It’s word for word from my wedding day with Christopher.
Christopher… my husband.
My old husband.
No longer. Never again. Goodbye, Christopher.
Scarecrow and Papa Rich both say, “Amen,” but I barely squeak out the word, as my throat feels like it’s closing.
My heart is shattering, because I truly believed Christopher and I would be wed for life. We gave our vows. We spoke the words.
But then, I remind myself that he was forced to marry me. He was forced to love me. He was forced to care for me after our rescue. He was forced in every aspect. He didn’t marry me of his own free will, and even though he said he’d watch over me after we were rescued… did he really have a choice? No. I forced that too.
Force.
This is my punishment for my part in his captivity. This is God’s way of righting our sins.
I have to marry Scarecrow.
Papa Rich opens his hands before us, and resting in his palm are two gold bands. I take the larger one, and Scarecrow takes the smaller. It’s the same ring I wore with Christopher that Papa Rich had taken from me on the plane. They are recycling the ring. The same ring but a different man.
“Brother Scarecrow.” Papa Rich slices through my thoughts. “Do you take Sister Ember to be your bride, to honor, to cherish, and to walk under God’s eyes together as one?”
“I do,” he says with a smile on his face that shows nearly every decayed tooth in his mouth.
“Sister Ember,” Papa Rich continues as I consider running outside and jumping off the ledge of the cliff and putting myself out of the misery I feel and know more will come. “Do you take Brother Scarecrow to be your husband, to honor, obey, and walk under God’s eyes together as one?”
“I do,” I somehow manage to say. I’m still not sure if it’s because the possibility of death by falling to my demise is still on the table.
The gold band slides onto my finger, and I allow the tears that had been threatening to shed cascade down my cheeks.
At least I have the ring. It will remind me of Christopher. It will keep him close to me in a small way.
I swipe at a tear. But is that what I want? Do I want a constant reminder of what I had but what never truly belonged to me to begin with?
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Run to the cliff now.
Run and jump.
Run and jump!
Death is better than—
Scarecrow leans forward and presses his chapped and scabby lips to mine. The kiss is brief, but not brief enough. I nearly vomit, but before I do, he mercifully pulls away, beats his cane on the floor, and lets out a hoot.
“Hot damn, I got me Wife Number Three!”
“It’s getting late,” Papa Rich says, acting as if he didn’t just marry his daughter off for the second time.
No big deal, right?
Just take a bride from one husband and have her marry a second.
“True,” Scarecrow says, studying me. “Out of respect for Richard being under the roof, we’ll wait to consummate the marriage when I return.”
His words are as if the angels from above flew down and granted me their grace.
Consummate the marriage…
The very thought….
Thank God for his decision.
I’ve survived some extremely harsh situations, but I don’t believe I can survive having Scarecrow inside me. I can’t have sex with the man. I’d die first.
“Holly will be sleeping with me tonight,” Scarecrow adds. He points to a corner of the room with a tattered curtain hanging. “Ember, that will be your room. Violet will assist you in finding bedding. We don’t have much, but I’m sure she can muster something up.” He then looks at Papa Rich. “I’m sure you can make do with your pack?”
Papa Rich nods. “Let’s get some sleep. We got a long journey ahead of us tomorrow.”
Violet takes me by the hand. “I have an extra blanket from my bed for you, and I know we have some straw.” She then leans into me and whispers in my ear, “When they leave, we can take from Holly and Scarecrow’s bed, as they have extra blankets and pillows for him. I know Holly will share.”
I somehow get my feet to move, which oddly feels as if I’m floating. I’m not sure if I’m shocked by what just occurred, if I’m grieving over my new life, or if I’m … suicidal. The thought of the cliff outside still lingers in my mind.
The strong stench of onion will forever burn my nostrils, and the vows I made to Scarecrow will forever taint my tongue.
When Violet and I are behind my privacy curtain, she begins making my bed. “I know you don’t want to be here,” she says. “I don’t blame you.” She looks up at me and smiles. “But I’m happy you’re here. It will be nice to have some extra company around. It’s awfully lonely up here on the mountain.”
I try to smile politely back, but my face is frozen in misery. I wonder if I will ever smile again.
8
Ember
It’s so cold. Bone-shattering cold.
We don’t have enough firewood to get us through the night unless we use it sparingly, which sadly isn’t enough to keep the chapel warm. The three of us knew Papa Rich and Scarecrow didn’t leave us with enough food to survive the entire time they’ll be gone, so we spent the next two days foraging for food before the snowfall made it impossible to do so. Which then meant we didn’t gather and chop firewood like we should, since something had to give.
Luckily for us, Violet seemed to have good luck when she went into the forest alone. She’d come back with a basketful of mushrooms or berries. She went out this morning, insisting to go alone, and came home with two rabbits and told us she came across them in traps that must have been set by Scarecrow. Violet’s eyes sparkled with pride, but she never smiled.
None of us smiled.
Sadness is her permanent, as it is ours.
But no matter how sad Violet appears, a sweetness masters all else. Such a gentle soul. So kind, generous in everything she does, and I truly have fallen in love with her. Even in this short time, it’s impossible not to. I never had a sister, and now… I have two.
Holly—though kind—is very different in how she interacts with me. Strong, steadfast, and determined are her characteristics, but they all give me comfort. I know I can count on Holly and her leadership. She knows this mountain. She understands how it ticks, how it breathes. The mountaintop has a heartbeat, and her palm is the one over it.
She collects pine needles and rosehip for teas. She pulls moss and pine branches and carries them back to the chapel to fill in all the gaps in the wood that allows in the cool air. She has also placed containers outside to start collecting water when the storm comes. She’s preparing for the storm, and it’s obvious this isn’t her first time.
Because it’s so cold tonight, we all choose to make our beds around the fire rather than our respective corners with our privacy curtains pulled. I’ve reached a point of comfort with the women, and I figure we’ll spend the majority of the approaching winter together with the fire giving us warmth rather than concealing ourselves in coldness.
The fire crackles, and I hear the heavy breathing of Holly asleep beneath a thick quilt. Easy sleep—her reward for the hard work she does in a day. Sleep of my own begins to take over when I feel Violet’s body cuddle up behind me. Considering the chill in the room, I don’t mind the touch and the need for body heat.