by Charlie Hart
“It’s called faith.” I wink at her. “And I have it because of you.”
She chuckles. “Now that’s the first time I think I’ve ever heard you tell a lie. Because I know that your faith comes from something a lot deeper than me.”
I shrug, knowing in a way she’s right. I grew up surrounded by goodness, by family. But she’s wrong about one thing, it’s not the first time I’ve lied to her.
Well, maybe I’ve never outright lied. But omission is the same thing. And there’s still a lot about me she doesn’t know about me. That no one but my family does.
A shiver races down my spine, wondering how she would feel about me if she knew the truth.
I’ve thought about telling her, but it’s not just my secret.
Still, I think she’ll learn the truth before we head back home to the compound. She deserves it. And I hate keeping anything from her. I just hope she’ll forgive me.
I kiss the top of her head before releasing her. Her hair smells like strawberries and I smile, remembering the way I first described her to my parents. I’m so anxious for the family to meet her, to finally know the woman who has captured my heart and soul.
My mom is over the moon that I’m bringing my wife home. And part of me feels bad for taking so long to bring her here. Sure, the boat ride to the island is only a few hours long, but I didn’t think taking her away from her other husbands during our first few months of marriage was fair.
And truth be told, it’s taken until now for us husbands to finally begin to feel settled with one another. Six men in one compound, all loving the same woman, is hard enough in theory. In practice, it’s challenging as hell. So many personalities, different tastes, and preferences. It’s been a steep learning curve that’s for damn sure.
But now, pulling the boat into the small inlet that lies just below my family’s house, the issues in the compound seem a million miles away.
It’s just Tia and me. A sigh of contentment escapes my lips as I take her hand in mine, squeezing tight.
Before I even have us roped off, people are bounding down the pathway, hoots and hollers echoing from the hill.
“I should probably warn you,” I tell her. “My family is loud and full of energy.”
She chuckles as I help her onto the dock and she is instantly scooped up in a bear hug between my brothers, Will and Jack.
“Gently,” I warn, but the two of them don’t seem to understand the word.
My father is the next to approach, and then my mother. There are more hugs and a few tears as introductions are made. Mom looks so pleased, her hands on Tia’s cheeks as she welcomes her home. My chest tightens as I take it all in, everyone is so happy we’re here. It makes me feel bad for being away so long. Of course, I practically died at sea not too long ago, which makes my mom even more emotional.
To say this year has been rocky is an understatement.
Mason is the last to approach. Shy turquoise eyes grin up at me before turning to Tia. He turned ten last month, but he’s almost up to my shoulder, all gangly with dark blonde hair that hangs over his forehead. Handsome in his own right, and finally filling out a little. For years he was all skin and bones, but now he seems to fit his skin. Mom must be making him plenty of nourishing meals.
“And who’s this?” Tia asks, smiling at the boy.
“Mason,” he says, stretching a hand out to her, which she takes.
“My youngest brother,” I add, my chest constricting as I utter the words.
“I can see the resemblance,” Tia says.
Her statement is met with awkward silence, and she frowns at me when I cough and start to usher her towards the house.
I say stoically, “Tia needs to rest.”
“Of course,” my mom says, before giving out orders for my brothers to gather our things from the boat, and taking Tia’s arm, leading her up the path.
I watch them go, staying behind to help my brothers and father with the boat and luggage.
“She’s a pretty girl. Sweeter than I’d think from some of the stories you’ve told us,” my father says, smacking my back. He knows about Tia’s escape. Her secrets. I am honest with my family, and in turn, they are always the same with me. “You seem happy.”
“I am. Never been happier.” Or more terrified. “And Tia is more than pretty and sweet. She’s brave too. ”
“And still something’s bothering you.” My father meets my gaze. “You’re worried about the pregnancy?”
He could always read me.
I nod.
He gives me a sympathetic look as we stand on the dock, catching up before we head inside where a big family meal is surely waiting for us.
“I know it’s scary, son. The whole island is gonna have to relocate soon if we don’t start having more young people born or willing to move to the middle of nowhere.”
“That bad?” I ask frowning.
Dad shrugs. “Schools have closed, families are moving to the mainland. Any young women of marriageable age have gone into the lottery. People without children are scared of getting old without anyone to watch over them.”
“Well, I guess you and Mom are lucky to have a bunch of healthy boys to make sure you don’t get sent to a center for old people.” I joke, giving him a warm smile, and hoping it might take some of the edge off.
Truth is, eventually this farm is going to have to be self-sufficient if no one else lives on the island. My brothers will have to leave one day if they ever have hope to marry.
The idea of my parents living out here all alone is scary. Even if a cure comes soon, there are several generations still affected by the population crises.
Dad smiles, clapping me on the back. “Tia should stay here as long as possible. Your mom can help take care of her. It would be nice for everyone.”
“I agree, but I doubt that would go over well with the other husbands. I had a hard enough time bringing her here for a few days.” Plus, she’ll need to be closer to the medical facility the further along she is.
He sighs. “Well, you know our home is always open to you. To all of them. They're part of our family now.”
“Banks might be the hardest to convince of that. But thank you. It would be nice for all the men to meet my family. I know most of Tia’s husbands aren’t as lucky as me, to have their families so near.”
There’s a loud splash beside us, and I turn just in time to see Mason’s head emerge from the water, and my other two brothers laughing from the boat, obviously the cause of the boy’s current predicament.
“Help him out,” my father orders, shaking his head. “They torture the poor lad. But it’s all done in good humor.”
I frown as I watch Will and Jack pull Mason from the water, then push him back in.
There’s a large age difference between me and them. My parents lost two children after me. Will was born when I was eight, and Jack a year and a half later. And Mason... he was born the summer I turned fifteen.
The boy shakes himself off as he mounts the dock, and grins up at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them back later.”
“You’ll behave,” my father warns. “No shenanigans while Tia is here.”
As Mason runs off I have no doubt that he has every intention of disobeying the man.
“He’s so much like you were at that age,” My father says with a sigh before his lips form a thin line. “Have you told her?”
“Tia?” I ask, even though I know she’s who he meant. “No.”
“Good.”
It’s not like my father to want to keep secrets. But I know he’s only trying to protect the kid. To protect me.
“You old men just going to stand around talking all day?” Will asks, tossing a bag at me.
I grab it, then sling it over my shoulder, double thinking tossing my brother over the dock like he had Mason. But he’s carrying Tia’s bags like a shield as if reading my thoughts.
A shadow falls over my happy mood as I walk up towards the house. Because while I know my dad is righ
t in wanting to keep some secrets hidden, I hate that I have to hide anything from my wife. Especially when there’s a part of my past that might be able to save our future.
Chapter 5
Tia
The moment I walk into the farmhouse, I let out a sigh. A river rock fireplace emits a warmth to the great room as well as much-welcomed heat. There are braided rugs that surround the hearth and cozy armchairs are covered in blankets and throw pillows. A long, worn wooden table is set with enamelware dishes and the fragrance of roasted chicken and freshly baked bread delights my senses. A pair of dogs jump up to greet us, and everyone is smiling. Literally, every single person is nearly bursting at the seams over our arrival.
My heart unclenches as I look around, my body finally relaxing for the first time in weeks. The cloud lifts from the stormy thoughts swirling around my head since I found out I was pregnant.
How is it that this place feels like home when I’ve never been here before?
I read the Little House on the Prairie books as a little girl. I had found them tucked on a low shelf in my father’s massive library. He told me they were my mother’s, which made me leaf through the chapters with care. I would inhale the fragile pages, well worn and clearly loved, and think about the life I would never have.
For me, the love of a mother would only be found in treasures of hers that I found over the years. A jewelry box in an attic holding her necklaces. A photograph in a dusty album. I made up a story about a life with my mother that would never be.
But here, it’s like the pages of those old chapter books have come to life. I can picture Ma, Pa, and Laura having dinner at a large handcrafted table like the one I’d seen in the dining room. I can imagine sitting around this fire and listening to someone play the fiddle while someone else knit a sweater. At every meal, there would be a place for me at the table.
I swallow hard, not wanting to reveal my emotions to strangers.
The truth is, the real feeling I’m facing is jealousy. Of course, Emerson is so wonderful, so kind and gentle. He came from this place, these people. A family who ushers me into their home, takes my coat, offers me warm tea and tells me to put up my feet.
They hardly know me, yet I am already a cherished member of their family.
“You okay, Tia?” Emerson asks, coming up behind me and wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Oh, yeah, I’m great,” I tell him, flashing a smile that isn’t real. Hating that I’m pulling back from the man who always gives.
“Mom said dinner will be ready any minute. Want me to show you my old bedroom first?”
I nod, then follow him down the hall. Bedroom doors are open and I turn to look inside, seeing quickly that this is a house of men. it’s similar to our compound in that, but none of my husbands have piles of dirty clothes on their floors, muddy boots kicked off, rumpled bedding.
I follow Emerson into his old room, immediately realizing why this place feels so different. I’ve only ever lived in a dormitory or a compound. Never, ever a house made into a home.
“What is it?” he asks, setting down our bags. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You believe in ghosts?” I ask, diverting his attention, not wanting him to feel my unease.
“Coming back here, I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his long hair, his eyes far away. “Part of me feels like this whole farm is filled with the ghosts of my past. Things I haven’t quite buried.”
I look up at him, once again shocked by my husband. It’s times like these that I realize there’s still a lot I don’t know about him. Running my palm across his cheek, I feel his skin go clammy.
“Maybe I should be asking if you’re the one who has seen a ghost. What’s wrong?”
He exhales, and then takes my hand, pulls me to his bed. Lying on top of him, I wonder what Emerson meant by things he hadn’t quite buried. He kisses my head, his strong arms holding me close, and I want to sink into this moment, not wanting my jealousy or insecurities to take away from the reason I came here in the first place: to clear my head and to calm my anxiety.
I close my eyes, letting Emerson’s firm chest anchor me to the moment.
“Dinner is ready!” A voice yells from the first floor, but I’m in no hurry to go.
“I don’t want to move,” I moan. My cheek rests against his chest and I look around the room. Posters are tacked to the wall, an old acoustic guitar is propped in the corner, and there’s a single photograph on the bedside table.
It’s a family photo, all of the people I met on the dock earlier are in the image. But my gaze catches on the face of a beautiful woman holding a swaddled infant in her arms, Emerson has his hand on the woman’s back.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
Silence meets me and I feel him tense.
When he answers, his voice is soft, barely a whisper. “That’s Helene.”
I rest my hands under my chin, looking at him more closely. Knowing there is more to this story. Before I can ask more, the bedroom door flings open.
“Hey, lovebirds,” Will shouts. “Didn’t you hear me? Dinner’s ready!”
Em pulls me up to stand.“You ready for this?”
“You told me they would be nice,” I say lightly.
“Sure, they’ll be nice. But my family, they’re not what you’re used to. Overly polite and well mannered,” Emerson teases. “Here, anything is fair game. We’re farmers, not fancy scholars like Banks.”
“I don’t need more than one fancy scholar,” I say taking his hand.
“Good.”
“So, any advice?” I ask as we leave his room.
“Just be yourself. I think you’re pretty perfect.”
“Perfect? Now you’re making me nervous,” I laugh as he drags me down the hall.
“Don’t be.” Emerson stops, leans down and kisses me.
“Ewww,” Mason groans, coming around the corner. “Kissing is gross.”
Emerson smiles and then tousles his brother’s hair. We all walk toward the dining room together, and I inhale the delicious scents. The table is filled with dishes of food and bowls of bread and my stomach gurgles in anticipation.
“You’ve been good?” Em asks Mason when we’re seated.
“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “I’ve been helping Dad with the sheep. I take care of them all on my own now.”
“You must be pretty responsible.”
“Well with you being gone, we all have to pitch in more. That’s what Dad says at least.”
Emerson laces our fingers together under the table. “And Will and Jack, they holding up okay with me gone?”
Jack, Will, and Emerson’s father all sit down just as Emerson asks the question.
His mom follows closely behind with a big serving platter of roasted meat. My stomach growls again, and I relish the fact that I have an appetite for once. Missing out on this meal would be a disappointment.
“You think we miss you?” Jack asks with a grin.
Will laughs. “Awww, you’ve been crying yourself to sleep missing your baby brothers?” he teases.
“Shush, you two,” their mom admonishes, a small smile playing on her lips. “Of course, we’ve missed you, Emerson.” She sets down the platter and leans down to kiss Emerson on the cheek. “We thought we lost you, out at sea, and as much as these boys of mine might tease you, it was a somber time while we waited for word about your ship.”
I share a look with his mom, remembering the day I called her with the tragic news that Emerson was missing. Thank God he was found, that we are here at all, sharing this meal.
So often, I think that life and death only revolve around pregnancy and childbirth. But the truth is, none of us know what tomorrow might bring. Emerson could have been swept away to sea, Giles could have died when the wolves attacked him, a mercenary could have killed me the way I killed one myself.
I swallow, collecting myself as everyone is seated for dinner. Emerson’s dad raises a pint of beer and offers a
toast, and I lift my water glass in solidarity.
“To Tia,” he says. “The future of our family.”
“To Tia,” the family calls out, clinking glasses and exchanging warm smiles.
As I raise my glass, pressure grows in my belly, hating the idea of letting all of these people who are welcoming me into their home.
Here, I’m a fish out of water and I feel lost at sea myself. But as the night progresses, I’m pulled into the warmth and security that fills the home and quickly realize that laughter is like a second language among them.
These people are sturdy, steady, just like Emerson, and I find myself longing for more time here. The only thing that would make it more perfect, would be to have all of my husbands with us.
Small laughter escapes my lips as I think about Banks or Huxley as farmers.
“What?” Em asks, nuzzling his nose against my neck as we sit in front of the roaring fireplace, his arms wrapped protectively around me. The rest of his family have drifted off to their own rooms, and now it is just him and me alone in the living room.
“I like it here,” I say, leaning back against him, taking the strength he provides, soaking in this alone time with him. “It’s just so... you.”
He chuckles. “Are you saying I don’t fit in at the compound?”
“No. You do. But I see the way you are here. Relaxed, confident... happy.”
“I’m happy when I’m with you.”
“I know.” I twine my fingers with his and stare into the fire. Emerson has always been easy to be around, but being here I realize that there’s still a lot I don’t know about him. “Tell me what it was like, growing up here. Are there many other families around?”
He tenses. It’s just a slight movement, but I feel it. “Not anymore.”
I shift so I can see his face, but his expression seems guarded, so unlike him.
“What happened to them?”
“Most moved away. And the rest are planning on leaving as soon as they can.” He shakes his head and his throat bobs as he swallows. “There isn’t much to keep people here, not with the women being sent to the Wife Lottery. Men here have two choices. Stay and never marry, or enter their name and hope that they get as lucky as me.”