by Kate L. Mary
A sob breaks out of me as tears stream down my face. I’m tired of crying, and I try to control them, but I can’t because this is the first time since my days on the ranch when anyone has even tried to understand my pain.
“I was just a child,” I say. “It never should have happened. He told me God wanted him to do it. He ignored my crying, my begging…” I can’t control the sobs, and my words come out as hiccups. Every inch of me aches as the memories come screaming back, and I look away, too ashamed to meet Jared’s eyes. Talking about it makes me feel dirty. Used. Worthless. “I didn’t know what to expect. I had no idea what he was doing. My mother never told me…”
I can’t go on. I’m crying too hard, and I don’t even know if he understood the few words I did manage to get out. I cover my face with my hands, and for the first time since I was brought back to the commune and forced to repent, allow myself to sob. To mourn for the loss of my childhood and the loss of my future, to cry for every girl and woman within this prison who has been beaten and abused, taken advantage of in the name of God.
Jared touches my shoulder and I flinch, but he pulls me toward him anyway. He wraps his arms around me just like he wanted to by the pond, and I don’t shrink away from his embrace. My face is pressed against his chest as my entire body shakes, but somehow the strength in his arms doesn’t frighten me the way I thought it would. Instead, it comforts me. Helps ease the pain, helps me relax.
Jared and David are the only two men who have ever held me like this, but their touch is so different that I have a hard time putting them in the same category. David’s touch has nothing to do with love, despite what he might think, and it terrifies me to my very core. But right here, with Jared’s arms around me, I’m not scared. I feel safe. Protected.
“This is wrong, all of this is wrong,” he says, holding me against him.
He finally gets it. All the stories about Father David that he didn’t want to believe, every motivation behind his actions. Jared can finally see this place and Father David for what they really are.
When I’m all cried out, Jared pulls back, holding me at arm’s length while he looks down at me. I stare up into his eyes, mesmerized by the little gold ring around his pupils, and the gentleness they contain. Very carefully, very slowly, he reaches his hand out and touches my cheek, gently stroking it.
There isn’t an ounce of fear inside me.
“Jared.” The words come out strained, like I’m begging, but I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
He runs his thumb across my cheek, wiping a tear away. “I wish I could take you away from all this.”
I want that, too, more than anything. I want to walk out through the gate with Jared at my side and leave all of this behind. The wall, the people who use and abuse, and the life that feels never-ending in its oppressiveness. I know I can’t, though, not if I want to keep my mom safe. But we can pretend. The branches of this willow tree have been a safe place for us, our own special world where nothing exists but Jared and me.
I shift, moving so I’m on my knees and we’re sitting face to face. There’s about a foot of space between us, but I can still feel the heat from his body. The comfort of his embrace hasn’t faded, and when he rests his hands on my knees, I don’t pull away. My gaze moves over him slowly, tracing every line on his face, memorizing every subtle change of color in his irises. Taking it all in and filing it away for later. Soon I’ll be married, and I want this moment with this man to stay with me forever. I want to be able to close my eyes and escape to this place, to remember how it feels to be with someone who understands and cares.
“I can’t leave,” I say after a moment, “but you can take me away from this moment. Even if it’s only temporary, we can make this place just about you and me. That way, if I have to live the rest of my life with David, I’ll be able to remember this. To know what it feels like to have someone really care about me.”
Jared’s thumbs caress my knees, moving back and forth slowly as if he’s afraid of making any sudden moves, but he doesn’t slide his hands any further up my legs. The touch is gentle and sweet.
“You can’t marry him,” he murmurs, his eyes searching my face. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it.”
I place a trembling hand over one of his. “I don’t want to talk about that. I just want to focus on now, on being here with you. I want to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”
I swallow because no matter what I say, forgetting how powerless I am isn’t easy. But I want to try. I want to be someone else. Someone stronger, someone who isn’t afraid. I want to know what it feels like to be with a man and not cower in fear, only I’m not sure if I can.
Letting out a deep breath, I focus on the warmth radiating through my body, starting where Jared’s hands rest on my legs. It’s gentle and there’s nothing scary about it, or about him. I shift again, leaning forward, and place a shaky hand on his chest. His heart thumps against my palm as his eyes hold mine. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs. He doesn’t move an inch. Not when I slide my hand up to his cheek, not when I lean closer to him. Each inch takes time and effort, and the closer I get, the harder my heart pounds, but it’s a pleasant feeling, and the adrenaline that courses through my veins at this moment only adds to the fever inside me. I want to do this. I need to do this.
When I finally close the distance and brush my lips against his, the kiss is brief enough that it should barely register, but it feels like a bolt of lightning is shooting through my body.
I let out a breath when I sit back, and smile. For once, the tremors aren’t from fear. Yes, there is still some tension in me, but I’m not scared of Jared, and I now know I could never be scared of him.
He takes a couple deep breaths before saying, “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say.
I scoot back, slipping away from his grasp, and lean against the tree. When I motion for him to join me, he does. He settles in so our shoulders are touching, placing his hand on his leg right next to mine like he wants to touch me but is waiting for a sign that it’s okay. I do the same, and when our hands are side by side, he hooks our pinkies together. The touch is innocent, but intimate at the same time because of who we are and where we are. I’m sure to anyone else in the world this would be nothing, but for me it is a step I never thought I’d be able to take, a feeling I never thought I’d crave. Closeness. Intimacy. Desire. These are all things that once felt evil to me, but with Jared at my side, I suddenly see them in a new light.
After a few moments of silence, Jared clears his throat. He keeps his eyes on the branches in front of us, swaying slowly as the breeze sweeps them back and forth. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
I swallow, not wanting to talk about it, but wanting to at the same time. “I’m not alone, all the girls here go through the same thing, but the fact that it was David has made it worse for me. If I’d been matched with anyone else, I don’t know if Father David would have come after me. But he couldn’t allow me to turn my back on his son. It might allow doubt to creep in.” I exhale as if saying the words has exhausted me, and in a way, it has. “I just wish I knew why he chose me. Why was I chosen to be David’s bride? I don’t believe Father David talks to God, and there has to be a reason he picked me.”
Jared shifts, turning so he’s facing me a little more, and I do the same. Our fingers are still entwined as his gaze holds mine. It’s only a second, though, and then his gaze moves over me, almost as if he’s studying every line of my face. It makes the hair on my scalp prickle, but in a good way.
When Jared’s eyes are once again on mine, he lets out a deep breath and says, “It’s because you’re beautiful.”
I blink, unsure if I heard him right. “What?”
“Do you really not know?”
“Know what?” I ask, still dumbfounded.
David has told me how beautiful I am, and I’ve seen other men in the commune looking at me and recognized the expression in their
eyes. But I don’t understand what that has to do with anything. Why would Father David care about that? Wouldn’t he want to choose someone for his son who was meek and pliable?
“We’ve never spoken until recently,” Jared begins, “but even before you were promised to David, I knew who you were, because you are the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen.”
“I don’t understand why that would matter,” I say, suddenly so mesmerized by the way Jared is looking at me that I can barely remember what we were talking about to begin with.
“It’s simple. Father David is a proud man, vain, even. It only makes sense that he’d choose the most beautiful girl in the commune to be his son’s wife.” His gaze sweeps over me again. “That’s you.”
I don’t respond because I’m too busy thinking his words through. Then he reaches up, and every thought slips from my mind but Jared. He’s hesitant as he tucks my hair behind my ear, his fingers barely brushing my skin. Even this touch, so small it should be nothing, sends a waterfall of tingles shooting through me.
Chapter 17
On Saturday night, Jared and I once again meet under the willow tree. We sit side by side, talking, as the branches sway. It seems to add to the illusion that there’s nothing in the world other than us. Every second we’re together is a risk, but by now I can’t even think about going back. Plus, it’s worth it. Just being able to escape reality for a few hours is heaven, a place I was certain Father David had made up, and being with Jared is like a dream.
I take a leap and place half my hand over his. He seems to understand that I not only need to be the one to do it, but that I have to keep my hand on top. I’m scared if his hand covers mine it will make me feel trapped or held down, and I don’t want to destroy the illusion I’ve worked hard to create.
“There has to be a way,” Jared says, turning his head so he’s looking me in the eye. “If we ran away together, we could make it.”
We’re side by side with our faces turned toward one another, and we’re close enough that I can feel his warm breath when he exhales. The first couple times it brushes over me, panic threatens to bubble up. Heat surrounds me, and I have to force myself to focus on Jared’s eyes. The gray depths are full of worry and understanding, and it helps me relax.
“Let’s just enjoy the moment,” I reply. Thinking about giving him up sends an ache shooting through me. I can’t talk about it. Not now. “We’ll worry about the future later.”
His mouth opens—probably to tell me how little time we have left—but I cut him off by pressing the tip of my finger against his lips.
I leave it there for a second then hesitantly trace the bottom one. His gaze holds mine, and a need I haven’t felt before curls in my stomach. I swallow, thinking about the day before and the tiny brush of my lips against his. My first real kiss, so small and yet so big.
The longer we sit like that, staring at each other in silence with my finger pressed against his mouth, the more the need builds. Jared seems to be frozen by the time I gather the strength to lean closer, and when I move my finger aside, he sucks in a deep breath. I swallow, pausing less than two inches from him so I can once again search his eyes. Then I close the gap between us, and my eyes slide shut. This time, I let the kiss linger. Let my mouth move just a little over his. His lips are warm against mine. Soft.
My palm is still on his cheek when I pull back, but his face isn’t scratchy or rough, and when he opens his eyes, a crooked grin spreads across his face that makes everything inside me melt.
“Wow,” he whispers, and I let out a soft laugh.
Red spreads across his face, matching the heat warming my own cheeks. I’m sure to the outside world we’d be pathetic. Me, at the age of eighteen, blushing over a kiss that’s barely even a kiss, and Jared nearly twenty and so inexperienced he’s awed by something so small. But more than anything, it’s the impossibility of this moment that has us both floored. This is something that should never exist in Father David’s closely controlled world.
I lean my head on Jared’s shoulder, still smiling, and he rests his cheek against the top of my head. We stay like that for hours, doing nothing but talking and enjoying the intimacy of the moment under the seclusion of the willow tree. But when the sun moves lower, kissing the horizon, I know it’s time to head home. We’ve taken enough of a risk for one day.
Before we leave the safety of our hiding place, Jared and I stand facing each other. I reach out and hook my pinky around his, and then after a second find the courage to take the next step and intertwine our hands completely. A tingle moves up my arm, starting from where our palms are pressed together, but it’s a pleasant sensation. Nothing like the tremors David’s touch causes.
I don’t want to give him up. How can I? How can I go back to being alone after this? Maybe Jared is right, and if we ran away together we would be able to make it. Maybe it’s the only way. Working together, forming a plan. There isn’t much time, but we could do it.
I can’t bring it up until I’ve had time to think it through. The last thing I want to do is to give him false hope. Standing in front of him now, it all seems possible, but I know that has more to do with the warm glow spreading through me than reality.
We separate as we slip out from under the tree, but walk back side by side, only splitting up when we reach the small street running through our neighborhood. A smile stays on my lips the whole way home, and the gesture is so unfamiliar that I find myself tracing my lips with my finger. Before Jared, I can’t remember the last time I smiled. Years ago, probably.
Sunday morning, I follow my mother and George to the main building, searching for Jared the second we enter the worship hall. He’s already sitting when we walk in, and he’s searching the crowd of people filing into the room. Our eyes meet, and I smile. Even after I sit, I can’t take my eyes off him, staring at the back of his head the entire service.
I don’t hear a word Father David says.
Afterward, as the men file out, Jared once again brushes my shoulder with the tip of his fingers as he passes me.
In the dining hall, I search the crowd for him as I follow my mother to the line. I can’t find him, though, not even after I sit down, and it makes the meal feel torturously long. With George watching me like a hawk—he’s mentioned a few times recently how distracted I’ve been—it will be impossible to physically look for Jared, but I comfort myself with the knowledge that we’ll see each other tonight.
No matter how hard I try to keep my mind off Jared, the day moves slower than a snail. My mother and I work together to bake the bread we’ll need for the week, mixing the dough, kneading it. I focus on the act, but the work isn’t as much of a distraction as I wanted it to be because it hits me that this is the last time I will do this. Next Sunday, I’ll be married, and I’ll spend the day making bread in a different kitchen while a different man snores away in the living room.
The realization almost makes me vomit right on the dough.
I go to my room early but don’t lie down. Not that it matters. My mind and body are buzzing as I count down the minutes, and I know it would be impossible to sleep even if I had curled up under my blankets.
The days are ticking away faster than I expected them to, faster than I want them to, and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I’m now less than a week from marrying David. This time next week, I’ll be in bed with him. I’ll have to let him touch me, and kiss me. I’ll have to do everything he says, no matter how sick it makes me.
The realization makes me long to be with Jared even more.
By the time midnight comes, I’m dying to get to the pond. I run through the silent streets, not slowing until the sparkling water comes into view and barely winded when I finally do. Just like before, Jared is waiting for me.
He turns when I walk up, and a smile spreads across his face. The hours of waiting for this moment, of thinking about David and the swiftly approaching future, has jumbled my thoughts and emotions until I find myself wanting t
o throw my arms around Jared. We’ve only hugged once, though, the day after his betrothal, and I’m not sure if I can do it. Not sure if I’ll panic once his arms are around me.
His smile falters when I stop in front of him. “What is it?”
“I—” The tremor in my voice matches the one in my legs. I swallow and try to find words, but I can’t. I also can’t ignore the increasingly persistent desire to have Jared’s arms around me. “Don’t move,” I say, taking a step toward him.
Jared nods, and I wait a second before moving closer. His body heat contrasts with the cool night air, and when I take yet another step, it’s even more intense.
It’s intoxicating, too. It calls to me, and when I am finally pressed against him, my arms wrapped around his waist and my head resting on his chest, his closeness warms me all the way through. From the top of my head to the tip of my toes, and even into my soul.
Jared doesn’t move right away, and even when his arms engulf me, it’s slow and easy. The embrace is loose. He has one hand resting on my upper back, right below my neck, and another on my waist, but there’s enough slack in his arms that I could easily twist out of his grasp if I needed to.
Our hearts seem practically in sync as I wait for discomfort or panic to swoop in and steal the moment from me, but it doesn’t.
“I hate David every time I think about him touching you,” Jared says against my head.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I hate him, too.”
The loathing burning inside me has grown now that I know Jared. Now that I understand what goodness actually is. What David did to me was nothing but violence, but it wouldn’t be like that with Jared. I’m not ready to take that step, but I have no doubt that if I were given time I would be one day, because this is a man who would take his time, and if I was able to share that intimacy with Jared, it would be special. Wonderful.
