Page 68 of Salvation
His fingers are steepled together and pressed against his mouth. He takes his time answering, finding joy in making me wait. It’s evident from the cold glint in his eye, but I don’t move an inch. He wants me to squirm, but I refuse to give that to him.
“Do you really care how she is, son?”
I hate him. I don’t hate anyone, but I hate him. Condescension oozes from his voice, and I grip my hands into fists to keep from punching him.
“I’m not your son, sir. I have a dad, and yes, I do care. Ivy’s all I care about, so respectfully, I’d like to know how she is.”
Henry’s jaw tightens, but I hold his gaze, refusing to give in.
“She’s fine, considering the circumstances,” he concedes.
For the first time in two weeks, I breathe normally again. My shoulders sink, and I relax my fingers. “I want to marry her, sir.”
I spent every hour planning how this conversation would go in my head. I have an argument for every reason he may say no, but what I didn’t expect was for Henry to laugh in my face. Honestly, I don’t think the man has ever laughed.
My eyes dart around the room, searching for something else that could have been funny, but when my gaze lands back on him, I know it’s me. I can hear my heart beating in my ears as he swipes away a couple of tears.
“What’s so funny, sir?” I ask between my teeth. Frustration bubbles into my voice, finally revealing my hand.
As quick as it started, his laughter ends as he levels me with a stare. “You are, son. Why would you want to marry that girl?”
My anger is like boiling lava rushing through my veins. Hate isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for the man before me. That’s his granddaughter he’s talking about, but more than that, she’s my future wife—and I refuse to listen to it another second.
“That girl has a name. It’s Ivy, and I’m only going to ask one time that you use it, sir,” I say, in the same tone he used. Standing up, I loom above his desk, placing knuckles against the wood and leaning in. “And I want to marry her because I love her, but I don’t expect you to understand that because I’m not sure you know what love is.”
Henry’s lip tilts up in a sneer, but he doesn’t move to stand. It’s a good thing, too. My dad would be ashamed, but right now, I’m not above fighting an old man.
“I wonder,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “if you will still feel the same way when you know the truth.”
“What truth?” I demand. “You said Ivy is fine.”
Something dark and evil glimmers in the older man’s eyes as he moves forward, bracing his elbows on the desk until we are nearly nose to nose. “Yes, but you didn’t ask about the baby.”
My stomach sinks. I hadn’t asked, not because I didn’t care, but because I figured I could ask Ivy when this whole thing was settled.
“What about the baby?” I ask slowly.
A smile slowly creeps onto Henry’s face. “Maybe I should just let you marry Ivy, then you could find out what type of person she is all by yourself.”
He says her name as if she is mud on his shoe, and I’ve had enough. Grabbing the front of his shirt, I pull him toward me. His eyes widen as he loses his balance, falling into the desk, but I don’t let go. I’ve never been this angry before. I’m shaking. “What. about. the. baby?”
“It’s gone,” he practically spits. Shock has me loosening my hold, and he stands, smoothing out the front of his shirt and running his hand through his hair.
I shake my head. I’m not stupid enough to believe a word this man tells me. “No,” I say, my voice not as strong as before. “You’re lying.”
He cocks a brow. “Am I? I have the abortion documents right here in my desk if you’d like to see.” My heart stops beating. Ivy wouldn’t do that. He’s lying. He has to be lying. Henry is oblivious to my internal struggle, or maybe he’s reveling in it. I just know that it’s suddenly hard to breathe in here.
Opening the top drawer of his desk, he pulls out a stack of papers and throws them down in front of me. They land with the sound of the final nail being driven into my coffin because right there on top is proof that he’s telling the truth. I don’t move to take them. I can’t. I’m frozen in the hell around me.
“All those years raising that girl to be a proper Christian, and this is how she turns out. It’s sad, really,” Henry says, false empathy painting his voice. “Now tell me, do you still want to marry the girl?”
Slowly, I drag my eyes up to meet his. There’s still a smile on his face as if this whole thing is amusing.
“You’re no Christian,” I say, but all the heat in my voice is gone. My whole body is numb. Empty. I have nothing left to give. “You may go to church and sit in that pew, but you’re a hypocrite dressed in a Sunday suit. If anything, she had thatabortion because she wouldn’t have wanted our baby around you.”
“So is that a no to the marriage?”
Picking up the papers, I throw them back to his side of the desk. “Keep your papers. I don’t want them.”
