by Alta Hensley
Normally Violet likes my touch, but not now. Instead, she pulls her hand away sharply and shakes her head. “I’m going to get some firewood from the stables. I think we should before the snow buries us in.”
I open my mouth to offer to help but then decide she needs the fresh air and the moment alone to process everything.
Or maybe that’s what I need.
The front door opens and closes, and now it’s just me and Holly. “We don’t want to leave,” Holly announces as she stirs the stew.
“I know the idea is scary—”
“We aren’t like them,” Holly adds quickly. “You know that, Ember. You lived out there and saw it for yourself.”
“Christopher will help us.”
“Even if we left with Christopher,” Holly continues, “where would we go? What would we do? We have no money. We have no family other than Pa, who would beat us to death for leaving our husband and going against our vows to God. Leaving here is walking through the doors of hell.”
I want to argue, but I don’t have valid comebacks to what she’s saying. She’s right. We are different. Holly and Violet are no different from me. They were raised in captivity as I was, and being brought into the modern world is actually like walking into hell. They’re right.
“You know you can’t keep your sister with Scarecrow any longer. One day, he’s going to beat her to death, and even if he doesn’t… do you want your sister abused for the rest of her life? And what about you? I know you’re forced to have sex with Scarecrow. You want to be raped forever?” My words come out harsher than I want, but I need Holly to start to see reason.
“We all have our paths in life.”
“No,” I snap. “That’s what you were brought up to believe. You don’t know any better. I didn’t know any better, and though I didn’t like New York… I liked it a hell of a lot more than I do this place. We all deserve better. We all deserve to truly be happy.”
She smirks and shakes her head. “Happy is a fairy tale.”
“I used to think that too. I still may. But I do know one thing. We can’t be here when Scarecrow comes back. We can’t be his three wives. It’s no way to live.”
She doesn’t say anything but returns to the stew pot and begins stirring.
“Holly… I won’t leave you and Violet.”
“You may have to.”
Christopher
* * *
The snow’s coming down hard. So hard that walking in it is becoming more of a challenge as I sink into every step. I was warned to watch for the ledge, and with the falling snow, I can see how easily it could be for me to just walk right off.
Ember wanted to come with me, but I wanted her to stay warm, and I also got the sense that she needed some alone time with the sisters to explain what was going on. Plus, I don’t want her standing in front of me if I do reach the authorities. I don’t want her to actually hear me telling them where to arrest the man she still loves and sees as her father.
The wind is whipping around me, and though we aren’t in blizzard conditions yet, we aren’t far from it. I know we aren’t getting off this mountain anytime soon, but I can at least reach out to the authorities and let them know Richard and Scarecrow are headed toward Wyoming, but more importantly… they will return here for the wives.
The wives.
The very thought of Scarecrow thinking Ember is his wife makes me ill and full of rage. If he even dared tried having sex with her… I would have cut off his other leg.
I still may.
“Please don’t take her away from us,” Violet says, walking up to me on the edge of the cliff as I search for a signal.
I turn to face her, surprised to see her outside without her sister or Ember. Something about her mousy and scared actions tells me this is out of her normal, to be so bold as to approach me.
“We can all leave,” I say again, trying to reassure her that I meant it when I said we would all go together.
She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Even if Holly and I do go with you, I know Ember will be forever gone. With you. I’m asking you not to do that. I don’t want to lose her. Please.”
“You won’t lose her,” I assure. I can see the pain in her eyes as her lip trembles. “I see that Ember cares about you and your sister very much. We won’t abandon you. I want to help you get a better life. A life that you deserve.”
“I don’t understand why you think leaving this mountain is a better life.”
I glance down at the phone and see there is still no signal. I try to not show my frustration in the fact that I have to remain on the mountain another minute and give a fake smile. “It’s better. Trust me.”
I’m not giving her my full focus, and maybe I should, but at this moment in time, I’m standing on a cliff on a mountain in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm that could last God knows how long.
“Did it ever cross your mind that maybe Holly and I wouldn’t want to leave?”
I refocus on her, clearly seeing that she wants to have this conversation, and though it’s damn cold outside, and we’re getting soaked, she’s determined.
Taking a calming breath and putting the phone away, I ask, “Why wouldn’t you want to leave?”
“This is our home.”
“With Scarecrow,” I say with a snarl. Even the sound of his name and me having to say it makes me sick.
Her eyes glance down to the snow piling up around her booted feet. “He’s our husband.” She looks up at me. “And he’s Ember’s husband too.”
Her words slap me in the face, and I clench my jaw not to shout obscenities back at her. “No. He’s not.”
She nods slowly, her eyes locked with mine. “But he is. You not liking that fact doesn’t change the reality.”
“Just because he made up vows, forced her to say them, and had some person claiming it so under God does not make it a legal wedding.”
“Isn’t that how you and Ember got married? So, are you saying she’s not your wife too?”
This little pixie of a woman with her too-pale face and hollow eyes is pissing me off. I don’t want to stand discussing this in the falling snow anymore.
I begin to walk back to the chapel. “We should get inside. It’s really coming down, and we’re going to get frostbite or hypothermia.”
She reaches out and touches my arm as I try to pass her. She pauses, as if she’s surprised she actually touched me—a man—but then she swallows back any uncertainty, straightens her shoulders, and stares back into my eyes.
“Do you want to know why Holly and I married Scarecrow?”
I don’t say anything, but I remain standing in place.
“We married Scarecrow, because our pa deemed it so. But it wasn’t a bad thing to get away from that situation—with our pa. Did we exchange one evil for the next? Maybe. But you know what? Holly and I welcomed the second evil.”
“I’m sorry you had to do that,” I say genuinely.
“Did you ever stop to wonder why Ember married Scarecrow?”
I don’t answer but know exactly what she’s going to say next.
“Because she welcomed the second evil.”
I turn to walk toward the chapel, afraid what I may say next to the woman.
She takes a few quick steps so she can block my way. “And you want to bring her back and force her into the evil she was escaping. Is that fair? Is that truly what’s best for Ember?”
My face heats regardless of the cold temperature. “Richard and Scarecrow deserve to be in prison. Period. End of discussion.”
“And what do Holly, Ember, and I deserve?”
“Peace.”
“Then don’t take Ember away from us. Don’t take her back to your world. Your world.”
“We’ve been out here enough.” I reach for her arm to assist her back into the house, but she pulls away from my touch as if I burned her skin.
She doesn’t say another word but marches ahead of me back to the chapel.
12
Ember
* * *
Violet storms past me and walks over to the fire where Holly is, ignoring that I stand right by the door. She’s upset, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her this way.
“Holly,” she snaps, “I think we should go get some wood from the barn. We need—” She looks over her shoulder at me. “—some space.”
Christopher also walks into the chapel. He’s taking deep breaths, and I know him well enough to know he’s doing everything in his ability to not yell. We both step out of the way as Violet and Holly walk outside, and the coldness coming from them is far greater than the chill from the open door.
“She’s right,” I blurt to Christopher as he enters the chapel more. I heard the entire conversation between Violet and him.
“No, Ember. She’s not right. She’s scared. I understand that… or at least I’m trying to. I’m trying my best to understand what you are all feeling.”
“But you don’t, and you never will. That’s the problem and will always be the problem. You and I come from two different worlds. We’re different. And I don’t see that fixing simply because you come up here and demand we all three leave with you.”
He peers over his shoulder at me. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach at the hurt I see in his eyes.
“I want to be with you, but I can’t just…. I hated New York.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I wanted so badly to be the wife you deserve, but that place was swallowing me up whole. I felt trapped there. I felt like I was drowning in thick mud, and no matter how hard I tried to fit in… I didn’t. I missed Hallelujah Junction. I missed my old life. I didn’t want to tell you that, because I was scared you’d think I was crazy. I mean… maybe I am crazy. How could I possibly miss a place that held me captive? But I did.”
“It’s normal for you to miss what you’ve always known.”
“It was more than that. It was more than the Stockholm Syndrome the therapist mentioned.” I take another deep breath to drum up the courage to finally tell the entire truth. “I fantasized about you and me back in the schoolhouse. I missed our chain around our ankles. I missed the time it was just you and me… connected. I liked that we shared the same air as we took each breath. I liked that I had to walk with you in cadence as the metal jangled around our feet. I missed the warmth I felt from your body at all times because there was never any space. I missed our captivity. I missed you,” I confess, unconsciously reaching out a hand, beckoning his touch.
He stares at my hand and then at my tear-filled eyes. His expression is firm, unbreakable, then softly it melts. He turns so he faces me fully, his body taking up the entire space of the doorway.
I stand still, barely breathing, my hand still outstretched. “I do want you. I want it more than anything. I just don’t know how to want all that comes with you.”
“Do you really feel we can’t fix this? Do you think we can’t be together simply because of New York? Because I’m here to tell you that we can fix anything.”
The weight of my past feels like a hundred-pound brick rests on each shoulder. “I don’t know how to be normal. I tried. I hope you saw how much I truly tried. I wore the clothes. The shoes. I tried to go to the parties.”
He simply nods.
“When I was growing up, reading every romance book I could get my hands on, I would dream of the day I’d find my own Prince Charming and go to the fancy parties and live in the large house with lavish furniture and chandeliers in every room. And then all of a sudden, I had it. I had it all. But what it really became was a deep, deep hole that I sank into.”
“So, we don’t go back to the house. I should have found our own place right at the beginning,” he says. “And if you hate New York, then we’ll move someplace else. Maybe a small town with less noise and action.”
“And what about you? That’s your home. That’s who you are. I can’t pull you away from everything you’ve ever known any more than you can pull me away from what I have grown up with. We are who we are.”
“And you think we need to do that apart? Be who we are?”
I tense, fighting the devastation that threatens to consume me. I search his face, his posture, for some clue as to what he feels. “Yes,” I barely whisper.
“You’re wrong.” Christopher takes the few steps that separates us and grabs my hand. “You and I have one thing that is stronger than all else. Love.”
Tears well in my eyes; pain wells in my heart. “We are the demented love story. Remember?”
He pulls me into his arms, burying my face against his chest. “But a love story, nonetheless. I love you, Ember. I know that with every inch of my being. I also know I can’t live without you. So, yes, if we both have to start over so we can begin anew, then so be it. The question is if you are willing to.”
I nod against his warmth. “I want to. I want to so badly. I’m just scared. And I love you. I love you so much that it actually hurts when I think about it. My chest tightens to the point of pain.”
“Then we fight,” he murmurs against my hair. “We fight against every single person getting in our way. No one will block us any longer. No one and nothing. You are my bride, and I’m taking you back.”
“How? There’s still a storm outside, and based on what Holly says, it could keep going for days,” I counter, clutching tighter to him. “And I know you said we’d call the police on Richard and Scarecrow. But then where does that leave Holly and Violet?”
“We’ll figure it all out.” He looks out the door at the snow falling and then closes it behind him. I realize the door has remained open the entire time. Maybe giving us both the option to flee. A choice we’ve both decided against.
He then tips my face up to meet his, his eyes filled with a blend of love and passion. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
I turn to walk away and put some logs on the fire, knowing Holly and Violet will be back with a fresh pile of firewood soon. Christopher grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me close to him. He leads us to my private corner with nothing but a tattered sheet, concealing what I know is coming next.
“Not yet,” he says. “Don’t walk away yet.”
“But the fire… I should tend to the fire.” I turn away again, but he pulls me harder.
I look over my shoulder, down at my wrist that is firmly gripped, and then back into his eyes.
He tugs my arm toward him, giving me no choice but to stumble up against his chest.
“Kiss me,” he orders in a gruff whisper.
I follow his direction gladly. I want nothing more than to feel his lips against mine.
Our mouths meet, a pull neither can resist any longer. Our hunger demands to be satiated. Time and distance has kept us apart, but our true love never broke. His heart beats against mine as he arranges my body closer. The single kiss has the power to reunite us forever, forgetting all the wrong by both. The kiss is the period to our run-on sentence that seems to never end. One kiss speaks volumes for what is meant.
I want him.
I want him this very second… regardless of our current location and situation. Regardless that Holly and Violet can enter the chapel at any minute. And regardless that I don’t know if we will ever get our happily ever after. But I want him…
Now.
“I need to be with my wife,” he says as his eyes seem to darken right before me.
My heart skips, knowing he feels the same way I do. Our bodies are in tune, even though our lives will never be.
Without asking, without pausing, he removes my dress effortlessly, nothing beneath it to cover me. I’m completely naked, standing before my husband.
“I need you too, but….” I can feel the heat of his stare on my naked body, but I don’t try to conceal myself. I stand and await his next command.
“Don’t fight this. Stop fighting us.”
He leans forward, takes hold of my hips, and pulls me closer to him. Ki
ss by kiss, he lowers us to the makeshift bed, and then lowers further down until his face is inches from my sex.
“I want the taste of you on my tongue.” He doesn’t wait for permission but rather kisses my pussy, followed by licking my throbbing clit.
I tense at the invasion—thinking I’d never get to feel such pleasure ever again in my life. Part of me wants to stop, and the other part wants the feeling to never end.
He swirls his tongue in circles, lapping up every sign of my arousal. I moan with complete abandon, knowing Holly and Violet could walk in at any minute, but I can’t resist.
My body seems possessed by Satan himself—no doubt something Papa Rich would accuse me of. I have absolutely no power against the devil when it comes to what Christopher is able to do to my body.
Lick after lick, he brings my body to another level. Just when I believe I can take no more, he thrusts his finger past the lips of my pussy. In and out, he plunges, pulling gasps and muffled moans from me. I hide my face beneath a pillow in hopes of concealing my rising pleasure.
“Spread your legs wider,” he directs, his voice husky.
Suffocated by love at the familiar—yet so very distant memory—command, I do exactly as he asks without any hesitation. Lying beneath his shadow, I peek up from the pillow to see his face. The strong features, the firm lips, the sensitive eyes. The same expression I remember washes over his face… strength, love, passion. These are the eyes of my husband. The man I vowed to love. The man I vowed to spend the rest of my life with.
And yet… I ran.
I broke the vows.
I shattered everything.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur more to myself than to him. “I’m so sorry I left.”
“Shh,” he whispers as he places his lips to my pussy.
His intimate kiss forgives, but does he?
His body is offering amnesty, but does his heart?
He caresses my mound without saying a word, quickly following with a kiss to my belly and then my slit. Once. Twice. The kissing continues as heat ripples over my body in waves, leaving me breathless. “Christopher,” I whisper. “I—”
