11. Cian
Chapter 11
Cian
“ H ey, Greta, wait a second,” I hear Scarlett say.
I need to get Scarlett alone so I’m hovering in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. I’m eavesdropping too, obviously, but this group is pretty open about sharing the things going on so I don’t feel bad. Well, I don’t feel too bad.
I’m just so fucking curious about everything having to do with Scarlett. I want to know it all.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know that someone is offering a hundred dollars to whoever gets Mariah to go to church youth group?”
“Yeah. Actually, it’s to church or youth group or any church gathering at all,” Greta says.
“Gotcha.”
I can tell Scarlett is trying to sound calm.
“Do you know who’s making the offer?”
“Yeah,” Greta says. “Pastor Stevens.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard too.” Scarlett pauses. “Does Mariah know?”
Greta’s voice is softer when she answers, “Yeah.”
“And how does she feel about it?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Okay, but don’t be mad.”
I feel myself frowning.
“Okay,” Scarlett says slowly.
“At first, she thought, or hoped I guess, that it was her grandpa’s way of getting her attention. Maybe getting a chance to spend time with her.”
There’s a long beat of silence before Scarlett asks, “Did she want that to be the reason?”
“I think so, kind of. But she’s over that now.”
“Over what exactly?”
“Over hoping he cares about her. She knows he doesn’t. She figures it's either his way of messing with you, or his way of proving something to the other kids. Maybe that he really does have a lot of power or something? I guess he told them that it’s a lesson in how difficult ministry can be sometimes. He’s exposing them to people who the devil has worked really hard on.”
I feel rage tighten my gut. Anyone who would say that the devil is working in a child is a piece of shit. But a man who would use his granddaughter that way? No matter what kind of family history is going on here, that is messed up.
Regardless of the feelings I might have about my grandfather and his manipulations, he would never say something like that. And if he did, he would be immediately denounced by the rest of the family, friends, probably our entire country.
Scarlett has been quiet for several seconds. Now she asks, “What made her realize that?”
“We saw him downtown one day. It was just us and him on the sidewalk. And he walked past her without even looking at her. It was like she didn’t exist. She figured if he was actually interested in her, he would’ve taken that chance to try to talk to her himself. Ask her to come to church himself. Obviously whatever he’s doing has to do with her having to interact with these other kids. She doesn’t like that it’s a whole big game to him. And she hates the way Leah and the other kids from church act. She said the idea that the way they behave and treat other people is the way to persuade her, or anyone, that they want to spend time with them in that church is ridiculous.”
I agree, wholeheartedly, and wish I could see Scarlett’s face right now.
“Exactly right,” Scarlett finally answers. “They use manipulation and guilt and lies to get people to do what they want. Instead of just living good, happy, generous lives that might pull people closer. But,” she sighs. “I fell for it. For a long time. So I’m not really someone who can judge others. I am so glad Mariah has you. And that she’s smart enough to see through all of that.”
“Well, she definitely has me,” Greta says. “And you and Ruby are great role models for being strong and independent.”
“Good. We don’t always get it right, but I’m glad we’re mostly doing okay.”
They both laugh.
“But it sounds like she kind of wanted to know her grandpa? Or at least wanted him to want to know her?”
“What she said to me before is that she doesn’t need a dad or grandfather. She just sometimes wishes that not everyone knew who hers are and all the drama around them. She just wishes that if she had to have one, that he was a good guy.”
“Trust me,” Scarlett says. “I get how complicated that can be.”
“Thanks for letting me be here and involved in all of this drama,” Greta says. I can hear the smile in her voice. “Mariah is the best friend I’ve ever had. I know it sucks here for you sometimes, but I’m so glad she’s here. And I think I make things better for her.”
“You definitely do,” Scarlett says.
I love how close Scarlett and Ruby obviously are with Greta and how comfortable she clearly feels here. It reminds me of my own family and how Henry and the other bodyguards have become part of the family, not because of blood, but because of love. I also experience it tenfold in Louisiana with the Landrys. People who can make family out of anyone are special.
“I hope some of this works out for you,” Greta says. “You deserve to have some fun and happiness here too.”
I feel something twist in my chest. Does Scarlett not have fun and happiness here? I have the insane urge to step out and say, ‘let me take care of that’. Fun and happiness I can do. The frustration and possessiveness are new to me, but fun? That’s my specialty.
“Well, you know you’re part of the family,” Scarlett sighs. “I can’t imagine you not knowing about all of this.”
“I can’t believe I have to tell you this,” Greta says. “But you should definitely let the hot rich guy treat you like a princess for a little while even if you don’t want to be one long term.”
Yeah, I really like Greta.
Scarlett gives a laugh. “I think it’s time for you to go home now.”
Greta laughs. “Okay. But you know you’ll see me tomorrow.”
I hear the back door open and shut and make my move. I step into the kitchen. Scarlett does not seem surprised to see me.
“Hey,” she greets as she finishes putting clean dishes into the cupboards.
I hand over the surprise I have for her.
It’s a bag of saltwater taffy, her favorite candy when we were in New Orleans. The way she ate them, they were either already her favorites, and again, a truth she shared with me, or they were her sister’s favorite, and Scarlett realized how good they were while pretending to be Ruby.
She takes them. “You remembered.”
“I remember every single minute we spent together.”
Her smile dies, and she swallows hard.
“Do you like these? For real?” I ask.
She nods and presses the package against her chest. “Yes. I love them.”
Perfect. Day two and I’ve already found more things that were true than weren’t.
“Come out on the patio with me,” I say. I don’t mean for it to sound like a command. I meant to request spending some time alone with her. But it definitely sounded a little demanding.
Still, she nods. “We need to spend time together, right? Only eighteen days to totally turn you off.”
Yeah. Right. Can’t forget that.
She turns to the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of iced tea. She holds one up with a questioning look, and I nod. She tucks them under her arm, with the bag of taffy, and heads for the door that leads to the patio. I follow.
She sets the drinks and candy on the wrought iron table that sits between two chairs that are covered in thick outdoor cushions. She rounds the set of chairs and goes to the fire pit sitting a few feet in front of them. She grabs the box of matches, strikes one of the long wooden sticks against the side, and leans in to light the fire.
Once it’s going, we both settle into the chairs and watch the flames for a few minutes.
I’m not even sure what to say first. There are so many thoughts, so many topics, so many questions. But then I start with the one that’s really eating at me.
“Tell me about Pastor Stevens. This whole church thing. And you being the mean girl in high school.”
Again, she doesn’t seem surprised. She lifts her bottle of tea for a sip, then starts.
“My mom came to Emerald when she was twenty-one. She planned to just visit for a weekend or so, but the first night she was in town, she met a guy at the bar. They had a hot one-night stand. She left town two days later and didn’t see him again, until she came back to town to tell him she was pregnant.”
She leans over and grabs a piece of taffy, unwrapping it and putting it in her mouth. She chews for a moment. “He was not excited to see her,” she continues. “He’d wanted just one night partly because he was starting a church here in town. And because he was engaged.”
She swallows. “Obviously a one-night stand with a stranger that ends up with a baby out of wedlock isn’t a great look for a young pastor. Or for a guy who’s engaged to another woman. A woman who, by the way, had been saving herself for marriage.”
My brows rise, but I say nothing. The story is good, I have to admit. Lots of drama already.
“So this young pastor, who is starting a church from the ground up, somehow manages to write my mother a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar check so she can go wherever she wants to. He tells her she can keep the baby. Or not. It was her choice. As long as she leaves town, never comes back, and does not name him on the birth certificate.” She takes another sip of tea. “The thing about one-night stands,” she says, sliding me a look. “Is that you usually don’t really know the other person very well. He had no idea what kind of person my mom was. But he quickly found out. She took his money, bought a house here in town, gave birth to his twin baby girls, and raised them right here, where he’d see them often and everyone would know they were his.”
Wow. I don’t say anything because I have no idea what to say. I also know there’s a lot more to this story. I reach for a piece of taffy, unwrap it, and pop it in my mouth. Before Scarlett came into my life, I had never had salt-water taffy. She’d declared that a travesty. Now it’s one of my favorite things. But I know that’s entirely about the memories it invokes rather than the candy itself.
“Let me guess,” I say. “He denied you were his?”
“Oh no.” Scarlett lets out a laugh that doesn’t sound entirely forced. Almost as if she finds this legitimately funny. “He admitted we were his. Up in front of his whole congregation. Used us as proof that the devil is hard at work all the time and that even the best people can be tempted. But that they can rise up. They can walk away from temptation and go forward with a good life.”
I turn to stare at her. “You’re telling me that he walked away from you and Ruby and your mom and used that as proof that he’s a good guy? Used it in his ministry ?”
She doesn’t look at me, but she nods. “Yup. I’m not sure everyone bought that my mom was sent by the devil to test him because he was building a church and Satan wanted his downfall, but enough people did. His fiancée did. She married him anyway. And his church continued to grow.” She shifts on her chair as if uncomfortable. “In fact, it worked so well, he continued to use us over the years. He would point to us as an example of his punishment. How even though he’d rejected Satan, he still had to face what he’d done every day and that kept him honest and close to God.”
I can’t believe this. What the fuck ? Two little girls and the woman who’d done nothing but fall for his lines and bullshit were his punishment from God ?
“He also always pointed my mom out as an example of why mothers should never want to be single. Why it’s important to have fathers around. Why women need to be responsible and not promiscuous.” She takes a sip of tea.
Again, I have no idea what to say, but this time it is because rage is clogging my throat.
“Then my mom met Brian, my stepdad. She never really let my dad get to her, but I do think she thought he would back off once she and Brian were married. Because according to his preaching, my mom was doing it right getting a man involved.” Scarlett shakes her head.
She’s still not looking at me. Clearly, she’s seeing all of these people—her mom, her stepfather, her dad.
“But my dad actually criticized Brian . He said other men shouldn’t step in and make things easier. Women who choose to have sex before they’re married have to face the consequences and deserve the struggles of single parenthood as their punishment.”
I sit forward, my heart pounding as anger courses through me. “And there are people in this town who believe this? Who follow him?” My voice is tight.
She looks over at me. “Absolutely. “
“Why?” I demand. “Why would anyone believe any of that bullshit?”
“It makes them feel superior.” Her voice is calm.
I feel like I could put my fist through a wall.
“It makes them feel accepted into a community that tells them they’re better than people who make mistakes and have to struggle. The church is also full of the powerful people in this community. The past two mayors, the past two sheriffs, most of the city council, a lot of our county government officials, the state legislative representative for this area. Lots of people in power go to that church which gives it legitimacy. At least to some people.”
I shove up from my chair, pacing to the end of the patio and back. “You do know how fucked up that is, right? Your mom was not wrong. She didn’t deserve to be punished for anything.” I stop right in front of her chair. “Neither do you. Neither does my sister. Neither do any of the women who are raising kids on their own.”
She sighs. “Of course I know that, Cian. But you wanted the story. And it gets worse.”
I stare down at her. “Worse?”
“Well, I became a single mom. And there were some pretty shitty times before that even.”
I don’t want to hear this. I have lived my very privileged life, male, wealthy, able to do whatever I wanted and rarely facing consequences. The ones I have faced have been softened by my family and Henry. Hearing about other people not having advantages always stabs me in the gut. It always makes me wish that I knew how to do something about it.
It was why Scarlett coming into my life with a fully formed plan that I could immediately implement seemed like such a gift. One that I had jumped on. One that I had fallen in love with.
Now I am wondering how much of my emotion for her is truly wrapped up in that idea she gave me. Maybe it’s all just that. And great sex. Because the sex was really fucking great.
Eighteen days to really get to know her, to find out if what I feel is about her , or just about the plan that finally gave me a purpose, is a really good idea, I realize.
I return to my chair and drop into it. “Hit me,” I tell her. “Tell me all the terrible things.”
“So my mom raised us without my father. But we always knew who he was. And we definitely were shunned by the people in the church, and their kids at school. But there was half the town who didn’t buy his bullshit, so we had friends. But then when I was twelve, after Brian had been in our lives for about four years, I decided that I would really like to know my real father. I don’t really know why, exactly, but one day it just hit me. I was sitting in math class, and I suddenly decided that it was time I got to know him. I showed up on his doorstep that evening after dinner and told him that. And I asked if that was possible.”
Scarlett sits back in her chair and tips her head up to look at the sky.
I brace myself. She told me the story was going to get worse. I already hate her father so much that I’m very afraid I may drive over to the man’s house tonight after she tells me the rest of what happened.
“He said yes,” she continues. “But I had to start coming to church. I had to become someone he was proud to call a daughter. And I agreed. I wanted to get to know him, I wanted his approval. I can’t explain it other than to say I was a twelve-year-old girl. My mom was awesome, Brian was awesome. It was not a rebellion against them. And I probably will never totally forgive myself for rejecting them that way.”
She turns her head to look at me. “But I started going to his church and youth group, doing everything he told me to do, buying into all the stuff that he told me. How to be a good follower, how to be someone he was proud of, how to live the right kind of life. And I bought into all of this stuff that he is apparently pressing on the other kids now. That we had to minister to the other kids at school, that we had to bring them to church, that if we could save them, we were saving ourselves.”
She takes a deep breath, then blows it out. She’s quiet for several seconds.
“The project that he gave me was Ruby. I was supposed to bring Ruby around to God and our father’s church.”
I can hear the emotion in her voice now. She’s on the verge of tears, it’s clear.
“Did it work?” I ask gently. I have a suspicion I know the answer already.
She gives a soft laugh. “No. In fact, it became a huge wedge between us and I ended up moving out of my mom’s house and going to live with my dad. I spent my years from age twelve to nineteen judging everyone else, including my family, trying to get the other kids to come to church and live the way we thought they should live. And I was mean. To the other kids, especially the girls, and very judgmental.”
“Does that include Hannah?” I guess.
“No, actually. Hannah was another church girl. She was actually the favorite girl until I came along. She always resented me. We had kind of a weird competition going on. But she didn’t really start hating me until the summer after we graduated from high school. Because I stole the new, cute church guy before she had a chance at him.”
I sit forward again, too restless to relax.
“Toward the end of our senior year, Eli came to town. He was finishing college, was going to be a pastor and wanted to study under my father as our church’s youth pastor. He was cute, he started flirting with me, and I fell head over heels. It all seemed perfect. Eli was going to be my father’s right-hand man at the church and I assumed that would mean that my father would approve of me even more. Eli and I would be together, get married, serve in the church right beside my father.” She stops and swallows. “But we ended up getting pregnant.”
The words hit me in the chest like a lead ball. Of course I should’ve guessed that’s where this was going.
“I was honestly happy. I figured we would just get married sooner because of the baby. But I didn’t think it would change anything. I think maybe Eli thought so too. But when we went to tell my father we wanted to get married, he was suspicious. We confessed about the pregnancy and…” She has to swallow again. “My father decided that we were the perfect sacrificial lambs.”
I look at her, frowning hard. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“My father decided to tell his entire congregation, really the whole town, that we had slept together before being married and were now pregnant. That was our punishment. And he used us as an example to show his congregation that it didn’t matter who stepped out of line, there would still be consequences. If he could reject Eli and me, he would reject anyone. It was his chance to make his followers even more committed, and let’s face it, scared of him. So he fired Eli and made him leave town, and he kicked me out of the church and his house.”
“Motherfucker.” I stare at her. “I hate your father.”
She gives me a small smile. “In retrospect, he did me a favor. At the time it didn’t feel that way, though. Eli tucked his tail between his legs and ran. He didn’t even talk to me again after that meeting with my father.”
“What happened? You were on your own?”
“No.” She looks at me, her eyes shining with tears in the firelight. “Ruby heard about it before I could do anything. She called me and said she was coming to get me. Ten minutes later she was at my dad’s house, carrying my shit out to the car and forcing me into the front seat. Not that she really had to force me. Then she took me home. She and my mom took me back in without a second thought. Even though I didn’t deserve it.”
Her voice breaks then and I can see a tear slip down her cheek.
“Brian even came over. He and my mom had already divorced—of course my dad made a big deal out of that as did I, because I was a huge pain in the ass bitch. But Brian was there for me too. I stayed with them through the pregnancy until I had Mariah. Then Ruby and I moved out. We went to Chicago first. Then Kansas City. Then Nashville. Then New Orleans. We just kept moving a little farther and a little farther away.”
I swallow hard. I don’t even know what emotion I’m swallowing down at this point. There is rage, there’s hatred, there is an intense urge to find her father and do very unChristian-like things to him. But there is also a nearly overwhelming urge to reach over and pull her into my lap.
So that’s what I do.