by Rona Jameson
“Something else I noticed, they have a sports field, but no sports teams. It isn’t even mentioned. What school doesn’t have a football team?” I shake my head and move to grab an apple from the sideboard. “I asked what they used it for and was told not to ask.” With a mouthful of apple, I add while I chew, “The teachers seemed to watch me. I felt their eyes on me most of the day. It was weird.” I munch on the rest of the apple. “One of them had to have told the Reverend about me chatting to Wren. Someone also had to have told him I walked home with her. She’d been startled and then panicked when she noticed his car heading toward us.”
“You knew to be careful,” Dad comments. “You also don’t know if it was staff or a student who spied for him. Don’t trust anyone, Rafael. Not even Wren.”
“It wasn’t Wren who told her father. I’m sure of that. Her surprise and panic at seeing him couldn’t have been for my benefit. You didn’t see her face.” I toss the apple core into the trash and sigh at the frown on Dad’s face. To appease him, I add, “I won’t trust anyone.”
His eyes follow me out of the room. He knows my thoughts and knows I want to trust Wren more than anything.
I want to save her.
12
WREN
AFTER SPENDING the night in the basement, I haven’t been able to get warm. The cold chill has seeped into my bones and I’ve kept a sweater on all day. I’ve gotten more attention because of it, and I try not to care, but the truth is, I do care. I want friends. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so alone. In this town, I wouldn’t trust anyone because they are all under the influence of the Reverend. Not Rafael. The Reverend had been worked up good and proper over Rafael and his father, and that made me curious. Other than the inheritance, has Marcel DeLacroix said or done something to the Reverend? On the odd occasion, curiosity would get the better of me, but after the nights I’ve spent in the basement over the years, I’ve finally learned to let it go. Unfortunately, I’m curious by nature, so it’s been difficult.
Not only have I spent the day freezing cold, but Rafael has ignored me. He hasn’t even glanced once in my direction. It hurts because I thought I’d finally have a friend to talk to who I could trust not to run and tell the Reverend everything I say. It didn’t hurt that he’s cute too. And now, he’s passing time with the guys on the sports field.
An ache of sadness settles in my belly as I drop my head. My feet eat up the distance down the school driveway. It has been a long day after the lack of sleep the night before. A couple of times I caught myself drifting off to sleep during class and I know the Reverend will know about my unsightly behavior. It was a vicious cycle I couldn’t escape.
Unfortunately, my feet don’t move fast enough because Emily, Lucy, and Alice catch up to me. They are the girls who I expect to eventually have their parents bring them inline. The Reverend won’t stand flirty girls. They unknowingly go against his beliefs, and their parents will also pay the price.
Emily giggles, and asks, “What are you daydreaming about?” while her two friends snicker.
“She’s probably wondering why that gorgeous boy hasn’t paid her any attention today,” Alice says. “His eyes traveled over me often.”
“I saw him looking at you, too.” Lucy gushes. “Will your dad let you go out with him?”
“He wouldn’t have to know. No one would.” Alice turns a death glare to her friends, then openly stares across to the sports field where Rafael stands.
His head swivels in our direction and when Alice waves, he hesitates and then waves back. I’m pretty sure his eyes had been on me. I ignore him and continue to walk, hurrying past the three girls. They rarely speak to me. No one does. So, it takes Alice saying, “We’ll come over after we’ve done our homework and hang out with you,” for me to figure out what is going on.
No way are they coming over to my house. I don’t even like them much. “I’m busy. Unless you want to hang out with the Reverend, then I suggest you stay away.” I glance over my shoulder and notice how they’ve all paled at my suggestion. They remember who my father is. I turn back the way I’m going and smile to myself. Being the Reverend’s daughter has its advantages.
The house is quiet when I step inside, which is to be expected with the Reverend still at his church. I have no idea what he does there all day, every day, but it seems to keep him busy. I head into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of milk, and then take a chunk of cheese and an apple upstairs to my bedroom. I have the same afternoon snack daily and I love it.
I open my bedroom window and can’t keep my gaze from wandering over to the house next door. Marcel is on the back porch and there is no sign of Rafael. He’s probably stayed behind at school to hang out with his new friends. Turning away, I retrieve my homework and sit at my small desk. As the story goes, the desk had once belonged to my mother from when she was a little girl. It certainly looks old enough, but I’ve learned over time that not everything the Reverend tells me about my mother is accurate. He will twist the truth to his liking. He does it with most things and his followers are none the wiser.
My homework takes no time at all to complete, then I’m downstairs with a salad prepared to go with the steak I’ve just grilled. After last night I want to be in his good graces, so I cooked another favorite meal of his. As I pull the steak from the grill, I hear his car shudder to a stop outside of the house. Everything is ready and in place as I put the food on the table. I glance toward the doorway and the Reverend stands with a smile on his face. It surprises me, which I hide behind my hand in a fake cough.
“You’ve made steak?” He shakes his head and cleans up at the sink. He grabs a towel and dries his hands before taking his seat at the head of the table. “All my discipline is paying off, Wren. You’re becoming the perfect daughter. One day, you’ll make someone the perfect wife.”
My stomach rolls at the way he says wife. It isn’t just the tone of voice, it’s the way he looks at me when he says it. As though, maybe, he already has a plan. Someone in mind. I frown down into my plate while my belly flutters with unease.
Reverend laughs. “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. I’ll find you a strong man who will know how to handle your willful ways.” He chuckles. “Eat.”
Every mouthful tastes like cardboard and I try not to choke as I swallow down the food. He knows exactly what he’s doing. His actions are always calculated and measured for his entertainment. He loves being the one in control. He relishes it.
All through dinner he watches me, and his eyes stay on me while I clean up in the kitchen. By the time he tells me he’s leaving for a while, I’m ready to have a nervous breakdown. My nerves are dancing just under my skin and ready to shatter. I don’t know if I’m about to start screaming or curl up in a ball. I glance one more time around the kitchen and then run upstairs to my room. I need a distraction so that my mind stops working overtime. Nothing I can come up with will be what the Reverend is actually planning. No one has a warped mind like him.
It will be warm in the glasshouse, so I slip into my PJ shorts and top. I’ll be going to bed soon anyway. I shove my feet into sneakers and move toward my glasshouse. My heart quickens as I approach and everything in me settles as I walk inside. My butterflies sleep, but a few flutter and perk up when they feel my presence.
A sudden tap on the glass at the back of the glasshouse makes me jump and my heart races into my throat at the thought of the Reverend coming back early. But no, that won’t be him. He would never be at the back and he would certainly never tap on the glass. I try to focus through the dark while I follow the shadow around to the door. It’s him. Rafael. He stands in the open doorway dressed as black as the night, his eyes focused on me. Tiger Lily has settled on my shoulder and he watches, his movement frozen in time.
“This is your place?” he asks, moving closer.
I notice the moment he spots the bruising on my arm. It’s obvious how it happened because there are finger marks imprinted on my skin. He steps close and
, reaching out, he gently brushes over the dark marks with the tip of his fingers. A shiver of goose bumps rapidly rises on my flesh and I catch my breath. His touch, albeit brief, had felt nice—more than nice if I’m honest. My eyes flicker to his and I find his are already focused on my face.
His fingers brush over the markings once more, and they linger this time. “I knew he wasn’t happy to find you with me. I’m sorry…” He trails off.
I’m not sure he knows what he’s doing because his hand has loosely wrapped around my elbow and he holds me close while he looks me over. His breathing quickens, as does mine, when he stares at my chest. I don’t need to look down to know my nipples press against my top. There is a tightness in them that matches the tightness in my belly. My body trembles with new feelings.
The spell is suddenly broken when Rafael clears his throat and steps away. He turns in a circle looking around my glasshouse, and I can’t help but feel proud of what he’s seeing. My butterflies hover close but out of his reach as they watch him. He makes me feel weird and my body wants to press close to his.
The silence feels right, but after the way my body reacted to him, I’m nervous. When I’m nervous, I babble, and now is no different. “Tiger Lily is a monarch butterfly. I don’t know why I call him Tiger Lily when he’s a male. The name just stuck once I saw him. Before I’d had a chance to look him up on the Internet. A female monarch is yellow, while a male has the orange. That one over there hovering close to your face is a Phoebus Apollo. A female. You can tell because the female has more of the black coloring on her delicate wings.” I need to shut up, but of course, I don’t. “The American copper is pretty too with the upper side forewings a bright orange and the darker outside border and eight or nine spots.” I inhale to continue when Rafael puts his hands up.
“I won’t remember all that. They just look pretty, I guess.” He winces, shrugging his shoulders.
“I think you should go.” The words fall out of my mouth and I wish I could take them back. I really don’t want him to go, but I’ll be in trouble if the Reverend finds him here, or even discovers he’s been here.
“Your father, huh?” he comments, his lips twitching into a teasing smirk. “I’ll go, if you can get a butterfly to sit on my hand.”
“You don’t think I can do it?” I counter. “Be prepared to be surprised.” I snicker.
Tiger Lily steps onto my fingers when I reach for him and I bring him closer to my face. “Be good, Tiger Lily,” I whisper.
Rafael watches me closely and when I move into his space, he stands his ground, his eyes narrowing. “Hold your arm outwards,” I instruct. Swallowing hard in my nervousness of being so close to a boy, I reach out with Tiger Lily and rest my hand on top of Rafael’s. Our eyes meet and hold while feelings I don’t know what to do with run through my body. I feel the light blush on my face as heat rises. Rafael’s soft gaze caresses my face and he focuses on my lips for a few moments before his eyes lift back to mine.
It’s then that I totally feel our connection. Tiger Lily rises from my hand and as I give our hands a sidelong look, I watch my beautiful friend land on Rafael’s fingers. He catches his breath and watches in awe as some of the other butterflies follow and land along his arm and mine. I hold my breath at the beauty unfolding in front of my own eyes. The butterflies find places along our arms to settle until we can no longer see our skin. Rafael moves his hand slightly and tilts mine so that he can intertwine our fingers together. I struggle for breath at the feelings pushing for a way out. The intensity scares me. However, I can’t move. I need his warmth and I enjoy the connection we’ve made through my butterflies.
Exhaustion sweeps through me so quickly, and without one thought, I lay my head on his shoulder. His heart races, as does mine, and then I tip my face up so I can watch him. I don’t want to miss anything of this experience with him. His face is mesmerizing, then I catch a brief twitching of his lips before a laugh escapes him. I feel it in his whole body as we press together.
It ends as suddenly as it began.
Rafael catches his breath and abruptly steps away from me as though he’s been burned. The butterflies fly from us and find plants and flowers to land on. Rafael gives me one long hard look before he leaves without a word.
My heart sinks. What happened? Why did he leave so suddenly? I know he feels the same way I do. I don’t want to feel the way he makes me because it’s dangerous with the Reverend. He can never know. But I want to continue to be with Rafael. I want to feel the tingles of pleasure that run through me when we touch. I want to continue to feel my body come alive when he looks at me in that way. The way only Rafael can look. He might look dark and mysterious, and a bad boy to boot, but I don’t think he is. I saw the real him tonight and I want to see it again. He needs me to show him the light, just like I need him to show me how to live and feel like a young girl should.
As I come to that conclusion, headlights wash over the glasshouse and then stay dazzling through the glass. I hear a car engine idle in the driveway and wonder who would be here with the Reverend so late at night. The Reverend is strict about his personal time.
“Wren,” the Reverend hollers into the night, followed by the noise of his car locking. “We have a guest. Come into the house.”
Panicked, I glance down at myself. I can’t meet one of his guests dressed as I am. The Reverend will go crazy once his visitor leaves.
What should I do?
While I freak out, the Reverend appears in the doorway. “I told you to come inside. I meant immediately, Wren.” His eyes glance over me and his lips twitch up in a smile. “I see why you would think your choice of clothing would be a problem.” He pauses. “Tonight, it isn’t.” He indicates for me to lead the way.
I hesitate because I don’t trust him not to do something in punishment for being outside in my sleepwear.
Stepping outside the glasshouse, I sense Rafael is close. That can’t be though, because he left in a rush. Had he been on his way back when the Reverend arrived home? I’m not sure where he is hidden, but I somehow know he’s out there watching. I swallow hard around the lump in my throat, hoping he won’t interfere in whatever the Reverend wants.
Without missing a step, I glance around and can’t see him. Doesn’t mean he’s left though.
The Reverend huffs out an impatient breath behind me, so I quickly make it to the doorway. Inside the kitchen, I stand frozen in place when I see who the guest is. Peter Wild always looks at me and I find him threatening. It isn’t just that he looks at me, it’s the way he looks at me. As though he pictures me without clothing, and it gives me cold chills.
“What did I tell you?” The Reverend breaks the silence. “She’s all grown up.”
“Hmm, she is.” Peter Wild rubs his jaw and licks his lips as he stares at my body.
Uncomfortable is an understatement. I feel dirty and want to hide so the wicked man can never look at me again.
“You can go.” The Reverend gives me a push toward the stairs.
There is no hesitation in my step as I shoot upstairs and into my bedroom, locking the door securely behind me.
I lean against it and will my racing heart to slow so that I can hear if there is any movement downstairs, or, God forbid, on the stairs.
13
RAFAEL
LEAVING WREN’S OASIS, my feet stop abruptly. I’m running scared because of how she makes me feel, but there is something—the connection between us—holding me hidden in her back garden.
Instead of staying in the open, I slip behind a tree. It’s not big, but it’s dark enough that I should stay concealed.
My body feels tight after being so close to her. The butterflies have allowed me to share in the pleasure of their trust. I’m convinced the butterflies from the funeral had belonged to Wren. They had to be because why else would they trust me?
I can’t see much inside of the house made of glass, but I sense movement and hear two cars approaching.
I listen w
anting them to go past, but no such luck. Then I hear the Reverend shout for Wren and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. The bastard has physically hurt Wren and it makes me want to hurt him far more than before.
Over the last three years, the level of my anger and need for vengeance have slowly moved to a dull ache, instead of the almost uncontainable rage it had been. I should be focused on that revenge…it’s so close now that I could reach out and touch it. Except Wren is in the middle and all I can think about is protecting her. I feel her strength, but against the Reverend, she has none.
Movement catches my eye by the side of her house and the shape of a large man hovers close to the Reverend. Something is going on and I need to get closer to find out what. I move quietly under the cover of darkness and crouch beside the kitchen window. The porch comes to a stop under the window, so I get lucky. Voices are muffled, even when Wren joins them, it’s difficult to hear anything.
It isn’t long before I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs and realize Wren has gone. Seconds tick by before I know what I’m going to do.
Keeping low and using shrubs, I climb the fence between our two properties and sneak into my own house through the back door. I’m not so lucky.
Dad sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Discover anything interesting?” His eyes move next door before they focus on mine.
“No, but I’m about to go and find out.”
Dad doesn’t get a chance to respond before I’m running upstairs to my room. I know exactly what I want and when it’s in hand, I quickly run downstairs. “I’m going to talk to Wren.”