by Celia Aaron
I took her elbow. “You all right?”
“As much as I can be.”
“Who’s watching Vivi?”
She arched a brow at me. “What do you take me for? My friend Vilma is helping out.”
“Sorry.” I helped her to the row of seats in the waiting area off to the right, a TV humming quietly as a man snored in the corner chair.
She let out a labored breath as she settled, her house shoes peeking out from beneath her flowery mumu. “How’s my Belly?”
“This asshole got her shot. She’s still in surgery.” Logan sat across from us and crossed his arms over his chest.
“That’s not helpful.” Her cross tone was enough to chill the room.
“Sorry, May Bell.”
“Tell me what happened.” She patted my knee with a calmness that would have been believable if I hadn’t noticed her shaking hand. “I could use a good story.”
“Yeah, I’d like to hear it, too.” Logan chewed his words as if they were an overdone sirloin.
I took a breath and turned to May Bell, then began to tell her about the properties changing hands, the money running through the county, and what happened in the barn. By the time I was done, Logan was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and May Bell had paled a shade.
“She’s going to make it.” May Bell took my hand in hers. “She will.”
I could only nod and hope that the conviction in her words stuck. “I promised her I’d take care of Vivi.” I bit back tears. “And I will. You and Vivi.”
“It won’t come to that.” She squeezed my fingers.
The hall doors swung open. I jumped to my feet and rushed toward them, Logan right behind me.
Doctor Evans, his hair under a surgical cap, strode out.
“Doc?” May Bell stood in the doorway to the waiting room.
“Let’s sit down.” The doctor gestured toward the chairs.
“No.” The steel in May Bell’s voice reminded me so much of Arabella that my chest ached. “Tell me right now. How’s my baby girl?”
“She lost a lot of blood. The bullet clipped her brachial artery and did some more damage on the way out. But she’s a fighter. She’s going to make it.”
I could finally breathe again, my lungs filling all the way as relief coursed through me. May Bell took a step, and almost faltered, but I grabbed her arm and steadied her.
“Thanks, Doc.” She gave him a thin smile. “Can I see her?”
“She’s in recovery. The anesthesia will wear off over the next half hour, and then we’ll work on pain management.”
Her hard stare cracked his clinical exterior. He nodded. “Yes, you can see her. But only one at a time.”
I helped May Bell through the doors. She continued down the hall, the doctor at her side, until they turned along a corridor on the left.
I sagged against the wall, going out of my skin with the need to see Arabella. But I’d have to wait. I glanced at Logan, who glowered right back at me. Great.
He opened his mouth to speak—
“Save it.” I held up a hand. “I’ve heard all you’ve got to say.”
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a tin of snuff. Tapping the top, he smiled faintly. “She hates this, you know?” The tin settled in his palm. “Hates all my bad habits.” He opened the lid, took a pinch of tobacco, and settled it between his lip and gum. When he snapped the lid closed, his gaze returned to mine. “But I keep doing them. All of them. This—” he tapped the can, “—drinking, women, you name it.”
I wasn’t sure where he was going, but I was too beat to stop him. At least we weren’t fighting.
“She thinks I can be a better man.” He shook his head. “She’s wrong. Always has been.” His deep sigh matched my own exhaustion. “I’m not going to change my ways. I can’t, or maybe I won’t.”
“You’re saying you aren’t good enough for her.” Realization hit me in the gut.
“Of course I’m not.” He leaned over and spat into the trash can just inside the waiting room. “Doesn’t mean you are, though.”
“That’s true. But I’m willing to try and be better for her.”
“You ever going to tell her your alibi for the night your father was killed was pure bullshit?” He smiled, pulling the skin under his lip taut along the lump of snuff.
I kept my poker face. “What do you mean?”
“You and Porter—both of you lied about where you were that night. He said he was with Vorayna Clearwater. A lie. You said you were at home or some bullshit. Also a lie.”
“How do you know?”
“There’s plenty I know.” He shrugged. “Porter, I can understand. When your alibi is a married woman—and the mayor’s daughter at that—you don’t want to spread that around. But you don’t make sense at all. Why lie?”
“Some things are personal.” I hadn’t thought about the lie since I’d told it. Now, I dreaded explaining myself to Arabella.
“There’s no shame in going to dance class.” He grinned.
I hid my wince with a cough. “My father arranged classes. He wanted the firm to have two entries in that stupid Dancing with the Stars thing next year. I was humoring him. So, yes, I was at Jacquelin Alabaster’s studio that night. Not that it did much good.”
“You saying you didn’t learn to dance?”
I shook my head. “Jacqueline said I was by far the worst student she’d ever had in her thirty years of teaching.”
“She told me the same thing about you.” He spit again. “Shoot straight with me, college boy.” He gave me an up and down look. “I’m not even going to tell anyone we had this conversation. None of this ever passed between us. But answer one thing for me. Did you know what dear old Daddy was up to?”
“Absolutely not.” I stood straight, looking him right in the eye. “I never knew.”
He nodded slowly, then relaxed against the wall again. After a while, he said, “I’m a damn good dancer, myself.”
Somehow, a truce had just been struck between us, one built on my utter lack of rhythm. After a few more minutes of blessed silence, the doors opened again.
“She’s asking for Benton.” The doctor turned to me. “May Bell says that’s you.”
“Yes.” I followed him as Logan grumbled behind me.
The doctor walked without urgency, to the point where I wanted to jump ahead of him, but I didn’t know which way to go.
Finally, he slowed and turned into a room near a nurse’s station. “In here.”
May Bell sat next to Arabella, both of them speaking softly.
My mind stopped buzzing, everything inside of me calming as I saw her, her eyes open. When she looked at me, I couldn’t get to her fast enough. Pushing past the doctor, I rushed to her side.
“Hi.” She smiled up at me.
“I’m going to go console Logan.” May Bell stood and shuffled toward the door.
Arabella intertwined her fingers with mine.
“Are you all right?” I peered at the bandages around her right arm, all of them clean and white.
“I’m flying. Thanks, anesthesia.” She turned her head toward me, her dark hair making a halo behind her.
“I was so worried.” I eased onto the bed, careful not to disturb her.
“I know. You even told me you loved me. Must have been out of your mind.”
I stroked her cheek, happy to find her warm, the life flowing inside her where before she’d been pale. “I meant every word.”
She blinked, her eyes growing misty. “You can’t love me. You don’t know me.”
“I know all I need to. And I meant every word about Vivi, too.”
“This is crazy.”
“Probably.” I squeezed her fingers.
“You’re crazy.” She smiled despite her words.
“Definitely.”
“I’m sleepy.”
“Get some rest. I’ll be here.” I wasn’t going to leave her. Not ever.
Her eyes closed, her hand still in
mine. I kissed the back of her knuckles.
“I love that.” Her breathy sigh warmed every bit of me.
“Then I’ll keep doing it.” I kissed her hand again. “For as long as you let me.”
“In that case, you’re in for a lot of kissing.”
“Promise?” I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers gently.
Epilogue
“If your mom could see you right now, she’d probably cry all over you.” I leaned down and tweaked Vivi’s nose.
“Hey!” She swatted at my hand and grinned, one of her front teeth missing, her bubble gum tongue showing through.
“Who is this stunning lady standing before me?” Porter dropped to his knees and opened his arms.
Vivi ran to him, and he caught her, then picked her up and stood.
“Where’d you get this pretty dress?”
“Bennon.” She adopted a shy tone, though there wasn’t a timid bone in her body.
“Well, you look like a little angel in it.”
She blushed and squirmed.
“Run along now.” He set her down. “I think you’ve got a job to do here in a minute.”
She disappeared through a door at the side of the vestibule.
“Such a cute kid, man.” Porter ran his hands down the front of his black tux and light blue tie. “And damn, I look hella fine in this getup. I might adopt the tuxedo as the new uniform for the sheriff’s department. That way I can show everybody up even more than I already do.”
I took a deep breath and let it out, only half listening to Porter’s nonsense.
“Nervous, huh?” He smiled and clapped me on the back.
“No. I’m just…” Nervous.
“Look, I know this will come as a shock to you, but on the wedding night, you’ll be expected to perform what we experts like to call ‘the sex.’ This will necessarily include the insertion of the—”
“Shut up.” I couldn’t stop my smile. My brother was such an idiot.
“There it is.” He grinned. “There’s the smile. The uptight douchebag is dead and gone. Ever since you met Arabella, you’ve been the type of guy I’ll actually admit I’m related to.”
The sanctuary doors opened, and one of the ushers told me it was time to take my place up front.
“I wish…” Porter’s grin faded a bit. “Nothing.”
“I wish he was here, too.” I couldn’t help it. He was my father. Even though I didn’t know him like I thought I did, even though he’d kept things from all of us, he was still my dad. His sins—though many—couldn’t erase the profound effect he’d had on the King family. On me.
Porter cleared his throat. “Got a report from a Texas border town that maybe the chief was hanging around.”
“Any truth to it?” I raised a brow. We hadn’t seen or heard from Chief Garvey ever since he stole the money, an ambulance, and his daughter from the hospital. But there were sightings every now and then.
“No. But maybe one of these days we’ll recover the—”
Charlotte burst through a side door, one hand in the pocket of her pink dress. “Here.”
“What?” Porter turned as she thrust a box at him.
“The rings.”
“Oh, shit.” Porter flipped open the box. “That does seem kinda important.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It’s about to start. Benton, what are you doing back here?”
“I was just—”
She shooed me into the sanctuary. “Go!”
I hurried down the aisle, the people seated on either side passing by in a blur. The church was full to the brim. I was the eldest King, the one who inherited what little cachet my father still had in Azalea. But the filled seats told me the name still meant something. Maybe it was because I’d invested in the town by rebuilding the law firm on a new site, dedicating the old location as a city park, and doing what I could to repair the mess my father and his associates had made. But I couldn’t have done it without Arabella at my side. As the new chief, she closed the murder cases and did the best she could on damage control.
I took my spot at the front and nodded to the pastor. Clasping my sweaty palms together, I stared straight ahead. Minutes passed, each second ticking away as I replayed all the moments I’d had with Arabella and Vivi since I first met them. How did I manage to survive so long without them in my life?
The elderly organist began playing, though she seemed to miss every third note.
“Ready, son?” The minister patted my arm.
“Yes, sir.” Despite my nerves, I had no doubts whatsoever. Arabella was the one.
The vestibule doors opened and Vivi skipped down the center aisle, forgetting to throw the rose petals, but looking too cute for anyone to stop her. She grinned and ran up to me.
I picked her up as the bridesmaids and groomsmen began to file in. “You did that perfectly.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “We getting married?”
“Your mom and I are getting married, yes.”
“I can’t wait.” She kissed me on the cheek, then wriggled to get down. She ran over to May Bell and sat on her lap, then kicked her feet up on Logan’s knee as the rest of the wedding party filed in.
“Rings are A-okay.” Porter patted his pocket.
“I should hope so. You’ve only had them for fifteen minutes.”
He elbowed me. “Calm down. You don’t want to faint.”
“I won’t faint.” I scoffed, but took a deep breath.
The organist changed songs, the notes unmistakable, and everyone in the room rose.
I peered at the vestibule doors. When the ushers opened them, and Arabella appeared, my mouth went dry. She was a vision in a white gown, a thin veil covering her face as she walked slowly toward me. My heart banged against my ribs, and I felt like someone had punched me right in the gut. But instead of winded, I felt like I was flying.
I could see her smile through the veil, and I returned it. When she reached me, and I took her hand, I wanted to pull her in for a kiss right then and there.
“Patience, Mr. King.” The minister’s eyes twinkled as he began to speak about love and commitment.
But I couldn’t concentrate on him, not when Arabella was standing next to me.
“You look amazing.” I squeezed her hand.
“You do, too.”
“I can’t wait to get that dress off you.”
Her smile grew wider. “Stop.”
“It’s gorgeous, but I think it’ll be even nicer on the floor.”
Even through the veil, I could see her cheeks growing pink. God, I loved her.
“Are you ready for the vows?” The minister motioned for us to begin.
We promised ourselves to each other, and I can’t recall anytime happier than the moment I slid the ring on her finger, lifted her veil, and kissed her in front of the whole town. She clutched my shoulders as I dipped her, our embrace verging into inappropriate as Porter laughed and Vivi squealed from the front row.
Setting her back on her feet, I kissed her hand. “Thank you.”
The organist began to play as the crowd applauded.
“Thank you?” Her green eyes shimmered. “For what?”
“For saving me. For saying yes. For Vivi.” For so much more that I couldn’t even name. She’d brought me back to life when I hadn’t even known I was dead. “I love you so much.” I smoothed my hands around her waist, the lace tickling the tips of my fingers.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and moved in closer, her crimson lips tantalizing. “I love you, too. Now kiss me again, and let’s really give Azalea something to talk about.”
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Sheer white fabric covers me from neck to toe. I keep my eyes on the dirt path ahead of me as I move through the dark, my thin shift a beacon in the night calling every sort of predator to me. I try not to shiver. Keeping my steps even becomes my world, my only focus. One st
ep, then the next.
I can’t think about the crackling branches, the footfalls through the crisp leaves, the low chant floating through the chilly air, or the women ahead or behind me. No. Only my own steps. Right, then left. The frozen earth beneath my bare feet. The momentum that carries me deeper and deeper into the woods.
Firelight casts a faint glow as we continue moving forward, each of us rushing toward the cage, desire in our hearts, and fervor in our souls. We want to be shackled, owned, moved only by the spirit of our God. And our God has anointed one on earth to embody His good will. The Prophet Leon Monroe.
The deep chant thrums through my veins as I approach the firelight, the orange glimmer flickering over my dirty feet and up to play against the soft fabric of my nightgown. Though clothed, I am bare. I enter the circle of men, each one of them dressed in white pants and shirts—holy men, handpicked by the Prophet himself.
I follow the girl ahead of me until all of us form an inner circle, pressed between the fire and the men along the outside. It’s a new circle of hell, promising an agonizing burn no matter which way I move.
A woman in all black walks along the line of women, handing each of us a small pitcher of water. My head bowed, I don’t look her in the eye as she approaches. But I already know who she is—Rachel—first wife of the Prophet. Her limp gives her away. I take my pitcher, the weight of the cold water steadying the shake in my hands.
A strong voice silences the chanting. “We thank God for this bounty.”
“Amen,” the men chorus.
“We remember His commandment to ‘Be fruitful and increase in number.’ As a sign of our obedience to His will, we take these girls under our care, our protection. We also take them into our hearts, to cherish as if they were of our own blood.”
“Amen.”
His voice grows louder as he walks around the circle. “Just as Rebekah was called by the Lord to marry a son of Abraham, so have these girls been called to serve the godly men gathered here tonight.”
A pair of heavy boots stops in front of me. A light touch under my chin pulls my gaze upward until I’m met by a pair of dark eyes. The Prophet peers into my soul.
