10. Amal
AMAL
He means it. He means every word.
How he found me I don’t know. Is he lying about others knowing where I’ve been? The usual threats had been coming on my phone but that had been going on for a while. I guess I’d grown used to it. Become complacent.
“What about Cassian? He won’t allow it,” I try in a last-ditch effort although I don’t believe Jet answers to Cassian if he doesn’t want to.
He exaggerates looking around the church. “Do you see Cassian anywhere?”
I don’t bother to answer. He’s not waiting for me to.
“So. Are you walking or am I carrying you?”
I look up at the altar again. “You don’t have to do this, Amal,” Father Abernathy calls out.
Malcom shoves him between his shoulders, and he stumbles forward but doesn’t fall.
“Stop! Jet, you don’t know what you’re getting into. You don’t want this. You don’t want me.”
“I made you a promise, Little Virgin. I intend on keeping it.”
With that, he bends down to wrap one arm around the backs of my knees and before I can even process what he’s doing, I’m upside down over his shoulder and he’s walking me up to the altar, his footsteps unrushed but determined.
“Jet! You can’t do this! Put me down!”
The world is upside down, my hair falling around my face obscuring my view.
I pound on his back and kick my legs, but he takes it all and just keeps walking like it’s nothing.
Like it’s costing him no energy at all as I bounce on powerful shoulders, his grip like a steel band over the backs of my legs.
Beneath his long coat, I feel the gun he’s got tucked into the back of his pants. I try to grab it, but it’s impossible and anyway what would I do with it? Shoot him? Before or after his men draw their weapons?
Only when he begins his climb to the altar do his steps slow. I push on his back to lift myself. “Put me down! Damn you! Put me down!”
He only stops when we’re standing before the kneeler and slaps my ass.
“Ow!” My arms fly back, hands over my butt.
“You deserve more than that.”
When he finally sets me down, I stumble.
He catches me, not letting me fall and pulls me to him.
I look up at him, pushing my hair from my face.
How am I the one who’s out of breath? He just stands there, the devil himself, dressed in black from head to toe, his long black coat trailing almost to the floor.
He’s glaring down at me with those eyes like the deepest, darkest wood.
A place where I can disappear.
Isn’t that what I want? What I wanted at least? To disappear? Didn’t I think I could once? In the sanctuary of the home he carved out of rock.
But there’s Daniel to consider. Once my brother is safe. Only then can I disappear.
I glance around myself, taking in the soldiers around Father Abernathy. Father Abernathy’s face all concern for me. Isn’t he afraid of these men who are armed? Who will hurt him if I don’t go through with this?
I count the men, six in the church. More outside, I’m sure.
I look at Jet. Not that he needs them. He alone is an entire army in his determination.
“Jet, please. I’ll get your watch back to you. I shouldn’t have taken it, I know that. I know. I…” He just stares down at me patient as ever.
“Is the idea of marrying me so awful?” he asks, then leans closer.
“I mean, you were begging me to fu— pardon me, father,” he says, glancing at Father Abernathy momentarily before turning back to me.
“To make love to you. Now you’ll get your wish although not exactly as you imagined.
And I’ll take my pound of flesh for your betrayal. ”
“Cassian will kill you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“If you force me to do this, to marry you…” My brain cannot process the words. “If you force me to do this, you’ll be betraying him.”
He chuckles, takes hold of my arm and turns me so we’re both facing the altar. “We should get going. Don’t want to keep Father Abernathy longer than we need to. Kneel, Amal.”
I look from Father Abernathy, the soldiers in my periphery, to Jet. I glance at the doors.
“Jet.” I’m not sure what I want. What I’m saying. What I’m thinking.
“It’s no use fighting me, Amal. This is happening.”
“It can’t. You can’t. You don’t understand.”
He touches me, fingers soft on the side of my face.
“Poor Little Virgin. It’s you who doesn’t understand.
You’re scared. I understand. And I will keep my promise to you.
But it’ll be different than I intended, considering.
Now kneel.” There’s no hesitation in his words.
He’s so certain he’ll be obeyed. It must feel good to always be in control. Always know.
I’m not sure if I drop down onto the kneeler or if Jet’s hand the back of my neck that forces me down. I don’t know anymore. Because I’m tired. Because maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’ll be better to just let go and do what he says.
Because I am scared. I have been scared every hour of every day for the last four years.
Jet kneels beside me and I look over at him. He holds out his hand opening his palm.
I look down at it to find my rosary. I guess he picked it up when he picked me up.
“Put your hands together,” he tells me in so low a voice I feel the rumble of it.
My hands shake as I bring them together in prayer and Jet binds them with my rosary. We stay like that for a long moment just looking at each other and I wonder if what happened between us that last time in his bedroom is playing like a movie in his head too.
“Begin,” he tells Father Abernathy, never shifting his gaze from mine.
“Amal?” Father Abernathy asks.
I drag my gaze from Jet’s, but I know I’m only able to because he allows it. I meet Father Abernathy’s kind gaze and nod.
Jet snorts like it’s funny I think any of this is up to me. Up to Father Abernathy. Up to anyone but him.
Father Abernathy begins and Jet and I stare at each other.
“Get to the vows,” Jet tells him when it goes on too long for his liking. “I’m anxious to get my bride to bed.”
Father Abernathy clears his throat. “Amal Lombardi, do you take this man as your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in heath, to love until death—”
“And obey,” Jet cuts in, glancing at the priest. “Don’t forget obey, Father.”
Father Abernathy looks sorry, but he repeats Jet’s words. “And obey. Until death do you part.”
I draw a tight breath in, my chest constricting, my stomach in knots. “I do.”
“Good girl,” Jet taunts me, then looks at the priest, eyebrows raised.
“Do you, Jethro Blackstone, take this woman as your wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health to love and protect until death do you part?”
“I do. Gladly.” Jet reaches into his pocket to produce two wedding bands. Platinum. How long was he planning this?
Father Abernathy blesses the rings and Jet takes my hand. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he says.
I feel the cool weight of it encircling my finger.
He hands me the other ring, and I slide it onto his finger. “With this ring, I thee wed,” I say.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Father Abernathy says, making the sign of the cross as he speaks the final words of the ceremony, words I don’t hear, before telling Jet he may kiss his bride.
I blink at that, my lips parting on a surprise. Although I’m not sure why it’s a surprise. Jet’s hand comes to my chin, thumb and forefinger drawing me toward himself and, with eyes wide open, he kisses me.
It’s our first kiss.