Credence

by Penelope Douglas

  “What do you want?” I ask him, changing the subject.

  “You’re Chapel Peak’s shiny new toy,” he tells me. “Just checking you out.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Yeah, that sounded cheesier than I thought it would,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

  “Why?” I reply. “Toys are meant to be played with.”

  His mouth drops open, and we stare at each other as the loaded words hangs between us.

  And then, as if on cue, we both start laughing at the same time.

  “That had extra cheese,” he teases.

  Yeah.

  But you seemed a little hopeful for a second there.

  Neither of us make a move to get out, just continue to tread water and circle each other slowly.

  “See any alligators yet?” he asks.

  I narrow my eyes. “Huh?”

  “In the pond,” he explains. “We have some in here, you know?”

  Oh?

  “No, actually, they left,” I tell him. “I did see some unicorns, though.”

  He chuckles, knowing it will take more than that to mess with me. “Very good,” he says. “My ex totally fell for that one. She was so dumb she thought the District of Columbia was America’s new state.”

  I slide my hands through the water, my body drifting back out into the pond again and him inching, getting closer.

  His eyes zone in, intense as they calmly watch me, and my stomach flips. I know what he wants. Will he feel like Kaleb did?

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, his deep voice almost a whisper.

  “Do you care?”

  He smirks. “I think you need one.”

  Please. Judging from the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t care if I were married.

  And I’m not looking for an attachment. Maybe the Van der Bergs are right in how they live. They get what they need when they need it, and they don’t have to be held accountable, because they may as well live on the far side of the moon for six months out of the year. No woman—no sane person—wants that life. Perfect situation for them.

  Maybe me, too.

  “They go to town every Friday night,” Terrance tells me, inching closer. “To have some fun.”

  I smile to myself. They don’t need to go to town for that. Town comes to them.

  “They always get the prettiest ones, too,” he goes on. “Until now. The prettiest one they’ll keep home and to themselves, won’t they?”

  I tense. He comes in closer, but I don’t back away.

  “What if I were to come up here Friday night when you’re alone?” he says low. “Would you let me in the house?”

  His body is so close, and I fist my hands in the water, because there’s an ache low in my belly that won’t go away, and maybe I should act. Maybe I should do something I would never, because I want to feel and because the ache has been there since my first morning here and the horseback ride.

  “Would you want to have some fun of your own?” Terrance taunts.

  I swallow, letting my imagination wander for a split-second. We could do it now, I guess. Right here, on the beach. Probably for hours before anyone came to find me.

  The guys get their fun. Why shouldn’t I?

  I’ll never see this man after I leave, anyway.

  He swims into me, backing me up and walking into me. When I get only waist deep, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in.

  I plant my hands on his chest. No.

  His eyes drop, and he smiles at what he sees, and I look down, noticing my breasts visible through my wet bra, my nipples hard, little points.

  I pull my arms up, covering myself.

  Unlike last night when I couldn’t even summon the will to stop Kaleb’s mouth.

  Terrance takes my face and pulls me in, but before I can pull away, motorcycles whir from somewhere in the trees, and we both jerk our heads toward the sound.

  Kaleb and Noah race up and stop just above the rocks, Noah immediately kicking down the stand and jumping off.

  “Get the fuck out of there!” he growls at me. “Now!”

  I jump.

  Noah heads down to me, and I look over, seeing Kaleb climbing off his bike with a…

  A… gun?

  Is he kidding?

  Kaleb stands by his bike, staring at Terrance with his head tilted and his expression calm. A shotgun hangs casually at his side in his hand.

  A shotgun.

  They’re all out of their minds.

  I scramble out of the pond, dripping wet as I grab my backpack and shirt off the ground. But as I dive back down for the rifle, Noah snatches it up and takes my wrist, pulling me after him. I stumble over the rocks.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Terrance whines behind me, and I look back to see him walking out of the water with his arms outstretched at his sides in a challenge to my cousins. “What are you gonna do with that, Kaleb? Huh?”

  He grins as Kaleb loads a shell.

  Shit.

  Noah pulls me to his bike to climb on behind him. “Get on now.”

  But Terrance pipes up again, and I hesitate.

  “You’re not gonna be able to keep her to yourself,” he tells Kaleb and Noah. “She’s the prettiest thing we’ve all seen in a while, and I’m just trying to get in there before all the dogs start barking at your front door for a piece of that sweet little snatch.”

  I cringe and Kaleb cocks his gun.

  “Now, Tiernan!” Noah barks.

  And I climb on, hugging my backpack and shirt with one hand and holding onto Noah with the other.

  Noah starts the bike and turns it around as I hear Terrance’s voice behind me. “See you soon, Tiernan.”

  And Noah races off, taking us back down the mountain.

  But as we speed away, I look behind me one more time and catch sight of Kaleb still standing in the same spot. Staring at Terrance as he clutches the gun at his side.

  Tiernan

  We haul ass back to the house, Noah screeching to a halt next to his father’s truck. I crash into him as the rear tire lifts off the ground.

  What the hell is the matter with them? As soon as the bike lands again, I jump off and head for the house.

  But Noah is quick behind me, grabbing my wrist again.

  I jerk away. “Get off.”

  “Where were you?” Jake demands, walking over to us.

  But I keep walking, slipping the flannel back on to cover myself. “I need a shower.”

  I did nothing wrong.

  Jake doesn’t let me pass, though. He clutches my upper arm, demanding an answer.

  “I need a shower,” I tell him again, slowly twisting out of his hold.

  He towers over me, and I look up at him.

  “What the hell would’ve happened if we hadn’t found you?” Noah bites out.

  “What do you think would’ve happened?”

  “You both looked pretty close,” he points out. Then he looks to his father. “She was up at the lake with Holcomb.”

  “I told you to stay away from the local boys,” Jake tells me.

  I shake my head, my backpack clutched in my fist. “I went for a hike,” I explain in a hard voice. “I didn’t invite him. He showed up. Are we done?” And then I glare at Noah. “I mean, Kaleb and the rifle? Really?”

  I spin around, walking for the house again.

  “You left the rifle on the beach!” Noah growls at me. “You left yourself unprotected.”

  “What do you think he was going to do?” I ask, spinning around. “Attack me?”

  Noah’s jaw flexes, and I can’t help myself.

  “He might not have had to,” I tell him, slipping my backpack over my shoulder. “I was kind of liking him.”

  He advances like he’s going to come after me, but Jake shoots out his hands and stops him, holding him back. I almost smile.

  My uncle turns, his patience gone. “Go get your shower,” he orders me.

  I turn and head up the stairs, hearing Noah’s
angry bark behind me. “You’re a Van der Berg here,” he shouts. “If you give that asshole a piece of ass, I swear to God I’ll make sure you don’t sit for a week.”

  Noah.

  Calm, pleasant, happy Noah.

  What a surprise. And an asshole.

  The horse shuffles on her feet as I brush her rust-colored coat. It’s meditative, like cooking. The long, smooth strokes. My earbuds are in, but no music plays, because I forgot to turn on my playlist when I came into the barn an hour ago.

  I brush with one hand and follow it with a stroke of the other, giving the girl lots of attention. I like animals.

  And Colorado. It was actually nice today. Getting out there into the woods.

  It wasn’t even so bad when the Holcomb guy showed up. Of course, he was an ass. I wasn’t delusional. He’d screw me and brag and never speak to me again unless he wanted more, but…

  I don’t know.

  He joked with me, and I joked back. There was no illusion about what he wanted. I didn’t have to play games or pretend.

  And part of me wanted it to be that easy. To not have to bond in order to connect.

  Yeah, I was tempted.

  I can’t talk right or say the right things, but maybe I can be soft and sweet and happy in bed. Maybe I could be loving there.

  My eyes sting with tears, but I blink them away as I brush Shawnee’s mane.

  They hate me, I hate me, and I hate them.

  No, I stop and think, I don’t hate them. I just know I’ll fail. I can’t connect.

  Leaving the stall, I toss the brush on the table with the other grooming tools, and walk back through the shop, toward the house. I kick off my muddy rain boots but keep my black hoodie on as I open the door to the kitchen and walk in. The afternoon is cooling off, and I feel rain in the air.

  I hear a hiss as I enter. “That fuckin’ prick…”

  I turn to close the door, but I take a quick glance. Kaleb is planted on the table, his nose bloody and his father trying to clean it up, but he grabs the rag out of his dad’s hand and holds it to his nose himself. His lips are etched into a snarl.

  Did Terrance Holcomb do that to him? I was a little worried about the shotgun Kaleb had, but I suspected it was all for show. No police were here, after all.

  Noah opens and closes the refrigerator, pulling out an ice pack, and I walk through the kitchen, toward the stairs.

  “Get started on dinner,” Jake tells me as I pass.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “We are,” he grits out.

  I stop and turn my head, the two of them crowded around Kaleb, and I notice the array of other scratches, dirt, and blood on his jaw, shoulder, and hip. A pang of guilt hits me, but the other guy probably looks worse, and I didn’t ask Kaleb to do this for me.

  “That’s not my problem,” I shoot back, glaring at my uncle. “You want a servant, hire one.”

  He jerks his head toward me.

  “And since I won’t do what I’m told,” I add, “send me home.”

  I don’t belong here. This is why I’m better alone. I don’t have to feel all these things all the time. Embarrassment, shame, guilt… If you don’t put yourself out there, you don’t hurt.

  Noah and Jake just stand there for a moment, and I look to Kaleb, unable to stop myself. “I don’t feel bad for you one bit,” I tell him. “You got what you deserved, because you used me as an excuse to start a fight. You weren’t defending my honor.”

  He glares at me.

  “Like any troglodyte male, you’re just dying to hit something. You enjoyed yourself.”

  He hops off the table, leveling me with his eyes as he takes a couple steps forward like he’s going to come at me.

  But Jake advances first. “You don’t know us,” he states. “You don’t come here and disrespect my home.”

  “I’ve been here three days, and you have intimidated me, threatened me, and taunted me. You’ve acted like bullies,” I tell them. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to yell? Fight? Isn’t that what you said?”

  “I said you’d benefit from some time here, and I was right!” Jake fires back. “You’ve got no idea how to work inside of a unit. Be part of a team. A family.”

  He stalks forward, and I back into the living room as he closes the distance between us. “Let me educate you, girl,” he growls. “You’re the kid. I’m the adult. You do as you’re told, and there’s no problem. That system works for us.” He towers over me. “Just. Do. As. You’re. Told!”

  I shrink for a second, but then I shake my head, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

  “And you’re spoiled.”

  I drop my head, squeezing my eyes shut against his attack. I’ve never been yelled at before. Ever. That fact just occurs to me, and my hands are shaking.

  It’s degrading. I feel like shit.

  “No maids here,” he continues, “No butlers.”

  My back hits the wall as I grind my teeth together and anger burns in my gut.

  He goes on, “No assistants to wipe your fucking little ass. No easy access to your psychiatrist to get you your pills that you need to dull the pain of how shallow your life is!”

  “That’s your baggage!” I shout, finally looking up at him and giving it back. “Your issues with our family are not my problem!”

  What do I care about maids, butlers, or pills? He’s bringing his personal shit into this.

  “Is anything your problem?” he retorts. “Do you give a shit about anyone but yourself? You don’t ask us questions about our lives. You barely eat with us. You won’t sit with us. You have no interest in who we are!”

  “Because I’m always in the kitchen!” I blurt up at him, my chest nearly brushing his.

  “You’re a brat,” he breathes out, seething. “A self-absorbed, snobby, little brat!”

  “I’m not! I’m just…”

  I stop myself, scowling and looking away. Goddammit. Goddamn him. I’m not a brat. I’m…

  “You’re just what?” he demands. “Huh?”

  I’m not spoiled. Tears burn my eyes, and my chin shakes. I don’t care about luxury. Or money. I’m not unfriendly because they live here and live differently. That’s not it. I’m just…

  “Just what?” he shouts again. “So quiet now, aren’t you?”

  “Dad…” Noah says somewhere from the kitchen.

  But I can’t see him. My uncle crowds me, and I can’t stop the tears from pooling.

  “I’m not…”

  I swallow, no idea what to say. No idea what my problem is. He’s right, right? Any polite—normal—person would be able to converse casually. Engage in small talk. Ask them questions. Smile, joke around…

  I shake my head, more to myself than him, murmuring, “I’m just… not used to…”

  “To what?” he bites out. “Rules? A spending limit? Small closet space?”

  A tear falls, and it takes everything to keep the sob bottled up.

  “Chores of any kind?” he continues. “What is so godawful different in this house compared to yours? What are you so not used to?”

  “People,” I blurt out.

  I don’t know when I figured it out, but it just comes out.

  He’s right. I have no idea how to be with people.

  Tears fall, spilling down my face as I stare at the floor.

  “I’m not used to people,” I whisper. “They don’t talk to me at home.”

  He doesn’t speak, and I can’t hear the boys making any movements either, the silence making the room feel smaller.

  I raise my eyes, no longer caring that he can see my red eyes and wet face. “No one talks to me.”

  And before he can say anything, I run up the stairs, desperate to get in my bedroom and away from their eyes. I lock the door and fall back on the bed, covering my eyes with my arms to stop the tears.

  God, why did I do that? What a fucking basket case. He’s going to send me home now because I’m emotional and too much work.

&nb
sp; I cry quietly into my arm.

  I shouldn’t have done that. I never fight with anyone, but I would fight before I’d ever cry. It’s a weak person’s tactic to end an argument. It’s not a fair fight when someone starts blubbering.

  Aw, look at the poor, little rich girl. Her mommy and daddy let her have anything she wanted, but they didn’t hold her hand or kiss and hug her every day. Poor baby.

  Now they’ll just see me as even less than they did before. Fragile. Easy to break. A problem to tiptoe around.

  How many kids would’ve happily lived with my parents if it meant they were being fed and clothed every day? I have everything, and I just broke in front of them over nothing.

  Everyone should be as lucky as I am.

  “Can you believe it?” I heard my mother shout.

  “Oh, come on,” my father chuckled. “We knew it was going to happen.”

  I slowly stepped into my father’s study, seeing my father and Mirai both smiling, and my mom with her hands palm to palm in front of her chest as she giggled.

  Then she reached out and wrapped her arms around my father.

  I smile. “What’s going on?” I asked softly, inching into the room.

  But they’re only looking at each other.

  Mirai glanced at me and smiled wider. “Your mom—

  But my father’s voice interrupts. “I need to call Tom,” he told my mother, rounding his desk. “All the promo needs to be changed for the new movie.”

  I looked between them, coming to stand in front of the sofa, so they could see me.

  “Oscar-nominated actress Amelia de Haas,” my father recites as if reading a billboard.

  My mouth fell open, and I smiled wide. “Oscar?”

  Really? That’s amazing.

  “Well, no,” my mother teased, still focused on my dad. “What if I win? Then it’s Oscar-winning actress. You better hold off.”

  My father laughed again and came back around the desk, kissing her. “My wife.”

  They looked at each other, their eyes lit with excitement and bliss, and I stepped around, trying to catch their eyes as I approached.

  I wanted to hug my mom and congratulate her. I wanted her to know I was proud of her

  “Mom…”

  “Go make some calls,” she told Mirai, not hearing me. “You know what to do,”