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That makes sense. If I try to focus on my chores, I can crush the sparking flame in my chest that threatens to ignite me completely. I can't wait to see him. I can't believe he invited me! I really do think this is special between us. It must be.
It's so special, I don't even want to tell Tulip. I get the distinct feeling that Father Daddy would not approve of that. And I'd hate to find out that it was something everybody was doing, that's for certain.
But I also feel like it really isn't. He said I would be his favorite. He said it right out loud. And he never lies. So if I told Tulip, what would she think? Well, she would certainly tell everyone she could, more or less right away. I don't think that would be very good. But also, even if she didn’t tell everyone, it would make her feel jealous, wouldn't it? Being left out would have to hurt at least a little.
That's why it makes complete sense that I should keep this to myself.
And I love it. It's like having a treasure that I just stroke and stroke and stroke under my thumb. Something that I turn over in the light and look at it as it glitters, as it shimmers, as it reveals to me more and more iridescent forms in its depths. Such a beautiful thing. I’ve been given such a transcendent thing.
And I thought it was a demon! How ridiculous! How childish.
Eventually all the chores are done. Dinner is ready. My mother is nowhere. But then again, she hasn't really looked at me since the ceremony, not really. I think the whole idea makes her uncomfortable. She's probably concerned that I'll be moving on, taking on a Master. She's probably worried about who's going to do all the chores around here. Who is going to wake her in time for her duties. Who's going to listen to her complain.
No, I shouldn’t talk like that. She may be difficult, but she is my mother, after all.
I fix her a plate of food and invert another plate on top of it to keep it warm. I leave it at her spot at the simple wooden table, assuming she will return soon.
Actually, I'm sort of glad. This way there are no questions to be answered as I change into my new dress and skip lightly across the front porch.
The barn is lit, but there's no one around. It is sort of a strange sight, I think as I practically skip up the hard packed dirt of the path. Normally there are Family members gathered around the entrance, waiting to see what they can of the ceremony. But this time, it's just me. It feels so illicit. It's wonderfully naughty.
I open the door just a foot or so and slip inside, rolling it shut behind me. When I turn around, I'm sort of surprised to see Brother Owen is here as well. He smiles wide in greeting, crossing his legs casually and leaning his handsome face on his fist.
“Right on time, just as I expected,” Father Daddy calls out.
I smile back. I can't help it. I feel like there is a constant bubble inside me, like a hot air balloon. Something that makes me feel so light and wonderful. So warm. All I do is smile and smile and smile.
They both watch me intently as I walk across the floor. I'm happy to see Brother Owen is here as well. It seems comfortable to me, even though Father Daddy didn't mention it yesterday. I probably should have assumed that my formal training would include them both.
When I come to the platform, I simply step up without even asking. I stand at the edge, ready to receive instruction. Father Daddy's eyes drift over my new dress and he smiles appreciatively. He didn’t stay for dinner with the aunties, since he could sense the tension in the air, so he didn’t get to see it before now.
“You did a wonderful job on your gown, Angel,” he smiles. “You are gifted with so many skills.”
“Oh, I suspect she practiced for a very long time, didn't you, Angel?” Brother Owen asks me. He is smiling as well, and my chest puffs up with pride. I've never been so admired before. Not obviously, anyway. I like this feeling.
“Why, yes I practiced a little, I suppose,” I say, though actually I've probably spent hundreds of hours practicing. “I'm very glad you like it. Thank you.”
“Would you like to take off? Or shall we take it off for you?”
My heart leaps. I return Father Daddy's brazen stare, trying to remain calm.
“I'm here to learn,” I say carefully. “Do with me whatever you will.”
Father Daddy takes the initiative, standing from his throne and taking a step toward me. Brother Owen does the same. When he’s close enough, he reaches down to gather my hem in his hand. The backs of his knuckles stroke my calf.
“Dids Silas tell you how to act when your Master touches you this way?”
“He told me that when my Master touches me, I should make myself available to him,” I answer automatically.
His smile is sincere and relieved. Slowly, he draws his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to stroke me. I’m already trembling where I stand.
“Yes! Exactly, yes,” he says emphatically, as though this was supposed to be a hard lesson to learn. How could be difficult? All I want to do is please them.
“Raise your arms,” Brother Owen murmurs.
I comply immediately, watching Father Daddy for his reaction. His eyes drift toward my ankles as Brother Owen gathers the hem of my new dress in his hands. Father Daddy's eyes watch the skin as it is revealed, inch by inch. He looks hungry.
Brother Owen slips the dress over my head and places it delicately over the arm of his throne. I try not to shiver in the cold night air as I stand naked before them, illuminated by the strings of lights along the ceiling.
