Chapter 45
Morgan
Dinner is tense. I slice into my steak and watch the tawny juices bleed onto the plate.
Mom sips her wine with quiet elegance. Daddy chews silently.
A normal dinner.
Until I step into the fire, my stride shaky.
“I ended my engagement.”
Mom freezes mid-drink, her wine stalled in her throat.
Daddy drops his knife, creating a loud clatter.
“You what?”
Gently, I set down my silverware. The light feels hot.
Stay strong, Morgan.
I inhale a big breath, expanding my chest to feel bigger than I am. “I told Blake it’s over a half-hour ago.”
My parents stare at each other, as if silently asking if they heard correctly. Their lack of action cuts deeper than any words. They’re not just upset, they’re stunned speechless.
“I am sorry if I disappointed you,” I murmur.
Dad finally breaks his gaze with Mom. He rests his elbows on the table. Quietly, he studies me while twisting the gold band on his pinky finger.
“This is about the boy, isn’t it?”
I draw in a deep breath. “Yes, and he’s not a boy. Dad, I love Jack. I’m... in love with him.”
“In love!” Mom’s shrill voice jars me. She rarely speaks without temperance. In one swig, she downs her entire wineglass, then fills another. “Can you believe this, Artemus?”
She rarely says his first name, either.
This isn’t good.
Dad shakes his head slowly. “We had a deal, Morgan. Do you have no honor? Does your word mean nothing?”
I sit as straight as a steel beam. “Yes! I do have honor, and that is why I must be honest with you. I can’t marry a man I do not love. God’s stance on marriage—”
“Don’t you dare lecture me about God’s intent,” he growls. “I taught you everything you know, and I won’t allow you to throw it back in my face like you know better.”
My heart drops so hard, it hits the chair. I knew this was coming. I knew I would hurt him. My father’s look of betrayal is enough to create a gut-storm of nausea.
“I tried with Blake, Daddy. I gave it my best.” My lips purse as I try to hold back another truth, but I want to be free of this guilt. I want to be cleansed by speaking my truth. “I’ve been... depressed.”
Mom smacks her palm against the table. The impact must’ve hurt her hand.
“Depressed, too,” she almost whispers, then louder. “She sits on a gilded throne and weeps.”
I blink, astounded. “Being wealthy doesn’t mean God will smite me if I feel sad. Money doesn’t bring happiness.”
“And you think love does?” she snaps.
“I won’t have it,” Dad tacks on. “My daughter will not burn down everything for an atheist.”
“He is still a good man,” I defend.
“Good? He is the devil who has seduced my daughter. I should have left him in jail. How foolish of me to trust your word.”
“Indeed, you should’ve,” Mom grumbles, looking at Dad as if he is the one at fault.
“Jack isn’t the devil. You saw him at the center. He is blessed with the word of God.”
“Oh? A prophet at work, you say?” Dad leans back and laughs. Then, he narrows his eyes, his gaze searing into my soul. “Did that boy take what wasn’t his right?”
My heart pangs as I draw in a sharp breath. I dart my gaze to Mom, begging for her to intervene. She only lifts her brow, waiting for my answer.
Dad adds lower, “And don’t lie to us. If one more lie passes your lips, it will be God who cannot bear it.”
Tears roll down my cheeks, and I answer almost too soft to be heard.
“Yes. I am no longer chaste.”
Crash!
Mom’s plate flies across the room.
“I failed!” she wails. She covers her mouth and hangs her head, sobbing.
“He knew better,” Dad roars. “That Killborne boy slithered into my home and defiled my daughter.”
My heart pounds, bleeding as her reaction stabs it again and again. I hold myself. My throat is so tight, it’s painful to speak. “We... we are meant to be together. We are sealed by love.”
“Jesus Christ,” mutters Mom.
My eyes widen. Now I am stunned. She has never used the Lord’s name in vain.
“You have become someone I do not recognize,” Dad says.
Mom jumps in. “She will sleep around like a Jezebel. Once virginity is lost, sex is meaningless to a corrupted woman.” She stands, her knees weak. “I need more wine.”
Then, she pushes Dad’s shoulder and points at me. “Take care of this. For once, do something right so I don’t have to suffer your failures.”
A memory slams back. Holding the teddy bear at the end of the stairs. My parents stop arguing and look at me. Mother’s chest heaves.
“Go upstairs, sweetheart,” Daddy says, trying to sound normal.
Mom snarls at him, her expression disgusted. The way she points at me feels like a physical force. She glares at him and speaks with venom on her tongue.
“A shame we bared fruit. If it wasn’t for our daughter, I’d have a life as good as yours!”
Me? I did something wrong?
“Hush!” he orders. “Don’t say such vile things.”
She cackles, unbothered. Her high heels step through the shards of her broken wineglass.
I tense as she nears. For a moment, she stands beside me on the same step.
Her anger radiates as hot as the sun, causing me to squint as I look up.
Without a word, she pushes past me, gripping the banister as she ascends.
Red wine coats the soles of her shoes, leaving red prints on the white carpet, each one lighter.
The memory fades out.
Mother gives me that same look before plodding out of the room, empty wineglass cradled in her hand.
Alone with Dad, the room feels bigger. Colder. He strolls over to me and sits on the table beside my plate.
“I cannot understand how far you’ve fallen from grace.”
“I am sorry,” I repeat once more, but despite his ardent disapproval, I won’t buckle. I can’t. I can’t marry Blake.
His voice drops to a rough timber. “How do you expect this to go? Run away with the boy?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Marry him?”
My stomach knots as Blake’s words are echoed, reminding me many details have yet to be discussed.
“I need to talk to Jack about that.”
“And children?”
“Okay! I know, but I am optimistic these things will work out. Daddy, you know Jack is special. Nobody can deny his talents. With time, I’ll convert him. Then he will be twice the match Blake is.”
His fist slams against the table. “Do not disparage Blake. He gave you everything and you spit on his gifts like you spat on God’s.”
I slump in my chair, head back as I stare at the opulent chandelier above. Tears trickle along my temples.
“What if Jack is God’s gift to me? I have denied him for long enough and been miserable for it. That explains why I am unhappy.”
“Jack is an atheist. A lowlife heathen—”
“He is not a lowlife,” I say firmly, finding the insult wildly misplaced. “He is a once in a generation talent, and you know it.”
After a long, dark moment of silence, Dad rises to a stand.
“That boy isn’t ready to care for a woman like you.”
“I can take care of myself,” I mumble. “I have my own money.”
He chuckles. “The Bible has taught you the importance of a husband. If you think money is his only issue, you are a bigger fool than him.”
I fold my arms, willing his words not to sink in.
“Morgan, I think it’s time we take a more aggressive approach to curing this problem.”
“He isn’t a problem. I’m telling you, Dad. I can convert him.”
“Oh?” he challenges, his smile growing sinister. “Yes, a more aggressive approach is just what we need.”