Bound by Blood and Brimstone (36 page)

don’t like me. I’d have to be a fool not to pick up on that, and I wish it weren’t true, because for

the first time in my life, I feel like I belong somewhere.”

I read genuine pain and confusion in his handsome face and allowed myself a second of

guilt before wrenching my chin out of his grasp. I denied his accusation but had to admit my

wariness at the way he’d managed to worm his way into my family’s fabric like a misplaced

thread.

“How can you blame me?” I entreated. “You waltz in here as a hired field hand, and the

next thing I know, you’re eating in our kitchen, bosom buddies with Reese, the older son

Momma always wanted, and there’s Lorrie Beth.”

I stopped abruptly, horrified at the sudden clenching of my throat clogged with a hot knot

of unshed tears.

“What about Lorrie Beth?” His voice, deep and resonant, calmed me somehow,

permitting me a breath to retrieve a thread of dignity.

“I’m not as naïve and stupid as you probably think I am, Noah. I see how it is with you

two, and you better know one thing. I look out for my sister. I always have, and I always will.

Anybody who hurts her will have me to deal with, and I promise you, I’m more than a handful.”

He could’ve laughed at me with my teenage angst, standing there with my jutting chin

and my fists at my sides. He could’ve easily pointed out the discrepancies in our sizes and how

ridiculous the notion that the likes of me could instill fear in him. Instead, he reached for one of

my hands with a small, sad smile, and slowly unclenched my fingers.

“I already knew all that, Ember Mae. I respect you for it, more than you know, and I

won’t insult you by denying what you’ve figured out.” I allowed him to hold my hand while he

talked, meeting his eyes squarely, trusting his words. “I’m not some pampered city boy, Ember

Mae. I know how to work hard and take care of my own. You won’t ever have to worry about

Lorrie Beth being hurt as long as I’m around. I’d kill anybody who even thought to try it.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment, and as I searched his eager, open face, I found the

handwriting on the wall. His next words were no surprise at all. “I’m head over heels in love

with your sister, Ember Mae. It may sound corny, but it’s like I’ve found a missing part of me in

her. She’s become part of my soul, and I’ll never be complete without her.”

His desperate, heartfelt confession suddenly left me feeling old and tired. Pretty words, to

be sure, but ludicrous for him to think Lorrie Beth could be his happily ever after. Then, it

dawned on me.
Of course! He has no idea Lorrie Beth
is thirteen years old! Why should he, since

it’s never
come up, and she could easily pass for twenty-five. I can’t tell him the truth. I know it

should come from me, but I just can’t do
it.

What cruel irony, to think Noah would be the loser in this, returning to college in the fall

with a broken heart. His next words crashed my new-found sympathy and left me reeling.

“I’ve decided not to leave Silver Rock Creek yet. I’m not going back to college in the

fall. My dad left me pretty well off, and he owned the newspaper back home. When the time

comes, I’ll just take it over. I can always finish college later.”

He waited for a response of some sort, but my brain had just locked up. All I could do

was jerk the corners of my mouth up like some wooden-headed marionette.

“I’m telling you this because I’ll be staying here until, oh, shoot, it’s easier to just show

you.” He dropped my hand and dug something out of his pocket. It was a tiny box with a hinged

lid. He opened it. Inside was a gold ring with a single, round, emerald stone.

My pulse quickened as I remembered another piece of emerald jewelry and all the grief it

had led to. “What’s this?” I asked, my lips going numb.

“It was my mother’s engagement ring,” he answered. “It’s going to be my Christmas

present to Lorrie Beth. The truth is, Ember Mae, when I leave Silver Rock Creek, I’m taking her

with me.”

Though Noah’s revelation had terrified me, I kept it under lock and key like all my

secrets. I chose not to dwell on the calamity this news would bring, and like the good ostrich, I

shoved my head under the sand, hoping against hope that it was just some misunderstanding.

Surely Noah couldn’t have been serious about taking my sister away from me. Better to just cut

out my heart and roast it over an open flame.

As summer drew to a close, the flurry of active farm life did well to distract my thoughts,

as did the budding tensions between the two young men in our company. When Noah announced

his intention to stay on a while, Reese reacted predictably with a clap on the back and a goofy

grin. Momma actually wept, wiping her eyes with a corner of her apron. Sam jumped up and

down with a squeal, and Lorrie Beth beamed. Then there was Caleb.

I was never quite sure of just how aware my sister was of the war waging about her. She

never appeared to notice the way Caleb’s eyes followed her, his naked longing, painful to watch.

She was oblivious to the way his jaw would tighten when she smiled at Noah or the torment on

his face when she giggled at something Noah said.

I couldn’t imagine how the two of them could co-exist in the barn, roomy though it was.

It must’ve been torture for Caleb, sleeping under the same roof with Noah, but to his credit, he

never voiced any malice. He said it all with the eye daggers he threw when Noah’s back was

turned.

Burying myself in chores, trying to stay invisible, I did my best to keep watch over Lorrie

Beth. Since Noah Lunsford had come along, Lorrie Beth had once again retreated from me,

escaping into some solitary place she preferred over my company. Our shared confidences, our

binding trust was given to him now, and only in his presence did she open up like the petals of a

lotus blossom in a wasteland. Though I couldn’t get close to her, I could still sense a rising storm

within her. I knew it was just a matter of time before the pressure cooker would blow.

The first weekend in October was greatly anticipated, as it was set for our Pioneer Day

festival. For weeks, exalted expectations had our citizens in a frenzy of preparing food, planning

events, building booths, and making costumes. The brainchild of our city council, Pioneer Day

celebrated our rugged ancestors with music, dancing, crafts, a “pioneer parade,” and enough food

to feed the U.S. Army, Navy, and Marines.

All over the county people dug into old trunks for long dresses and bonnets left behind by

dead relatives. Feed sacks were torn apart and sewn together, boots, moccasins, and coonskin

caps were gathered, and snowy aprons ironed. Most had everything they needed, since nobody

we knew ever threw anything away.

Momma, however, surprised us with brand new “authentic” costumes she’d ordered out

of some catalogue. When I expressed shock at her extravagance, she laughed gaily and said,

“Don’t worry, Honey, we can afford new things now. Besides, this family is long overdue for

some prosperity, don’t you think?”

Just like when we were little, Momma had ordered matching dresses for Lorrie Beth and

me. Some things never change. There was nothing left to do but grin and bear it, and I was hyped

up enough on the idea of fun to let it slide. I never dreamed Lorrie Beth wouldn’t do the same.

The day of the festival dawned unseasonably warm, a cloudless, breezy, exhilarating day,

wrapped in Momma’s promise of a reprieve from heavy chores. It started with a lazy stretch and

a leap from my bed before heading to the kitchen for breakfast and a long bath. It ended when I

left the kitchen, my wet hair swathed in a towel, headed for my bedroom and my favorite book.

As I neared my doorway, I heard giggling from my room. Figuring Sam was hiding

under my bed, waiting to play his favorite tickling game, I made my fingers into “claws,” took a

deep breath, and entered in a crouch. The idea of the game was to pounce on the bed in a

ferocious growl, while my victim would scream and thrash his way out from under the bed and

out of my reach. What I saw when I cleared the threshold knocked the “growl” clean out of me

and scattered my senses to the four winds.

Sam sat on the floor beside my bed, a long box in his lap, his fat fingers busily groping

the contents. That box was the private storage of my most treasured possessions. Among them

were Daddy’s carvings he’d given me before he died, now being stroked and admired by his only

son. The other, Wonnie’s Cherokee wedding dress, adorned Lorrie Beth’s body as she preened

before my cracked mirror.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I screeched, flinging my damp towel to the floor,

freezing her in mid-pose. In an instant my blood had reached boiling point, all thoughts of fun

and games vanquished. “This is my room, in case you’ve forgotten. And those are
my
things.

Mine
! That dress was Wonnie’s, and she gave it to
me
! Now take it off!”

The swift potency of my rage blinded me to her wet, wide-eyed shock, deafened me to

Sam’s whimpers. In one stride I was in her startled face, one sleeve of the dress in my grip, ready

to rip it from her body where she stood. She gasped and attempted to step away from me, her

face drained of color.

“I’m sorry, Ember Mae, sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong. Please don’t; you’re

scaring me, please.”

She was stammering, her body quaking hard enough to rattle the beads on the dress’s

bodice. Placing a trembling hand over mine, gripping the sleeve, she squeezed hard and drew a

deep breath to steady her voice.

“I found Sam on the floor with the box and was just about to put it back when I saw the

dress. It was so pretty, I couldn’t help trying it on, and I thought it would make a cute costume

for the festival. I didn’t hurt it. Please don’t be mad.”

I was immune to the tears ready to spill over her black lashes, helpless to stop the

hammering of hot blood in my temples, deadened to her pleas. “Take the dress off,” I said

tightly. “It’s the only thing I have left in the world that gives me any joy. The only thing that

helps me remember who I was before--everything went wrong. It’s not for anyone but me. Now

take it off before I tear it off you.”

With that, Sam threw his head back and howled. When I cut my eyes to him, Lorrie Beth

broke and ran, her lips peeled back in a bone-grinding wail. Momma tore out of the kitchen, her

bun askew, nearly colliding with Lorrie Beth in the hallway before she could stop herself.

“What on earth is going on in here?” she demanded, grappling with Lorrie Beth, who by

now was on her way to full blown hysterics. “Stop it, Lorrie Beth,” Momma ordered, giving her

a firm shake. “Stop crying and tell me what’s wrong.”

Before Lorrie Beth could voice one word to seal my fate, Sam Benedict Arnold bolted

from my bedroom, his howls louder than ever, to fling both arms around Momma’s legs. Turning

his tear-stained face up to Momma’s, he cried, “Ember Mae is
mean
! Lorrie Beth wants to wear

that dress tonight, and Ember Mae yelled at her and tried to tear it up! She’s mean!”

Momma glared at me over Sam’s ravaged face. “Is that true, Ember Mae?”

I felt like the world’s dumbest criminal, a defendant fighting for his life with no attorney.

“That dress is mine, Momma! Wonnie gave it to me when I was ten, and it’s special. It’s not just

some silly costume. It was her wedding dress.”

She gaped at me in disbelief and stepped around my accusers to face me, her eyes like

blue ice. “Do you mean to stand there and tell me that you yelled at your sister, scared her and

Sam half to death, tried to tear this dress off her? All because of some old worn-out rag Wonnie

gave you?” Her cool, controlled tone was a dead giveaway to her outrage. I knew I was in deeper

than I’d ever been with her, but no beating could deter the blistering fury I was about to unleash.

“How could you?” I screamed, hot tears blinding me to her stricken face. “How dare you!

Wonnie’s gift is
not
some worn out old rag! Didn’t you hear what I said? She was married in it!

She was married, and she became a mother and a grandmother to my daddy! Remember him,

Momma?” I was ranting, standing in a pool of quicksand and sinking to my death. I didn’t care.

“Lorrie Beth gets her way about everything. She’s always been catered to, and I’m just

another piece of furniture around here. She doesn’t even care what that dress means to me. She

never could, and she’s not wearing it. Now, make her take it off, Momma!”

“What in the blue blazes is going on in here?” Like a clap of thunder, Reese’s bellow cut

my rampage to an end, jerking our four heads to the front door where he stood, red-faced, and

panting. “Do my ears deceive me, or did I just hear you screaming at your own mother, Ember

Mae?”

Shaking his head, as if to discard the distasteful image, he locked eyes with me and