over my shoulder. He seems to be searching the yard and windows of the house. Papa’s room faces the front, but if he’s looking for me, he’ll find us easily.
“Brothers.”
“Are they hurt too?”
“Hurt? No. They love me. We love each other.”
He scoffs again. “That’s love?” He points to my cut-up legs.
“You should go,” I say again. I shouldn’t be talking to him. He’s confusing me, and I’m already too tired from no sleep to make much sense of anything.
His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. He’s getting angry.
“I can make a call, get the police here, or you can just come with me. I’ll have you down the mountain before they even know you’re gone.” He shows me the phone again.
I squeeze my eyes closed for a long pause. Maybe Papa’s testing me to make sure I’m going to be a good woman and stay where I’m supposed to. If I say yes, this man could signal Papa and he’ll put me down. I don’t want to be put down.
My stomach twists the longer the silence stretches.
“No.” I shake my head. “Please. You have to go. Right now,” I say, pointing behind him. I can’t explain him to Papa if he comes out. I won’t be able to act innocent. Because I’m not. I didn’t tell Papa about him the first time he ventured into our yard. I’ve broken so many rules. Important ones.
I’m a bad woman.
My vision blurs with my tears.
“Please,” I beg him. “Please go.”
“Okay. Okay.” He sighs again and stands up straight, tucking his phone away. “I’m going to go. I have to head home in a couple days. I’ll stop by again in two days. It’s your last chance. I can’t come back after that.” He says it like it’s a threat. If I don’t go with him, I’ll be all alone. No one will rescue me.
But why would I need rescuing? It’s the wickedness in me that makes me cringe at Papa’s touch or Mark’s leer. Once I learn all my lessons, fight back the urge to be a bad woman, things will be perfect. We’ll have a happy home. It’s what Papa wants. It’s what Grandpa made for us.
“I won’t go with you,” I say quietly. The right words, but they hurt to say.
“I’ll be back. Please. You can get away from here.”
“No,” I whisper-yell, throwing my pail at him. Turning my back on him, I run through the yard to the house. I don’t stop until I’m in the kitchen.
Papa walks in just as I get inside. His eyes narrow on me.
“What are you doing?” he asks cautiously, looking at the door.
“There was a skunk,” I lie, grabbing the sink to catch my breath. “Out by the compost.”
He walks to the door and laughs. “That stink would be on you for days.”
“I left the pail,” I say when he starts to open the door.
“You can get it tomorrow. I want a roast for dinner tonight. With potatoes and that apple pie you’ve been asking to make. I have a surprise for you after dinner too.” He turns his smile on me. It’s like he doesn’t even remember last night. He looked mad enough to kill, but now he’s being sweet.
My head hurts.
“A surprise?” I ask. I haven’t been fully forgiven yet. He never gives us anything too nice before we’ve been forgiven.
He tilts his head to the left, then the right, cracking the cartilage. “Yep. Now, get to fixing dinner.” He walks past me, patting my rear end. I wince, but don’t let him see. No pouting. If he sees my discomfort, he’ll think I’m ungrateful for my lesson.
And I’m grateful.
Grateful it wasn’t worse.
“Nicolette.” Papa walks into the living room after we’ve had our supper. He didn’t send us up to our rooms like he normally does after he’s eaten.
Mark leans back on the couch beside me, stretching his back and rubbing his stomach. Papa let the boys eat their fill of the roast and potatoes. Not the pie. That’s all for him. He gave me a small piece of meat. It wasn’t enough to fill me, but more than I expected since I haven’t been forgiven yet.
“Your birthday is soon,” he says, hiding something behind his back. “And I know you’ve been taking your reading lessons seriously.” His lips crack into a wide grin. “And I know these boys are probably real tired of listening to that damn pig and his spider friend.”
I fold my hands in my lap, watching him as