Blackwater

by Tara Brown

  I stammer, "W-w-what if I don’t want to marry you? I'm just getting used with the idea I may never marry. My whole life's been planned out for me and now I feel free to choose. Maybe I'll be a schoolteacher like my sister. Or a journalist like Angie." I swallow hard, "Besides you shouldn’t be here. I think I have to ask you to leave." Before I do something I can't even imagine regretting.”

  He pulls me back down to him, "Are you afraid me?"

  I shake my head again, "I'm afraid of me, alone in this dark room with you. Where my daddy could come in any minute and shoot you."

  He laughs and kisses my throat, licking from my collarbone to my ear. "You should fear me."

  I shiver and try not to moan, as his mouth plants soft kisses where his tongue has just licked.

  "Please stop. It's indecent." I moan.

  He pulls me back and looks at me, "I love you."

  I frown, "How? How, when you barely know me?"

  He looks lost when he speaks, "When you're as old I am, you just know. You appreciate love more once you've lost it. Finding it again is better than any feeling in the world." His words confuse me.

  "You're not old enough to speak that way. Who have you loved before?" He loves too easily. It's obvious. I am no doubt the tenth girl on the list.

  He kisses the tip of my nose, "A long time ago there was a girl. I loved her and she loved me. But it wasn’t enough. My love couldn’t save her. She died of a sickness a lot of people in my country had at the time." He kisses the tip of my nose, "You're a mood killer."

  I feel my lips stick out in a pout, "What?"

  He shakes his head and sighs, "Nothing." Licking his lips, he rolls me over onto the cool sheets again. He holds me to him, "I love you and that's what matters."

  I look up at him, "Don't say that. I can't say it back to you."

  He smiles softly, "You will."

  I narrow my eyes, "You don’t know that." With the blood distributing throughout my body again, my common sense seems to be resurfacing.

  Our lips meet softly, "I do." He whispers into my mouth, "But for now, sleep. Go to sleep and I will ask your dad to marry you tomorrow."

  I feel my eyes closing. I can't sleep with him there, but I'm exhausted.

  He kisses my eyelids, "Sleep and feel safe."

  I try to fight the urge to sleep but it's useless. The blackness behind my eyes takes me before the struggle even begins.

  When I wake the room is filled with sunlight and he is gone. His smell is on the pillow beside me, where the dent from his face is. He was here. He was real. He truly climbed into my window and slept beside me. I lift the covers and look at my nightgown relieved. I'm dressed. My room feels like it's new and fresh in a way. The burden of wedding Martin Ryan is gone. My daddy will no doubt agree to the marriage with Mr. Whitlock. All they care about is status and he is a lord and rich. I'm excited about not having to tell them what Martin did to me. My momma would find a way to spin it to make me look like a tramp.

  My cheeks flush when I think about the way I acted last night. I was a tramp. The feeling of the hardness of him grinding against me was delicious and mysterious. I have seen the pictures; I know the general science of it. I just don't know how it feels. With Mr. Whitlock I can imagine it would be fun. It would feel good. I can't believe I fell asleep with him in the room. It was the weirdest feeling. It was like my sleep claimed me against my will, sort of like Mr. Whitlock has.

  My Mr. Whitlock. I will have to start calling him Whit or something beyond his surname. Especially if he's gonna ask me to marry him.

  I emotionally slap myself, "Wake up, Lorelei."

  Of course. He was saying that to get me to give him my virginity. My stomach flutters and I can't believe he would want to marry me. Maybe it was all a dream. I smell the pillow once more to let the dream last longer.

  I recall his brief tale of his love before and wonder if he does fall in love too easily? Has he too tasted the whole world, where as I have barely sipped from the chalice I only just discovered?

  My fluttering and disjointed thoughts are disrupted when my door is burst open and Emily runs in.

  She looks panicked, "You are gonna have a bird, Lorelei. A bird. Martin Ryan's downstairs talking with Daddy. Earlier a man came with a fancy car and asked to speak to Daddy. I listened at the door and it sounded like there might be a duel in the yard. Another man asked for your hand. The man from the hospital - Mr. What's-It - with the title." She laughs and jumps onto my bed.

  My feet should be killing me but they're not. I'm just tired. I can't get out of my bed with Martin in the house. "Who is the man?" I play dumb.

  She shrugs, "Some servant for that Mr. Whitlock, you know the guy who saved you and came to the hospital every bloody day. Momma looked like she was gonna start screaming and burn the house down when Daddy told her. She said she would be damned if you would be Lady Lorelei."

  I frown, "She was upset?" I'm confused. As far as debutants succeeding, Mr. Whitlock was the cream of the crop.

  She nods and lies back next to me, "I figured Martin would be so angry. I almost asked Daddy to tell him that you were gonna be courted by two men, just so I could watch his reaction."

  "I want to marry Mr. Whitlock?" The name leaves my lips with curiosity.

  She nudges against me, "It doesn’t matter. Daddy turned him away after he talked it over with Momma. Told the servant you were spoken for and a deal had been arranged. He said he had a gentleman's agreement with the Ryan's and gentlemen never go back on their word. It made Momma smile wickedly. I nearly lost my breakfast."

  My heart sinks. He has promised me to Martin. It was true. All of it was true. He never even spoke to me about it. I truly am just a cow to sell. I wonder what the price was? "He never even asked me if I wanted to marry Martin."

  She looks at me, "You can't marry that cad. You can't. He is a womanizing scoundrel. Someone said they saw him out in the yard making out with some girl last night. Imagine?"

  I covered my eyes, "Oh no. No one saw did they? Saw who she was?"

  Emily laughs, "Was it you?" I nod with my eyes still covered. She laughs harder. "Testing out the merchandise I see."

  I shake my head, "Running for my life is more like it. He practically assaulted me on the grass under one of the huge trees. Mr. Whitlock actually saved me."

  Emily stops laughing, "He did what?"

  I lift my hand and look at her with one eye, "He nearly assaulted me last night. He held me to him and forced me to kiss him and said filthy things to me. Stuck his hand in the top of my dress. It was disgusting."

  Her jaw drops, "Daddy needs to know." She tries to leave but I grab her hand, "No, leave it. I will just tell Daddy I don't wish to marry him."

  Emily scowls, "He is a pig. I guarantee he forced himself on that poor Margery Banks."

  "I thought the same thing."

  "He's still downstairs."

  I shake my head, "Have cook send my breakfast up." I can't face him. Not knowing he won. I am to be his.

  Emily walks away shaking her head, "You need to tell Daddy." She leaves and I fall back to sleep. I can't bear the idea of marrying him. I need a plan.

  When I wake the sun is setting. I've slept the day away tossing and turning.

  "Are you sick again?" Her voice bothers me before I even see her face.

  I look over at her picking clothing out of my closet.

  "No. Just exhausted. I walked home last night."

  She turns and smiles bitterly, "Yes, I did notice that. I insisted to your father you let Angela give you a ride. Where's your dress and shoes?"

  I shake my head, "I don’t know. In the wash."

  She seethes, "You let him bring you home and you have the indecency to lie to me? At least we can relax knowing you won't see him again. Your engagement party is in two weeks."

  I ignore her and roll over. I feel weight on the bed, "Put this on. We are going to his uncle's house."

  I turn to her, "I'm not marrying him so
you can stop the act. He's a cad and frankly, a pervert."

  She leans in and whispers, "You will marry him, Lorelei. You will enjoy your marriage, just as I have." Her face is cruel. Her words are spoken through a sick smile. My insides twist and I nearly gag from the vile things I'm thinking.

  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 Black Water 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 your virginity 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's."

  I gasp. Her cruelty knows no bounds.

  She stands and wipes her hands on her skirt and smiles a perfectly peaceful look, "As I suspected. Now get dressed, we are going to his uncle's house."

  Her accent thickens and that is the only way I know 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 will pay every night as I go to bed and lie with a man I don’t love or even like.

  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 the man who tried to hurt me. Who will no doubt hurt me again, and again.

  I climb from the bed and wince when I pull on the too-tight blouse and the pencil skirt. I feel uncomfortable and tight in my clothing. I think she is buying all my clothes too small. I twist and look at the tag - a four. She has me squeezing my hips into a four. No wonder I can't breath and my breasts are bulging out the top. She has me looking 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 hay field 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 in the back yard. 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 who I want. You don't scare me old woman."

  I hear a slapping sound bounce 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. I watch her run 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 in the front of the house. I look at the field and wonder if she has gone to the hiding house.

  I walk to the hay field, 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 T-shirt and brown cords. I have never seen him look casual before. He is always in a dress shirt or a suit or a tux.

  His shirt stretches across his chest and I'm lost for a moment. His handsome face and rugged good looks compliment the style of dress. His short hair is messy, unkempt. I like the look. He takes a step toward me but stops himself. I feel the rejection from my daddy lingering in the air between us.

  "He said no." my voice breaks.

  He nods, "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 is crumpling 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 my, uhm well, virtue 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 look hardens, "She is not my concern. You are."

  I shake my head, "If you want me then you have to care about her wellbeing. 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 young still."

  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. I can feel the heat of the evening making 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."

  He nods, "I will go speak to your father now. Myself."

  I shake my head and 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 Six

  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. Everyday she gets more panicky and pushes up the date for the wedding. Somehow everyone goes along with it. Her ways 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 the way she wants me to. She gets frustrated when I don’t see things her way; she tries to force her ways on me, but I ignore her. Instead, I sneak out to see Whit when I'm not being watched and he sleeps in my bed every night. I wait on the balcony every night for him to arrive. We kiss and touch but he is always a gentleman. I'm always testing his re
solve to be one. He growls and tells me to behave, that he can't control himself. He seems like he does though. It seems like I'm the one not in control.

  I smile thinking about him, as I look 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.

  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?"

  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."

  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 walks me out to the porch swing. He sits and pulls me down into his lap. I feel 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. My butt is in his lap. He holds me tightly and swings us. I try to squirm out of his grip, but he holds me firmly.

  "Let me just hold you, Lorelei." I can feel why he is holding me and pressing me down into him. "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."