I don’t entertain more sinful thoughts or touch myself to try and get the hardness to disappear. No, I busy myself with finding my new shirt. By the time I finish with the buttons, it’s gone away.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I try not to be unhappy for Karen. She deserves a husband. Maybe he’ll be a good man. One who doesn’t have white rooms or strict rules. Karen is prettiest when she’s smiling and free. Pa dampens her spirit. I know it’s for her own good—or so he says—but sometimes I wonder how she’d be without him breathing down her neck.
The house smells like pot roast and my stomach grumbles. Usually, when in the white room, I’m fed grits. No butter or salt or pepper. Just grits. Having meat and potatoes and carrots seems like a gift from God.
A gift I certainly don’t deserve after what happened in the white room.
I ignore that thought and rush into the living room.
Anger, hot and furious, bubbles up inside me when I see him. The young man. Her future husband. A little shorter than me, but much taller than her. Black hair. Curious brown eyes. A wide, dimpled smile. He even has a shadow of facial hair that makes me envious.
She smiles back at him like he’s everything.
He’s nothing.
I don’t understand the anger inside me, and certainly a proper husband for my Karen shouldn’t warrant this feeling, but it’s there.
“Son,” Pa says, turning to regard me. He’s well over six and a half feet and towers over all of us. “Meet Luke. Luke, this is Kristopher.”
I grit my teeth and try to remember my manners. I’m supposed to extend my hand and greet him. But my hand won’t uncurl from a fist.
Pa’s eyes fall to my hand and it immediately goes slack. I won’t provoke him. Not with this dirty young man threatening to take my sister from me. She stands in her simple white dress looking too pure for the likes of him. His pants are black and so is his shirt. Dirt is packed under each nail. The fella desperately needs a bath.
Ignoring my own body odor, I offer him my sinful hand. It gives me a small satisfaction knowing he’ll have to shake the hand I used for my dirty deed.
The young man’s brown eyes light up. “Kristopher.”
Karen clears her throat, which earns her a sharp glare from Pa.
“And this is my beloved daughter Karen.”
Karen starts to shake his hand, but a firm grip of Pa’s hand on her shoulder keeps her in place. She waves at him, a silly grin on her face. “Hi, Luke.”
“Luke’s traveled a long way, but you Greenes know that fatigue doesn’t get in the way of work that needs doing.” Pa nods at Luke. “Out back there’s a wood pile. Find some decent logs for us to put on the fire for tonight. It’s colder here than where you’re from. As soon as I can, I’ll get you some proper clothes to borrow from Kristopher.”
“Yeah,” Luke says as he steps back. “Okay.”
“Yes, sir.” Pa’s tone is sharp. “It’s how you will respond. You don’t live in a barn now. You aren’t a hillbilly now. You’re mine now, boy.”
I wince at Pa’s harshly delivered words, but Luke simply smiles. As though he wants to be Pa’s. If it’s true, he’ll be a perfect husband for my sister. Pa loves obedience.
“Has he come to live with us?” I demand, hating the fire in my words. It’ll only get me sent back to the white room. I can’t afford to be down there with him around. She’ll need my protection.
“My, uh, mom died,” Luke says sadly. “I’ve come to live with my uncle Charles.”
Uncle.
Uncle.
“You’re my cousin?”
He nods and I don’t miss Karen’s frown of disappointment. Relief floods through me. Not a husband. Family.
“Enough with the chitchat,” Pa barks. “Supper will be ready soon. Go on, boy. Do as you’re told.”
Luke eagerly bounds out the door, letting it slam loudly behind him.
“I’ll help,” I croak out the moment Pa’s hard stare lands on me. “If that’s okay, sir.”
His lips press into a firm line. “That’s not okay. You need to wake your mother.”
Karen and I both cringe. Linda is not our mother.
“Yes, sir,” I grumble.
His fierce hazel eyes burn into me. “Lose that fire in your eyes, son, or I’ll snuff it out for you.”
My eyes drop to the carpet and my voice is a whisper this time. “Yes, sir.”
“Karen, back to the kitchen. Set another place at the table.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Karen,” he barks out, making her jolt. “Try again.”
“Yes, sir,” she croaks out.
“Good girl.”
* * *
Luke
Mom would like it here. It makes me wonder if she ever lived here with him. I bypass the woodpile to seek out evidence my mother once dwelled here. The air is colder. I hadn’t noticed the temperature change on the bus ride. I’d sneaked onto a bus and hidden for the duration of the trip. As soon as I stepped off, I was shocked by the cold. Now, it invigorates me. Emboldens me. Excites me.
I walk through a few trees and find myself at a clearing. A circle of dirt catches my attention. It makes me think of Mom’s favorite record. Will the nosy neighbor steal it while I’m gone? The idea makes me want to vomit, but I push it away as my knees fall to the ground. The dirt here is nearly as black as the vinyl. I run my fingertips around one edge of the circle, almost expecting to hear the crackling of the record right before the song starts.
No music comes.
Nothing but the sound of wind whistling through trees.
The black dirt is easily scooped from its place. It reminds me of how I dug my mother’s grave. So simple. Just cup my hand and scoop. Again and again and again.
I have quite the small heap of dirt beside me when something tickles the back of my neck. Swatting at it, I expect to kill a giant bug. Instead, I touch hair. Someone else’s. Swiveling around on my knees, I look up to see her. My cousin. Karen.
An angel.
Her blond hair flows out in front of her, reaching toward me like it wants to dance. I lift my hand and let the ends tickle my dirty palm. I’ve never seen hair so long. It must be as long as her knees.
“Your hair is beautiful,” I blurt out.
Like Mom’s.
Her face blushes pink. “Thank you.”
Rising to my feet, I cock my head and study her. It’s been Mom and I for so long, I forgot how it feels to be around other people. Especially girls my age. I think she’s my age.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen. You?”
“Eighteen.”
She laughs. “I’m older than you.”
“I’m taller.” I grin back and scratch at my stubble. “I can grow a beard.”
She pretends to pout and it’s quite adorable. “You sound like Kristopher now, though he can’t grow a hair on his face to save his life.”
His name makes my eye twitch, but I ignore it because he’s my cousin too. Family. I’m supposed to love him. Love them both.
“Maybe we’ll gang up on you,” I tease. “What will you do then?”