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“Are you… interested in her?” I ask. I don't look at him, though. I'm not sure why.
“Am I interested in her?” he huffs, offended. “Listen, Silas, I'm just thinking about all of us. You're the one who suggested —”
I hold up a hand to silence him. I don't need to hear this. His objections don’t ring true.
“Perhaps, since you’re fond of her,” I continue as though he said nothing, “you should lead the ceremony.”
I hear his breath instantly go ragged. He does want her. Something inside me finds that unacceptable. I’m not sure why. What is it about this girl that seems to haunt and inspire both of us? Do I even want to know?
“I will do whatever needs to be done,” he sighs finally, measuring his words carefully. That's a good sign. At least he realizes something unusual is going on.
“Sun’s almost down,” I observe, squinting at the horizon. This seems so sudden, it practically takes my breath away. Now? With the sun going down?
Then again, why do I mind? This has all been so mechanical for the last decade, why should I care? It’s not something to be savored. It’s not something to even really be concerned over. It's just a duty. Just part of what binds the Family together. It's just how we bring the girls to womanhood, then to marriage. How we ensure that Kingdom Come survives as a Family.
I try to shake the thoughts out of my head. I need to have a clear head now.
“Well if that's what they require, then we will do it tonight. But leave her intact. Just in case.”
“Tonight,” he agrees somberly.
We separate, and I hurry back to my shack to clean myself and clear my head. I rush through the prayers I'm supposed to recite, the words just tumbling through my head without too much thought. What is this… eagerness? Excitement?
Her face flashes again in my memory. The way she looked at me in the late afternoon sun, lit golden by the light. Surprised, awestruck. Yet willing and trusting. The perfect little mate.
It's almost dark when I meet Owen in the barn, changed into our robes and ready to begin as we have done so many times before. We take our places on our carved wooden thrones and face the door.
The lights are on. I practically hear the electricity zinging through the wires. Somehow the floor has been swept. Who found the time? But here it is. We are ready.
I hear the people outside, the voices excitable and encouraging. Their footsteps pound against the dry ground.
The door slides open definitively, and there she is. She’s lovely, dressed in the traditional shift. It hangs all the way down to the floor, revealing the curve of her shoulders, bits of her calves flashing through the slits up the sides as she shifts her weight around nervously.
Four aunties gather around her. She licks her lips and glances at everything, then looks at the door as though slightly surprised at how simple it was to open.
Mary's there, scowling imperiously next to Agatha. Annie looks irritable and distracted, and Melissa seems a little wobbly on her feet.
If they expect to watch me take her virginity, this isn’t going to work.
Annie and Agatha reach for the door to drag it closed behind the group. I stand and raise a hand.
“Stop,” I call out. Everyone turns to look at me, including the Family members gathered outside.
I take a deep breath.
“Just Angel,” I announce. The words hang in the air for a second.
Brother Owen stands up close to me. “What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice.
“Preserving our shot at a future,” I growl back, careful to keep my voice low.
“Can’t you just fake it? They’re not going to let this happen.”
“No,” I reply flatly. The truth is, I know I couldn’t fake it. The throbbing hard on beneath my robes is proof of that. I want to tear her to pieces. It’s killing me.
I hear Mary clear her throat.
“Pardon me, Father Daddy?” she calls out from the other end of the room. “I don't think I heard you?”
