Page 16 of Melt For Us, Daddy
“There you go. It might be a little bitter at first, but Cordelia likes hers with so much milk and sugar you can barely tell. Just try a sip and if you hate it, you don’t have to try it again.”
He couldn’t really argue those points. At least, not in a way that didn’t rely solely on the maybe-truths he’d been taught his entire life.
So he picked up the mug, and sipped.
It definitely didn’t taste as good as it smelled, which was a disappointment. But it wasn’t entirely bad, either. Sweet and creamy, with just a hint of that bitterness Holden had mentioned. He swallowed, then took another sip.
“It’s good. Different, but good.”
But when he tried to hand the mug back to Cordelia, she waved him off. “Keep it. I’ll make my own.”
“Go ahead and sit. I’ll pour us each a cup while you talk to Jacob.”
“Thanks, Zach.” Lowering herself onto the seat across the table once again, Cordelia pinned him with those deep green eyes. “All right, Jacob. You said last night you came to us for help. What exactly do you need us to do?”
Chapter 6
Cordelia
Across the table, Jacob blinked slowly. Long, dark lashes framed eyes the same slate gray she remembered from her own childhood. Strange how such things could be passed down, so exactly, from one generation to the next.
Strange, and more than a little unsettling.
“My sisters.” His voice was stronger, more sure than she’d heard it yet when he finally spoke. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he rolled his shoulders back, meeting her gaze with a fierce determination she couldn’t help but admire.
Good boy.
“I want to get my sisters out. They won’t all come, I know that already. Some of them are married and even more pious than their mothers, if that’s possible. But Hannah, Sarabeth, Ruthie. All the younger ones. I need to get them out, as soon as possible.”
“Why now?” Holden asked, his voice gruff but not unkind. “You’re what? Nineteen? Twenty? Why are you so adamant about leaving now?”
“Twenty-one next month, sir.”
Just a boy, though he was almost five years older than she’d been when she’d left. Still, her heart broke for him, and the child he was never allowed to be. Her hands ached to reach for him, to hold him, but she held herself back. Lending her support, her expertise, was one thing. Getting emotionally entangled with someone who represented everything she’d fought tooth and fucking nail to leave behind was another thing altogether.
God, she wished Ivy was here. Her girl always knew when she was struggling, always knew exactly the right thing to say or do, even before Cordelia knew it herself.
But she wasn’t here, because Cordelia had royally fucked up. She’d kept things, big, important things, from the woman she loved and now she was here, without her, wondering if she’d ever be able to repair the damage she’d done.
Putting those worries on the shelf for now, she focused again on Jacob, who was staring down into his coffee as though it held all the answers.
“My father is… I don’t think he’s well.” Lifting his head, worry clouding the pale gray of his eyes, he jerked his chin up. “No. I know he’s not well. How can he be if he’s trying to force me to marry my sister? It’s not against church doctrine, not exactly, but it can’t be right. That can’t be what God wants, can it?”
“No. It isn’t,” Cordelia assured him, as strongly as she could. “Your sisters with husbands… how old were they when they got married?”
“Abigail was wed last month. She’s only fourteen.” Fire flashed in his eyes. “You’re asking me because that’s wrong, too. Forcing children to marry.”
“Yes.” Fuck, she needed some air. “It’s wrong to force anyone to marry. But especially a child.”
He nodded, slowly. “I watched a… I think it was called a docuseries last night. About the church. I never realized how much it hurt them. I’ve attended dozens of weddings. Some as young as twelve. And I never knew. Never even thought to ask if it would hurt them.”
Giving into to that need to comfort, to soothe, she reached across the table to take his hand, giving it a hard squeeze. “You didn’t know. And now that you do, you’re going to help us fix it. That’s what good men do, Jacob. And you’re a good man. You hear me?”
Some of the grief faded from his eyes and he nodded slowly, but she knew from personal experience he would carry it with him forever.
Just as she had.
“Good.” With another squeeze, she released his hand and leaned back in her chair. “Holden? What are our options?”
