Page 11 of Brutal Sinner

Her face turns crimson as she giggles and whispers, “Edward, ma’am.”

“The gardener?”

She nods. A secretive smile on her face.

“He told me he was going to ask my father to arrange a marriage between us.”

Once again, our dictatorial ways come back and bite me because the women of Heaven never get to choose. It’s always the men and yet, in Goody’s case, she appears more than happy about that.

“When?” I ask with a happy smile, and she grins.

“One week from today.”

“Why wait?” I’m confused, and she says sadly.

“We cannot ask the reverend while he’s in mourning. One week and he will be talking business again. He must be the first to learn of it outside of my father and Edward, so we must keep it a secret until then.”

Once again, she reminds me of my fate and my face falls.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” She rests a comforting hand on my arm, and I force a bright smile on my face.

“I’m happy for you, Goody. Really happy. You are the lucky one.”

“I count my blessings, ma’am, and thank the good lord for granting me happiness.”

I can’t help hating every word she says because surely if the good lord had any hand in happiness, this town would be a very different place. Instead, I nod. “Well, I suppose we’re all packed.”

“I should go and prepare supper, ma’am.”

“Of course. Thanks, Goody, you’ve been a great help.”

As she leaves, I sit on my bed with only my troubled thoughts for company. Supper will be ready in two hours’ time, after which I’m expected to leave my childhood home for my marital one. I picture it as my own last supper before my life changes forever.

It’s as if we live in ancient times and I hate every minute of it. I am filled with despair because they have backed me into a corner, and I have nowhere to run. Not without Hope, anyway. More than anything, I am impatient to get to her because my baby is the only thing that matters above my own life. Knowing she is being held hostage in the reverend’s home fires up my anger and causes the beast inside me to roar.

The door opens and I struggle to control my anger as mom heads inside and wastes no time in sitting beside me on the bed.

“What?” I say angrily and she says with disapproval. “Anger is the curse of the devil.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.”

“Faith!” she says with a warning in her voice, and I bite back.

“Why mom? This isn’t right and you know it.”

“It’s the best for you and for Hope.”

“And for you. You told me downstairs. You sold me out to get your reputation back and tohim. How could you?”

The disgust is evident in my voice and to my surprise, mom says in a sad voice. “I’m sorry, Faith, you have every right to be angry with us.”

It shocks me silent because for the first time in my life, my mother is apologizing to me.

“I was young once, Faith.”

I still as a little of mom’s past unravels before me.

“I understand what it’s like. What it’s like to want something forbidden.”

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