“Nope,” I sigh, my eyes trailing the length of the table that’s already set. “I took care of it all while you were upstairs.”
Her nose wrinkles. I’m tense, and I shouldn’t take it out on her, but I can’t help myself. Right now, I’d almost give anything to go back to those carefree high school days, when my only concern was studying for tests and fighting off advances from the boys I wasn’t allowed to date.
The Fahnlander boy down the street was the only boyfriend I ever knew, and I made damn sure that whole thing was kept hidden from my family. And by boyfriend, I mean we sat together at lunch and passed notes in the hall.
Despite not having a true boyfriend experience growing up, I don’t feel as though I missed out on much. I found ways to get around my father’s stringent rules most of the time. All I crave, all I’ve ever missed out on, is pure autonomy and genuine independence.
Waverly studies me and pulls her chair out carefully. “Are you nervous about this or something?”
I shoot daggers her way and silently scold myself. My face softens, if only for her sake. “Yes. I’m nervous.”
“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. Our family is so nice. And everyone’s so excited to have company tonight. This, like, never happens.” Waverly smiles like she hasn’t a care in the world.
I want that.
The mixer in the kitchen goes silent, but our mothers are still flitting around like they’re prepping a meal for the President of the United States. When I lean in, I whisper, “What if I don’t like him? And what if Dad likes him?”
“Dad would never make you marry someone you didn’t like.”
My head cocks hard to the right, as if to say, “Really?!”
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how our father operates. She hasn’t seen what I’ve seen or heard what I’ve heard. He’s not who he says he is. I just hope she never learns that the hard way.
“Waverly, Bellamy,” our mother calls. She skips off to the kitchen and I death march.
Outside a car door clicks, sending my heart sinking down to my feet. He’s here.
Summer hands a bowl of tossed salad to my sister and my mom fishes in a drawer for a set of tongs, which she promptly shoves in my hand and nods toward the table.
The doorbell chimes a soft and cozy song, but it may as well be a battle cry.
This is war.
This is where I fight for my freedom.
“Cortland’s here,” Waverly announces.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
My mother wipes her hands on her apron. “What are you waiting for? Go get the door.”
By the time I reach the front door, I can hardly breathe. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I think this might be what it feels like. The walls close, my head pounds, and my vision blurs. Sucking in deep breaths, I lurch for the handle and open the door.
He’s gorgeous.
And evil.
With a hand in the pocket of his khakis and the other hand holding a bouquet of spring lilies, his lips curl into the widest grin I’ve ever seen. He looks so deceptively benign. Like some deliciously handsome man who stepped right off the pages of a J. Crew catalog. The way he stares at me, like I’m the only girl in the world, used to send butterflies soaring in my center.
Now it makes me sick.
He leans in, owning the courage of a man unafraid to steal a kiss at the most inappropriate of times.
“No,” I whisper. “We’re courting now, remember? You can’t kiss me. You can’t touch me. We don’t know each other like that.”
“Is this the man of the hour?” My father’s voice bellows from behind me, sending a quick shock to my heart. I can only hope he didn’t see Cortland try to kiss me. When I step out of the way, my father brushes by and extends his hand to meet that of my suitor.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Miller.” Cortland flashes a megawatt grin which makes him look too boy-next-door and not nearly enough psychopath-who-should-not-be-marrying-your-daughter. “Thank you so much for having me over tonight.”
“Welcome, welcome.” My mother comes in from around the corner, her lips slicked in red and her apron long gone. She cleans up quick, and she cleans up well. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a low bun, and she’s suddenly wearing a modest pair of cubic zirconia studs. “Come on in. Supper’s on the table. Bellamy can show you to your seat.”
“These are for the women of the house,” Cortland hands her the bouquet, and watches as she brings them to her nose and inhales.
“Thank you so much. You’re so sweet. I’m going to stick these in water real quick.” She disappears, and the three of us amble into the dining room.
We take our spots, Cortland sitting on my father’s left. The little kids are at the furthest end of the table with Kath, my father’s third wife.
“Cortland, would you mind saying grace tonight?” My father wastes no time putting him on the spot, though I think it’s a test of sorts.
We hold hands in prayer, though Cortland squeezes mine. Hard.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he says, his eyes closed tight. “Thank thee for the many blessings you have bestowed upon us. Thank thee for the fellowship we are about to enjoy this evening. And thank thee for the refreshments about to nourish and strengthen our bodies. Bless all those who gather in your name tonight. Amen.”
“Amen.” My father adds. “Thank you, Cortland.”
“Beautiful,” my mother says.
Oh, God. She’s got stars in her eyes. I see them from my side of the table.
“So, my daughter tells me your father owns a medical supply company?” My father takes a crescent roll from a basket and passes it to Cortland.
“He does,” he replies. “Been in our family for generations. Started out selling iron lungs in the forties and fifties. Now we sell just about everything under the sun.”
“You enjoy selling?” My father chews slowly, savoring each slow minute that drips by in the presence of this monster.
“My father wanted me to learn the business from the bottom up, so that I could take over eventually. I’m the oldest son, so the company will be in my hands whenever my father eventually retires,” Cortland injects an air of respect into his words that I know my father appreciates. “I’m learning a lot, and my father thinks I’m a natural-born salesman, but my heart is in management. I like to lead.”
More like he likes to control.
“Did you attend college?” Summer asks.
“BYU,” he boasts. “Graduated with a degree in Business Management a couple years ago.”
“Nice.” My father takes two scoops of mashed potatoes and passes the bowl on. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
Cortland counts on his fingers and laughs. “Oh, gosh. Twelve.”
My father continues asking Cortland questions in a feeble attempt to pretend like this is their first meeting. I tune them out. None of it matters. Nothing about him could possibly make me un-see the dark side of him. There’s no going back, and there’s no changing my mind.
I know what kind of life I want, and it’s not a life with any part of Cortland in it.
When the food is nearly gone and we’ve all had our fill, my mothers begin clean up while Waverly takes the younger kids into the family room. It’s just me, Cortland, and Dad.
“I’m so ready to settle down,” Cortland says, turning to look at me. “Sometimes you see someone, and you just know.”
“I know exactly how that goes. I see a lot of myself and Jane in you two. Bellamy’s mother caught my eye at church, and it was all over from there.”
“So you know.”
“I sure do.” My father leans in. “Bellamy, you’re being awfully quiet over there.”
I force a smile. “I’m just letting you two get to know each other. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to get to know Cortland during the courtship.”
Cortland’s hand lifts for a brief second, as if he wants to place it on mine, and th
en he remembers he can’t.
“Bellamy is a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I don’t know her that well yet, but that much I can tell.” Cortland’s lips must hurt from all the ass-kissing he’s done tonight. “If all goes as planned, I’d like to ask for her hand in marriage soon. I don’t want to let this one get away. I’d love for us to be starting our life together before Christmas this year.”
On any other planet, in any other world, this would be moving along way too quickly. My father doesn’t even seem fazed by this conversation. He acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“The best courtships are short,” my father says, “for practical reasons. The longer the courtship, the more difficult it is to maintain appropriate physical boundaries. I’m fine with that.”
“I agree.” I sit up straight. “I want to move quickly. I don’t want to wait longer than we have to, you know, if we decide we want to be together. I’m ready for the next stage in my life.”
Cortland shoots me a look only I can see.
“Which is why I need to get a job,” I add. Money. That’s what I need. Money equals freedom. Money will get me out of here. I need enough to get on my feet, get a vehicle that doesn’t have my father’s name attached to it and save enough for an extended-stay hotel or an apartment.
I. Need. Money.
“A job?” Cortland scoffs.
“I want a big wedding. It’s always been my dream. And I’d feel bad expecting our parents to chip in. Plus I’ve always dreamed of a European honeymoon. I’m talking at least three weeks going from country to country,” I smile big, like I’m speaking about something I’ve been fantasizing about since I was a little girl. “I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”
Lies.
All of it.
“Maybe I can work for a few months? I’ll save everything I make, and we can put it toward the wedding. Anything left over could be a down payment on our first house? Something big with lots of bedrooms.” I’m singing their tunes. I know how this works. I know how to tell people what they want to hear.
“I don’t know,” Cortland says, drawing it slow like he’s waiting for my dad to chime in. “I make enough to support us both…”
“Yeah, but what could it hurt?” I shrug. “Extra money is extra money. I’m done with school, and I’m just living at home. Why not work for a few months?”
My father scratches his five o’clock shadow. “You know, Bellamy has a point. And it’d sure take a load off us when it comes time for her wedding. I know how tough it is to start from ground zero and work your way up. Might give you guys a nice leg up before you start your life together.”
“Where would you work?” Cortland asks. “Want me to get you a job in the office at McGregor Medical Supply?”
“No, no,” I say. “I’ll find something.”
Cortland’s brows furrow. He doesn’t like this idea, but I don’t care. As long as my father goes along with it, that’s the only thing that matters.
“I think it sounds like a great idea.” My father’s words are music to my ears.
Thank God.
“Cortland.” My father clears his throat. “We’d like to see a lot of you around here. And we’d like to meet your family too.”
“I do travel for work, but I’m usually home on weekends and Wednesdays,” he says, turning my way and pinning me with his gaze. “I’ll be here every chance I get.”
My father thanks Cortland for coming and excuses himself.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say. The moment I’d been waiting for all night has finally come, but I won’t breathe easy until I see the red lights of his car growing smaller as he speeds over the hill.
The second we approach the foyer, Cortland peers around. We’re alone. He steps toward me, forcing me to back up until his hands press on either sides of the wall behind me. I’m trapped in his hold. His eyes penetrate with an unstoppable hunger, until he pushes his mouth against mine to take what he believes to be his. His tongue slides between my lips, and though the kiss lasts only a few seconds, it’s a few seconds too long.
“You did good tonight, Bellamy.” His voice is hushed, throaty and soft. “I knew you’d see it my way. Won’t be long before we can finally be together the way we were always meant to be.”
I wear the expression of a docile and domesticated wife-to-be, but on the inside I’m kicking and screaming.
“Can’t wait.” I want to spit his taste from my mouth.
“Do you mean that?” His hand leaves the wall and cups my chin, lifting it to his.
I nod. “You shouldn’t do this. If my father sees you touching me this way, being this close to me, it’ll all be over for you…for us, I mean.”
A long sigh drags past his lips before he licks them slowly. “We still need to make time for…us. If you catch my drift.”
I nod again. “We’ll figure it out.”
“And while I’ll allow you to work, it’ll only be temporary. And I should always come first. I’m your first priority,” he says.
“Shouldn’t God be my first priority right now?” I brace myself since he looks like he wants to slap me across the mouth.
He backs away, but doesn’t release me from his stare. “Don’t get smart with me, Bellamy. Let’s not go down that road, okay? You don’t want to see where it leads.”
“Sorry.” I hang my head, feigning shame.
Cortland grips the doorknob, and I watch from the door as he climbs in to his Kia and drives over the hill. The moment he’s gone, I jet upstairs to wash him off of me. Remnants of his drugstore cologne reside in my nostrils and his taste still covers my tongue.
“Hey,” Waverly says when I reach the top of the stairs. She leans against the wall like she wants to chat. “So it went really well! Dad seems to love him. They’re practically the same person.”
“Can you do me a favor, Waverly?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Let’s not talk about Cortland, okay?”
She laughs. She must think I’m joking.
“I’m being serious,” I say, squinting my eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know where this is going to lead.” The truth lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I’m not sure if she’s ready for it just yet. “I don’t want to jinx anything.”
“So I’m not allowed to talk about him?”
“I ask that you don’t. For now. Don’t ask me about him. Don’t ask me about the courtship. Don’t say his name around me.” I realize my requests are absurd, and I wish I could sit down with her and explain everything.
I will eventually. When the time is right.
“I-I guess. I mean, if that’s what you want.” Waverly’s eyes turn from scrunched to sympathetic. “You were so quiet at dinner. It’s like you don’t even like him.”
“Of course I like him,” I lie. “This is a very big step to take. I take it seriously. It’s scary.”
“Everything’ll be fine.” She runs her palm across my arm. “It’s all going to work out the way it should. Courting is just…courting. I mean, yeah, it’s like a pre-engagement type thing, but you can still change your mind if you’re not right for each other. God will show you the way.”
If only it were that simple.
“Anyway.” I inhale loudly and wipe the anxious look from my face. “I’m going to go wash up for the night. Maybe do my prayers and devotions early. Call it a night.”
My sister carries on, hopping down the stairs, and I make a beeline for the bathroom. I wash Cortland off of me. My hands, my neck, my face.
After changing into pajamas, I crack open my laptop. Everything on here is filtered by some Christian software my father installed the day he gifted me with this machine. The only reason I got it was for school, and I’m shocked he hasn’t taken it away. I try to keep it out of his sight, so as not to remind him I still have it.
I type in Careerbuilder.com.
BLOCKED.
I go to Jobdig.com.
; BLOCKED.
My father blocked every website that wasn’t related to our faith or wasn’t connected to the school library or email system or research journals. I can’t even use a search engine.
I pull up my school email and stare at a blank message as I rap my fingers across my mouth.
I whip up a generic email asking for job search leads and BCC a handful of old instructors, but the second I send it, I realize I’d forgotten my favorite marketing guru.
Professor MacAbee.
A jolt of hope shocks my heart into a rapid beat. I double-click an old email from him in my inbox and type up a quick note.
Hi, Professor,
How have you been? I’m glancing at an old email of yours from the last day of Marketing 275, and I saw that you mentioned knowing of some available jobs in the area? I know it’s been several months, but I was wondering if those positions might still be available?
I’m in desperate need of a job right now, and I’ll take anything.
Thanks and hope all is well.
Bellamy Miller
I give it a quick read and press send, chewing on the inside of my lip as I wait for a response. If he’s anything like he was last semester, he should be glued to his email. Every message I ever sent him was returned almost instantaneously.
With each refreshing of the page, a small part of me sinks when I don’t see a new email pop up. Only when I push my computer aside a few minutes later, do I hear a faint chime. Dragging it back to my lap, my breath hitches when I see Professor MacAbee’s response.
Bellamy! All is well here. Good to hear from you. I’m sure you’re enjoying your permanent hiatus from my lectures, though I have to wonder if you miss my pop quizzes!
One of my old colleagues is looking to hire a bunch of college grads for some simple office work. The job is in Salt Lake City, but I know he’d give you an interview if I threw a personal recommendation his way. Give me a day or two to get this all set up, and I’ll shoot you an email with the details.
Ciao,
Prof Mac
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