by Rona Jameson
“I’m collecting some vegetables and fruit for dinner.” I glance around the floor and realize the shears have slipped under the workbench. “Is everything okay?” I ask, crouching down and feeling with my hand until my fingers bump into the metal shears.
I get back to my feet and the Reverend still hasn’t said anything. He just continues to stare. He’s been looking at me in a funny way recently and I don’t know what to make of it. I stand silently and wait for a response, which I don’t get until I start to sweat.
“Peter Wild will be joining us this evening for supper,” he states. “Make sure you set an extra plate. Everything else as usual.”
“Yes, sir.” I ignore the urge to stick my tongue out. I’d done that once—a long time ago. It hadn’t ended well for me because he’d seen my reflection through the window. Ever since then, I learned to be more careful.
The Reverend continues to stare before he abruptly snaps, “It’s time to make dinner,” and stomps up the garden path to the house.
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. It’s early to start dinner, but he’d been adamant. I chew on my bottom lip and look toward the house. My view isn’t clear because of the abundance of plants filling the space and the steam on the windows from the humidity in here. I don’t mind, if I can’t see out properly then I’m assured no one can see in either.
The Reverend, or rather his shape, crosses the yard and leans against the wooden porch. He’s waiting for me and how quickly I listen will determine his mood at dinner. I’ll have to go inside, which I really don’t want to do with the way he’s been looking at me. Resigned, I grab the bowl with the vegetables and strawberries and step outside. That’s when I realize the Reverend is watching the house next door. I glance over and see Marcel on the front porch, but the back holds my entire focus. Rafael leans against the corner support and stares directly at me. Even with the distance between us, I can feel the heat of his gaze. It burns into my body and I blush at the heat running through me.
I chance a glance at the Reverend, but he’s unmoving in the middle of a staring match with Rafael’s dad. Rafael looks too before his gaze moves back to mine, and he gently nods his head in the direction of the roof. I let a small smile slip over my lips as happiness runs through me. He wants to talk to me again.
The fact we are doing this in secret thrills me more than it should. I know he doesn’t have a problem with being seen with me in public, so I only have to worry about the Reverend finding out. The consequences would be terrible, and although I don’t think he’d hurt Rafael, I’m not sure. Not anymore.
BOTH THE REVEREND and Peter Wild glance in my direction every few minutes. If I was brave, I would ask what’s wrong with me. I’m not brave, though, so I try to ignore them. Wild has a look in his eyes that tells me he’s seeing me without any clothing, and I want to be sick. The Reverend seems aware of the looks, but he is not doing or saying anything to dissuade the man. For some reason, that bothers me more than anything has. Ordinarily, he’s possessive of me, and with only one glance, the Reverend usually shoots down anyone who dares to look in my direction.
My head immediately goes to his recent talk to me about marriage, and that he’d find me a man. I haven’t really listened to what he talks about, or at least I haven’t paid too much heed to what he says. I wish I had now.
The men talk around me and I’m sure some of their chatter is about me, except they make sure to be non-specific. It’s a wonder I haven’t gone up in flames with the stare from Peter Wild. I take a chance and glance up, freezing at the look on his face. It scares me. He looks ready to pounce.
The knife and fork drop back to my plate with a noisy clink. I gasp and lift my eyes to the Reverend.
I swallow back fear, and ask, “Please may I be excused?”
The Reverend quickly gives me a nod of acceptance. “Clean the kitchen up in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiles and shares a look I don’t understand with the creepy man.
Standing, I pause, and say, “Goodnight, Reverend. Goodnight, Mr. Wild.” I then turn and run upstairs. I can’t get to my bedroom fast enough, and nearly fall into the room when my foot catches on the landing carpet. Flipping the lock is the first thing I do the moment the door closes. A heavy shudder of unease creeps through my body and then I breathe out a sigh of relief. Just to be away from the two men downstairs helps me catch a breath.
My heart pounds as I quickly change into my sleep shorts and a tank top, then I slowly open my window so it won’t creak. The moment I climb out, I find Rafael waiting for me. He is lying on his back staring at the stars, but when he hears me, he turns his head and watches my every move. I smile and try not to be self-conscious from the look in his eyes. They tell me he likes what he sees. His gaze darkens as he looks at my chest before he turns his head and stares up at the stars again.
I give him a slight smile as I lie beside him. My hand searches out his and our fingers intertwine. His hands are that of a man, not a boy—large and strong. The way he caresses my thumb with his creates tingles of pleasure that run all the way to my belly. He gives my hand a squeeze and asks, “Who came for dinner?”
We turn our faces toward each other, and my eyes search his. The way his presence affects me tells me to trust him. I feel my need to trust him. To have someone I can talk to about anything at all that comes to mind or worries me.
“Peter Wild.” I swallow hard, and admit, “It was just awful having to eat dinner with them both. They kept looking at me weirdly. The kind of way that made my skin crawl. Peter Wild constantly looked at me.” I shiver.
“You’re cold?” Rafael wiggles closer and wraps me in his arms. His warmth seeps from his body to mine and I start feeling so much better.
Smiling, I duck my face so he won’t see how pleased I am with his response. It has been so long since I’ve been held. In fact, the last time I remember it happening was with my mom, but it’s more of a feeling of warmth and love than anything else, like wings of a butterfly tickling my skin. I lift my head and place it on his shoulder as his arm comes behind my back and settles on my waist. I snuggle closer and sigh.
He puts his mouth close to my ear. “You like being this close to me.”
Heat creeps up my neck to my face, but I keep my face buried in his shoulder. “Maybe I do like being with you.”
He quietly admits, “I like having you this close, Wren.” He pauses. “How was school?”
“Same as usual. I missed you being there.”
“It took a bit longer than planned. Dad had some things to do.” He rubs my back and I feel tension in his body. “I wanted to go and talk to Mom.” He hesitates. “It helps talking to her. I know she can’t talk back, but it’s all I have.”
Tears spring to my eyes at the sorrow I hear in his voice. I slowly slip my arm over his stomach and hug him. “I’m sorry, Rafael. Can’t you talk to your dad?”
“I do.” There is a smile in his voice, and he caresses my arm on his belly. “It’s just weird talking to him about you.”
“Me?” I raise my face and stare into his eyes. “You talked to her about me?”
He lifts a hand and wraps a piece of my hair around a finger. “Yeah, I told her about you. I told her about the butterfly girl with long dark brown hair.” His gaze lifts to mine and I feel our connection grow.
The next few minutes pass in silence as I settle down on his shoulder, against his warm body. I feel happy right now. Truly happy. I want to continue to feel what I do when I’m with Rafael, but I know it will end. The moment he leaves to go back to his house, I’ll be alone.
“I drew you another picture.” Rafael sits up and tugs me with him. He offers a smile as he slips a piece of paper out of his back pocket. “I hope you like it.”
I catch my breath as I unfold the thick piece of drawing paper. The pencil drawing takes my breath away. It’s of me reaching up to a hanging basket outside of the glasshouse. Rafael has captured every detail,
and my heart thuds in my chest. Looking at the drawing makes me see myself through his eyes, and I am, “Beautiful.”
“You are,” Rafael whispers. “The first day I saw you, I thought it was my imagination playing tricks on me. The butterflies loved you. It was absolutely amazing to watch.” He smiles. “My dad kept looking at me. He knew you’d caught my eye.”
“I’ve never had anyone to talk to before. Tonight, is the first time I remember being held in so long.” I pause. “I don’t really remember my mother because she left when I was a child.”
Rafael places his arm around me and inches closer. “I’ll always hold you, Wren.”
“I’d like that.” I let my head drop to his shoulder and sigh.
“What should I do at school? I want to be around you, but I don’t want the Reverend to punish you for it.”
“It’s best if we keep our friendship a secret.” I pull my lower lip between my teeth. I hate that I can’t be with him in the open, but I need to keep him—us—safe. “I don’t want to see the basement again any time soon.”
He stills. “Basement?”
“I mentioned that the other day.”
“No, you didn’t.” Rafael’s jaw tenses. “He locked you in the basement, didn’t he? That’s what you let slip.”
“It’s okay.” I turn and cup his scarred cheek. Our eyes meet and my fingers flutter over the red puckered scar. He gulps and holds still while I touch him. My heart goes out to him in this moment and I lean forward and press a kiss to the end of the scar on his jaw.
“Wren,” he groans and catches his breath.
“Shush.” I smile close to his mouth. “Let me touch you like this.” I hold his gaze and kiss along the scar, then I move to the one above his brow. “You make me feel good when you touch me. I want you to feel good too.”
“Hmm, Wren, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
I chuckle. “I know exactly what I’m saying even though I’ve never experienced anything like I am with you before.”
Rising up on his knees, Rafael places his hands on my hips to keep me steady and holds me tightly. “I think I should go before we get caught up here.”
“Yet you’re not making any move to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave. You make me feel whole, Wren. When I’m with you, everything that holds me in darkness dissipates and I feel…happy.”
Feeling brave after I hear his words, I lean forward and quickly press my lips to his. It’s a very brief kiss. If I knew what I was doing then, maybe, I’d have kept my lips pressed to his longer. I don’t really know what to do with a boy. I read a book that the girls had passed around at school. I’d found it shoved in my locker and had been too curious to ignore it. I’d snuck it home and hid it. Read it in the dark of night when I knew the Reverend slept. It had been very detailed. I’d been too scared to keep it in my bedroom, so I’d burned it by the river, then kicked the ashes into the water. I haven’t thought about the book in a while, but now that I find myself drawn to Rafael, I want to remember it.
“You’re really blushing,” he comments. “Shit! Sorry!” He slips a bit and I reach out to grab him, and he adds, “I think I better go.”
“Really?”
He moves away but slowly comes back to me and presses his lips to the corner of my mouth. “I feel everything you do, Wren,” he whispers against my mouth.
He’s gone and I see his figure in the distance as he climbs his back porch. I can’t move and my hand stays covering my mouth, touching the kiss he had placed there. I’m not sure what is happening between us, but I love the way I feel with him.
23
RAFAEL
MY BODY FEELS tight and uncomfortable as I climb up my back porch. I turn my head and see Wren still sitting where I’d left her. I can’t take my eyes from her and watch in the moonlight as her butterflies hover around her like a halo. I’m surprised they’d found her in the dark.
Instead of heading inside and up to my room, I slip into the dark shadowy corner of the porch and watch her. I tell myself it has everything to do with her safety, when, in actual fact, it has everything to do with my heart.
Every nerve ending feels alive and buzzes with electricity, tempting me to go back to her. I want to teach her how to kiss a man—me. The way her words wrap around me drives me crazy. She has no idea what she does to me, nor how I’m reacting, nor how my body reacts.
While my head is filled with Wren, I watch as she moves back inside her bedroom, only taking the blanket with her at the last minute. Her dark brown hair shimmers under the stars in waves as she disappears, and I’m thankful I can no longer see her.
The night has gone cold and I shiver in my T-shirt now that my body has started to cool from the world of heat Wren had created. Blood stops whirling around in my head and I start to hear the sounds of night—crickets chirping, the whine of mosquitos, small animals rustling in the underbrush, and the trees of the forest creak as the wind picks up. All sounds that I usually ignore until I really listen.
The silence of the night stills my racing heart, even when Dad silently joins me on the porch, everything is still. The whack of a door banging against its wooden frame draws my gaze back over to Wren’s house. The Reverend and Wild stand on the back porch chatting, their attention on our house.
“Don’t move, Rafael,” Dad says under his breath. “They can’t see us.”
“That man scares Wren. We have to do something to keep him away from her.” My eyes never leave Wren’s house. “She doesn’t know anything, Dad. She knows something is wrong with the Reverend and with what has been going on, but she doesn’t know anything.”
“I saw you talking to her,” Dad states, and I know he witnessed our kiss.
I’m not sure what I feel for Wren. I certainly feel like her protector. I frown wondering if it’s love to desperately want to keep the girl as mine and mine alone. What I feel for her is certainly close to the word “love.”
“Everything about me is a lie.”
“No, it isn’t, son. What lies have been told can be explained, and Wren will understand in the end.”
“I’m twenty pretending to be eighteen. That’s a big problem, Dad,” I hiss in frustration.
He pauses. “Ah, that’s what you mean.” I glance at him in the dark and feel my face heat at his amusement. “I get it now.”
Without offering advice or even one word, Dad quietly disappears inside. Nice one, Rafael!
My face continues to feel heated as I watch the two men on the opposite porch finally move away to Wild’s vehicle. The bastard wastes no time in getting in his car and driving off, his tires spewing gravel at the speed at which he leaves.
The Reverend has his hands on his hips as he watches Wild disappear down the road. When the headlights from the car can no longer be seen, the Reverend shakes his head and offers a quick glance in my direction before he disappears into his own house.
I stay outside for another ten minutes wondering what the men had been talking about. One of their topics would have been Wren, if I had to guess. It wouldn’t have been their only topic. That I know.
Slipping inside the house, I go up to the attic and spread out on my bed, too tired to do anything else.
I’d sleep on it. Sleep on it all.
24
WREN
THE HOUSE IS silent as I walk downstairs for breakfast. It’s always this way on Saturday mornings because the Reverend likes to be at his church early. Not much happens as a town, but there are always a bunch of cars parked in the lot. I’m curious, but not curious enough to risk asking.
I pull out a box of muesli and chop a banana to go on top, along with a spoon of natural yogurt. I pour half a cup of milk and take my breakfast to sit on the back porch. The day is humid, and the sun is out, which means it will be uncomfortable to be outdoors soon. My denim shorts and tank top are appropriate for the weather, as long I don’t leave the property. I eat my muesli and, looking down, realize I will have to wear
a baggy T-shirt over my tank, so my breasts are not as obvious.
Continuing to munch, I glance over at Rafael’s house and it looks quiet. I smile as I remember last night on the roof. Rafael had certainly noticed my lack of a bra because my breasts had pressed against the pajama top. My nipples had hardened into tight peaks when his eyes had been on them. It had felt good to press my chest against his side when I’d used him as a pillow. He’d certainly warmed me up in more places than I cared to admit.
Movement suddenly catches my eye and I watch as Rafael stands and stretches on his back porch. My mouth hangs open at the sight of him. He’s only wearing black jeans, his chest bare. The tattoos are all over his back and torso. I can’t make them out from this distance, but I certainly enjoy the view. His jeans dip low around his hips, which my eyes find difficult moving from. It’s only when I manage to move them upward that I realize he’s watching me. He leans with his arms on the porch railing, his gaze unwavering.
My mouth goes dry and, the muesli gets stuck in my throat, hurting when it finally goes down like a ball of bird seeds. It’s only my butterflies that draw my gaze away and I realize I can’t stare at the boy next door all morning. I have to water the plants around the glasshouse and inside.
With one last glance toward Rafael, I take my bowl inside and, after I’ve quickly washed and dried it, I grab a T-shirt and head to the side of the house. The hose is wrapped on a wheel at the side of the house, the end of which is attached to a water tap. I unravel the hose and turn on the water and let it dampen the garden before I move over to the glasshouse. I feel the humidity coming from it as I pass the door and water a few plants around the entrance. The plants get dry so quickly in the heat, so as water lands on the soil, they seem to come back to life in all their color. Different shades of green look so pretty all bundled together. The butterflies follow me and land on the plants as I move on.