faces, but that we were out of sync was obvious. For a terrible moment, I actually believed my father would hit me. Before this year, the thought would never cross my mind.
“What has?” I asked. “What option?”
Straightening, Dad drew Mother to his side, wrapping his arm around her. Two against one.
“Belle, you will go to the cove, participate and complete all tasks given to you, and at the end, choose a husband. If you don’t, you’ll be cut off.”
I froze. The words swirled around my head, knocking on my skull to penetrate and sink the horrid truth in.
No. This isn’t happening.
“I’m afraid it is.”
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud.
“If you do not leave Friday morning with the commitment to honor and obey us, then you should have no expectation of living off our money. We will not pay for college. Your bank accounts will be drained. Your car sold and”—Dad held Mom tighter as a sob leaked out of her—“you will no longer be welcome in our home.”
Dad emptied his quiver, notching each arrow of my life, home, and security, and using them to rip through my heart. I was crying—thick, hot rivulets falling faster than Mom.
My voice shook though I tried not to. “D-Daddy, please. You can’t kick me out with n-nothing. If you do... he’ll find me.”
A flicker crossed his face, gone just as quickly as it came. “That will not happen, Belle, because you’ll do as we say. Go to the cove. Make a good match who’ll be there for you after we’re gone. Do this and we won’t have to speak of this again.”
“Won’t speak of this again?” I pushed myself up on legs that shook. “You’re holding my life and future hostage. This isn’t something we can sweep under the rug. It’s not something we can ever come back from... and you know that. Nothing will be the same between us.”
His face remained impassive. “Dispense with the dramatics, Belle. One day, when you’re a parent, you’ll understand that everything we do is for your life, future, and happiness.”
“Mom, tell him—”
“Your father and I are united on this.” Tears dug tracks in her makeup, dripping it onto her shawl. “The lawyers have already been contacted. You agree or you will be cut off.”
“Agree to what?! Get married? What if no one wants to marry me after my embarrassing display? Do I come home to my stuff in trash bags on the front lawn, and leave to count the days until he finds me?”
Dad reached for me, likely to brush my hair in the way that always soothed me. I flung myself away and the gentle moment passed. Before my eyes, Dad hardened.
“You underestimate yourself, Belle, and what you have to offer. You’re a bright, talented young lady. There will be no shortage of potential fiancés and we expect you to consider each one and choose the man you can see a life with. That is all we’ve ever asked, but you’re determined to sabotage this opportunity out of sheer spite. Now you know the consequences if that continues.
“If at the conclusion of the summer no one proposes, then of course, we will not kick you out. You’ll simply try again in another three years. Understood?”
A thousand replies sprang to my lips. Pleas. Curses. Promises. Rationalizations. Anything and everything I could think of to change my father’s mind.
I let them fade away unsaid. I could appeal to my father, but not to the stranger in front of me. This man I didn’t know.
“All right, Tobias.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand, flicking my tears on the carpet like so much annoyances. “You win.”
“Belle,” Mom began.
“Don’t bother, Cecilia.” I turned my back on them, striding toward the door. “I leave this Friday. I better start packing.”
They let me shut them in without another word.
My tears slowed to nothing. The cottony fog in my head dissipated.
You did well playing the hard-ass, Tobias, but you shouldn’t have eased up at the finish line.
I go to the cove, participate in their silly games, and if I don’t get a proposal at the end of it, my life and inheritance remain intact.
A smile curled my lips.
No one is coming within ten feet of me, let alone proposing at the end of this summer. I will raze that island to the ground and watch it sink into the sea. Once I’m through, Mrs. Desai’s ninety-five-year tradition won’t survive to see ninety-eight.