Taking Faith (2 page)

              "Girl!" she finally heard him yell and she jumped. Then she proceeded out the door slowly and turned to look at them. They were both sitting on the couch. The visitor was just an older version of her kidnapper. She assumed it was his father, but really didn't care who it was. She walked even slower to the men and handed them the plates. The older huffed and laughed in a way that you knew he thought absolutely nothing was funny.

              "This is what you made us for lunch?" He turned to her kidnapper. "This is what you told her to make us? A sandwich?"

              "I didn't tell her to make anything specific, I just said to make something."

              The older man looked back at her. "You thought a sandwich was an appropriate meal to serve to a guest?" Then he was up and throwing the sandwich and plate, smashing it against the back wall. He stalked after her, forcing her retreat to the wall. Her heat beat a wild rhythm in her chest. "You will learn to treat the men in this community with some respect, little girl." Then he reached for his belt buckle. Amy gasped at the implication, but sex wasn't what was on his mind. He pulled off his belt and lifted it to hit her with it. Amy shut her eyes and turned her face away, waiting for the hit.

              "Don't, father," her kidnapper said and she heard a slap. She peered up to see his hand gripping the older man's wrist. "I need to do it, in private. She needs to learn to fear me first."

              The older man gripped her kidnapper's neck and shoved him to the wall. Her kidnapper made a small choking sound. "Then get on with it. No son of mine is going to disgrace me with a wife who won't obey."

              "Yes, sir," the kidnapper wheezed out. The older man let go and smacked his son in the side of the head with his fist.

              "The next time I come here, you better have her under control."

              "Yes, sir."

              He left and slammed the door so hard a photo fell from the hall and smashed to the hardwood floor. Amy couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. What had just happened? This man was being…forced…to make her his…wife? He didn't even seem like he wanted it, but his father apparently did. And he was used to getting his way from the look of things. She glanced over at her kidnapper and felt a spark of sympathy for him as he leaned against the wall in a glaze-eyed stupor.

              She shouldn't feel sorry for him, but he saved her from getting hit. But he also said he would be doing some of his own hitting, so she felt the sympathy drain away. He jerked his gaze to hers and they locked in a stubborn battle of wills. She refused to show that she was going to cower and he refused to show that he was afraid to be the man his father told him to be.

              Then he came for her. She braced herself, but didn't move. He took her hands and pulled her up. He moved to press her against the wall gently and spoke softly. Though his words were damning and a little harsh, he never raised his voice. "I'm Roger, your husband. You will obey me in every way without question or confusing looks. If I tell you to do something, especially in front of someone else, you do it right then and do it as fast as you can. You will not try to escape. Do not ever make sandwiches in this house again. Do not ever look any other man in the eye or speak to a man unless spoken to. Do you understand?"

              She paused and let that sink in. Her husband…. She nodded. What else could she do?

              "What's your name?"

              "Amy Foster," she whispered.

              "It's not Foster anymore. Or at least it won't be soon. The pastor is coming to marry us and you better remember the rules when he does." She felt her face crumple, but tried to hold it together. Once again, there was a softness to his face that completely beguiled her. "Go and take a shower. I'll clean up the mess of glass in the hall, but this will be the only time. Once you're done with your shower, come and make us a real dinner." His eyes moved to the hall and back. "Go."

              She went. She practically bolted to the hallway and into the open door of the bathroom. She closed the door and sank down to the floor and cried her silent protest. She covered her mouth with two hands so as not to alert him to her breakdown. She stayed that way for a long time. When her eyes refused to drip anymore and her face felt so puffy it hurt, she stood and started the shower.

              Scalding water to wash off the muck of understanding.

              Hot, blistering water to force her mind off the situation she was in.

              And cleansing heat to wash off the touch of that man.
 

* * *

              She was surprised that he hadn't come to yell at her for taking so long. She put the same clothes as before on and brushed her long, almost black hair into a tight bun. Her skin hurt and was an angry red from the too hot shower. She inched her way down the hall and peeked out. He was sitting in a high back chair, his hand steepled at his mouth and one of his legs bouncing up and down with nervousness. And he
looked
nervous, too, or anxious.

              She made a noise in her throat to get his attention. He jumped up and she saw…relief on his face. What? But it quickly changed to blankness. "What took you so long?" His eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with your skin?"

              He moved toward her and it took every ounce of her will power to not cower in the corner. He took her arm and turned it over. His fingers felt cool to the touch.

              "Took a pretty hot shower, wouldn't you say?" He looked up at her face. "Your skin is still hot. It looks like you scalded yourself."

              "Maybe I did," she said softly and refused to look at him.

              "That sounds pretty close to talking back." He let her arm go. "Feel better now?" She shook her head and remarked silently on his pristine waxed floors. He grimaced, but spoke softly. "Go and make something for dinner. I know you're hungry."

              She was. Dang it, she didn't want to be, but she was. They'd barely fed them at all in that place.

              She left his side and made her way to the kitchen once more. She opened the cabinets and stared blankly at the contents. She pulled a box of minute rice out and went on the hunt for a pot. After making the rice she peered down into it as she fluffed it with a fork. She hadn't even made anything to go with it. She just didn't care. She wanted to go to bed and to never wake up if this was going to be her life now.

              She spooned the rice out with a fork, plopping it in a bowl and went to the table with it. He was already there. She set it in the middle of the table and stood like a robot. She'd be a robot for the rest of her life…

              "Forks? Plates?" he barked.

              She went back into the kitchen and hunted down the items. Then she went back and grabbed two glasses of water. She sat down in the seat the farthest from him. He glared at her over the rice. "You didn't make anything but rice?"

              She looked at his throat because she didn't want to see his face. "I don't know what you have."

              "You have eyes, don't you?" She didn't say anything. He huffed and spooned the rice onto his plate. "Well, tomorrow for lunch you get a pass because we're going to eat with a friend of mine…and his new wife." Amy perked up at the idea. One of the girls in the warehouse with her? "Anyway, you won't have to cook for that, but for supper tomorrow, I expect something a little bit better than plain white rice."             

              She once again stayed silent. She reached for the spoon of rice, half expecting him to tell her she wasn't allowed to eat. He watched her as she spooned a small amount onto her plate. He sighed. "I know you're hungry. Eat the rest of it."

              She took what was left and dug in, her fork clanking on the plate with each swoop for another bite. Her stomach howled with delight at finally being supplied something. After they finished, she went into the kitchen with their plates. She figured that was part of her job description and was putting them into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang.

              "Oh, no," he grumbled. He peeked his head into the kitchen. "Remember what I told you earlier." It was a command, not a question.

              He opened the door and she once again heard loud male voices. She finished the dishes, turning it on and turned around to find a large man in the doorway. Roger was behind him and he looked anxious. "There she is, eh?" the man said.

              He came closer, Roger on his heels. She stayed in her position with her back pressed against the counter and her eyes to the floor. He moved his hand to pull her face up roughly. He whistled. "Sure is perty."

              "Uncle Ben, we're heading to bed. Can't we do this tomorrow?"

              She jolted at his words and the man laughed. "Oh, she's an eager one." He leaned forward, his breath smelled of tobacco. "She just can't wait to get it, can she?"

              "Uncle B-"

              "Shut up, now!" the man yelled and turned on Roger. He grabbed him by the shirt front. "Your daddy said you was trying to slack. I just stopped by to make sure you understand that we ain't gonna tolerate no slackers in our family. You get her straightened out good and quick like. You hear me?"

              "Yes, sir," Roger answered quickly. "Of course. I plan to start as soon as you leave."

              "I'll come by to check up on you. She bests be colorful and tender, boy."

              Roger nodded and followed his uncle out. Amy heard the door slam and it was as if instinct took over. She looked around for a back door and saw the back porch light on, illuminating the yard and steps. She bolted for it. But it was locked and she couldn't figure out how to do the lock to save her life, literally. There was no phone to be seen, either. Roger came in just in time to see what she was up to. He glanced back at the front door with a horrified expression before running to her. He grabbed her arm and wrenched her from the door and pushed her against the wall. "Do you want to get us both killed?"

              She was breathing hard from being caught and disappointment. He spoke again, angrily. "They don't tolerate this kind of behavior. Didn't you hear him? If you try to leave…the things they'll want me to do to you…" He glanced down at her arm all of a sudden as if it hit him that he was holding her too hard. His face paled when he removed his fingers to show spots where they had been imprinted on her skin. He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the bedroom. He pushed her inside and slammed the door. "Go to bed!" he yelled through the wood and she thought she heard him leave.

              But as she stood there in a stunned stupor she heard him slide down the door and then his head bang a couple of times before his mumble. "Oh, God, I don't think I can do this. I can't do this. I can't do this…"

              That went on for long, long minutes. She finally backed her way to the bed and lay back on it. She didn't get up on his pillows or under his covers. She just closed her eyes and once again prayed for God's forgiveness that all she wanted was to never wake up again.

Chapter 3

              She woke up early to a loud banging. Someone was at the door. She sat up and waited for…something. Not long after, Roger was poking his head in the door and telling her gruffly, and strangely loud, "Get out here."

              It was as if he wanted his visitors to hear him talk to her that way. She lifted from the bed and eased her head around the corner. There were two other men there that she didn't know, and then Roger's father as well. They were staring at her with impatience. "Come on," Roger urged.

              She padded her way down the hall on the balls of her feet. The men were so menacing she found herself going to Roger's side out of protective instinct. He seemed surprised by her move, but it was quickly absolved.

              "Got lots to do today. Let's get on with it," one of them men barked and motioned for them to turn to each other. It was then that she realized who this man was. The minister…

              She whimpered and Roger shot her a look. "Don't," he said, but it sounded more like a beg than anything. She took a deep breath and sucked the tears back in. She watched their feet and waited with baited breath for them to signal her that it was her time…her moment to speak and give her life away.

              "I…do," Roger said and then lifted her face with his fingers on his chin. "Say it."

              "I do," she said automatically and couldn't hold it in another second. She burst from the inside out with tears, letting her chin fall rebelliously back to her chest.

              "Girl-" The minister grabbed her arm, but Roger gripped his hand on her skin.

              "Don't. I've got it," he said and started to pull her away.

              "We're going to go, Roger. You mind your husband, girl!" the minister yelled and they were gone, leaving her with Roger and his father. Describing him as furious would be an understatement.

Roger's father glared at her and then him. "Well, get on with it! Hit her!"

              "Father," Roger started, but his father took a dangerous step forward and growled at him. "Hit her. Hit her and teach her who's boss right now. Show me that you can be the man I raised you to be."

              Roger sighed and gave his father a placating look. "I will do what needs to be done; I just think I should do it without you-"

              Amy couldn't hold her scream in when Roger's father launched himself at her. Her gripped her by the hair and pulled her to stand in front of Roger, the painful zing shooting down her spine. "Hit her!"

              Roger looked at her, his face shaking with strain. She could do nothing but look into his wide eyes and wait. But when his hand rose it wasn't to hit her, it was to pull her away. "Go into the bedroom, Amy," he said angrily. She didn't know if it was directed at her or not, but she ran.