Simmer: An Inferno World Novella

by Measha Stone

  I rush from the room and dart across the hall to my own. Papa’s door is slightly open. Mark told me to go to him in the morning, so it’s not a signal for me. He’s been listening to us.

  Once my belly rounds out, he’ll hear us every night. Every night, I’ll be expected to love my husbands. Love my Papa.

  Every night.

  And I’ll have a baby to raise.

  To protect.

  And when I have more babies? When they are older and it’s time to teach them to love their papa?

  Nausea rolls through me.

  I’m not a good woman.

  I’m not.

  I shove my fist into my mouth as a sob breaks free while I lay on my bed in the dark.

  I remember the stranger.

  I remember his promise to help.

  Maybe he’s right.

  Maybe this isn’t love.

  I have to get away.

  He’ll take me away from here. Papa’s going to the store tomorrow, and the stranger said he’d be back.

  I can go with him. Papa won’t find me. He won’t put me down.

  I fall asleep, dreaming of the picture on the stranger’s phone of the girl with her warm smile, her ticket of freedom.

  That’s going to be me.

  The truck runs smooth since the boys changed the oil. I turn off the dirt road onto a gravel path that will lead to the main road. It’s a hassle going into town. Takes me half a morning to get there, especially if the weather’s been bad. But it’s important. And my own damn fault I’m making a second trip so soon.

  I meant to pick up one of those damn tests for Nicolette, but got distracted by the sweet thing behind the checkout counter and forgot all about it. I shouldn’t have been eyeing the young girl, but she had such a pure look about her. An innocent blush bloomed on her cheeks when she caught me staring.

  She’s not family, though, so I didn’t talk to her as long as I wanted to. Maybe she’ll be there today and I can witness her angelic smile again. I don’t pretend she’s as innocent as she looks. No woman is. But I know how to fix that, so it doesn’t bother me too much.

  If the test comes out the way I’m sure it will, things will be different. The boys will have their wife.

  When Madeline swelled with Mark in her belly, my daddy did the hard thing—he handed over her care to me. He watched us for a while, making sure she didn’t start turning like Mama. Mama had done so good for so long, but once Daddy started teaching Madeline what it meant to be a good woman, she raged with jealousy. And Daddy wouldn’t tolerate it.

  He spread his love around evenly. He loved me and Madeline the same. He never showed favorites. And I’ve done my best not to show differences between my kids.

  The little blonde is sitting on the stool behind the counter when I walk into the store. She looks up from the magazine she’s flipping through and smiles at me.

  “Didn’t I just see you yesterday?” She’s teasing me.

  “Yeah. Forgot a few things,” I answer lightly. I make my way down the aisles. Might as well grab a few more supplies while I’m here. I can probably avoid coming down the mountain for a few more weeks.

  Grabbing a cart, I work my way through the narrow aisles. Small towns like this don’t need one of those monstrous grocery centers. A general store is more than enough. I grab another five pounds of flour, sugar, and cornmeal. Nicolette makes the best cornbread, and it gets us through in scarce times.

  The bear I have in the smoke shed needs to finish processing and be canned. She can do that tomorrow. If she’s going to be tied up with canning, she’ll need to get supper in the pot by lunch. I pick up another roast and some carrots and potatoes. She can make stew. I make things so easy for her. It’s why I get so angry when she doesn’t do her chores.

  I pass by the clothing section and stop at the dresses. It’s her birthday today. She probably thinks that book I gave her was her only present. It’s good she does. I don’t need her getting spoiled and start acting up like my mama. Always demanding things she didn’t deserve. Good women get good things. Mama ended up not being a good woman.

  One dress catches my eye. It’s light blue. I like her in white. It reminds me of her purity and innocence. Gives her something to aspire to. But this dress would be good for her now that she’s going to be a mama. I pick up one that looks a little bigger so her belly can grow in it. She’ll appreciate it. The boys will too. She’ll look sweet in it.

  I toss it in the cart and head to the pharmacy section. Just in case, I grab three of the pregnancy tests, wanting to be sure.

  Daddy would be so proud of me, continuing our family the way we have. Nicolette has her days, but she’s a good girl mostly. Nothing like mama. The boys are growing into their own ways. They understand their duty to Nicolette. Elijah is still a little softer than he should be, but I try not to hold it against him. Daddy was like that too. He gave in to Mama a few times when he shouldn’t have, but he righted himself and got us back on track. Elijah takes after him.

  The cashier puts her magazine down and hops off her stool when I get to the counter. She gathers up the cans and starts scanning them. Her nails are painted a soft pink, but the edges are chipped.

  “Do you chew on your nails?” I ask as she reaches closer to me to get a can of peaches.

  Her cheeks redden, and she keeps her gaze down as she runs the can over the scanner. “Yeah. It’s a horrible habit,” she says, grabbing the bag of carrots. Nicolette needs to start planting more veggies in her garden. We’ve already gone through what little harvest she had. I can’t come down the mountain every week for this stuff.

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I ask. Not that I would ever send one of my kids to that prison. They learn everything they need at home. No need to fill their head with useless bullshit. But most families haven’t learned the right way to raise their kids, so I’m sure she’s part of the system.

  “Nah.” She shakes her head, her short bangs brushing against her soft brown eyebrows. “I dropped out last year. I needed to work.” She takes the roast and taps some numbers into her screen.

  “Times can be hard,” I say, watching her little tongue flick over her lip. Such a sweet thing, this girl.

  “Yeah, they can,” she agrees, picking up the dress and scanning the paper tag. “You work here in town? I don’t see you that often.”

  “Nah. I run a homestead. Been in my family a few generations, so we’ve got almost everything we need.” I push the pregnancy tests toward her when she hesitates.

  “For your wife?” she asks hesitantly, curious but not sure if it’s rude to ask.

  “No, my wife left us a long time ago.” Madeline had her choice fall in line or get put down. It was unfortunate she took after our mama and stopped being a good woman. Putting her down was hard, but I had to do it. There was no other choice. Once a woman decides to be a bad wife and a bad mother, she’s got to be put down.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She scans the first box.

  “These are for my daughter,” I tell her as she picks up the second.

  She pauses. “You don’t look old enough to have a daughter old enough—shit, I’m sorry. That was super rude.” Her cheeks erupt in a blush.

  Maybe to her standards thirty-seven is too young to become a grandfather, but popular standards leave families broken and unloved.

  I crack a smile to keep her at ease. “It’s okay. Though, I take more offense to the cursing.” I hand her the last test. “Good women don’t curse,” I say firmly.

  Her eyes lower. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Her contrition hits me in the gut. She’s a good girl, just a little lost. I bet she doesn’t have a daddy or any strong man in her life to guide her. She can’t be blamed if she hasn’t been taught.

  “Carrie, when you’re done here, go on and take your break.” A man only a few years older than her says from behind me. He’s wearing a nametag with his title of “manager” clearly stated beneath. He’s in charge here. He s
hould have better manners than to interrupt a conversation.

  “Thanks, Jeff,” Carrie says with a smile, but I can see it’s fake. At least she’s trying. Her gaze meets mine, and her grin softens. “That will be thirty-seven-fifty.”

  I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and dig out the cash for her.

  “How long you get for a break?” I ask as she counts out my change.

  “An hour. It’s my meal break.” She hands me two dollar bills and drops the quarters into my palm.

  “Let me buy you breakfast. The diner across the street is open.” I work the bills back into my worn leather wallet.

  She studies me. “Just across the street?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I offer the little bit of respect because she’s been good. And rewards will get us farther than scorn. At least at first.

  “Okay. I wouldn’t mind some pancakes. Let me grab my purse.” She’s already untying her apron.

  “I’ll put these in my truck and meet you at the front door.” I grab the handles of the bags.

  “Perfect.” She smiles and hurries off.

  I haven’t had a meal with a woman outside my own house in years, but Carrie reminds me of Madeline. Sweet and nice—and in sore need of a guiding hand.

  But first, pancakes.

  It’s going to be a good day.

  Nicolette is dusting the bookshelves in the living room when I come inside from watering the animals. Her hair’s pulled up into a short ponytail. She smiles up at me when she catches me staring at her from the doorway.

  “Want me to read to you?” she asks, balling up her rag in her left hand. “I just finished in here and have time before I need to start lunch,” she offers.

  “Can’t. I have to get out front and help Mark with the fence. That pole is loose again, and Papa wants it fixed today,” I tell her, still not moving from the doorway. Pictures flash in my mind from the night before. Her mouth wrapped around Mark’s dick, sucking him off while I pounded her from behind. When Papa explained what he expected from us, I’d been worried. If jealousy grew in my heart at seeing her touch him, I’d have a lot of problems.

  But it didn’t happen. It was just like Papa said it was. Her submission to us and willingness to ask for our forgiveness opened my heart to them both.

  “Oh, okay.” She tucks the rag into the front pocket of her apron. It was Mama’s. Everything Nicolette does was once Mama’s job, and now it’s hers. And if what we suspect is true, she’ll have a little girl or boy to teach next. Pride fills me at the thought.

  “I just came in for my gloves. The wind is cold today.” I walk past her to the front closet and dig out my work gloves.

  “Elijah?” Her soft tone stops me.

  “Yeah?” I prompt when she doesn’t continue.

  She glances out the front window. Mark is already pacing the porch, waiting on me.

  “Papa took you to town last month, right?”

  I drop my hand from the door handle. “Yeah. Why?” He let me drive the truck too. It was a good day.

  “What does it look like?” There’s a bravery to her words that wasn’t there before. Mark’s been to town a few times already too, but she’s never asked about it. She knows better. Women don’t need to know everything men do. And she has no reason to know about what’s down the mountain. This is her place. Here.

  “I don’t know. Like a town, I guess. There are a few stores, a diner, gas station—the same stuff you read about.”

  She opens her mouth like she’s going to ask something else, but stops herself.

  “Why, you wanna go?” I laugh. The idea is insane. Papa would put her away for a week if she ever suggested going down the mountain. Mama tried to go down there, and he put her down.

  Nicolette glances back out the window, staying silent.

  “You’d leave us?” I accuse her.

  She whips her gaze back to mine with a sharp shake of her head.

  “No, Elijah. Never.” She hurries forward, framing my face with her hands. Callouses have formed on the tips of her fingers, but she still smells sweet. Just like a woman should. She shouldn’t smell of leather and sweat like us men.

  “You’re my family,” she says with conviction. “And I love you all so much. I would never want to leave you,” she says, but her gaze slips to my nose. “Never,” she whispers. Bringing her mouth to mine, she kisses me tenderly before pulling away and stepping back. “I was just curious is all.” She laughs.

  “You know what Papa says about that,” I point out, stuffing my hands into my work gloves.

  “Yes, Elijah. I know. Curiosity killed the cat and will surely kill me too,” she repeats. She tries so hard for me, I can’t be irritated with her.

  I smile. “That’s right. What else do you need to finish before lunch?” I ask, turning the handle on the front door.

  “I need to get the compost bucket I left outside yesterday. Papa told me this morning he wants potato soup for lunch, so I’ll start that when I get back in.”

  “Better get going.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. She picks up the dirty rags on the floor near the bookcase and heads into the kitchen.

  She’s going to make such a perfect wife and mother. I can already envision her belly stretched with my baby nestled safely inside.

  “Elijah, let’s go!” Mark calls from outside. I roll my eyes and yank the door open.

  It’s going to be a good day.

  “I was thinking about Nicolette this morning,” I say to Elijah as he shovels dirt around the form tube I’m holding in place in the hole we created for the post. This stupid fence is a pain in my ass. We tried to refit the hole with Papa, but it still won’t hold, so we’ve had to make a new one.

  “About what?” Elijah asks, sitting back on his heels and reaching for the bucket of quick cement I have stirred up.

  “Well, once she takes that test and we know she’s pregnant, she’ll be our wife.” I press down on the cardboard tubing to keep it steady while he fills it with the cement.

  “Yeah,” he says, like he wants me to get to the end of it already. “So?”

  “Well, I bet she’d like to have some sort of ceremony. Girls like that sort of thing. And it will really drive the point home, you know? Like she’ll be willingly giving herself to us as our wife. Her choice.”

  “Like a pledge of loyalty?” he asks, shoving the trowel through cement, working the air bubbles out.

  “Yeah. Sort of.” I let go of the tube and leave him to finish filling it while I move around him to get the fence post ready. Once we have the post in place, we can let it set until tomorrow, then finish putting up the rest of it.

  “I don’t understand why you question her like this.” Elijah shakes his head. He drops the trowel into the empty bucket and holds his hands up to grab the bottom of the post. Together, we guide the newly cut wood post into the cement, working it to stand center.

  “Mama,” I say.

  Elijah looks up at me with a furrowed brow.

  “She promised me she’d be good. She swore she would make Papa happy, that she would keep my lessons going. But she lied, Elijah. She stopped teaching me, then Papa had to take over.”

  Elijah’s eyes lower. “Nicolette isn’t Mama. She knows right from wrong. She’ll be a good wife.”

  “Then promising it to us won’t hurt, will it?” I ask him. “It’s one thing for Papa to simply declare her our wife, but if she stands before us in front of Papa and pledges herself to us—that means more.”

  Elijah thinks it over, his lips screwed up to the side.

  The screen door out back slams.

  “She’s getting her compost bucket,” Elijah says absentmindedly, but I keep my head turned toward the house, listening for her movements.

  “What do you think?” I ask him when he still hasn’t answered me. “A ceremony.”

  Elijah shrugs. “Fine by me. But you have to get Papa to say it’s okay. He won’t like it if we just do something like that without his approval.�
��

  “Of course I’m going to talk to him first. He’s got to be the one to give her away, asshole.” I nudge him with my boot.

  Elijah pulls off his work gloves and grabs the bucket. “After she takes the test, go on and ask him.”

  “We need to set up our expectations with her too. Like Papa said, we have to lay out what she’s to do. We’re going to be assigning her chores from now on and making her rules. We should ask Papa if he wants us to keep all of his rules and add to them.”

  Elijah sighs. He hasn’t given this as much thought as I have. He still thinks Nicolette is going to be the sweet little girl she’s been this whole time. But once he has full responsibility for her, it’s going to be harder. He can’t afford to make excuses when she messes up. He’s going to have be firm like Papa, or she’ll walk all over him like Mama.

  “He’s going to want to keep his rules,” Elijah says after a moment. “What would you want to add?”

  I lift my left shoulder. “First of all, she shouldn’t have her own room anymore. She’s our wife and should be in our beds, unless she’s loving Papa.”

  Elijah nods. “I like that. Yeah.”

  “She spends too much time out in the yard lately. We need to limit that before she starts thinking she can wander into the woods. Once she’s ours, she needs to get permission to go outside.”

  “She asks now if she wants to go to the edge. Papa won’t let her go that far without asking,” Elijah says.

  “Yeah, but he lets her wander the outside whenever she wants. Her place is inside cooking, cleaning, doing the wash. She can keep up with her garden and the chickens, but that’s it. At least for a while.”

  Elijah’s face scrunches. “That seems harsh. She’s done nothing wrong.”

  “If we show her we mean business at the beginning, it’s less likely she’ll start listening to those wicked thoughts women get,” I point out.

  He scratches his neck. “Yeah. I suppose. But let’s leave it at that for now. If we’re too hard on her, she’ll be scared of us.”

  “Don’t be a pussy, Elijah,” I snap at him.

  “I’m not.” He turns to square off with me. “But there’s no need to make her scared. She should fear punishments, not our love.”