by Josie Bloss
“Asher, you wouldn’t—”
He interrupted again, almost pleading with me. “Faith, p-please don’t.”
He shook his head and started to walk by me, on his way back toward the house. But he hesitated in front of me and looked down at my face. I looked up at him, at his sad and tormented eyes, and without thinking further I reached out and took ahold of his ankle, my hand clutching his dusty jeans.
I couldn’t stop myself. All I wanted to do was touch him, comfort him, and somehow assure him that he wasn’t an awful failure as a human. That just because he’d liked a girl who wasn’t parent-approved, it didn’t mean he was damaged.
And I wanted to tell him how I knew what he was going through—that I’d also made a mistake that had embarrassed my family and made me an outcast. And that I knew exactly what that sort of humiliated regret felt like.
But I couldn’t say anything. I could only hold his ankle. Which was kind of a weird thing, I know, but it was all I could think of to do. I didn’t even mean it in a seductive way, especially since the idea of that still freaked me out. I just wanted to connect with him somehow.
Asher’s eyes went wide at my grasp. I squeezed gently, looking him straight in the eye, trying to communicate through my fingers that it was okay. That I understood and accepted him.
“You … you … you really shouldn’t do that.” His voice was husky. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and landed in the dirt next to my shoe.
“I know,” I replied. “I’m sorry. I … can’t really help it.”
He made a strangled sort of sound and gently shook my hand off his leg.
“Please, Faith,” he said. “Don’t make my mistake. God is always watching.”
And with that, he walked quickly away.
I hugged my knees up to my chest and watched him go, more confused than ever.
FIFTEEN
I was helping Abigail wash dishes after breakfast when her mom came up and put her arms around the two of us.
“Exciting news, girlie girls!” she whispered in a baby-talk voice. “Daddy just told me we’re expecting special company for dinner.”
I still wasn’t used to how she referred to her own husband as “Daddy.” Yuck.
But I smiled at her and carefully set the plate I was drying in the dish rack. “That’s great!” I said.
Abigail was looking down at the soapy water, her eyes wide.
“Who’s coming?” she asked.
“Well, Rachel and Elijah and the baby,” said Mrs. Dean. Abigail’s twenty-year-old sister had gotten married just over a year ago and had a two-month-old little boy. “Along with Elijah’s brother, Beau. You remember him, right, Abigail? Such a nice, godly young man.”
I glanced at Abigail again, and it looked like she wasn’t breathing.
“You’ll just love to meet Elijah and Rachel,” Mrs. Dean said to me, squeezing my shoulder. “Samuel is a darling baby, and Rachel is such a sweet little mama! Elijah just adores her. It’s been such a blessing to see young people living out the example of a good, Biblical marriage.”
As she chatted about the visitors, I kept shooting looks at Abigail. She’d started washing dishes again but was going much slower, her heart clearly not in it. Her face was tense and for once I could see the physical similarities between her and Asher.
“I’d just love it if they came over more often,” Mrs. Dean said, nudging Abigail with her hip. “Wouldn’t you like to see more of them, too? Especially when they bring a certain someone?”
Abigail dropped the glass she was holding and it shattered all over the sink.
“Goodness, Abigail!” snapped her mother, the coy-conspiratorial voice gone. “Don’t be so careless! Clean that up!”
“Sorry, Mama,” Abigail said, starting to pick up the pieces.
“Honestly,” Mrs. Dean said as she flounced away toward the living room. “Sometimes you wouldn’t know you’re almost eighteen. Try not to cut yourself, for Heaven’s sake.”
I watched Mrs. Dean go, shocked at her sudden turn, then started to help Abigail pick up the glass out of the sink.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
“Oh, except for my clumsiness, I’m fine!” she said, with a suspicious sort of brightness.
“Are you sure? Because—”
“Ouch!” Abigail gasped, interrupting. A piece of glass had nicked her thumb. “Goodness, could I be any more stupid?”
“Abi, it was an accident.” I noticed there were tears in her eyes, and I could tell they weren’t related to the cut on her finger. “Okay, what’s really going on?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, almost with a sob. “I shouldn’t say anything at all about it.”
“About what? Is it something about this brother who’s coming?”
She looked at me, thumb in her mouth and her blue eyes huge and wet, and I was reminded of a scared little kid. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“What about him?” An uncomfortable suspicion was beginning to form in my brain, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
Abigail turned to face the sink again, examining her thumb. “It’s silly.”
“Clearly you’re upset about something,” I pointed out. “So it must not be silly. Come on, spit it out.”
She turned and gave me a tremulous smile, putting her hand on my arm. “You’re such a good friend, Faith. What would I do without you here?”
I laughed. “You’d probably be just fine. I mean, you saw how my oatmeal just turned out this morning.”
She pulled away and wiped at her eyes, smiling. “Maybe that’s why I’m all emotional.”
“Will you tell me what’s really wrong?”
Abigail sighed and drummed her fingers on the sink.
“I like Elijah, I really do,” she said. “And his brother Beau seems like a … like a nice man. He’s been coming to our church for a bit and he owns his own business and everything. He works with Daddy sometimes, and Daddy thinks he’s wonderful and keeps saying that Beau just needs to find a good girl and settle down.”
“Oh, he’s … not married?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. Of course he wasn’t. His attendance at this dinner had a definite purpose.
Abigail shook her head, biting her lip.
“Um … how old is he?”
“Twenty-eight,” she whispered.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. The idea was just too ridiculous. “And your parents just want you to—”
Abigail held up her hands to quiet me. “Shhh, Mama could be listening!”
“They honestly think that you and this Beau would be a good … match?” I finished quietly, crossing my arms.
“He’s a fine man,” she said weakly. “Very Biblical. I could do much worse. Daddy and he have theological discussions all the time and they always agree on everything. You know how hard that is to find. Sometimes Daddy even has him speak on Sundays, which is a big deal because Daddy doesn’t give the podium to just anyone. And if Daddy likes him, then … ”
She trailed off, the implication clear. If her father ordered it, Abigail would have to obey. And be married to her brother-in-law’s brother, eleven years older than she was, whether she was excited about it or not.
I mean, I knew that some families still practiced this sort of half-arranged Biblical courtship—it was often proudly mentioned on the blogs I’d visited, especially when older siblings were married off. And in a way it made sense. If you barely let your daughters out of your sight, don’t let them speak to any boys or hang out in mixed groups on their own, how are they supposed to find anyone to marry, let alone a guy who fits the exact religious specifications? If parents didn’t go out looking for eligible bachelors for their daughters, their daughters would never be able to fulfill their appropriate roles as wives and helpmeets.
But the whole concept made me feel queasy.
I stared at Abigail, at a complete loss about what to say. “This is disgusting” or “they’re crazy” or “let�
��s haul ass out of here and run away to where people are living in the twenty-first century” were not things that would come out of Faith’s mouth.
The most appropriate reaction would be for me to be delighted for Abigail. She was closing in on her destiny.
But why was she crying? Why did she look so upset about it?
Any lingering feelings I’d had that visiting the Deans was a fun game had faded away. This was Abigail’s life, and she didn’t get to leave it at the end of two weeks. I reached over and squeezed her arm.
She set her shoulders, took a deep breath, and smiled at me. Wide and brilliant and fake. “Let’s figure out a menu. How fun!”
. . .
Beau was horrible.
He was good-looking enough, I guess, with military-short reddish hair and a fussily trimmed goatee. His brown polo shirt was carefully ironed and his khakis had a crisp crease. He cut his food neatly and complimented all the “ladies” on the cooking. He joked with the small kids, who stared at him with starry eyes.
But there was something … wrong. Some glossy sheen to him that made me feel like the whole package was a lie. Some leer to his eye as he looked at Abigail, even though he never talked directly to her. Some smarmy smugness around his mouth that turned my stomach.
It was obvious what his intentions were.
“With business going so well,” he said to Mr. Dean as he patted his mouth with a napkin, “I’m thinking of buying a nice piece of property and building myself a house up the road a tick.”
“Up the road from here?” asked Mrs. Dean. “Isn’t that wonderful! Abigail, don’t you think that’s wonderful? That’s so close!”
She beamed at Abigail, who smiled weakly and then looked down at her plate. “It sure is.”
“And building a whole new house. That’s just lovely!” said Rachel. She was sitting across from me, holding her baby boy who was, admittedly, adorable. Her face was glowing, and she and her husband had just announced that she was pregnant again.
Everyone had clapped and congratulated them, but when I’d glanced over at Abigail, I could tell that her joy was a little forced. She was concerned about her sister. When we’d been cooking earlier, Abigail had told me that Rachel’s first pregnancy was tough and her doctor had told her to wait awhile before having another baby. Obviously, Rachel and Elijah hadn’t taken his advice. Having more babies was more important.
“Well, it’s about time,” bellowed Mr. Dean at Beau, nodding. “You need to settle on down, young man, and have yourself some godly arrows. ‘Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate.’ Psalm 127:3.”
“Amen,” said Elijah, putting his arm around his wife, who smiled adoringly at him.
“Amen,” said Mrs. Dean.
“Amen,” repeated the rest of the table. Except for me. I still hadn’t gotten the hang of that.
Mr. Dean looked down the table at his family, the same sort of smug possessive look on his face that Beau had earlier. “A man isn’t anything without a family. And a woman,” he said as he looked pointedly at Abigail, “isn’t anything without her man. Isn’t that right, daughter?”
Abigail put her hands in her lap, and I could sense that she was bracing herself. “Of course, Daddy.”
I glanced across the table at Asher, who was still refusing to meet my eye after our awkward interaction the day before. But he also looked worried and muddled, shooting glances at Abigail and at Beau and compulsively moving his food around his plate.
I wasn’t the only one who was disturbed by the
situation.
SIXTEEN
Later that night, after the guests were gone and everyone
was in bed, I could hear Abigail quietly catching her breath. It sounded like she was trying to stop crying.
“Abigail?” I finally whispered, looking across the darkened room at her.
“Faith, you’re still awake?” she replied, sniffling.
“Yeah … are you okay?”
“Oh, it’s silly,” she said.
“What’s silly?”
There was a long pause.
“Do you know if … do your parents have anyone picked out for you?” she asked. “I mean, I know you’re not supposed to think of those things until God sends you your true love and you enter a courtship, but lots of girls have an inkling ahead of time, especially if he’s someone from your church.”
“Right … ” I said.
“So, do you?”
I stared up at the dark ceiling, totally confused about how to handle this situation.
“Um … I don’t think so. Or at least they haven’t mentioned anyone. I guess they might want me to find someone on my own.”
She propped herself up on her elbow and looked over at me. The glow from the barn light caught her eyes and they glittered.
“Really? But isn’t that kind of risky?”
“Risky?” I repeated.
“Well, how could you be sure that you’re marrying a good man? And how can you guard your heart while you’re looking for him? If they just send you off into the world to find your own way, how will you be protected? What if you fall in love with the wrong person?”
Those were actually all perfectly valid questions. Beyond giving me a place to live and food to eat and money to buy stuff and the occasional lecture, at this point my parents basically did jack shit to make sure I was protected or that I didn’t fall in love with the wrong person. Of course, that meant they also gave me the freedom to more or less do whatever I wanted.
It was kind of a trade-off.
“I don’t know. They’re hoping that I can deal with it all by myself, I guess,” I said.
“Oh,” said Abigail, lying back down on her side, hands folded to the side of her cheek. “That must be scary.”
I thought about Blake and his face as he shoved me away from his car. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
We were both silent for a moment.
“Faith?” she said, just as I began to assume she’d fallen asleep.
“Hmm?”
“What did you think of Beau? I mean, honestly. Don’t fib.”
I silently twisted the blanket in my hands.
“He … seems nice. It’s nice that he’s, you know, already kind of part of your family,” I said, stretching for good things to say. Because what else could I tell her? If I admitted how gross and suspicious I found him, it would just make her feel bad. And I knew how much she wanted a happily ever after.
“You think so?”
“Sure,” I replied. “But really, the important thing is what you think of him and how he makes you feel.”
She was silent.
“Abigail?”
“He’s a fine man,” she said firmly.
“Yeah, you’ve said that already. What else?”
She sighed softly.
“You can’t tell anyone about this or I’ll … I’ll completely disown you,” she said with a small, sad laugh.
“Okay?” I prompted.
She turned over in bed so she was staring straight up at the ceiling.
“He’s … well, he’s said some things to me,” she said. “In the past.”
“Things?” I was confused. “Like what?”
“A few weeks ago, after he came over to talk to Daddy one afternoon, he … he came out to the barn while I was getting the chicken feed. No one else was around. And he came up behind me and put his hands on me … ” Abigail’s voice was beginning to quaver.
I caught my breath.
“He … he put his hands on you? Where?”
“Right here.” In the darkness, I could just make out that she put her hands on her rib cage, below her breasts. “And he pulled me back and squeezed me so hard I almost couldn’t breathe and then he whispered in my ear that … that … ”
She stopped and took a deep breath. I waited in silent shock.
“He told me that I was defrauding, just by walkin
g around in front of him, and that all he wanted was to put the sinful thoughts out of his head and be with me as a husband is with his wife. And then he kissed my cheek and … and squeezed me again … and told me it would be a bad idea to tell Daddy what had just happened, because Daddy would know it was my fault.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. As if Abigail would joke about something like this.
She put her hands over her face. “Faith, it was so awful! I’ve felt so terrible about it ever since!”
“Was that the first time he ever did something like that?” I asked, barely recognizing my own dangerous voice.
She shook her head, hands still over her face. “No, there were a few other times.”
“For how long?”
“For a while,” she said. “Since Rachel and Elijah started courting, I guess, and he’s been coming around. I try not to think about it. But … but that was the worst time.”
Rage began to bloom in my chest. A rage like I hadn’t felt since I came upon Blake and Caitlin Merriweather propped up against his car. My internal Faith-censor went straight out the window and flew ten miles across the cornfields and exploded in the sky.
“Abigail, this is unacceptable. That man is a complete molesting asshole and you should never talk to him again.”
She took her hands off her face and looked at me. “Did you just say—”
I interrupted her. “No, really. The next time I see him I’m seriously going to kick him in the balls.”
“Faith!” she said, with a shocked laugh.
“Did you tell your parents about this?”
“Nooo,” she said slowly. “They really like him. They … they’ll probably think it was my fault, just like he said.”
“That’s such BS!” I burst out. “How about Asher? Did you tell him?”
“No, of course not!” Abigail said quickly. “He’d … I don’t know, he might try and fight Beau or something, and it would be bad for everyone. He can’t do anything.”
I propped myself up on my elbow, feeling ready to go into battle.
“Maybe someone needs to kick the crap out of him!”