gaze to meet mine. “I should have been more careful when I brought the clothes in last night.”
“Taking care of the laundry is your job, Nicolette,” I say, my voice firm, just like Papa taught me. She can’t see how much it guts me that she’s disappointed Papa. She can’t think I’m soft, and if she knows how much I hate when he punishes her, she’ll think I’m weak. A wife needs a strong husband.
“I know. I’m really sorry.” She doesn’t plead for forgiveness. She knows there isn’t any for wicked deeds—not until she’s had her consequence. There’s a tinge of sadness to her words, though. She knows I love her; she wants to be a good wife. I know she will be when the time comes.
Papa stays silent, watching our exchange, his expression void of emotion. I can’t read him like this. What does he want me to do?
“You have to be more respectful of our things.” I continue when the silence threatens to strangle me.
“I will. I promise. I’ll wash the shirt again right now.” She steps closer to Papa, her hand reaching for it.
“Take it out by the shed, Nicolette. Elijah will be there in a minute.” Papa hands her the shirt, a dark edge to his tone.
She lowers her gaze, tears building in her eyes. She’s afraid of the shed. I don’t blame her. It’s not an easy place to be.
Silently, she takes the shirt and shuffles out of the living room and through the kitchen. As soon as we hear the porch door shut, Papa turns to me, his gaze heated.
“I know you hate to do it,” he says, sounding empathetic. “My daddy hated it too. It was hard at first, putting mama in her place. She’d been ruling the house for so long, he’d been beaten down into a blubbering pup most of the time.”
Papa’s told me this so many times, I don’t need to pay attention. But I still do, because it would be disrespectful otherwise.
“When my grandpa died, my daddy got to meet his half-brother, Uncle Luke.” His lips crack into a wide smile. “He’s a good man. Strong. Daddy offered to let him stay with us for a bit while they sorted out Grandpa’s estate. Uncle Luke saw the chaos, how Mama mistreated Daddy, the way she didn’t take good care of me and Madeline, your mama.”
He says this like I don’t know who my mama was. I remember her, everything about her. The softness of her touch. The sweetness of her smile. The way she tried so hard to keep Papa happy until she gave up on us. I don’t like thinking about that, so I tune back into Papa’s lecture.
“Uncle Luke showed my daddy how to make our home peaceful, how to make us show our love instead of our anger.” He shakes his head sadly. “Luke Greene is a good man. He saved my family.”
“Nicolette shouldn’t have let my shirt stay out on the porch all night,” I say. “I’ll talk to her.”
Papa nods, his lips screwed into a frown. “She’ll be a better woman for it.” He cups my shoulder.
“Yes, Papa.”
“And a good husband teaches his wife to be a good woman. He teaches her how to behave, how to treat his things, how to be respectful.”
“I’ll be sure she learns,” I assure him.
He looks down at my waist, making sure my belt is on. “I know you will, son.”
I put the trowel I was using for the fireplace down and head out of the living room. He doesn’t follow me, leaving the talk with Nicolette for me to deal with. My chest unclenches enough for me to breathe easier. He won’t be watching over the talk.
That will help.
As soon as I step onto the back porch, I can see the outline of Nicolette at the shed. She’s pacing, her arms wrapped around her middle. My shirt dangles at her side, pinched between her fingers.
“She’s nervous.” Mark’s voice catches me off guard, and I pause.
“It’s hard for her,” I add.
“What’s so hard? Do your chores, follow the rules. It’s not hard, even her girl brain should be able to understand it.” Mark drops his toolbox at my feet.
“Nicolette is smarter than you give her credit for,” I argue. Mark and Papa don’t see the beauty in women—how soft and gorgeous they can be, how brilliantly wonderful they are.
“She’s smart,” Mark agrees, folding his arms over his broad chest. He has Papa’s build, muscular and athletic. “But she