Truth

by Brittany Chapman

  I laid down in my bed and cried myself to sleep. I cried for the pain of watching another woman raise my son- William’s son. I cried for the longing I had for William’s arms to encompass me and for his voice to comfort me.

  I cried for the joy at being able to hold my child and the opportunity to know him, to watch his personality grow.

  I wept with joy for the firsts I wouldn't miss.

  Chapter 39- Sweet Pea

  Hugh’s first New Year’s Eve was a calm day, but as the clock struck midnight Hannah let me lean down and kiss his sleeping face. She pressed her lips to one cheek as I took the other.

  A few days a week I watched Hugh while she worked on the house. The months flew by in my emotional solace. I heard his little voice bubble happily every day. I watched in awe as he developed too quickly. Soon he attempted to talk. I desperately wanted him to say my name.

  Whenever I was alone with him pointed to a picture of Hannah, saying, “Ma ma ma ma ma ma,” trying to teach him the syllable. I couldn't bring myself to show such disrespect and lack of appreciation towards her as to steal her name, even in private.

  She came in one day and saw what I was doing. At first, she thought I was pointing to myself. I turned and she saw my finger still on the glass by her face.

  The hate distorting her face turned to understanding and contemplation. She laughed at herself for jumping to conclusions before darting across the room and squeezing me. “I’ve been so worried, not being able to fully trust you.” She pulled back to look into my eyes. “I am truly sorry.”

  We turned as Hugh rocked back and forth on his hands and knees. He looked up at Hannah and his sweet voice spoke the word we had been practicing for weeks, “Mamamama.”

  He was seven months old when he learned to crawl. A few days later he pulled himself up with the edge of the sofa. Hannah and I watched, almost in dismay, as our son grew up too fast, using the loveseat to take tiny steps to the side.

  We looked at each other and laughed as we realized the others pain and pride.

  We tried for months to keep him from walking, wanting him to crawl and be a baby. I was glad Hannah agreed without me having to voice it.

  I did my best not to step on her toes as the mother. One day Hannah made a comment about how I was like a daddy instead. She bit her lip, hoping she hadn't offended or hurt me.

  I laughed and agreed. I often wondered what William would look like holding Hugh.

  Once a week Hannah let me stay the night in their room. I rocked him to sleep or comforted his pained gums. She put in her ear plugs, wore an eye mask, and let me take over so she could get rest.

  The one thing we all silently feared never happened.

  Hugh was eleven months old when Father came upstairs to announce Mother demanded my presence for dinner. He did come often to play with Hugh and be the stereotypical grandfather by getting them both into trouble.

  As he sat on the couch and watched us fight with Hugh to keep him from toddling around, he mentioned the elephant. “He isn't delayed one bit, is he?” His voice was soft. I didn't know if he had meant for either of us to hear. Hannah glanced at me, not with blame as I would expect, but with a satisfied smile.

  “I knew he would be perfect,” she directed her words to Father, who nodded with agreement, but she never pulled her gaze from mine.

  Maybe God wouldn't punish Hugh for the sins of his father and me.

  ✷✴✷

  Father pushed me into my bedroom. “At least brush your hair,” he begged.

  I huffed and ran a comb through it. Father pulled out a dress from my closet. I stared at the beautiful pink dress, tainted by the memory of William under me on the edge of the fountain. I shook my head profusely.

  He turned and held a long, light blue dress I had never liked much. I nodded and pulled it on. The soft material barely caressed my skin.

  I threw my hair into a ponytail. Mother hated the style, but I loved the way my long hair hung in waves. As father escorted me to the dining room, I smelled fillets and heard the laughter of strangers.

  I stood in the entrance, staring at Mother seated at the head of the table. Her eyes turned away from her guests and captured me in a gaze that made my throat burn in fear.

  Father pulled me across the room to the table. A couple who looked no older than Mother and a young man stood as I entered. I recognized him but couldn't remember from where.

  He was shorter than me, as most men were. He had an athletic build from playing baseball in high school and his sandy blonde hair was cut short, like a little boy who had no sense of personal style. I pitied him as his eyes brightened at the sight of me.

  He hurried around the table to pull out the chair across from him. I thanked him and sat, trying not to look down yet not meet anyone’s eyes, either. I had no idea what Mother planned but could feel the gentleman would be my last ruin.

  “Ruth,” Mother’s voice dripped in false devotion, “You remember Parker Tilmon, don't you?”

  I searched his face, so full of innocence and hope. I nodded, “You graduated my freshman year.” I vaguely recalled seeing him the halls. His appearance hadn't changed at all, but I had never known him personally. He grinned at the lady shimmering in diamonds beside me.

  Father watched the despicable display with contemplation. I wondered what Mother had said to make him join her circus.

  Mother introduced Parker's parents, who watched me with curiosity. “Parker has always had the biggest crush on you,” his mother tried to whisper in my ear. Parker's cheeks burned red.

  Dinner was agonizing but I quickly returned to my habits of self-preservation, smiling on cue, laughing, and moving my body as if I enjoyed the company. Mother watched me through the meal, her eyes trying to pick me apart and see through my new defenses.

  The grueling display I forced myself to live through lasted forever, though I had no idea what was said. The small-talk and friendliness churned my stomach.

  After dinner we waved our guests away from the porch. We appeared to be the perfect family again. As the taillights disappeared down our long driveway I turned to Mother who was impatiently pulling out of Father’s arm.

  “What are you doing, Mother?”

  She smirked from behind Father as he stepped between us, answering for her, “Your mother has made a good point.”

  You have got to be kidding me.

  He continued, “You must be lonely.” His soft voice was full of empathy. “It must be hard watching Hannah raise Hugh.”

  I shook my head, “I'm happy where I am. I'm happy with my life.”

  He huffed and struggled to find the words. “You must think about William often.”

  I stared at him. His face was full of apology. I realized he had been in pain from watching my own for the past few months.

  My eyes slid to Mother as she stepped beside Father, her face a mask of false love. “Ruth, Parker will help heal you. He wants your love, the way he has apparently loved you for a long time.”

  I shrugged. Parker was a stranger and wasn’t my problem. “He can’t have it.”

  Father cleared his throat and glanced at Mother before he said in a shaking voice, “Hopefully that changes.” Doubt flickered in his eyes as though already regretting the words he was about to say. “You two are going to get married.”

  I backed away, almost stumbling down the large step. “No, I’m not. I'm not even legal to marry yet.”

  Cruelty sparked in her eyes as amusement forced its way into her face, “You will be in a month, and married six days after your birthday.”

  The warm breeze lifted at my skirt, trying to pull me away from her. Mother looked at Father, “Let me talk to her. Girl talk.”

  My mouth fell open as he kissed her cheek and grimaced in my direction before walking away. Mother took a step toward me. I refused to be afraid of her. I matched her movements until we were nose to nose.

  “If you do not marry Parker, I will have William charged with rape. I will hav
e him moved to a high security prison with hardened criminals. They will beat him and abuse him until the day he is found crumpled in the shower floor, dead.” Her voice was full of malice as she glared at me.

  I wanted to spit on her, throw her down the stairs, and ram my head into her face.

  Her words ran a sharp fear through my soul.

  I spun and darted down the stairs. I ran hard, throwing my heels away on the lawn as I turned the corner of the building. I ran away from Mother, not thinking of where I was going, or where I ended.

  I ran until my feet splashed in water. My heart had carried me back to the comfort of the pond- the place where William had first become vulnerable, had first truly seen me.

  His fist wrapped around my arm as my white dress twirled and the distant music all sang to me in a vivid memory.

  I flung myself up the hill and crawled under the weight of my heavy, wet dress.

  I laid in the place William had first touched me so intimately. I clawed at the dirt, wanting to bury myself there.

  Mother had won. She was pulling me away from Hugh. She was throwing me away onto another family, trash turned into another's treasure.

  She had her claws in William. She pulled my strings like a marionette. Every time I tried to cut the wires, she dug into William more.

  The pain thrashed through me. I couldn’t feel my bleeding fingers as I ripped my nails, hitting roots to the large willow. The pain in my soul once again consumed me.

  I laid on the warm, shredded soil, relishing in its scent. I poured my whole being into the soft black earth. I hoped to empty the love out of my heart. If I could close myself to William, Mother would have no leverage.

  I couldn't tear William out of me. I couldn’t control my hands as they ripped the dress, destroying the flesh on my body. I laid there for a long time, exhausted and broken. I thought back to what I had survived, but no pain compared.

  I was being torn from my son yet again. I was going to be forced into the arms of an honest man, so unsuspecting. I cried for him, I wept for Hugh, and I begged for William.

  Chapter 40- Bouquet

  The days sped by as I begged time to stop. Hannah was appalled when I told her what was to come.

  The woman who inadvertently stole my child, tried to take William, and brought the wrath of my mother down upon us had quickly grown to be a true friend over the previous months. Mother would spit blood, but I made Hannah my maid of honor.

  Mother truly was dissatisfied, but Father somehow calmed her into allowing it. I spent every moment I could with Hugh. As my birthday approached and we allowed Hugh to start walking on his own with our hands as guidance, I dreaded my wedding more and more.

  I always smiled at Parker’s mother. I never wanted her to know that her son was going to marry someone tainted with insanity. He would be brought into a family full of lies, ultimatums, threats, and cruelty.

  Mother was always near, shooting me warning glares or whispering admonitions in my ear. Hannah stayed close, usually with Hugh holding her hands or squirming in my lap. Whenever Mrs. Tilmon first saw Hugh she made a comment on how beautiful he was and that he looked like Elizabeth.

  I hadn't thought about the resemblances Mother held to William in a long time. Their personalities made them look so different to me. With those innocent words I tried not to hate the woman who had accidentally brought on my distaste, and obviously Hannah's too.

  I pretended to be interested in the arrangements of the wedding. Hannah and I usually sat idly by and let Mother and my future mother-in-law make the decisions. I smiled at the realization that Hannah was showing me support simply with her lack of enthusiasm.

  I was tugged and pushed into wedding gowns, the white fabrics a blatant lie. The proof of my lack of virginity zoomed around my feet.

  I grimaced at Hannah as she covered her mouth, amazement on her face. Mrs. Tilmon dabbed her eyes as I finally looked in the mirror.

  The simple dress had no puff, but crystals were sewn into embroidery around my hips and up a spiral to my chest. The long, lacy veil draping around my hair and face completed the image of perfection.

  I gasped when I recognized the stupor in my eyes. I had been trying to push the ordeal down with medications. A zombie in a white gown stared back at me in the glass.

  Mother looked me up and down. In her eyes I saw a spark, a tiny hint of doubt, wondering if she should stop before it was too late.

  She met my eyes and searched my pleading face. Her throat moved as she swallowed hard, turning away. When her eyes landed on Hugh, something in her softened. I thought she filled with benevolence for one, miniscule moment.

  She turned back to me with steel determination hardened her expression.

  ✷✴✷

  I laid in my bed through my birthday. Hannah allowed Hugh to spend the day with me as she did her duties. We cuddled and I read to him, trying not to show my despair.

  We were asleep when Hannah slipped into the room. She leaned over and whispered happy birthday to our son.

  I smiled to myself, proud for letting her be the first to utter the words.

  There was a carrot cake and presents in their room that evening. The sun dipped low and the clock ticked away. As the minute he was born came I leaned over, kissing him softly as he drifted to sleep in Hannah's arms.

  Hannah didn't know what time he had been born, I realized. I thought about telling her but wanted one thing special between Hugh and myself. I told myself that if she were to ask I would be honest, but she never did.

  The day before my wedding I wandered the yard. Decorations popped up all around, inside and out.

  I wanted to escape. One last thought of running came to mind. As Mother watched me, my chin tilted. I couldn't chance her tearing at William.

  That evening I found myself unable to sleep. I took two extra sedatives and prayed for them to knock me out. With the bottle in my hand, I debated emptying it into myself.

  Would she let William be free if I weren't around to taint him further? Parker would be able to find a love he deserved. Hugh would never know me as anything but the Ruth he would one day forget.

  I held no fear of death, but didn’t know what Mother would do in revenge. I’d be gone and not have to feel the pain of her actions.

  Others would.

  I put the bottle back on the counter. She was likely to become enraged if I took my life. She would have no more prey but William. There would be no reason for her to keep Hannah and Hugh, if I wasn't there to control.

  Too many people would suffer from my relief.

  ✷✴✷

  The next morning, I was awakened by a flurry of women. Hannah rushed around, trying to fulfill her duties as maid of honor and house maid at the same time. I was pushed out of bed and shoved onto my vanity bench. I held Hugh on my lap and he squirmed at the sounds of hair dryers and clucking women.

  He was over stimulated and cranky. Hannah pried him sympathetically from my grip to lay him down for a nap. When my dress was yanked on and I gripped the veil in my hands, Father entered the room.

  He was speechless at the sight of me. I looked away. “Come with me.” I followed him from the room, unsure of what he was doing.

  He led me outside and we watched the commotion. He didn't speak much but to tell me how beautiful I was, and to ask if the marriage was what I truly wanted.

  I wanted to tell him about Mother’s threats, to be able to rely on him as a protector but knew better. I lied before I could spill my soul. Guests crowded into the cushioned chairs on the lawn, ushered by friends and family of Parker's.

  Father's expression of doubt and the sweat beading on his head, all pulled at my weaknesses and doubts. I had to turn away from the ceremony forming in front of me.

  The garden called to me. I took a deep breath, trying to ready myself for the tinted goodbye to my beloved yet abandoned flowers.

  As I stepped between the towering walls the scents pulled me deep. The train of my dress dragged behind me
, catching leaves. Overgrowth clawed at me in warning not to continue.

  The bright colors made everything surreal. I felt like I was floating down the path. I had left my bouquet with father but knew if I had it, I might be able to pretend I was marching to my dream- William waiting for me at the end.

  The rushing water called my name as the wind blew secrets from the petals. As I came around the bend and saw the bench hidden among the beauty, my feet rushed ahead. The veil in my hands fluttered to the ground as I flung myself to my knees.

  I laid my head on the seat of the bench, praying to William, begging him to forgive me, and to feel my love radiating through the distance between us.

  I wept, his smile in my mind's eye with his hand brushing mine on that same wood. I recalled when his lips first mine as we were surrounded by the floral scent.

  I lifted my head at the sound of my name, my heart faltering in disbelief. I spun, ready for the fantasy to come to life.

  Father watched from the fountain. “They're ready,” his voice was gruff with emotion.

  I stood and bit back the hopelessness as he picked up my veil. I turned and he placed it over my hair, draping it over my face. Through the white lace my eyes became glued to the bush of white roses. Father tried to pull me away but I stepped over and broke off a large rose.

  As we walked in silence out if the garden the voices closed in. At the entrance I looked over to see the large lawn full of people. Most were strangers. There were photographers and videographers, even journalists from wedding magazines and news crews.

  I saw a few cameras on me but didn't care. Mother waved for the orchestra to start. The bridesmaids and groomsmen paired up, walking down the aisle.

  Behind them Hugh was in his tiny tuxedo. I grinned as he pranced and waddled after his other mother. It felt like the beautiful ceremony belonged to someone else, until Father handed me the large bouquet of varying colors and blooms.