by Dee Palmer
“Hey beautiful!” Kurt calls out, walking up from the boathouse. He’s more out of breath than the short walk would warrant, and in the distance, I can see a girl I don’t recognize scurrying toward one of the several marquees set up on the vast lawns. He brushes his dark hair out of his face and flashes a confident smile. Not that I’m looking, but when he adjusts himself, it’s clear he’s still not quite back to normal.
“Jesus.” I don’t know what makes me sicker, the vile smile on his face, or the fact that I have to be this despicable man’s wife. At this moment, it’s too close to call, whether I hate him more than I hate myself.
“Hey, baby, it’s not like you to take the Lord’s name in vain.” He grabs the back of my neck and kisses my cheek. I turned in time to avoid tasting whoever is still plastered all over his mouth.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not in vain.” I wipe where his lips touch.
“What’s wrong, B?” He slowly runs a finger from my shoulder to my wrist, and even under the soft woolen material, I can feel my skin crawl.
“I have a lot on my mind.” I cross my arms and step back. He steps closer, and I get a waft of cheap perfume along with an arrogant air of shamelessness.
“Mom has gone a bit over the top, but this is me. I’m the youngest; it’s understandable.” He wraps his arms around my waist, tightening his hold, and I find myself leaning into an exaggerated backward bend.
“I don’t mean this farce of a wedding.” He lets me go and chuckles when I nearly topple over. And I’d rather break my spine than have him near me right now. This is so wrong.
“You’re not nervous?” He looks surprised. He has an innate ability to ignore anything remotely negative that comes out of my mouth regarding this wedding.
“Why would I be nervous? This whole thing has nothing to do with me. You know it’s not what I want. I’m going through the motions, Kurt, to save my grampa’s farm, period. I don’t love you. If you cared about me at all, you’d see this is killing me.”
“That’s the nerves talking, B. I know you think you don’t love me, but you do. I know you do. It’s always been you and me.” He holds my shoulders, stares at me, and it chills me to the core that he honestly believes what he’s saying.
I add flatly to his selective list. “And Alicia and…that waitress I just saw you with not five minutes ago.”
He shrugs. “They mean nothing; you know that. It will be different when we’re married. It will just be you.” His hands reach to cup my face, and I slap them away.
“And Taylor.”
The color drains momentarily from his face. He gapes with shock. “What?”
“Don’t forget: You told Taylor you weren’t giving her up, ever.”
“That’s a lie,” He splutters, indignation rallying in the sturdy puff of his chest. His face reddens and his eye twitches, something that only happens when he lies. It’s why he won’t play poker with me.
“You know what Kurt? It doesn’t matter. I. Don’t. Care. I don’t love you. I don’t want this, and I’m talking to a darn brick wall,” I state. Still my hands are clasped together, praying for the salvation I know in my heart will never come, not from him. Kurt never backs down and always gets what he wants.
“Buttercup…” He grabs my arm and I snatch myself out of his reach.
“Don’t touch me!” Emotion catches in my throat, fury making my voice tremble.
He slams himself against me. My back crunches against the bricks, scraping my skin with the force and weight of his body. His knee wedges between my legs, and I can feel him, every bit of him. I shudder and a sinking feeling hits my stomach when his eyes glaze, ice cold and empty.
“Fine, have this last day, but trust me, darlin’, I’ve waited long enough, and tomorrow, I’m taking what’s mine.” He slaps his hand right between my legs, and his fingers curl, forcing themselves hard against my wedged thighs. The flimsy material of my dress and panties provides a little protection from his violent invasion and nothing can shield me from his disturbing intentions.
“You’re a monster.”
“You have no idea, but if you’d like a heads up, ask Taylor.” His breath is hot against my neck, and the pungent smell of beer wafts across my face. His tongue draws a sloppy path up my cheek and I nearly retch in my mouth. I push hard against his chest, and he stumbles back, holding his hands up in all innocence and laughing. I have no words. I’m struggling to think of a time when I ever loved him. I can barely look at him and I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life living like this? I swallow down the bubbling sense of hopelessness along with the well of tears just poised to break. He captures my hand when I start to walk away and nearly wrenches my arm from the socket with the force of hauling me back to his side.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to pick up Patty from the airport.”
“She’s rented a car.” The insincerity of his smiles makes his lips stick to his teeth. “I don’t want you thinking about anything other than making yourself the prettiest bride on the planet.”
“Because that’s the only thing that matters?”
“To me, yes.” The condescending tone just adds a little more icing to this nightmare of a ‘wedding’ cake.
“Right, well, I’m going to go and see Grampa.” His grip tightens on my wrist before I get the chance to snatch it away and make good my exit.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, don’t want you disappearing on me,” he warns.
“As if,” I snap. “I haven’t been left alone for five darn minutes this whole week. I don’t even have my phone, Kurt. I feel like a prisoner.”
“Cry me a river, Buttercup. There’s not a single girl in town that wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now, and you’re acting like a brat.” Spittle flies from the angry curl of his lips.
“Marry one of them, Kurt. Why can’t you marry one of them? I won’t make you happy.”
“Oh, yes, you will, sweetheart. Oh, yes, you will.” He jerks closer and locks his arm in a strong hold around the curve of my waist, his fingers pinching so hard I know they’re going to leave marks. He freezes and only now do I hear what’s startled him to a standstill, like a deer in the headlights. High heels clip clop across the veranda and Deborah appears from around the back of the house. Her face has recently taken on a permanent lifeless fix, like rigor mortis has set it for all eternity, and her smile is as fake as her son’s.
“Momma! The house looks amazing. You’ve outdone yourself!” Kurt gushes, embracing his mother reluctantly and releasing his vise-like grip on me
“Kurt, baby, thank you. Anything for my sweet boy. Isn’t that so, Buttercup?” She coos.
“Of course, Mrs. Mason, anything for Kurt.” I don’t bother to hide the sarcasm in my tone, which goes unheeded. It always does.
“Oh, none of that nonsense now; call me Momma.” She lets Kurt go and takes me in her bony arms. I use the movement to maneuver her between Kurt and myself. I need the barrier just in case.
“Momma, don’t you think I should head back to Grampa’s? It is bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, and we’re running out of time,” I urge, holding her hands and outwardly praying she’s on my side, for once.
“Oh, you’re right, it is. We can’t have any bad luck.”
I tug my hands away and, nodding my agreement, instantly start to jog backward and away from a furious looking Kurt.
“Momma, I don’t think we need—” He lurches after me and, quick as a whip, she strikes her arm across his chest and stops him in his tracks.
“Nonsense, Kurt, it’s tradition. You go, Buttercup, and enjoy your last night of being a maid. Now, Kurt, your Papa needs you to help with the geese on the lake or something.” She calls after me and her voice carries even if I’ve stopped listening. My feet hit the grass and then the gravel of the drive as fast as I’ve ever run. I get into my car, the one I’m supposed to drive now that I’m going to be Mrs. Kurt Mason, and hit
the gas. My heart is pounding; my head is a mess, but I find myself relishing the first, albeit a brief, breath of freedom. I don’t know what I’m going to do, I just know exactly where I’m going.
Dear Pink,
I’m so sorry.
I love you.
I love you and I shouldn’t.
I have no right, and I should never have told you. Even if we both knew the truth, for me it was as clear as a harvest moon. Still, it wasn’t right to say it out loud. It’s not fair to you. You’re a good man, the best, and in another life, I wish with all my heart we would have met sooner. I wish I had the freedom to make the decision my heart aches and breaks for. That I can’t is killing me.
Even saying this much is too much.
I’m marrying Kurt. I made a promise to my grandmother to take care of my grampa, and I never break a promise. It’s the right thing to do. I owe him that much and more.
I won’t be coming by to see you again. It will take all my strength to stay away, and every day I know it will get harder. I can’t bear to see you look at me like I’m—what did you call me? That’s right, a martyr. Hearing your tone, thick with contempt, hurt more than I could imagine. For the first time in my life I felt like a pathetic, stupid woman with no backbone, and I’m none of those things. You have no idea the strength I have had to draw on to… Well, never mind. That doesn’t matter now. The point is, if I haven’t made you understand by now the obligation I feel, I never will.
Being with you, for that short time was a wonderful fantasy that I will treasure for the rest of my life, and for that, I am truly grateful.
I lied when I said I wish I’d never met you. How could I ever regret the best thing that ever happened to me?
This is my choice, and if you really care for me, and I believe you do, you’ll respect my decision.
I love you and always will.
I hope you find what you are looking for, but I can, with my on my hand on my broken heart, say it isn’t me. I wish it was.
Another time, another life,
Always,
Buttercup.
This is bullshit!
Five days pass and there’s not a word from Buttercup. I’ve read the letter a thousand times, and each time, I crumple the damn thing up and throw it into the fireplace. I pick it up a few minutes later and smooth it flat, thankful there’s no fire lit to destroy the messed up message she wrote. I’ve barely left the cabin for fear of missing her, and the one time I did venture into town was to try and get some information. This waiting is driving me crazy and any information is better than the ideas circling in my head.
Is kidnapping a federal offense if it’s justified?
That would only work if I knew where to look for her, and since Joshua won’t answer the door to me, I was stuck asking the only other person in town I knew, Jamie, the bartender at Bo’s. She told me Buttercup hadn’t been seen since her failed bachelorette party. She’s apparently neck deep in wedding preparations with Kurt’s family at the Mason estate on the outskirts of town. Their land stretches over two hundred square miles of the county and the house itself is nestled at the base of the national forest that dominates this region of Texas. The estate has its own chapel where the ceremony is going to take place. Extra security has been brought in since state senators, the governor, and all the good and glorious in the state of Texas are expected to attend.
It’s not like the idea of crashing the wedding hasn’t crossed my mind, even after Jamie’s warning about security. I know that wouldn’t really be an issue for me, but Buttercup made it crystal clear in her letter: This is her decision, her life.
Still, I can’t believe she’s really getting married tomorrow.
I packed my bag the night of our argument, but I can’t seem to leave. Not without seeing her one last time. The crunch of tires approaching slowly down the driveway to the cabin alerts Daisy before me. I’m instantly on my feet and out of the front door.
Buttercup!
My heart pounds painfully, simultaneously sinking with the hit of disappointment. A white Ford Ranger I don’t recognize trundles down the track. It has a low-rise livestock trailer hitched to the back and loops in front of the cabin before parking, facing back up the drive. The driver door opens and out jumps a skinny man in dark blue overalls with Payton Park Animal Sanctuary stitched on his breast pocket and his baseball cap.
“Howdy!” Removing his cap, he smooths lank greasy hair back out of his eyes before tugging the cap back into place. He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here for the fawn.” He frowns a little as if checking the details in his head and grins when he looks at the paperwork on the clipboard he’s holding.
“Excuse me?”
“Dr. Clement arranged for the collection. She’s got her a place at the sanctuary. The note says she felt the fawn’s become too domesticated to make it in the wild, and we have a small herd of white tail deer at the park. She’ll be right at home.” His smile, I assume, is supposed to be reassuring. It isn’t, not remotely. My blood starts to boil. The man shifts from one foot to another and continues to speak, his intonation a little less certain. “Miss Clement said you were leaving and wanted to make sure you…um…” He coughs to clear his throat, and his cheery smile drops as does the temperature around us. “Um, she said to say thank you for all you’ve done.” He rushes to finish his practiced speech and moves forward toward the cabin. Stepping to block him, tension curls my fists. His eyes widen at the waves of hostility that must be rolling off of me.
“Oh she did, did she?” Tight lipped and sour, my mouth twists with the pain of the rejection.
“Um, yeah. Right, I’ll just get the fawn and be out of your hair.” He sidesteps and is still no closer to getting to the cabin, when I do the same.
“Her name is Daisy.” My speech is deliberate and sounds more like a growl than actual words. The man swallows thickly and, all credit to him, tries to persevere.
“Sorry, I’ll get Daisy and—”
“No!” I bark.
“No?”
“Did I stutter? I said no. She’s mine and no one’s taking her.” I widen my stance and couldn’t be more of a barrier if I was a fifty-foot wall he’s never going to cross.
He steps back, sucking his lips with confusion. “Really? She’s a wild animal. It’s illegal to keep a wild animal without a license.” He scratches beneath his hat but seems happy enough to back down, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. He might be right, but the only way he’s taking Daisy is over my cold dead body, and he really doesn’t look that invested in this task.
“Dr. Clement is right. She is too domesticated. She’s not going to your sanctuary. She’s coming home with me.”
“I will have to inform the authorities.” He lets out a heavy breath, clearly irritated I’m not just handing her over.
“You do that.” I fold my arms but the guy is already backing away with a wry smile on his face. However, I’m pretty confident every law enforcement officer is pretty fucking busy right now guarding the wedding of the decade. By the time he gets back and files the paperwork I’ll be long gone, and if I need a license to keep her I’ll get a damn license.
“In that?” He openly laughs when he nods in the direction of my truck.
“I’ll get a trailer. Either way, you’re not taking her. She’s mine.” The tentative control I’ve held onto the last few days evaporates, and my voice betrays the emotion I have raging inside me.
“Okay there, buddy. I don’t want any trouble. I just hope you know what you’re doing.” He waves me down with both hands, one holding a clipboard.
“I have a stud farm back home, she’ll be very happy there…at least one of us will.” I mutter the last part.
He flips over a couple of pages and hands the clipboard to me. “Trust me, it won’t make any difference if you don’t have the proper authorization. Now, you need to sign this. I’ll need your address and a contact
number.”
“Fine.” I fill in the details and hand the form back.
“Get the license or get her to a proper reserve.” He tips his hat and is just about to get into the truck when I call out, panic pitching my voice.
“Um, you don’t know where I could get a trailer do you?”
He grins and possibly rolls his eyes, it’s difficult to tell with the brim of his cap pulled low. “Mac’s Machinery in Jefferson, they should have something. It’s about a thirty-mile drive east of the town.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Best of luck. Y’all have a good day!”
“Not possible.” I say to myself. I may have won this small battle but it’s a hollow victory when it means Buttercup is clearly tying up loose ends, Daisy and me.
She’s not coming back.
I’VE TRIED TO DO THE right thing. I stayed away, and every second hurt like a fresh cut across my heart. My life isn’t my own, and until Pink, I never really appreciated what that meant. I may not have a choice in my future, but I have a choice in my now.
This is my last night of freedom in every sense of the word, my last chance to be me. I’m done pretending. I know what my life is going to be like with Kurt, and right now, I’m absolutely terrified that I’m going to be too late. Daisy would’ve been picked up already, and after that letter I wrote, there’s every chance Pink left right behind her.
Why would he stay?
I can’t breathe. My foot is flat on the gas, and I still can’t drive fast enough. The road seems never-ending, and it’s getting harder and harder to see. Fading light and a steady stream of tears glaze my vision. My speed is reckless and I don’t care.
