by Measha Stone
He makes a good point.
“Okay. Just those two rules for now. See how she adjusts.”
Once Papa gets home, I’ll talk to him about the ceremony. Then she’ll take the test, and by nightfall, she’ll be completely ours.
It’s going to be a good day.
My stomach hurts.
Nausea rolls through me, and I’m sure it’s because there’s a baby in my belly. I thought about it all night and more this morning. I can’t have a baby. Not theirs. This isn’t right.
The stranger was right. Love shouldn’t hurt the way it does here.
I run through the yard to the back edge where Mama and Grandma live. He said he’d be back today, but he didn’t say what time. I can only hope he’s there. I won’t get another chance to come out this way today.
The boys are still working on the fence, and Papa’s gone. He’ll be gone for a while since he’s in town. I should be able to hear the truck driving up the road. I hope.
I pass the chicken coop and keep speed, walking until I get to the place where I first met the stranger. I bite my lip as I search the trees. Hopefully he’s not dumb enough to wear that stupid orange thing again.
The clouds are blocking the sun, and there’s a soft fog moving through the trees. If we hurry, it will hide us. I think. I hope…
Hope. A word I never dared think in my mind. But now, I can feel it. The churning in my stomach is from excitement of what can be, what I’ll find on the other side of the trees. No more rolling sickness because of what I might have to do by the end of the night. No more dread of who’s going to leave their door open for me at night.
I spare only a quick glance at Mama and Grandma. They weren’t lucky; they didn’t get away from this madness. But I will.
Leaves crunch, and I spin to the left.
“You’re here!” I raise my hands and rush forward. Breathing comes easier to me now; my heart beats a little faster. It’s good. It means I’m alive.
“Hey. So are you.” He smiles. It’s a victory grin. “I wasn’t sure you would be.”
“I wasn’t either,” I reply with half a laugh. “My Papa went to town, and my brothers are up front. We have to hurry,” I say.
“Do you have a bag?” he asks, looking around, but there’s nothing.
“If they saw me in the yard with a bag, they would have known,” I answer him. “I don’t have much anyway.” Three dresses in total. Four pairs of panties. That’s it. They don’t want me spoiled.
“Okay. Okay.” He checks over my shoulder again. “Shoes.” He points to my bare feet.
“They’re only for the winter,” I say, like I’m reminding him of something he should know. Confusion shows on his face. “I have to ask Papa for them when it snows. He would have suspected something if I asked for them.”
“You have to ask for shoes?” he says, dumbfounded again.
“That’s not how it is in town?” I ask with a tilted head.
He laughs. “No, sweetheart. You’ll never have to ask for permission for shoes again.” He unzips his jacket and shucks it off his shoulders. “Here. It’s cold. You have to be freezing.”
“I’m used to it,” I answer him, but take the jacket. The thin cotton fabric of my dress doesn’t keep the wind from hitting my skin. We’re deep into fall. Winter will be rushing in soon. Once the snow starts falling, Papa won’t be able to make as many runs to town. Hopefully, there’s enough meat to get us through. I’ve only been able to can a dozen jars of green beans and another six potatoes. It will be enough for them.
I bit down on my lip. Who will cook for them? Clean their clothes?
“What’s wrong?” the stranger asks.
“Who will take care of them?” I ask, looking back at the house.
“They’ll take care of themselves,” he says in the same hard tone Papa uses when he’s annoyed.
I take a small step away from him. I don’t know him. Does that tone mean he’s angry with me?
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, opening his hands in front of him.
“It’s okay.” I zip the coat. “We need to go,” I say, my heart sinking into my stomach. I didn’t get to say goodbye to Elijah. I tiptoed around the subject earlier, but he got that panicked look in his eyes and I chickened out. He’s so sweet. It’s going to hurt when he realizes I’ve left. But eventually, he’ll understand it was what’s best for me. He’ll be okay.
I tell myself this over and over again. Elijah loves me. Not like Mark or Papa, he really wants me to be happy. He’ll understand once I’m gone.
“Okay, let’s go. My path is about five hundred yards that way.” The stranger points behind him.
I nod. It doesn’t matter how far five hundred yards is, we just need to go.
He offers his hand, and I stare at it.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. Let’s go,” he says, shaking his hand for me.
I grab hold of it, letting the warmth of his skin wash away my fear. We’re leaving. I’m leaving.
We start to walk toward the tree line. I silently say goodbye to Mama and Grandma. They’ll be happy for me. I’m going to do what they couldn’t.
The stranger screams, drops my hand, and falls forward. I stare at him as he tumbles to the ground, grabbing his shoulder and howling. Blood seeps through his fingers.
My breath holds my heart ransom. My feet freeze. I’m a statue.
“Nicolette!” Papa’s voice shatters me. Papa and the boys are racing to me. I swallow back my sob.
No! I’m so close.
“Fuck!” The stranger rolls on the ground, leaves sticking to his hair.
“What the fuck is this?” Papa’s rage shakes me. I blink, thinking. There has to be a good reason for this. A good reason.
“I don’t know,” I blurt out with nothing else to say. What can I say that will make him believe me?
“You don’t know?” Papa grabs the jacket, hauling me off my feet in front of him. He thrusts his rifle at Mark, who points it at the stranger. “What the fuck are you wearing?” He shakes me.
“I…it…he…I don’t know!” I scream. My brain has gone idle. Where are the answers that will save me?
“Put her down!” the stranger yells. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a small pistol, aiming it at Papa.
Papa tosses me to the ground and positions his rifle, pointing it at the stranger.
“Hold her!” Papa snaps, and Mark grabs my hair, hauling me to my feet.
“Put that down, mister, or you’ll be hurting her,” Mark says, his tone dark in way I’ve never heard from him. A blade presses against my throat.
“Mark. Shit,” Elijah says from beside us. I can’t look at him. If I turn, I’ll cut myself.
The stranger looks between me and Papa. Cursing, he throws his pistol to the ground.
“Get that,” Mark says, and Elijah walks in front of me, picking up the gun and keeping his gaze away from me.
“Papa. Please, I’m sorry. I was…I didn’t mean it,” I say, focusing my sights on him.
“Didn’t mean it?” Papa sneers.
“Nicolette. You weren’t…I mean…what were you doing with him? Why are you wearing that jacket?” Elijah stands in front of me, the pistol loose in his grip.
“I…” Words fail me. His eyes, usually soft and loving toward me, slowly go dark. “I…please, Elijah.” I reach out to touch him. If I can just touch him, he’ll understand. Mark pulls the knife tighter against my throat. Elijah’s top lip curls.
“You were leaving!” Elijah proclaims.
“No!” I yell, but the effort only gets me yanked back by Mark.
“Who the fuck are you?” Papa stands over the stranger. “Don’t fucking move,” he yells, pulling his shirt to flip him to his belly. Papa grabs his wallet from his back pocket, as well as his cell phone.
“Keep him on lockdown,” Papa tells Elijah. While he riffles through the man’s wallet, Elijah keeps the man’s pistol pointed at him.
&n
bsp; “Just let me go.” The stranger rolls to his back and puts his hands up. “You’re not doing anything wrong here. He covers his wound again. A hunting accident.” He offers up an excuse for the bullet lodged in his shoulder.
Papa lifts his rage-filled gaze to me.
“This fucker was taking you from us. I saw footprints out here a few days ago. They were his.” He throws the wallet onto the stranger. “You’ve been plotting to run off!”
Mark fists my hair, pulling my head back. He’ll slit my throat easily in this position.
“Please,” I beg, even though it’s not allowed. I plea for him not to hurt me.
“Is that right?” Elijah demands of me, looking at me from over his shoulder.
“I told you,” Mark yells. “I told you she would give in to the wicked thoughts.”
“No!” I’ve never defended myself before, but I have to this time. There’s a gun pointed at the stranger. A knife at my throat.
“No? You weren’t going to run off with him and leave us? He doesn’t mean anything to you?” Papa says in the tone he uses when he’s trying to fish out the answer he wants. I’m not sure what the right answer is here. If he doesn’t believe my lie, it will be worse, but if he believes me, I can save us both.
“I…he confused me,” I say, looking at the stranger on the ground. Blood covers his sleeve. “I…he needs to go away. He won’t bother us anymore. Will you?” I ask him, urging him to give the right answer.
“No. I won’t bother any of you anymore. I swear it. I’m going home today. No one even knows I was up in these mountains.” He points to the cell phone. “No reception up here. But I’m expected home tonight. As long as I get there, no one will know anything.” Desperation drips from his words.
Papa considers him, looking at me briefly, then to Elijah. “Mark, give her the knife.”
Mark hesitates.
“Give it to her,” Papa barks, and Mark pulls the knife away from my throat. He let’s go of my hair and pushes me toward Papa before offering me the handle of the knife.
With a shaking hand, I take the knife and turn to Papa. If I obey him now, be real good and do what he says, I can convince him to forgive me. I’ll be put away for a few days, but he’ll forgive me.
The black rage pouring from his glare makes my stomach shake.
“Take off that fucking jacket.” He flicks his chin toward me.
I unzip it and wiggle out of the sleeves, letting it fall to the ground.
“Get over by your boyfriend there,” he nudges the end of rifle toward the stranger.
I swallow back a whimper and take the small steps toward him.
“On your knees,” Papa commands. I’ve heard the same words over and over since my birthday brought double digits, but this time is different. There’s no hunger, no desire weaving through the harsh tone.
I keep my gaze locked on Papa while I lower myself to the ground. My bare knees press into the cold dirt below me.
“I’m so sorry,” the stranger says to me. A little too late now. I pretend like I don’t hear him and give my attention to Papa. I can make this better.
“You brought him, you’ll take him out.” Papa motions to the knife in my hand.
It takes a dozen heartbeats for me to understand his meaning.
A shudder scrapes down my spine. I have to kill the stranger.
“Papa.” I clear my throat from the fear clogging it up. “Please, Papa. I…he’ll go and he’ll never come back.”
Papa’s eyes narrow into black slits. He twists his torso, pointing the rifle at Elijah.
My throat clamps.
“You hear that, boy?” he asks Elijah.
I will Elijah to look at me, to understand. Out of all of them, Elijah will.
“You were going to leave us,” Elijah says. The sadness in his voice clenches my heart. Disbelief gives way to anguish.
I’ve seen him beaten, helped clean him when his asshole bled after Papa loved him too hard, but never have I seen such raw pain in his eyes. I want to rip my heart out of my chest, it aches so much.
“Well, Nicolette.” Papa moves closer to Elijah. “You have a choice here. You see, there’s only four people living on this homestead. So, either you take care of your boyfriend there, or I’ll take care of Elijah.” He takes aim. Elijah’s eyes widen, the color in his face draining away.
Tears blur everything.
“Someone’s dying, Nicolette. Which one?” Papa’s question squeezes my body until I can’t stand the pressure anymore.
A world without Elijah. I can’t think of it. It’s too much. I can’t bear it.
“No…please!” The stranger puts his hands up to ward me off. I raise the knife, but he rolls away as I bring it down. I catch his back, and he howls.
“Not dead yet, girl,” Papa yells over the stranger’s scream. I yank the knife out, catching myself before I fall back from the force I have to use. He’s moving again, trying to get to his feet.
I slash the knife at him, stabbing his thigh. Again, he bellows in pain, still trying to get away. I jump to my feet and throw my body at him, knocking him back to the ground.
“Better hurry, girl. I’m losing my patience,” Papa demands. My heart slams its way out of my chest. Fumbling along the stranger’s body, I get hold of the knife sticking out of his thigh and yank.
“No!” he cries again, waving his arms at me. I’m sitting on him, straddling his hips just I do for Papa when he wants me to love him from on top.
I scream as I plunge the knife downward. The knife goes into his chest, but stops only halfway in. I’ve hit bone. Pulling it back out, I stab again, and again, until his arms lay lifelessly at his sides.
My hair falls out of my ponytail, covering my face. Blood splatter covers my arms, my face, my dress. I’m soaked with it.
“Good girl.” Papa lowers his rifle. “Get the knife,” he says, and Elijah rushes to my side, pulling the weapon from my hands.
I stare at the stranger. His eyes, still open, focus off into the distance, a silent scream frozen on his lips.
Death.
I’ve never been so close to it before.
“Mark. Go to the truck. Get the test.” Papa gives another direction. I climb off the dead stranger. My chest is heavy, numb, keeping my breath just out of reach.
“Up.” Papa fists my hair, yanking me to my feet. I cry out, but don’t try to stop him.
“Did you fuck him?” Papa shakes me.
“No! I promise, Papa! I would never!” I say, not knowing if it’s true or not. Isn’t that what women are for? Isn’t that what he would have expected eventually? Or not? He said things were different off this mountain.
“Your promises don’t mean shit anymore.” Papa yanks harder on my hair. I’m on my tiptoes, but still can’t stop the pain from spreading across my scalp.
“Here!” Mark runs across the yard, his voice carrying to us. He’s got a box in his hand.
“Now, we’ll see what’s to be done with you.” Papa shoves me at Elijah. “Hold her.”
Elijah grabs my arms. I try to stare into his eyes, to bring him back to me, but there’s an ice wall there. He spins me away from him and grabs the back of my neck, pinching hard. I can’t get away. I bring my shoulders upward.
Papa takes the box from Mark when he gets to us. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he tears into the box. He tosses torn off pieces of cardboard to the ground and pulls out the test kit.
Throwing it at my feet, he points. “Do it.”
Elijah shoves me to the ground so I can grab the test stick. My hands shake as I pull off the purple cap, revealing a thick strip beneath. I look to Papa for direction. How do I do this?
“You piss on it,” Papa says, annoyed at my stupidity.
I look at the house and take a tentative step. Mark steps in front of me.
“Here.” He folds his arms over his chest. I’ve seen him angry before, the harsh tick in his jaw is there, but the layer of disgust is new.
I pull up my dress and squat down, keeping my eyes focused on Papa’s feet. This morning, I wished for my belly to be empty. Now, I’d cut off my left thumb for this test to be positive.
Once I’m done, I recap the stick and stand up. Papa yanks it out of my hand.
“Kneel,” he says, pointing at the puddle I’ve made in the grass.
My legs wobble, but I manage to get to my knees without falling over. The warmth of the urine spreads across my bare skin.
Papa stares at the stick.
“Why would you do this, Nicolette?” Mark demands. I can sense the disappointment in him. “We would be the best husbands for you. All you had to do was be a good woman!” He slaps me hard across the face. I press my hand to the hot spot left from his hand.
Papa doesn’t chastise him.
“Look at that,” Papa says with pride. “Bitch is pregnant.” He turns the test around and shows it to Mark.
“At least she did one thing right.” Mark scoffs and looks to Elijah.
“What do we do with her now?”
“Well, she’s your wife now,” Papa says. “Elijah, your wife wants to leave with your baby. What do you think you should do?”
“We can’t put her down,” Mark cuts in.
I keep quiet. Tears, fat and hot, roll down my cheeks. I’ve betrayed them. All I was supposed to do was love them. Take care of them. Take them when they gave themselves to me. It wasn’t hard. And I ruined it all.
“Put her away.” Elijah’s hard voice cuts my heart into pieces. “I’ll do it.”
“Mark and I will get rid of this prick. Take your wife to the shed.” Papa motions for Mark.
“I’ll be there later tonight, Nicolette. Think on that while you’re standing there.” Mark spits at me, hitting my hair.
A sob breaks loose; I can’t control it anymore.
Elijah’s hands are on my arms, pulling me to my feet. Words fail me as I stumble to keep up with him. He’s not taking his time; he’s not being tender. He’s not the Elijah I knew. The Elijah I loved.
“Please,” I finally get the word past the regret balled in my throat when we’re at the shed door. He turns his sneer at me, and my breath catches.
