Revelation (5 page)

"I never needed you to do any of that," I interrupt. "That's not what we were ever about. But that doesn't mean you aren't just as important to me."

"I know, but I want to prove to you—to show you—that I
do
have something to offer."

"You already have! I couldn't have done any of this . . ."

"Regardless," he interrupts, plucking the box from my trembling fingers. "I can do more. And this is the best way I know how."

He removes the ring, pinching it carefully, and in my mind I imagine him doing this very thing a dozen times before. Debating. Rehearsing the words spoken. Predicting my reaction to them. My answer.

"I know you don't love me the way you love him. And I know better than to make you choose between the two of us, because I know that, when it comes down to it, you would pick him. But I have the chance to do something with my life because of you. I want you—I
need
you—to become a Fleming."

He slides the ring onto my finger. My hand refuses to stop shaking.

It's so big. So heavy. I can't stop shaking.

The weight of its meaning presses into me:
an engagement ring
.

God! Why won't I stop shaking?

I shrink away from him, a thousand reasons to say no surging through my head.

"I—I
can't
get married, Carter. I don't even know if I
believe
in marriage. If I could
ever
get married. I'm not the 'get married' type!"

"If Seth asked, you would say yes."

I stare at him blindly, speechless.

"If there was a way for you and Seth to live the rest of your lives together, to get married, happily ever after, you would say yes in a heartbeat. So you
are
the marrying type."

Seth and I—it's not something I ever let myself dream about. I could never see that far into our futures. The entire time we were together, we were always a second away from disaster. Never promised a tomorrow. God, we barely had a
present
. Yes, I wanted him. Yes, I love him. But an entire future? It's almost too much to ask of anyone.

Would I say yes to Seth? If he asked? If it were possible?

"I'm only eighteen," I whisper. "
Today
. Seth—he's still out there."

"I just want to give you my name, Gee," Carter says. "Legally. I can do more for you as a Fleming than I can any other way. You can marry me. We can change your name. You would have access to everything I have and more."

My fingers tighten to fists; spikes of anger prick my skin. "You want me to marry you so I can become Genesis
Fleming
?" I ask. "Five minutes ago you said you didn't even want to
be
a Fleming!"

"You're right. I want more. I want to be better. To do better. I want to be part of something that matters. And I want to marry you because I love you, I would do anything for you, and right now that means sounding like a complete tool to get you to agree to this."

"What about Seth? It would crush him if he found out. What if he didn't believe us? What if I couldn't explain. . . ."

What if the Council? If Viola?

The potential for this to backfire is enormous.
Anything
could go wrong.

"It won't be like that," he assures me.

"You're only going to get hurt!"

"It already hurts! Because if it were up to me, you would be saying yes because you
want
to."

A powerful hush settles over the room, the only sound the fire, crackling as it fades.

"This is temporary, Gee," he finally says. "The second you want it over, it's over. I won't even put up a fight." A quiet laugh. "I know I sound crazy. This whole thing doesn't make any sense. But I promise you I have a good reason for asking—for
begging
—you to do this. I just need you to trust me."

"I don't know, Carter. This is so freaking . . .
complicated
." I stand, unsteady on my feet, head light from Carter's proposal. The wine. "It's like, I'm
trapped
. And
nothing
is happening. I'm waiting for Viola to show up to tell me what she wants from me. And now the Council is coming. I don't know where Seth is—if he's even okay. And you want me to
marry
you? I don't even know what I'm doing anymore!"

He rises, standing over me, cups my chin with his warm fingers, bending my face to his. "I'll be right beside you," he swears, eyes searching mine. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I—I don't know what to say." The words swell in my throat, choking me.

"Don't give me an answer tonight. Just promise you'll think about it."

"What if I say no?"

"I would never force you to do anything you don't want to do. If you say no, I won't ask again. I won't bring it up. It'll be like it never happened."

"Only it did," I remind him.

He releases me, hand falling to his side. "I promised Seth I would do everything I could to protect you." His shoulders lift in a defeatist shrug, eyes steady, prepared to accept whatever my decision. "I'm sorry, but this is the best way I know how."

I consider the ring, the curve of the stone, blue facets bouncing with every slant of light. God. I'd hate it if it weren't so perfect for me. My thoughts spiral, conflicting, screaming at me.

I can't believe he asked me to marry him.

It doesn't make any sense. I can't get married. What will everyone think?

It wouldn't come as too much of a shock. We dated most of our senior year.

But what about Carter's parents? They'll kill us. They'll say we're too young. God, everyone will think we're pregnant. They already hate me.

They never hated you.

A chill flutters across my skin, Seth's voice as clear in my mind as if he were whispering directly into my ear. The memory of a conversation.

What?

Carter's parents. That night you were fighting in his SUV. You thought they didn't like you. It wasn't like that
.

What was it like?

They thought you were great, Genesis. They think you're great.

They thought I was below Carter. That I wasn't good enough for him.

The only person who felt that way was you.

Fresh tears sting my eyes.

What am I supposed to do, Seth?

Nothing.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore. . . . I
need
you.

Moments pass in this swirling fog, each thought twisting, tangling with the next, until I hear a broken sigh, feel Carter brushing the hair from my forehead. I didn't even realize, but I’m spinning the ring on my finger, around and around and around again.
Yes. No. Yes. No.

"I don't understand," I whisper.

"I know. But you will, and so will he."

I swallow the lump lodged in my throat. "Is this important to you?"

"Yes."

"And you swear you know what you're doing?"

"I do."

The embers scattered across gray ash flicker, glowing orange. Carter tosses a new piece of wood to the pile. A few sharp prods with the poker and it's crackling again, consumed, setting the space between us on fire.

"Okay," I finally say, breaking the heavy silence. "I trust you."

S
EVEN

We're the only car maneuvering this long and winding road, headlights brightening every snaking curve. The wipers scrape the windshield as a blinding rain pummels the glass. Carter remains cautious, hands in perfect ten-two position, eyes bouncing from the road to the rearview mirror to the side mirror and back again. My fingers grip the handle above my head, eyes focused forward and not on the thin, metal guardrail—the only thing separating us from valley below.

The rain is falling in sheets by the time Carter eases into the parking lot of a little white church, the bright cross of the steeple rimmed in darkness. He kills the engine. "Wait here. I'll come around." 

An arctic draft whooshes through the cab as he steps into the storm. Goosebumps ripple across my skin. I draw my cardigan sleeves tighter, exhaling smoke with every shallow breath.

Carter opens the passenger side door, umbrella hovering, deflecting the rain. I step out of the SUV and into a puddle. Icy water seeps inside my shoes, shocking my toes. We hurry toward the church, running along the sidewalk, up the stairs. The front door, which, on this kind of evening I half expect to be locked, opens easily.   

We pause in the darkened vestibule, shaking rain off our clothes.

"I think it's colder in here than it is outside," I whisper. The building looks, feels, empty. Deserted.

"You all right?" Carter asks, eyeing me cautiously.

"Yeah. It's just that winter came early, is all."

"No. I mean, are you all right with this?"

Marrying him. Am I okay with marrying him?

I squeeze my cardigan pocket, feeling the outline of the ring box—shiny, silver band tucked inside. If we're going to do this, we have to do it right. "Yes."

He hesitates, lips holding a neutral line. "You're sure? Because I don't want you to do anything . . ."

I interrupt before he can finish: "I trust you, Carter, but don't give me a reason to back out."

The sanctuary is small, dim, lit only by a dozen or so thick candles at the altar. The glow casts eerie, moving shadows along the walls. Two individual rows of wooden pews extend the length of the room.

"Wait here," he says.

I adjust the purse strap on my shoulder, move down the last pew, running fingers across the polished wood. I can count on one hand the number of times I've stepped inside a church. Mom wasn't a religious person. I do remember one night, though: a candlelight Christmas mass. Priests and their robes. Carols sung in Latin. It was kind of beautiful, actually. Warm and inviting. A place I could maybe belong.

My eyes cut to a line of stained glass windows obscuring the outside world, each telling its own story. I move closer, examining the furthest from the pulpit,
The Temptation of Christ
etched into glass. A man suffused in a translucent halo of light points to Heaven. At his feet, another. An Evil One. I study it, curious, wondering what a demon could have possibly offered the Lord.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?"

I jump, pulse spiking, jerking to attention.

"You must be Genesis," an older woman says, approaching me from behind. Her hair is white and thinning, the skin on her neck and face sags. But she has laugh lines. Bright eyes. A cheerful smile.