Page 3 of Torn

My father was right. It was the polite thing to do. Besides, it would give me the opportunity to see the handsome boy up close and talk to him.

I walked into the marquee and headed over to the left buffet table. A plate of my mom’s beignets sat close to one end. I grabbed three of them and put them on napkins before making my way over to the Ashwood family.

They didn’t see or hear me coming, so they kept talking amongst themselves. One thing I’d noticed about adults was that their hearing was never as good as mine. I regularly overheard a lot of things I wasn’t supposed to, and this conversation was no different.

“We can’t just leave. It looks rude if we show up somewhere and then dash away less than fifteen minutes later,” Mrs. Ashwood was saying. Her accent was the same as mine.

“Well, I didn’t know they had some crazy event going on,” Frank said, brows drawn together in a frown. He obviously wasn’t from our state. His accent sounded similar to the people from my mom’s favorite TV show, Friends. I wasn’t supposed to watch adult shows, but I sneaked out and watched it sometimes when she didn’t know I was awake, because I thought it must be good if she liked it.

“Have you heard the shit they’re all spouting?” Frank went on.

Mrs. Ashwood shrugged. “Not really, to be honest. I’ve been too busy admiring the house and all the trees.”

“Just look at the pamphlet one of them handed me, for Christ’s sake. It’s insane. They’re all brainwashed.”

“You know, for someone who isn’t religious, you sure do take the Lord’s name in vain a lot,” she said. She didn’t look angry at the blasphemy, though. Her eyes were twinkling and her lips were curved in a half-smile. She was amused.

Frank thrust one of the spiritual retreat pamphlets at her. “Look at it. Jacob Chastain has lost the fucking plot,” he said in a low voice. “He was a decent guy back in the day, but holy shit, this is literally doomsday cult material. All this ‘the end is nigh’ and ‘repent your sins to Him before the Millennium arrives’ shit… it’s all over the place here, and the people are swallowing it far too fucking happily. Some of them look damn well dazed. They even call him ‘Prophet Jacob’. This nutso shit is not exactly what I had in mind when I decided to come and visit.”

“Well, we don’t want to be rude. We’ll hang around a little longer, just to be polite, and then we’ll make our excuses and leave,” his wife replied in an insistent tone. “Besides, crazy cult stuff aside, this property is just gorgeous, isn’t it?” she went on, casting a dreamy gaze around with one hand outstretched. “I actually came here on a school trip when I was a child, before the Chastains owned it. It’s an incredible spot. All the natural beauty this parish has to offer rolled into one patch of land.”

Frank chuckled. “You sound like a damn tourism campaign for the state,” he said, rubbing her arm affectionately. “But okay, fine, we’ll stay a while longer. It’s nice for Mason to see the area his mom grew up in, I suppose, even if the experience comes with a rambling cult leader.”

Now I knew the boy’s name. Mason.

By now I was standing awkwardly by the Ashwoods, waiting for a lull in the conversation so I could introduce myself and give them the sweet treats. The wife suddenly noticed me as she looked toward the house again, and her eyes widened in a flustered expression. “Oh! Hello, sweetie. Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

I didn’t let on that I’d heard their insulting conversation. It would be very awkward, and I knew the right thing to do was to forgive them for their ignorance and move on. They didn’t know any better, after all, because they weren’t members of our church and hadn’t heard all the teachings. They didn’t know that my father occasionally received messages directly from the heavens, either.

“Hello. I’m Jolie Chastain,” I said with a smile, holding out the napkins. “My father asked me to bring you some beignets. My mother made them.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you. I’m Marie, and this is my husband, Frank,” the woman said. I was surprised to hear her talk. Usually the head of a family would speak up above the others, and that was always a man. “And this…” Marie went on, touching her hand to her son’s arm. “This is our son Mason.”

“Hi,” he said. His voice was rich and deep. That nervous, fluttery feeling immediately returned to my chest.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shyly averting my eyes from his mesmerizing gaze a few seconds later. His expression was slightly sour, but his hazel eyes were so beautiful that it wouldn’t have mattered if he scrunched his face up into the ugliest expression ever. He would still be the most handsome boy in the whole universe, and I wouldn’t be able to look at him for more than five seconds without my face burning up.

“These look delicious,” Frank said, taking one of the beignets from me. “Thanks, kiddo.”

“Yes, thank you very much, Jolie. They smell absolutely divine,” Marie said with a nod, taking a beignet as well. She bit into it, then let out a blissful groan. “Mmm. Wonderful.”

“I’ll tell my mom you liked them. Anyway, are you enjoying your visit?” I asked. I was trying to sound mature by repeating things I’d heard my mother say to guests in the past.

“Very much. I actually grew up near here,” Marie said. “Frank is originally from Connecticut, and we live in New York now, so it’s lovely to come back here and show these boys what they’re missing.” She gave both Mason and her husband friendly nudges.

Mason rolled his eyes. “She makes us visit all the time.”

“Oh, you love it,” Marie said with a teasing smile.

“If it’s so great, why do James, Ella and Andrew get to spend their summer in Africa? You didn’t drag them here.” Mason crossed his arms across his broad chest.

Marie flashed me a good-natured smile. “Mason isn’t happy that his siblings went overseas this summer.”

“Oh, you have other kids?” I said, my brows shooting up.

“Yes. But they’re a bit older, and they’re doing volunteer work for Habitat for Humanity this summer.” She turned to Mason again. “Which I recall you describing as ‘boring’, young man. So why would you even want to go with them?”

He grunted and took a bite of the beignet I’d brought over for him. The sour look on his face immediately vanished. “Shit. This isgood. Think you could grab me another one, Josie?”

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