by Bree Cariad
“Camille! Come help me clean up.”
Charlotte Covington’s voice poured over the lawn and used to obeying, Camille turned and passed the few people who were still milling about and followed her mother inside the house. “It’s good to see your brother so happy,” her mother said, handing her a dishrag to dry dishes as she piled dirty ones in the sink.
“Yeah. Kathy, too.” As the words came out, Cami’s hands shook and she managed to hide them in the cloth. Kathy had only lived in Hyacinth for one year and she was married to a great guy. While Cami was happy for her, as she loved her brother and seeing the two of them together had been great, Camille grew up in Hyacinth and the man she expected to court her had up and left town two days before her eighteenth birthday after his misdeeds were revealed. That she had expected to marry Damian at some point, every girl in town knew. Some of them had reveled in teasing her about his getting some girl pregnant in college and dumping her. There had also been some nasty references to her chances of being with child. Kathy had told them where to get off, using language that Cami had never heard. Even though her language had garnered her several spankings from the man who was now her husband, it hadn’t stopped Kathy from defending her friend every time one of the girls went vicious.
And it made Cami feel horrible that she was jealous. Of her friend.
“Soon the boys will start calling for you,” Charlotte said with a smile and a sigh. “I wonder who you will end up with.”
“Not Damian,” slipped out before Cami could stop it.
“No,” her mother agreed quietly. “He wasn’t worthy of you.”
It was a good thing her father wasn’t around. She had been forbidden to even mention his name as when Damian’s troubles came to light, she had been fiercely in his corner. Cami had been sure he was unjustly accused. Until the tests came back that proved he had not only fathered one child, but several others as well – all abandoned before birth.
Sniffling softly, Cami dried while her mother washed and soon the kitchen was back to the pristine condition it was in before the big going-away brunch. She could hear the Brethertons, Kathy’s parents, talking to her father and little brother as she finished wiping down the counters. The Brethertons were nice people. Too bad they didn’t have a son of the right age. That would have been perfect.
As it was, Cami was thinking she didn’t want to be sucked into staying in Hyacinth. Surely there was a huge world out there she could explore. Xander went away to college and law school and now he and Kathy were probably gone for good. “Mom?” she asked quietly, but Charlotte hadn’t heard her as Majorie Farthing waltzed into the kitchen waving her relatively new wedding ring with the microscopic diamond around.
“That was a lovely send off,” she said with a simpering smile. A newlywed of three months, she had the talent of lording her married state over every unmarried girl in town. Cami was her current target. “So nice to see Alexander married. You must be over-the-moon with happiness. Of course,” she rushed on, not leaving Camille’s mother any room to respond, “now’s Cami’s turn. Have any men expressed… interest?” The pause was slight, but it was there. Damian’s misdeeds came to light right before her wedding and she kind of blamed Cami for it for some reason as though she was behind a plot to destroy Marjorie’s tiny occasion.
Charlotte, a very strong, intelligent woman, did not miss the unspoken meaning and stood up tall, her eyes narrowed. Instantly Marjorie took a step back. Her intent had obviously been to needle Cami; she hadn’t expected to insult Mrs. Alexander Covington, Sr.
“I would think,” Charlotte said in her soft southern lilt, “that you would have nothing bad to say, Marjorie. I’m married to the head of the town council. I know what happened four months ago.”
Marjorie’s eyes practically bugged out of her skull as she turned green. “I didn’t mean anything by—”
“Actually, you did. And I would suggest that you never insult my daughter again, Mrs. Farthing. She has done nothing wrong. As opposed to some people.” There was something about the emphasis her mother put on the last two words that made Cami wonder what the girl had done. She knew better than to ask. Charlotte did not believe in gossip and would never spread any around. And yet, in her position she always seemed to come into the best tidbits. Sometimes Camille wished she could know just a few of them.
Without another word, Marjorie spun around and made a hasty retreat.
“Why don’t you go on up to your room,” Charlotte suggested. “It’s been an overwhelming day. You look like you could use some alone time.”
“Thanks.” Without another word, Camille made her way upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door. After taking off her dress, she slid into bed and closed her eyes. Maybe she could sleep the rest of the day away. The only problem was she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned and each time, she was sure she could hear the crinkle of the envelope currently hidden between her mattress and box springs. Her ticket out of this tiny town.
Maybe.
If she had the guts to tell her parents and go. Because that was the one caveat her brother had placed on his willingness to help her pay for college. That she had to tell her parents she was going. At which point, Xan would finance a condo for her near her school and pay for any incidentals and the rest of her tuition. The problem was that while half of her tuition would be paid from financial aid, she had forged her father’s signature on the federal form. Cami had the feeling that would come back to bite her at some point. Not a liar by nature, lately it had seemed to come quite normal for her. Ever since the Damian incident.
The truth was it was easier to lie than to admit she was angry and upset and just wanted to scream. In the past, her elder brother was the first one to notice when she was sliding out of her normal happy-go-lucky attitude. But he had been busy with the last few months of courting Kathy, finding their house in Nashville, and getting everything ready for the two of them. And the less he noticed, the more she found herself concealing. Until she felt buried under a pile of fabrications. If just one was found out, the rest would come down with the force of an avalanche. If she could tell her parents about college without having to talk about financial aid…
Of course, she knew that was probably a stupid thought. Her father was smart and would want to see everything. Including the financials. At which point, she would be lucky if she could sit down for the next year. Alexander Covington, Sr. was a good man and an even better father, but he deplored lies and had a hard hand and an even harder paddle. There would be no excuses. In fact, if she tried to make some, he would add on swats. That was just the kind of man he was. So, she intended to find a way to get to school without him or her mother finding out about her misdeeds.
It didn’t seem plausible. Or even practical. But Camille felt that was her only chance out of the horrible pain she felt. Once out of town, everything would get better. She was sure of it. No Hyacinth, no paddles, no courting. Maybe Cami could find herself out there. Burying her head in her pillow, the tears which always seemed to be threatening, burst out again. Reaching between her mattresses, she clutched the envelope. There had to be a way.
The next two days, Cami was left to her own devices as her mother was the only florist in the area and had two weddings she was providing flowers for. Her brother Drake spent time with his friends fishing, which for him was the best activity on earth, while she found her nightstand under a deluge of event posters, hints from her father of things she could get involved in this summer. Alex was a big believer in keeping idle hands busy.
With her mother busy with her business, Cami cooked the meals and straightened up the house, something she could do without thinking as she had helped her mother for so many years. As nobody called her on her sullen moods, she assumed she was coming across as her normal self. At least until a week later.
“Camille,” her father said in a tone she and her siblings recognized - the kind that sent a note of dread trickling down her back. Had he found out something?
“Yes, Dad?” she called from the kitchen where she was peeling potatoes.
“Please come to my study.”
She paused and cast a glance at her mother who was smiling. Smiling? Then it couldn’t be bad news. But why then was she to meet him in his study? Putting down the potato, she wiped her hands on a cloth and headed down the hall. Her father’s study was nothing more than a small room that used to be a closet. It held one high-backed chair, a small bookcase, a reading lamp, and a small rug. It truly was a one-person room. And yet, this was also the room where she had been punished more times than she could count, both by her father and elder brother.
“Close the door,” he said as she entered. She closed it and he sat down in his chair. Without thinking about it, she walked over and stood in front of him as was always required. “How are you?” His eyes and tone were kind and for a brief moment, Cami considered throwing herself into his arms and crying out everything. Then she remembered that was probably the worst thing she could do. She really wanted to keep her rear end intact.
“I’m okay. I miss Kathy and Xan.”
Nodding, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. As his face came close to hers and she looked into his deep blue eyes, her mouth opened on its own accord to once again spill all, when he spoke.
“Tonight we’ll have a guest for dinner.”
Shaking her head of the fog, she stared at him for a second. A guest? That was all? Was he a hypnotist or something? She had just been about to blurt out all her sins. “Oh?”
Nodding, he sat back, a pleased look on his face. “Your first possible suitor. Gregory Knills.”
Instantly all knowledge that went with the name Gregory Knills went through her head. “Daddy!” she whined. “He’s a poop peddler.”
“Camille,” he said sharply, “he deals in manure. That’s his job. Without his particular skills, we would be up to our noses in it and none of the crops in the area would grow. Your description is less than acceptable. Gregory holds down a good job, has his own home, and is interested in you. You’ll wear your best outfit tonight and be charming. Agreed?”
As if she had a choice. “Sure,” she said with as much patience as she could manage, which by his response wasn’t much.
He raised an eyebrow. “Get me my paddle.”
“Daddy!”
“Now.”
The paddle was less than a foot from him and he could have easily reached out and grabbed it. It was always an act of compliance to get the paddle herself. She understood that. It didn’t make it any easier to walk over, pull the offensive piece of wood off the wall and bring it back, holding it out to him.
He took it from her and pointed at the corner. “Stand over there, hands on your head. Don’t move until I tell you.” With something resembling a flounce, she turned toward the corner, squeaking as the paddle landed across her buttocks with a loud crack. Even over jeans it smarted. “Drop the attitude.”
Hustling over to the corner, she put her hands on her head, lacing her fingers together. Standing in the corner was always something of an oddity. It seemed silly and stupid when talked about in an abstract manner. An adult being sent to stand with their nose in the corner. However, it usually seemed to bring with it a kind of silence that made everything calm down, even her annoyance. Today, that just seemed to stoke her anger. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there before she finally heard him stand up. “Hands on the chair arm. Bend over.”
Turning around, she kept her head up as she walked over and bent, placing her hands squarely on the arm of the chair and sticking her rear up in defiance. The first swat came hard and fast making her cry out and the second followed immediately. Her intent, which had been to take her paddling and walk out with her head held high, crumbled by the third. Tears leaked from her eyes and by the fourth, she began to beg.
“Please, Daddy! I’m sorry. Please don’t—” Her air whooshed out with another blow. Alex Covington spanked one of two ways. The first was as a slight reminder and while it smarted, it never hurt for long. This was one of the second kind. The discomfort of it would stay at least a day and every time she moved, would make her remember the spanking and why she had received it. Unfortunately, she had many more things she hadn’t even told him.
“Ow!” she cried out as a particularly hard one hit both sides at once, making her jerk forward.
He didn’t stop, taking her past the point of thinking into that realm where all she did was cry, sob, and twitch as the burn ramped up on her derriere and upper thighs. When he stopped, the silence was incredibly loud as she gasped and hiccupped through the throbbing pain.
“Are you going to be a lady tonight?” he asked from directly behind her.
“Yes, Daddy. I promise.” Right now, she was willing to promise almost anything to make sure he didn’t strike again. One would think with her history in this house that she would remember not to push her father this way. And yet, she was really good at it. “I’m sorry.”
Strong hands pulled her up, turning her around before he hugged her and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Go help your mom with dinner. After he’s left, we’ll come back in here to discuss the dinner.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Well, that could have sounded like a threat, except she knew he had done the same thing with Xan. When her brother came home from his dinners at the Brethertons, the two of them had spent a couple hours discussing everything in their father’s study.
Moving was painful. Her behind felt so hot she wondered if someone could feel it if they stood near her. Added to that, her jeans brushed against her as she walked and it was like rubbing up against clothing made of sandpaper. She almost looked forward to wearing a dress tonight. Though… she would still have to sit down on one of the wooden chairs at the table. Lord help her. This was going to be an uncomfortable night.
Years ago, sassing her father would have gotten her a stern, but not overly pain-filled spanking. Unfortunately, Camille had a hard time learning that one lesson. Other rules, she managed to pull herself back before making a huge mistake, but the combination of sassing her father, rolling her eyes, and making fun of Gregory’s job had driven her father into more intense discipline. Three rules broken within a matter of seconds. Cami had the feeling she should probably be glad she could walk at all.
Her mother raised an eyebrow as she hobbled into the kitchen, but didn’t ask. They finished preparing dinner and she was sent upstairs to prepare. Preparing for a poop peddler. Ah, the joys of being a female in Hyacinth. The term for Gregory’s particular occupation was one Kathy had come up with and Cami thought it was funny. Until she realized one of them wanted to court her. She bet he smelled like manure all the time.
Wrinkling her nose at the thought, she somehow managed to peel her jeans and underwear off without screaming. From long practice, she knew a hot shower would not work on recently paddled buttocks so she took a cold one, quickly washing her hair and body. Unable not to, as soon as she stepped out of the shower, she turned around so that she faced away from her full-length mirror and looked over her shoulder. Her cheeks were a bright flaming red. “Oh, man,” she whispered. “I look like I have sun poisoning.” Four years ago she had spent all day at the lake and had come back home looking like a lobster. Three days of peeling later, she hoped never to look like that again. “At least it won’t peel,” she murmured, looking at her cherry-red behind.
Putting on her best dress for the man in question seemed ludicrous. If it weren’t for the fact that if she didn’t, the discussion after dinner would include her behind being set on fire rather than just simmering, she would put on a simple linen dress and let it go at that. As it was, just before six, she was dressed in her best outfit, an off-the shoulder, red gown that set her orangeish-red hair off. Piling it up on top of her head, she left a few tendrils down the side of her face. “I look like I’m getting ready for prom.”
Kathy had explained to her the concept of prom and Cami thought that was a rite of passage t
hey were missing in this town. Girls in fancy gowns and guys in rented tuxes dancing in the school gym all decked out with streamers. It sounded fun. Of course, it would never happen. Dancing required close physical space between the boy and girl and that type of intimacy was not shared between two people unless they were courting. She knew that. Slipping her feet into a pair of open-toed sandals, she made her way back downstairs, managing not to wince at the discomfort she felt from earlier.
Gregory was already there, seated on the old-fashioned settee her mother had received from her grandmother when she passed. As the seat next to him was the only one open, that meant she would have to sit down on the uncomfortable piece of furniture. He stood up as she entered the room. Gregory was just over five feet six inches tall with brown hair that was quickly receding away from his forehead. As he was only twenty-six, she figured he would be bald by thirty.
“Ah, and here she is,” Alex said warmly. “Gregory, may I present my daughter, Camille? Camille, this is Gregory Knills. He runs his own business.”
Shoveling poop. Pasting on a smile, she stepped forward with her hand outstretched. “It’s nice to meet you.”
His sweaty hand engulfed hers and he smiled at her, showing two chipped teeth. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Camille. These are for you.” He handed her a couple pieces of parchment and she sat down, managing not to wince, and opened them.
Staring at the page, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or run out of the room. “These are?” she asked to make sure she was right.
“Poems I wrote about you,” he admitted. “Ever since the first time I saw you, I’ve been writing poetry about you.”
“Oh. Um, thanks.” What else was she supposed to say? She wished Kathy was here in this instant. She could just imagine the jokes that would come from her best friend. “I’ll read them later.” Or not.
As dinner was ready, and the get-to-know-you dinners were kept strictly to the meal itself, she was grateful when Charlotte suggested they go into the dining room. Their dining room table could seat twelve if needed, but her mother had set it for five, all of them at the head of the table. At first, she feared that would put Gregory next to her, but was relieved when he was pointed to the seat next to her mother. Which put her between Drake and her father. With her mother in her direct sight, she only had to look at her suitor if she forced herself to.