From a distance I watch her run down the stairs, tears staining her cheeks. I don’t know what she’s done or where she’s been. I haven’t seen her for an entire week because she refused to leave her bedroom. I wanted to honor her need for solitude, and to give her some time to herself to process the Patriarchal Ceremony and everything that it means.
But now she’s roaming about the house, and suddenly she’s crying? That doesn’t sit well with me. I never expected to feel as much as I do now.
I have to physically restrain myself, and I clutch the stair banister to stop myself from running after her. I wish I could take her pain away, but I can’t. Not yet, anyway. Not until she knows the truth.
I close my eyes and breathe out a sigh.
Soon, Noah, soon.
All the pawns are moving on the stage, and so is she. It’s all part of the plan, and I must continue. There’s no going back, not after that Ceremony. Natalie is my wife now, and she will give birth for me, one day, and when she does, we will rule this fucking community.
Natalie marches straight for the front doors, with no one there to stop her from leaving, and I’m clutching the banisters so hard I swear it’s going to crack.
“Let her go. She won’t go anywhere,” father says, watching too. “Besides, there are guards everywhere. What’s she gonna do, escape?” He snorts, but it’s not that funny to me.
She’s tried before, so what’s going to stop her from trying again? Every time she tries, she learns something new, and one of these days, she’s going to find something to use against us … and flee. I need to get ahead of it. Now’s the time to act and give her a reason to stay.
“She won’t,” my father reiterates, and he grabs my arm and forces me to turn and look at him. “She’s your wife now. Control her. Rein her in.”
I suck in a breath, and reply, “She’s still a woman with her own mind and heart.”
“She needs to make you an heir.”
Oh, not this again.
“You need to make an heir.” He taps my chest.
I swat him away. “I know. I already fucked her twice since she came here. What more do you want?”
“Every day, until it’s done,” he growls. “The other patriarchs are growing impatient.”
“So? They know nature takes time.”
“You take time. You could’ve gotten a wife much sooner than this if you’d only accepted my choices, but you chose to wait until this one came along. Your marriage long overdue, and you know that.”
I roll my eyes and turn away. “I’m done with this conversation.”
I walk off before we start a fight. I’ve had enough of those these past couple of years. My father is so blinded by his quest for an heir that he doesn’t care who he hurts in the process. He doesn’t even care who I fuck as long as it’s someone who can produce a legitimate heir to further the lineage. That’s all my father cares about—not me, not his wife—only his family line. For power. So our name stays in patriarchal positions. Power comes first.
Well, fuck him. I’m going to choose love first.
So I run down the stairs and go after her.
I don’t know where she’s gone or what she’s doing, but I will find her … because she’s my wife and a husband takes care of his wife, just as our rules tell us to do. And because I need her by my side. I want to love her, but she won’t let me, and that’s okay. She will, one day, but I start now by consoling her.
But where is she?
There’s only one place I’d expect her to go in this community … her previous hut.
So I make my way to it, ignoring the people fawning over my presence and ready to bow at my feet. I don’t have time to make any blessings right now, and I’m not here to appease them. I’m here to find my wife.
The door to her hut is cracked open slightly, which means someone’s inside. I push it open and peek inside. Natalie’s sitting on her old bunk bed with a scarf in her hand. That same scarf she had on when I first snatched her away. That scarf … that belongs to the Family.
“I know you’re there …” she says.
I step inside and close the door behind me.
“Of course you’d follow me.”
“I need to know if you’re okay,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter.” Her reply is soft, barely audible, but I can hear it.
I approach her and sit down beside her, placing my hand over hers. “It does to me.”
“Why?” She looks at me, her eyes stained red. “Why do you even care? All you want is a wife. A baby. I’m nothing more than an incubator.”
I grab her face and caress her cheek. “That’s not true, and you know it isn’t.”
She makes a face. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because … I need you,” I reply, smiling gently.
I don’t want to upset her more than she already is. Being up there with all those men watching her while I fucked her must’ve been an ordeal, and I can’t imagine having to be in her place. I admire her strength, her resilience. “As more than just a wife. As a friend. A partner in crime. A patriarch is nothing without his significant other.”
“Then give me a reason,” she says, clutching the scarf. “Give me anything. Something … so I can live with myself and this decision.”
I lick my lips. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”
“You must,” she growls. “If you want me to be a willing participant, give me more information. Tell me the truth. Tell me about this scarf and why I had it before I came here.”
Her eyes are filled with so much worry, so much pain and hidden grief that it’s becoming too hard for me to ignore. I wasn’t planning on revealing anything to her before the time was there, but if I don’t do it, I might lose her in the process.
Even though I didn’t mind it if she hated me before, something’s changed. Something about us. When I look into her eyes, I feel so much, and it hurts to see her in pain like this when I’m the one who could resolve all of it.
I’m the cause behind her hatred, and it ruins me.
But if I tell her the truth, she’ll probably hate me even more.
“I’m not going to allow you to do this if you don’t give me even an ounce of truth, Noah,” she reaffirms. “I’d rather die than let any man control my body.”
My pupils dilate, and I place a hand on her arm. “What are you saying?”
“You know damn well what I mean …” She rips her arm away. “You forced me to make a choice, now I’m giving you one. Give me what I want or I won’t last the week. I promise you that.”
“You wouldn’t,” I say, upset at the mere suggestion that she’s going to end things forever.
“I would,” she hisses.
I can see the perseverance in her eyes, a flame that’s never shone brighter than it does now, and I know she’s serious. She’d do it just to spite me, to get in my way, but I won’t allow it.
Grunting, I get up from the bed and pace around the room. I didn’t plan on revealing this so soon, but if it’s the only choice I have to keep her in my life, then I’ll do it. “Fine.”
Her eyes immediately light up. “You … you’ll give me what I want?”
I close my eyes and let out a sigh. Then I hold out my hand and wait until she grabs ahold. “You want to know the truth? I’ll show you … but you won’t like it one bit.”
Natalie
I let Noah guide me outside onto the grass and out into the field. People are looking at us, but he flat-out ignores it, which surprises me. I always thought patriarchs weren’t supposed to be on the grounds unless for special occasions, yet here he is marching around on the community grounds as though he’s one of them. But everyone, including him, knows he’s not, yet he doesn’t seem to care even the slightest bit about what this could mean. Could he be punished by the other patriarchs for blatantly defying their rules? Does he even care that they would?
He pulls me along so defiantly, almost as though he’s on a mission, that I can’t help but think he finally saw the light. And for some reason, it makes me anxious … as though I’m not prepared to discover whatever it is he wants to show me.
“Where are we going?” I ask, in a moment of clarity.
“Your memories,” he says.
That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t just walk into your own memories. What’s he playing at?
We walk through the woods until we get to a clearing where the apple trees are kept. Some of them were planted by my own hands, their sprouts giving me a twinge of pride. But it soon fades as Noah plucks an apple from the tree and throws it at me.
“Catch,” he says, barely in time.
I frown and stare at the apple in my hand. “What’s the point of this?”
“Look at it. See anything familiar?” he muses.
“No, I don’t understand,” I reply, still staring at the apple.
What am I supposed to see?
“You were here before,” he says.
“Yes, with the other initiates and elder wives. We planted some of the trees,” I answer.
He shakes his head. “Before that.”
“There’s no before—”
“Yes, there is.” He’s never sounded more serious than now. “There were many.” He picks another apple and chucks it right at me. “Many times before …” Another one, and another one, until I can’t catch all of them and some drop to the ground.
He grabs a basket standing underneath the tree and brings it to me, picking up the apples that fell to the ground one by one until they’re all in the basket, and then he shoves it into my hands.
“We used to do this all the time,” he says.
My brows furrow. “We?”
A wicked smile appears on his face, and he leans in, picks an apple out of the basket, and takes a bite. “Savory.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “I’ve never been here before … before all this …”
“Don’t you remember?” he asks, still clutching the partially bitten apple. “Dig deep into your memories, Natalie. Remember. It’s the only way.”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. Does he mean … I’m really from here? Me? I came from this community?
I shake my head. “No, my mom left me at an orphanage. I’m from the outside world.”
“You were … but only temporarily,” he says, throwing the apple away.
He grabs both my arms, causing me to drop the basket, and drags me along the trees to a well nearby. He pushes me against the stones, and says, “Look at the water.”
And I do … but all I see is my own reflection. The woman I’ve become … and maybe an inkling of the little girl I used to be. Afraid, alone … left to be raised by strangers. But I once had a mom. I know, because I remember her, I remember her beautiful auburn locks, and the sandalwood scent that followed wherever she went. The woman who held my hand as she whisked me away in the night …
And the boy who stares right back at me … the boy with the tattoo on his hand.
The boy … standing on the opposite end of the well right now.
That same boy is staring back at me through the water, rippling from the drops of my tears.
I look up, tears streaming down my face as I see the man the boy has become.
“I remember you on the night my mother left me …” I mutter, choking on my own words.
He nods and tries to approach me, but I circle around the well to keep him at bay.
“Stay away,” I growl.
I don’t know why I bark like that, but I need time, space, everything. I can’t process this all at once.
“What do you remember?” he asks, holding up a single hand.
“You … my mother … She pushed me away from my own home, from my life. And I ended up in the orphanage?” I shake my head at my own memories mixing with my own thoughts. “No, no, that can’t be right.”
“It is,” he says. “It’s the truth.”
“No, you don’t know that,” I say, my body shaking like a twig.
“Your mother lives here in the community. Just like me, you were born here, too.”
“No!” I close my eyes and will the memories away, but they won’t stop invading my mind. Images of a boy with a playful smile who would throw apples at me and run with me through the woods, that same boy who would sit with me and read books near the fire, that boy … is him.
“I’m not from here!” I yell with a visceral rage that rakes at my heart.
I want to claw at my own brain and rip out the memories, but I can’t. He’s unplugged the bottle, pulled out the genie, and there’s no way to put it all back inside.
With gentle footsteps, he approaches me again. “You forgot … because that’s what people do when they’re in pain, when the trauma is too big. They cover it up and make it disappear.”
I lick my lips but taste the salt of my own tears cascading down my cheeks. “You’re a liar.”
“You remember me, don’t you? That’s why you came to see me at that meeting in town, where I was recruiting new followers to join the Family.”
“Stop,” I say, clenching my fists together.
But he refuses to listen. “You came because you were compelled, Natalie. Don’t you see? Your heart wanted you to remember!”
My body is frozen to the ground. No matter how hard I try, it won’t move. All I can do is dig my fingers deep into the well’s stones and listen to his words as they cut into my soul.
“I wanted to know where that scarf came from,” I say, my lips trembling.
“You already know the answer. It’s the same scarf your mother put around your neck when she pushed you out of your home and forced you to leave this place,” he says.
“How do you know?” I ask. My memories don’t feel like my own. They feel like … they’re his too.
He’s right in front of me now, and he grabs my face with both hands. “I know because I was there.”
“No, I don’t believe it,” I say, still not wanting to face reality.
“Look at me,” he growls, his hands still on my cheeks. “You know me.”
Tears roll down my cheeks as I look into his eyes. They’re the same eyes as the boy I once said goodbye to when my mother whisked me away into the darkness. When we left all that I’d ever known. The community. The Family. My people. My … betrothed.
