Ember glances over her shoulder at me for reassurance that all is fine, but her smile is still present and even brighter than before. I nod and then turn to the side of the store that carries the men’s clothing. “You ladies do all the damage you want. Ember has an empty closet that needs to be filled.”
I appreciate that Christina doesn’t treat either of us like a pity case. She doesn’t ask us questions, even though I know she’s dying to. I also love that she is being so welcoming and kind to Ember. She’s the first person to truly do so since we escaped, unless you count Ms. Evans, but even Ms. Evans stared at us as if we were walking ghosts. Not Christina. She sees me as her friend, and she sees Ember as the woman I love.
“She needs undergarments, shoes… everything,” I say as I start searching for my size in a pile of nicely folded jeans. I then steal a look at Christina, who is holding a dress up to Ember. “I think Ember will prefer flats too. My mother is trying to break her ankles in those heels she loaned her.”
Rather than brushing me off or telling me that women must wear what’s in style, Christina nods and says, “I have the cutest ballet flats that are going to look amazing on you. We have several colors, and I think Christopher’s credit card demands to have one of each.”
I laugh, watch Ember hold back laughter with mischief in her eyes that I love seeing, and call out, “Whatever Ember wants.”
What feels like an eternity of watching Ember go into the changing room, out of the changing room in clothes that fit her perfectly, and then back into the changing room to repeat, and repeat, and repeat, we are finally done. I don’t even look at the final total, nor do I care. I would buy the entire store for Ember if she wanted it. The woman deserves to be pampered, even though she doesn’t even know what that is.
“Is there anything left in the store?” I tease, but I walk up to Ember, wrap my arms around her from behind, and kiss the side of her neck. “You looked beautiful in everything.”
“Oh, I had a little mercy,” Christina says. “A little.”
“Are you sure?” Ember asks as she looks at me for approval. “We don’t have to get everything if you feel it’s too much.”
“Let’s bring the bags to the driver,” I say, ignoring her concern. “He can bring them home while we’re having dinner.” I give Ember a kiss on her forehead. “It’s the first of many shopping trips. You’ll never do without or have to borrow clothing from anyone again.”
I spin her around to get one more look at her, which has her blushing and laughing lightly. Ember remains in a dress from the shop that has flowers on it. It sort of reminds me of the floral dresses she wore in Hallelujah Junction, but it actually fits her, isn’t faded, and is modern and from this decade.
I look down at her feet in a pair of beige flats and ask, “Do those feel all right?”
She follows my gaze to her feet and says, “They still feel… restrictive. But much better than those other awful shoes I was wearing. How do women wear those all day?”
“We’re masochists, my friend. Masochists,” Christina says with a sparkling laugh. “But no need to be like us. You look amazing today, and I love your style. I wish I could pull off the innocent, pure look you have. Work it to your favor.”
“Thank you so much,” Ember replies. “You have the most beautiful clothes in your store, and I can’t thank you enough for helping me. I wouldn’t have known where to start.” She then walks over to where I stand putting my credit card away and wraps her arms around me tightly. “Thank you, Christopher. Thank you for arranging this and for getting me all these clothes and shoes. I needed to get out of the house. I appreciate everything, but—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “It’s a lot.” I kiss her briefly on the lips. “And no need to thank me. We’re married now. It’s a husband’s duty to spoil his wife.”
“Oh, it’s just the beginning,” Christina says. “We’re going to enjoy spoiling the hell out of you.” She bags up the last of the purchases and looks at her watch. “We finished just in time to head to Luciano’s. Michael will be waiting for us with a meal like no other. We need to fatten you both up a little.”
I pause and take in the happiness I see on Ember’s face. It’s a look I’ve never truly seen before, and a look I plan to make happen every single day.
My captive bride is finally happy. A little taste of freedom is all it takes.
8
Ember
I’ve never been to a restaurant before. Like everything with my life, I’ve read about them, imagined them, but never thought I would actually be inside one, sitting at a table, and about to eat at one.
“Sit, sit, sit,” Michael says with more excitement than I’ve ever seen.
He motions us to a table that has a white tablecloth, candles burning, and place settings waiting for us to eat on. I feel out of place, but his warm smile reminds me of his wife’s, and I start to warm up to the situation the minute I realize it’s just Christopher, Christina, Michael, and me.
Once we sit down, Michael places his hand on Christopher’s shoulder, and his joyous expression morphs to one of seriousness. “It’s good to have you back, buddy. It’s so fucking good to actually see you here in front of me.”
“You aren’t going to get all mushy on me now, are ya, Mike?” Christopher teases.
“Asshole,” Michael mumbles, but he playfully punches Christopher before announcing, “I have the best pasta dishes made up in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”
When he turns to leave, Christina reaches for a bottle of open wine and pours it in all four glasses. Papa Rich didn’t believe in drinking—well… he didn’t believe in me drinking. He would drink hard liquor from time to time, but nothing for me. I’m not about to say anything, however, because I desperately want to fit in. For the first time since we left Hallelujah Junction, I feel somewhat normal in my new clothes and my pair of shoes. I like the way Christopher looks at me.
I like the way I looked at me when I saw my reflection in the mirror.
I no longer look like the ghost of Hallelujah Junction and the daughter of a serial killer.
Michael returns with a large tray full of bowls of different pastas and breads. Unlike how I felt this morning being served by Ms. Evans, this time feels different. This time feels like Michael is getting enjoyment out of cooking and serving the ones he cares about. I like being part of it. I like that I seem to be giving him joy simply by sitting and welcoming his food.
He sits down, picks up his full glass of wine, and raises his glass for a toast. We all lift ours as well, as he says, “To Christopher, for returning to us safe when we had all given up hope. To Ember, for joining our often crazy but very loyal clan of friends. And to friendship. May we never be parted again.”
We all tap our glasses, and I sip from the wine as if it isn’t the first time for me. I steal a glance at Christopher, who is smiling at me as he drinks. He knows I’ve never drank wine before, but he seems pleased I’m so willing to try to assimilate to the experience.