Page 22 of Up In Smoke

He almost prompted, “with thirteen brothers and sisters,” but she continued.

“It was a very religious community on the outskirts of a very small town. At the time, I just thought we were godlier than everyone else.”

Oh, shit, he thought.

She turned ever so slightly, her eyes completing the arc to catch him and maybe to assess his expression. Was she deciding whether to tell him what came next? Luke kept his expression neutral and friendly, hoping she felt she could trust him.

“Looking back, I'd have to call it a cult. The women were only allowed to wear pastel colors. We made our own clothing and the men’s. We baked our own bread. We buttoned ourselves up to our neck and wore skirts down to our ankles.”

“Are you Amish? Or Mennonite?”

He shouldn't have asked. She shook her head.

“No. That's actually far too …” she searched for the right word. “Christianfor what we were.”

“You weren't Christian?” He shouldn’t have said that either.

“We called ourselves Christians, but I don't think there was actually anything from Jesus in it. I sure can’t see it now that I've been allowed to read things for myself.”

Oh, fuck.One of those. He decided to dip his toe in. It might explain a lot if he was right. “Powerful church leaders, subservient women?”

“Got it in one.” Ivy smiled and tipped her drink at him as though he’d won a party game rather than a glimpse into her shitty childhood. “Girls didn’t get educated past the fourth grade. The boys did. Some of them were even allowed to go away to college. But the women were just there to serve …” She waved her hand as if to indicate everything. “We were supposed to be modest so that the men didn't want us. And when the men did want us, we were supposed to take care of it. We existed only to cook and clean. I was raised to be somebody else's servant and not my own person.”

So many things snapped into place for Luke in that moment: The cute khaki skirts that hit just below the knee and on wild and crazy days, just above. The sweater sets. Even the library made more sense. A woman like Ivy, denied knowledge, would certainly become ravenous. “Is there more?”

The laugh that bubbled out of her started cute and sweet. But it quickly turned sour, then bitter and harsh. “Alder, my oldest brother, the one who passed away this year—”

Luke nodded again. It seemed that was all he could do.

“—He was a real asshole. As the oldest male, he was the heir apparent to my father. My father was a church elder, thus very well respected in the community, so he wielded a lot of power with his opinion.”

“One of the leaders up there with the minister?”

This time it was Ivy who nodded, though she couldn’t make eye contact with him. “The one others tried to be like. The one that the other men listened to and the woman obeyed. As the oldest son, Alder could do no wrong. His wife, Julie—I don't know—I think maybe she was just the meekest, most agreeable woman they could find. She was just ‘good’ and ‘pretty’.”

Luke watched as Ivy's eyes darted to the side and tears formed. Was there something about Julie in particular that made her sad? Or was it just that these were the woman's most important attributes?

“They had had two kids ...” She paused, sucked in a breath, and tried again. When that didn’t work and the words still didn’t come, Ivy shot down half of what remained of the hard cider.

Luke was beginning to get worried. Did she have any food in her system? Hell, did she even have any food in the house? He didn’t want to stand up and leave her even to walk a few feet and look in the fridge. So he softly mimicked her motion, taking a much smaller drink of his own—in case he needed to drive later—and sitting next to her.

“I left. Obviously,” she told him, sitting so still that he wouldn't believe she was talking if he didn't hear her. “And every year on the anniversary, I look them up. Try to figure out what's new. They're hard to find. Nobody has social media profiles. They don't make the news very often. Unless,” she gulped, “they die and get an obituary. But once a year, I stay up all night, searching everything I can.”

Luke put it together before she said it.

“That's why I wasn't in my bed on the night of the fire.”

That was the anniversary.That was why she'd fallen asleep in the small back room with her computer.

“So I got interrupted this year. I had to put the house back together.” She waved her hand around again, only this time she almost hit him. She was definitely getting drunk. “It’s not the anniversary anymore, but I hadn’t finished so I tried again, and this time I went through by each name, not just the family. I found Alder’s obituary. I knew from a previous search a couple years ago that he had two kids, but they've had two more sons.”

Luke wanted to ask how her brother had died, but he didn't dare. Ivy went in an entirely different direction, and he let her. Clearly, most of it was too painful.

“We got a new Assistant Minister when I was about twelve.” She took another deep breath and Luke hated the pain that flashed in her eyes. “He sexually abused my little sisters, Peony, Violet, and Rose. Lily and I were older. And by sheer luck of the draw—” her voice cracked, “—he wasn't interested in us.”

Luke’s chest felt like it was caving in. Ivy had carried all of this for so long. As far as he knew, she hadn’t even told Jo. “You found out?”

She nodded slowly and carefully. “We all did. Honestly, a few of us had our suspicions about the little girls, but it was Peony who told us one night. She was a few years older than the others, but he’d gotten her too. She said she didn't think it was right that they weren't married.”

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