and that cover is too thin."
Madeline looked down at herself. The dress was a little short, she supposed; it stopped an inch or two above her knees. Squinting under the mid-April sun, she looked back at her Mom. "My gray cardigan was dirty," she stated, uninterested in whatever lecture her Mom had planned. Despite her lack of interest, she continued to entertain her Mom's discussion, knowing it would only anger her if not.
Even with the response, Gloria appeared unhappy, anyway. Her beady, brown eyes squinted as she frowned. "A gray cardigan with that dress? No, no," she tutted, shaking her head. "Where did I go wrong with you?"
Madeline held back the answer dancing on the top of her tongue, knowing it would lead to the argument she so desperately didn't want. Gloria and her didn't speak often; really, since they joined Eden's Gate, they only spoke at church or the extremely rare — maybe once every six months — phone call. Though, even then, Madeline would say she's too busy to speak to her dear, old mother for more than five minutes — which, really, wasn't a lie, because she was busy, just not that busy; she'd spare hours if it were Paisley calling.
Gloria was, to put it mildly, a stickler. Always had been. If Madeline didn't dress perfect, no man would want her; if Madeline's manners weren't pristine, no one would respect her; if Madeline wasn't obedient, God would punish her. Madeline's hair had to be neat and her outfits could not bear a single wrinkle or else her Mom would throw herself into a fit.
Moments like those is what drove a wedge between them, one that only spread to the vast canyon it was today. When Eden's Gate formed in their small town, that's when their relationship worsened. Gloria, being the self-proclaimed Godly woman she was, was absolutely smitten by Joseph Seed.
Madeline didn't mind him, the Father as the group deemed him. Really, she had no issues with any of the Seed's for that matter — but, that didn't mean she worshipped the ground they treaded.
She saw the practicality of their presence. She heard Joseph's words and his sermons, but that didn't make them believable. Their desire for strong militant leadership, their use of the Bliss, how Jacob and John were brutal for the sake of cleansing tainted souls. Those reasons alone made it hard to fully embrace them, but she believed in their words and motives enough to say nothing.
Her hand came to her collarbone, itching the scarred letters that were carved into the skin. She pulled the cardigan over the word, the soft fabric soothing the singed memory. Gloria looked at her daughter's hand. "Madeline, when do you plan on settling down?"
Of course, the conversation her Mom dragged her away to have would not be one Madeline was actually interested in. The few words they exchanged now of days often pertained to very little of her interests. "Mom," she replied meticulously, trying to hide her annoyance. "I've told you. Whenever I find the right person for me, I will then."
Gloria tutted. "Yet you refuse to find a man yourself. I'm only getting older, Madeline. I'd like to eventually have grandchildren." Madeline could only stare at her Mom, head swimming with a handful of swears and excuses to leave. "It's not ideal for you to come off as desperate, but Penny's son will be returning from deployment next week. I'll inform her you've agreed to meet him."
Madeline's only response was to blink, struggling to process what her Mom said because surely she misheard. Her mouth opened, speechless and struggling to find any form of response. The silence only allowed Gloria to continue. "Oh, stop. I don't want to hear it." She hated that condescending tone; she'd learned to endure it more, but the sound never failed to sink its teeth into her flesh and leech any positivity away. "It's set. It's about time for you to find man. Now go. Run to your friend."
The plump woman moved past her daughter, and Madeline could only stare at where she once stood in pure shock. She shouldn't be surprised, really; Gloria tried setting Madeline up with one man once before, and it failed horribly — much to Gloria's appall. Yet, even with the pattern, Madeline was, regretfully, surprised.
"What'd she want this time?" That familiar and comforting voice slid into Madeline's ear from the same direction Gloria passed. Turning her head, Madeline's eyes met Paisley's green ones, sarcastically curious.
"I'm apparently being married off." Paisley's eyes widened, a pure expression of shock lacing across her sun-kissed face. Madeline sighed. "At least, she's trying. Penny's son, return from deployment, blah blah blah." Another heavy breath, thick with annoyance, escaped Madeline. "Can we eat? I need a distraction."
The shock on Paisley's face dropped away, as if the slate wiped clean. Replacing it came her typical calm and casual demeanor. "Absolutely. I'm starving!" Linking her arm through Madeline's, the blonde guided the pair through the flock of people. "I need to talk to you after lunch, before you go home."
"About?"
Paisley adopted such a smile that Madeline's curiosity spiked. "Not here," she replied like a child telling a secret, a young and childlike giddiness in her voice. Her evasiveness on the topic wasn't helping Madeline's case on wanting to know. "Ooh, look. Pruitt made the coleslaw this time."
Against her will, Madeline shoved her curiosity to the side and looked at the tables of food. There, dead-center of the second table sat a large tray of coleslaw. "Thank God for small miracles," she stated, doing her best to suppress the bad memory of the last luncheon, where Amanda Michaels made it and added way too much vinegar.
Paisley laughed, her smile wide as she said, "Excuse me," to a group of men. Rifles slung over their shoulders or being held loosely in their hands, the Eden's Gate cross plastered across their jackets. The sight used to bother Madeline, but it went by practically unnoticed now — considering 80% of Hope looked like them.
"I hope she made cinnamon rolls, too," Paisley added after they stepped into line. It was growing longer by the minute, as people catching up were finalizing their conversations and readying to eat.
Madeline leaned to her side, looking at the length of the line from their spot. Maybe fifteen people? Behind her, the four people quickly became seven, then ten, then more. Turning back, she went to speak to Paisley when her eyes were caught.
Beside the church, standing in the grassy and floral field, stood the Seed's. "I'm surprised they're still here. Doesn't Jacob or Faith always avoid the lunches?"
Paisley perked up, looking past Madeline and at the sight. The three brothers and their sister stood in a semicircle, chatting between themselves — mainly, Joseph and John. Joseph, who was shirtless as always, spoke engagingly with his youngest brother, John, whom listened with an enamored and eager expression on his bearded face. On opposite ends, Faith rocked on her feet and fingered the daffodils around her, and Jacob observed the crowd, his towering presence aiding in such.
"Mhmm. Jacob, mainly. He really is the loner type," Paisley said observantly, her head tilting to the side.
At the sight of John turning around slightly, using his hands to gesture to the church and field behind him, Madeline mimicked Paisley's head tilt. "I wonder if they're announcing something."
John turned back, carrying on his conversation with his family. It was rare to see the entire family together outside of church. She saw him the most; aside from living in his region and hearing his radio broadcasts, she visited his compound weekly. As the main canner in his region, she made frequent trips to drop off everything she had jarred up. Despite the three tattoos he'd given her, she didn't mind him. He was charismatic, a smooth-talker much like his siblings.
The Father was hard to avoid. His portrait plastered across Hope County, his preachings at Sunday church, and his, rather large, statue. She didn't talk to him nearly as much as John, a trend for the other Seed siblings, too.
Madeline once lived in Faith's region, up until two Winter's ago. When John's regional canner was killed by the Resistance in a shootout, he was in desperate need for a new one. With Paisley already living in his region and the Bliss driving her allergies insane, she made the move easily. Her time living there was, perhaps, the only time she saw Faith often, as she tended to be a bit of a recluse.
Much like the oldest — and tallest, and roughest — Seed: Jacob. Also, the only red-head, which she, admittedly, found more attractive than the other Seed brother's hair. She knew very little of him other than his reputation and his love for The Platter's song Only You, which she now skipped every time she played any of their CD's.
To see them all together, standing under the warm sun, deep in discussion, could only mean that something was happening. "You think so?" Paisley asked, looking at the brunette.
Madeline nodded, meeting her gaze. They were able to take a few steps forward, only a few places away from the plates. A delighted grumble emitted from her stomach, earning a teasing smile from Paisley. "Yeah. I mean, did you see John? He's waving his hands and pointing at areas like he's planning to build something." She turned back, looking again. "See, look at him."
Paisley listened, following Madeline's gaze once again. John no longer pointed out certain areas of the grassy landscape, but rather was counting out something on his fingers, as if listing things out. Joseph nodded, said an unheard sentence, and earned a nod from John. Then, the youngest Seed scanned the crowd, searching and searching until —
His eyes landed on them. Paisley and Madeline. Staring, smiling, then pointing. Madeline's eyes shot open in surprise, feeling like a deer in headlights. "Oh, my God, Paisley. Why is he looking and pointing at us?" She looked over at the blonde. "Did we do something? There's no way we did."
Paisley shook her head, seemed entertained in an odd way. She was looking in the directions of the Seed's again, a smile threatening to form on her lips. "No, Mads. We're perfectly fine." The blonde then, completely to Madeline's shock, waved. She waved.
"You're waving?!" Paisley nodded. Madeline, wide-eyed, looked back over. All of the Seeds — except Faith, who was holding her hand out for a large, fluttering insect to land on — were looking back at the two girls. Joseph nodded, appearing lost in thought. John waved back, his smile wide and expression besotted. And Jacob appeared no different than before except he was staring right at Madeline, his brow furrowed deeper than before. "Paisley, why the fuck are you waving?"
"I guess now's a good time to talk." Madeline felt Paisley link her arm back through hers, being whisked away from the food and pulled out of her trance with Jacob Seed. "Don't worry. I'll make sure we get a plate — and I'll pay Pruitt to make you a batch of coleslaw."
That promise was charming enough to soothe Madeline's racing heart — not fully, but enough. She allowed Paisley to drag her out of the crowd, away from the loud chatter and wholehearted laughter and verbal enjoyment of lunch.
The scenery quickly changed, standing bodies replaced with standing trees as they entered the dense, blooming woods. They moved upward, scaling the ground that was partially slick from the remaining dew of that morning. "Where are we going?" Madeline piped as her foot slipped on a patch of grass. Paisley continued to stay quiet.
They reached the top of the hillside, the trees becoming sparse as they did. Paisley let go of Madeline's hand, stepped forward a few feet, then sat in the grass. Curious and out of breath, Madeline followed, facing ahead of them as they overlooked Hope's landscape.
Mountainsides, far off in the distance. Rivers running around Joseph's region, greenery of pine trees, and swaying grass intertwining their blades with blossoming flowers shaded yellow and white. From their angle, they saw the bridge leading to Jacob's region, patrol men looking tiny at their distance.
"So," Madeline asked, breaking the song sang by the birds on the trees. "Care to explain?"
She looked to her left, eyes landing on Paisley's side profile and golden hair, the sun catch in the strands. Her lips had turned into a faint smile, as if she were remembering a pleasant memory. "Do you remember," she started, rubbing her hands down her thighs to rest on her knees, "the Farmer's Market last month? How I left early due to selling out?"
Madeline nodded. Each region, aside from Joseph's, held a Farmer's Market, rotating monthly; Faith's would be held within the next week, followed by Jacob's, then John's again. It was the time to sell baked goods, candles, hobbies, or anything else handmade. For Paisley, an expert in textiles, she sold various clothing items, and with Spring approaching, her sales on T-shirts had increased.
"I did sell out, I wasn't lying about that. But," she stopped for a second, almost biting her tongue as if holding back a laugh. "My last customer was John."
Madeline's brows raised partially. "John was there? I didn't see him."
"Yep. He came around toward midday. You had already left because of Thomas." Madeline nodded. Her neighbors, Thomas and Louise, would let her borrow their truck, as her car had been, very unfortunately, blown up by the Resistance; she tried not to think about it, considering she paid the damn thing off three months prior. With them being older, they didn't go out very often, but there were times they either needed it returned by a specific time or simply needed it all day.
Her presence at the Farmer's Market wasn't necessary. Her booth consisted of a drop-off center, for people who couldn't make it to her house to drop off any food items for her to can.
"So, he comes up. And, he just talks to me. Not in his typical, preach-y, salesman voice. No, I mean, actually talks, as if we're friends." Madeline kept watching Paisley as she talked, seeing the subtle expressions cascading her freckled face. "Then he goes and buys my last two items, even though it was a pair of pink, fuzzy socks and that striped beanie," she says with a soft laugh, shaking her head in a playful way.
Her face settled into one that Madeline could only describe as smitten. For a moment, it completely caught her off guard.
Paisley never dated, not properly, nor ever seemed interested in any man that gave her attention. Raised by her strict, Godly grandparents, no man ever appeared as suitable. Not nice enough, not religious enough — hell, Madeline even heard her say one guy wasn't short enough because he was five inches taller.
For John to step in and swoon her to the extent it had was surprising. In a good way, though. Paisley deserved happiness; she was by far the most radiant person Madeline had ever met. Though John Seed wasn't who she expected her best friend to fall for, she couldn't help but smile with her.
"He's stopped by to see me weekly since then," she continued, eyes hazy with remembrance. "I didn't get it at first — the sudden interest. Then..." Paisley paused again, eyes drifting upward, her head tilting back. Sunshine, warm and glowing, covered her skin. "He told me Joseph saw a vision of us getting married."
Madeline's eyes widened quickly. "To be wed?" Paisley, eyes shut, nodded. She failed to see Madeline's mouth agape in awe. "Wow. I— I didn't realize the Father played matchmaker."
The blonde cracked her right eye open as she turned her head, smiling at Madeline's joke. "Shut up," she joked back.
"I'm serious. It's wonderful, though, Paisley. How do you feel about it?"
She turned her head more to face Madeline, their eyes level. "I'm excited! Which, I know, sounds crazy, especially when I wanted to deck him in the face for the longest time for giving you three tattoos in one go." Madeline frowned at the memory, which Paisley's smile shifted apologetically at. "He's different than how he comes across. I don't know how to explain it.
"Life hasn't been easy on him from the beginning. I don't use that as an excuse for his actions, but it helped me understand him more. I think he has a way of doing certain things that I don't agree with, but he's a completely different person with me." After a moment of hesitation, she added, "He apologized to you. About your Dad."
Madeline involuntarily stilled. Her Dad; she wasn't expecting that topic to arise in the midst of their conversation. The sound of rustling leaves drowned out as memories flooded back in, gurgled yells and splashing water playing through her head. She blinked a few times, and the trees music came back to her. "It's fine. Wasn't his fault, anyway. When's the wedding?" she asked to change the topic, refocusing her attention to Paisley.
Paisley, as expected, didn't press. Her body slouched a bit in relaxation, a small, almost sad, sigh leaving her. "John didn't agree to my idea of doing it next month. He's lavish, as everyone knows. He said six months minimum, that way we have time to plan and have my dress made. Because, for some reason, he won't let me make my own. Or your dress — I assume you know you're my Maid of Honor," she said with a smile, nudging Madeline.
"I better be! Oh, Paisley," Madeline exclaimed, clasping her hands together in her lap. "This is amazing! I'm so excited for you. I can't wait — let me know if you need any help wedding planning, or help with anything else, okay?"
Paisley's smile faltered, not too much, but enough that it was noticeable. "About that. John's so busy that he's not really able to sit and wedding plan. He has ideas, but we don't have time to discuss them. And with the changing season, by clothing orders are up, again. I know you're busy, but John and I were hoping you'd be able to work with his Best Man to sort this out for us. Please?"
Paisley gave an awkward, lopsided, half-pleading and half-eager smile, one that raised enough suspicion that Madeline squinted at her. "Who is it?" she asked, her tone sharper than intended.
A beat passed. "Jacob." Her tone was awkward, and her eyebrow raised with it.
Jacob. Jacob Seed. Jacob. Seed. Madeline would have to wedding plan with Jacob fucking Seed.
"Oh, Christ."
"I'm sorry!" Paisley quickly offered, her voice nearly falling into a laugh. "I really am, but I have no idea when I'd find the time! John said Jacob will be civil and only discuss the wedding."
"Jacob actually agreed to this shit?"
The lopsided expression returned. "Well... he wasn't too keen, but John didn't really give him an option. He hasn't tried to get out of it, though, so he seems fine." Madeline glared at Paisley, who raised her shoulders in a shrug mixed with a surrender. "It's only two hours. On Saturdays only. Once a week, that's it. It'll be okay," Paisley's hand grabbed Madeline's, looking her in the eye. "Jacob's really not that bad. I mean it. He's quiet, too, so I doubt anything other than wedding talk will go on."
A sigh of defeat left Madeline's lips. She didn't have an issue with Jacob, but, Christ, was he intimidating. And she thought he was cute, which, adding that on top of his intimidating personality, really wasn't a good mix. But then, add those two things and add the third fact that they'll be meeting at her house?
She shook her head. She needed to pray. A lot.
Paisley said it would be okay, so Madeline repeated those words in her head. It would be okay. Yeah, it would be okay. It had to be okay. "Okay. Okay. Every Saturday. Eleven to one, that's my timeframe. Jacob Seed. In my house. Fucking wedding planning. Christ Almighty."