by Tara Brown
Instead of acting like a little girl, I lean into her and narrow my eyes. “Do I have to tell Daddy about a certain little girl who sold white perch from Blackwater Bayou?”
I expect a reaction, but she has been playing this game longer than I have, and she has mastered her reactions.
She smiles sweetly. “You don’t want to play this game with me, little girl. I will sell you to the highest bidder in the French Quarter before I let you ruin what I have spent a lifetime creating. Then I'll sell your sister.”
I gasp. Her cruelty knows no bounds.
She stands and wipes her hands on her skirt and beams a perfectly peaceful smile. “As I suspected. Now get dressed. We are going to his uncle's house.”
Her accent thickens and that is the only hint I have gotten to her at all.
I'm terrified of her. She is a monster.
I feel like I'm paying double admission for my seat at the freak show. I have to pay my way, plus hers. All her baggage is mine now too. I will pay for her pain.
I never realized how horrid the idea of it all was. I always thought it was expected of me; it was my duty. If I wanted to remain rich and be happy, I had to marry a man who was right for me. I see the humor and folly in it all. Right for me actually meant right for my momma.
When I think about Mr. Whitlock, I can't bear the idea we will be separated by my marriage to a man who I don't even like, let alone love.
I climb from the bed and wince when I pull on the too-tight blouse and pencil skirt. I am uncomfortable and confined in my clothing. I think she is buying all my clothes too small. I twist and read the tag—a four. She has me squeezing my hips into a four. No wonder I can't breathe and my breasts are bulging out the top. She has me dressing like a whore.
I slip on some sandals that don’t match the outfit, but my feet will be in agony eventually from running in the hayfield barefoot. I'm amazed they aren’t killing me now.
When I leave my room, I hear them all arguing.
“She will marry him. She will. You can't go back on your word.”
Emily is fighting them for me. “Daddy, he assaulted her in the backyard. Everyone was talking about the girl he was making out with. It was Lorelei. He attacked her and forced himself on her. Mr. Whitlock rescued her. If you make her do this, she will be the laughing stock of the South. Mr. Whitlock has saved her twice.”
“Emily, you go to your room and stop bothering your father. We don’t even know that Mr. Whitlock. This is none of your concern. You need to worry about your own engagement and to who it will be.”
I bite my lip, frozen on the huge sweeping stairs.
“Momma, you may be comfortable with Lorelei being married to a cruel man and having everyone laughing at her, but I know Daddy's not. Oh, and don’t you dare threaten me with my engagement, just because I'm speaking against you and defending her. I am not Lorelei. I will marry whom I want. You don't scare me, old woman.”
A slapping sound bounces off the walls.
“You will not speak to me like that. Go to your room,” Momma shouts.
“I'LL SPEAK TO YOU HOW I WANT! YOU DON’T OWN ME, YOU OLD HAG!” Em screams at her.
“Monique! You will not strike her that way,” Daddy's voice booms throughout the house.
I sit on the stairs and feel like my skirt is gonna burst. Emily runs from the den, but not for the stairs to her room. Instead, she runs out the front door. She runs past me holding her face. I feel sick.
My breath is short and panicked.
Momma's voice becomes soft and sweet again. “You saw how she spoke to me. How she treated me. I only want them to be the best daughters, for you, darling. To make the right connections for you.”
“Monique, not right now. We need to discuss the matter at hand. She can't marry a man who has already made an attempt at making a fool of her.”
“Shhhh, my love. Let's not think on it now. We can decide tomorrow. Right now let me show you how much I love you. Mon cher amour.”
I roll my eyes. It's the only sentence of French she knows. Her voice gets throaty and low. I feel worse than I ever have in my life. She is a whore who is using her body to trick him into forcing me to marry.
I get up and creep down the stairs. I too slip out the front door. I'm met with the warmth of the night air.
“Em,” I whisper into the night. “Em, you there?”
She doesn’t answer. I walk out into the garden at the front of the house. I see the field and wonder if she has gone to the hiding house.
I make my way to the hayfield, entering it quietly. I don’t hear her anywhere.
“Lorelei.”
I turn to see Mr. Whitlock standing in my driveway. He looks casual in a thin blue V-neck tee shirt and brown cords. I have never seen him dressed casual before. He is always in a dress shirt or a suit or tux.
His shirt stretches across his chest and I'm lost for a moment. His handsome face and rugged good looks complement the style of dress. His short hair is messy, unkempt. I like the look. He takes a step toward me but stops himself. The rejection from my daddy lingers in the air between us.
“He said no,” my voice breaks.
“Yes. Yes, he did. I don’t care though. I've come to ask you to leave with me. We can live anywhere you want or go back to Scotland. I have several houses there. We can live happily. I just want you. I don’t care where.” His eyes are burning.
My face crumples under the strain of my broken heart. “I can't leave my sister. She will suffer the same fate if I run away. My momma threatened to sell me to the highest bidder.”
“You must be joking? No mother would do—”
“My momma would,” I cut him off. “She'll do the same to my sister.”
His expression hardens. “She is not my concern. You are.”
“If you want me then you have to care about her well-being. We are alone in this world, her and I. If she leaves she'll be brought back or we will be charged with kidnapping. She's still young.”
He closes the gap between us with one of his huge strides. His legs are long enough to make three of my steps in one of his. He takes my hands and kisses them. The heat of the evening makes me glow.
“I can save you. I want you. I love you. Let me take you away from all this.”
A tear drips from my eye and trickles down my cheek. “We need a real plan, not running away.”
“I will go speak to your father now. Myself.”
I smile. “My momma is working her magic on him now, and he'll kill you if he even thinks anything is going on.”
He leans in and kisses me. “I will make this work.”
I don’t believe him. I can't. I have to be realistic in my expectations. Just in case.
Chapter 6
He doesn’t make it work. He doesn’t get a chance. The Ryans visit my house every other day or we are at theirs. Momma has acted like a completely crazed woman with the mission to marry me off before I get to see Whit again. She has run me ragged with schedules and fittings and appointments. Every day she gets more panicky and pushes up the date for the wedding. Somehow, everyone goes along with it. Her methods of making people see things her way are getting out of hand. She looks more tired than ever too, like she's running on empty.
I haven’t spent the weeks in the manner she wants me to. She gets frustrated when I don’t see things her way. She tries to force her traditions on me, but I ignore her. Instead, I sneak out to see Whit when I'm not being watched and he sleeps in my room every night, but he is always a gentleman.
I smile thinking about him as I search around the room at the governor's mansion for a clock. I need to leave at a respectable hour to still have some time with Whit. But there is no clock in the room. It's filled with fine things and false people who speak of false things to each other in an effort to be on top of their false world. My momma is the queen of this world. The false queen of the false people. Everyone eats up all her words. Everyone but Em and me. We see her for the lying bitch she is.<
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We have learned, however, that the Ryans are in the South to help the governor make the transition into running for president in a year. He is their family. Martin has assured me several times he will work for the president and we will live in Washington. I desire neither thing. Every time he speaks, I get an even larger burning desire to abduct my sister and run for it.
Martin holds my hand tightly but speaks softly, “Your mother assured my mother you will love DC.”
I smile sweetly. “Did she? My momma has never been to DC.” I have been letting my accent get thick as bog mud around him. I want him to back out. I daydream about it.
He frowns. “Are you still angry with me?”
“No.” I bite my lip and frown. “I'm not angry. I'm disgusted. You humiliated me. You're lucky my daddy doesn't know what you did to me in the yard. He would kill you.”
“Lorelei.” He squeezes my hand and stands from the couch. I'm pulled along gently. We walk from the room under the watchful eyes of my daddy and sister.
He leads me out to the porch swing. He sits and pulls me down next to him. I’m frozen and rigid. I can't meld into him the way I do with Whit.
“I can never apologize enough for that night.” He kisses my neck and holds me to him. “Let me just hold you, Lorelei. You just smell so good. All you Southern girls always look so nice and act so sweet and smell damn good. You know your place. I can see why my father wanted me to have a Southern bride.”
I sigh and try not to pay much attention to the fact he's been smelling other Southern girls. Bastard. He is humiliating me left, right, and center.
I try to pull away, but before I get the chance to get up and leave, he takes my hand in his and holds it tight. “Look at me.”
I'm scared of him. I'm scared of a vision I have every time I meet his eyes. It's our wedding night. It makes me sick.
I look up at him and he leans in. His lips brush mine. I want to pull back but I don’t. I know better. He'll tell my momma, and I've worked too damned hard to make her believe I am over Whit.
Instead of slapping him, I let him kiss me. I let him hold my hand.
He pulls back and his blue eyes are on fire. “You know I love you, right? We are a perfect couple. You're pretty and have good genes and the right connections. Look at your mother, she's stunning. That's what you'll look like in twenty-five years, amazing. And look at me, I'm—well, I'm me. We will be such a power couple.”
I look at him and frown. I can't help it. My face won't allow an expression beyond absolute horror. Possibly disgust as well.
I can suddenly see the difference in the declaration of love that comes from him and the one that comes from Whit. His is fake and creepy.
Whit's, however, is sincere and I never knew how sincere until this moment. I'm determined to run away with him. I'll abduct my sister if I have to. I just have to get through the engagement party tomorrow night at my house. I planned it perfectly, just in case I did decide to go through with Whit's plan for us to run away together.
I convinced my daddy that as this is my final hurrah and since I'm marrying Northern Yankee scum, I should be allowed to have a dance on the old outdoor dance floor. It'll be where us young people have fun after the dinner and drinks with the parents is over. Martin thinks it's a fantastic idea too. He wants to dance with me to smooth jazz. I cringe at the thought.
The engagement party is going to be the perfect getaway. If I can make it the next twenty-four hours, I will be in the clear with the man I think I could love one day.
I have made certain the party will be the ideal time to escape. I invited twice as many people as is reasonable. I made sure we hired twice as many staff to serve drinks, and I got twice as much liquor for the outdoor party. I have boxes of Cuban cigars that Angie got for me on the sly. Her daddy is famous for things that fall off a truck.
Everything I prepared was in case I changed my mind and decided to run with Whit. My plan is to leave during the chaos. I just have to wait until Martin is drunk and with a girl in the woods or a dark corner of the house, which will certainly happen. I'll make a run for it with Whit and no one will be the wiser. My parents will be ten sheets to the wind as will Martin's.
I let Martin kiss me as I think about the plan. It feels weird and dishonest, but if I fight him completely he will only fight harder for what he wants. All this will make tomorrow even more believable.
When we leave for home at the end of the evening, I can tell my momma is in a good mood. She smiles at me in the car. “You and Martin seem happy. Things are ironed out?”
I can't look at her, not without her seeing the truth all over my face. Instead, I gaze at my feet and try not to furrow my brow. “Things are as good as can be expected in a situation such as this one. We'll make it work.” I glance at my sister and regret the decision I'm about to make.
She may not ever get to see Greg again, but I can't leave her behind. She has been the biggest deciding factor on whether to do it or not.
I honestly believed my daddy would come around to my side, but he hasn't. He is willing to sell me to the highest bidder. He has ignored my advances to speak to him in private and even told my momma the first time I tried to talk to him about it all. His betrayal stung, but I knew eventually he would show me his true colors too. Seeing my momma all crazed about it has sealed my fate in his eyes. He has left me no choice but to choose for myself and that means dragging Em with me.
When we arrive home, I run up to my room and close my door. I turn the lock and race out to the deck. He ain't there. I turn and saunter back into the room.
I lean against the railing and wait for him to stroll across the lawn like he always does, almost like he appears out of the shadows.
The evening breeze is thick. I don’t even see how it can move, being that heavy.
A voice speaks behind me, “I saw you.”
I jump, startled by the deep voice coming from the darkest part of my room. His voice is cold. He steps forward and throws me a disgusted look. “I saw you letting him kiss you.” His face is angry in a way I've never seen before.
“I had to.” I'm ashamed again. I shake my head and fight the tears in my eyes. I'm wound so tight. “How can I fight him off without him getting suspicious? A girl like me should be grateful he’s marrying me at all. Very grateful. He's a Kennedy for God's sake. If my momma gets suspicious, she'll lock me away like Rapunzel and you'll never find me. I have to act the part. She believes I'm getting over you. Martin has to believe. They'll marry me to him tomorrow, no party and no wedding if I try to back out.”
He is suddenly in my face. “I saw the way you closed your eyes and liked it.”
His words sting.
“No.” My lips tremble. “I closed my eyes and pretended it was you.”
“Jesus.” He makes a sickened face. “I think that's even worse,” he whispers and leans in to smell the air around me. “You smell like his cologne.”
“I'm engaged to the man. Lord suffering Jesus, I should smell like him and kiss him. Whit, you can't think that I enjoy it. I'm all ashamed and whatnot of how I'm behaving. But my choices are marry a man I do not love or run away with a man I want to be with. I'm not behaving right. In the South, ain't no self-respecting woman gonna go around sleeping beside another man every night. Y'all may do things like that up there in Scotland. We don't. I'm not acting the way I should for an engaged woman. I have barely let him touch me or be near me. Girls like me might not give the goodies up, but we sure as sugar let him touch us and get up under our clothes. Hell, we were taught exactly how far to go at finishing school.”
He acts horrified. I'm not sure if it's ‘cause I've spouted a whole heck of a lot of Southern spice at him or if it's what I actually said.
His hands grip my wrists and pull my hands from my face violently. “You are mine.” He presses his face into mine, hurting my lips as they're crushed into my teeth.
He pulls back and shakes me silly. “You are mine.”
I nod. He scares me.
He sees the fear on my face and turns and walks to the deck.
I take a step toward him. “Stay. Please. Whit, I'm sorry. It's just one more day.” Shit is wrong with me. I should be backing away from him. He's acting like a nut. Instead, I am begging him to stay. “Please. Don't leave me. I need you.”
He looks back at me, but walks through the French doors. They close with force and he's gone. I drop to my knees on the carpet and cry. I don’t know what to do or say to him. I was wrong to let Martin kiss me. I smack myself in the forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
The cold wind creeps across the carpet like the fog coming in. I jump up and run for my bed but the wind covers me with a chill before I get there.
DANGER!
DANGER!
DANGER!
DANGER!
DANGER!
I jump on my bed and pull the covers up. I lie there, clutching Bunny as the wind circles above me like a tornado, chanting.
I wish he would come back. I need him. I need him. I love him. I think I do.
Chapter 7
The adult party is ending and my nerves are alive and electrified. I sip my champagne and wait. Every time I get a chance to glance out the window or through the doorway, I do. I'm terrified he ain't gonna come. The fear wrestles inside me like pigs under a blanket. Martin has cornered me several times. The look in his eyes is uglier than homemade sin. He is feisty and tired of my fighting his touches.
I eye up the huge sparkly ring on my wedding finger. The ring he put on my finger in front of everyone. The one that says I'm either gonna give him everything or he's gonna take. The ring says he's allowed. I'm his property.
My daddy looks me in the eye and winks. I frown at him and look at my drink. I can't be brave and wear the face I should, not when I don’t know if Whit's coming or not.