The Girl Before (20 page)

Mama doesn't stand to give me a hug this time. She remains seated, a troubled look on her face. I notice the lines around her eyes have deepened, and for the first time I begin to question whether Glen will ever be free. Or if I will.

Mama smooths the veil in front of my face and turns me toward the mirror. I gasp at the stranger reflected back at me. The veil is thin enough that I can see through it, but it casts everything around me into a dreamlike haze. My dress is simple, white, and lace-covered. It falls just past my knees. The sleeves are long, but the straight neckline leaves my shoulders uncovered. My feet will remain bare for the outdoor ceremony. My long dark hair cascades in a smooth sheet down my back. The veil is attached to a hat and falls just over the top half of my face. When it is lifted, a line of pearls around the rim of the hat will be revealed. Another strand of pearls is my only other jewelry. I do not even wear an engagement ring. I never received one, though that will change today. I find myself in the familiar green eyes shining with excitement from behind the veil.

Today is my eighteenth birthday, and the day I finally join my life with Glen's. Officially, anyway. For me, we have been joined since the night we ran away together. My entire body floods with delicious anticipation. Today we pledge in front of others what we pledged to each other more than two years ago. Today we move into our own small cabin, built by Glen and some of the guys. Tonight . . . I thrill at the thought. Tonight we become one in every sense of the word.

I am nervous and excited all at once. This is the day I have been dreaming of. Even before Glen and I ran away, Macy and I would stay up late, giggling and talking about what it would be like to get married, have a wedding, be able to be with a soul mate. Of course, we always realized how blessed we were that we would be well taken care of, but it was fun to dream a little.

The thought of Macy makes my heart heavy. I still don't know what happened to her, though rumors about where problem girls are sent run rampant through the house. She was carted off after her whipping. The one time I brought up her name to Glen, I was sure he would hit me. I think he was ashamed of what his father forced him to do. He apologized for overreacting, but I have never brought up the topic again, as curious as I am.

Mama snaps her fingers in my face, bringing me back to the present. She is trying to hand me my flowers. “What is wrong with you, girl?” she asks. It stings. Papa is the one who calls me “that girl.” Mama has always been more tolerant. But today she has been a beast.

The ceremony is small, just my sisters and some of Papa's men and Glen's friends. His men, I suppose. The ones who will be in his future workforce. Joel stands up next to him as I walk toward him. We are saying our vows by the small copse of trees where Glen first kissed me. Of course, we do not tell his parents why we chose that spot. It is our secret.

I glance across from Glen and almost stop in my tracks. Standing by him in a simple peach frock is Macy. At least . . . I think it is Macy. She looks much older, and much thinner. Nothing like the bubbly girl I knew. Still, my face breaks into a smile. She smiles back, but it does not reach her eyes. I hug her as I come to the front of the group, briefly concerned over how fragile she feels.

“Mace,” I whisper. “You're here.” It's just like my dreams coming true, like what we fantasized about when we were younger.

“I'm here,” Macy says, reaching a hand to run down my hair. “And you're getting married, just like we always talked about.” Her eyes shine with moisture, and I am touched that she can be so happy for me despite her circumstances. It amazes me that even after being apart for almost two years, Macy and I are on the same wavelength. Soul sisters.

A throat clears behind me, so I pull Macy into another quick hug and then turn my focus on Glen. His eyes are shining.

“Thank you,” I murmur, knowing that he is the one who managed this surprise. I also understand why Mama has been so testy today. Seeing one of her failures paraded in front of her cannot be easy. And she also considers me a failure, since I did not fulfill my original purpose. Still, it would be nice if she could be happy on her son's wedding day.

Glen smiles, squeezing my hand. We turn toward his father, who is officiating the ceremony. I find my attention wandering frequently to the man standing to my right. He has grown up so much in two years. Now twenty years old, he is in charge of his own mini operation, under Papa's careful guidance, of course. We do not talk specifics, but once we are married, I know he will open up more.

When the time comes, I hand my bouquet to Macy and take Glen's other hand. We recite our vows, and he slides a beautiful large diamond onto my finger. He will wear no ring, but I recite my vows and go through the motions of placing one on his finger anyway. The symbolism is beautiful. I belong to him. And though his finger remains naked, I know I have his heart. We kiss, and everyone else disappears as we languish in our small bubble of happiness.

We have a small reception. While Glen laughs with Joel on the other side of the room, I sidle up to Macy. “Hey, Mace.” She jumps. “I've missed you.”

Macy gives me a small smile. “I've missed you, too, Clare. You look beautiful.”

The question burns on my tongue, but I am afraid to ask. Will they take Macy away if I ask? If she answers? I feel Glen's eyes on me, always watching. I paste a giant smile on my face and lower my voice. “Where have you been, Macy? What happened to you?”

Her eyes grow shiny with unshed tears, but she, too, stretches her
mouth into a wide fake smile. “I'm not supposed to talk about it. We'll both get in trouble.”

I laugh and glance toward Glen. The laser focus of his eyes makes me uncomfortable, as if he knows I am doing something I should not. I raise my glass to toast him and nudge Macy, as if we were talking about him. His face relaxes and he raises his glass in return, holding up one finger to signal that he will be coming over soon. “Quick, Mace, before he gets here. I have to know.”

The pain in her eyes is clear, but she speaks, the words rolling over one another to get out of her mouth, so low that I can barely hear. “After the beating, they moved me to a building a couple miles away. Men come and pay for an hour of my time.” Papa's brothel, the Treehouse. I have heard of it in passing as I have been learning more about the business side of things, though much of it is still a mystery. Macy shrugs. “That's it.”

My face has lost its warmth, and tears spring into my eyes.

“There's my bride!” Glen's voice booms from my left. I take a large drink of champagne, coughing and sputtering as I choke on the bubbly liquid. An easy explanation for the tears and my inability to hold my grin. “Whoa, slow down there, Clare,” Glen says, rubbing my back. He wraps an arm around me as the coughing subsides.

“Sorry,” I say, taking a deep breath and smiling up at him. “You startled me.”

He doesn't believe me, but he lets it go. He turns to Macy. “Macy, it's been a while. Thank you for agreeing to come. It means a lot to both of us.”

I do not recognize the tone in Glen's voice. The words are nice, but the tone is almost mocking, with a hint of menace. Macy hears it, too, and shrinks under his glare. “I—I should probably be getting back.”

“No, Mace, stay,” I say, reaching toward her.

“I need to go,” Macy says. She leans forward and gives me a quick
hug, which is difficult since Glen does not release me from his grip, and Macy takes special care not to touch him.

“Macy . . .”

“Let her go.” Glen's words are a command, and I watch, helpless, as Macy approaches two guards who are waiting for her and disappears into the dark. I do not know if I will see her again. Will I be allowed visits now that I am officially Glen's wife? Now is not the time to ask. “Let's dance, Clara.” Glen leads me onto the dance floor and we sway to the gentle music. Thoughts of Macy move to the back of my mind as I curl my body into Glen's, allowing him to pull me close. I am safe here, at home, and happier than I've ever been.

The party doesn't last long. I dance with Glen and Papa, and Joel for one song, but he holds me just a little too close and Glen cuts in. “I think he has a little crush on you. But he's harmless, Clare.” Gone is the menacing Glen from earlier. In his place is this teasing, lighthearted man. There is not even a hint of jealousy in his eyes when he mentions Joel having a crush. He seems to trust Joel implicitly.

We kiss Glen's parents good-bye and head for our cabin.
Our
cabin. Mine and Glen's. I hug myself with happiness. Glen grins down at me.

“Excited?” he asks, his voice husky.

“You have no idea,” I reply, a coy smile playing at my lips. “I have been waiting for this night for two years.”

Glen stops, pulling me to a halt and turning me to face him. He gathers me in his arms, bends down, and presses his lips to mine. It does not take long for the kiss to grow heated, and his tongue teases my lips. We are in the shadows of the trees, completely hidden, but it feels like we are out in the open. He backs me up until I am pressed between the tree and his body, and soon I forget all about where we are. We have gotten heated before, but Glen is more aggressive tonight. Tonight we will not be forced to stop. His hands roam everywhere. I moan, and he leads me away.

Neither of us says a word as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the cabin at a run. Inside, our clothes are gone in seconds. I am hit with a wave of nervousness. Glen has done this before, but I have not. I know the mechanics, but it is different to be here, to be experiencing it.

As he always does, Glen senses the shift in my mood, and he slows, whispering words of encouragement, of love. And when we come together it is as natural as breathing. As natural as being with Glen always has been. We become one, body and soul, and nothing can separate us now.

My stomach flutters as I walk down the hallway toward the group room. The doctor claims it is too early for me to feel Nut moving, but I think he's telling me he is here for me. That he isn't going anywhere. My tense muscles relax. Connor follows, silent. He has been strangely subdued lately. I want to ask him how the case is going, but I'm afraid of the answer. I am starting to feel guilty for being so unhelpful. It's strange that I should want to help him when his goals and mine are polar opposites. Still, I wish there were a way for both of us to be happy. I have come to believe that he does want good things for me, that he does care about me. But I cannot help him.

The door is propped open, and a few of the girls are already there. I walk over to the refreshment table and grab a bottle of water.

“Hey.” I jump when I hear a voice close beside me. I turn to find Tori smiling at me.

“Hello.”

“Clara, right?”

I nod.

“I'm Tori.”

“I remember.”

My short answers do not discourage her. “I wanted to talk to you more last time, but you flew out of here pretty fast.”

“I wasn't feeling well.”

She frowns. “I'm sorry. I hope you're better now?”

“Much. Thank you.” I toy with my water bottle, wondering when it is appropriate to leave the conversation and find a seat.

“Well, listen,” Tori says. “I wanted to let you know that I'm here to talk if you need it. I mean, I know you're in therapy and all, but if you ever want to talk to someone who's been in kind of the same place as you, I'm here for you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I'm not sure what you mean by being in the same place.”

Her brow furrows. “You know, why we're all here.”

“No offense,” I say—fully aware that I will probably offend her; that's why people say “no offense”—“but I really don't have anything in common with you all. I don't know what you've heard about me, or my husband, but we were happy until agents came and stole our lives. I'm only here because I am doing whatever I can to get out before my baby is born.”

I wait for the backlash, for the yelling, for the harsh words. Instead, Tori gives a small smile. “Yep,” she says. “I've been there, too.” I watch her walk to the circle, which is now almost full. I am more confused than ever.

Heather runs in late again, taking a seat next to a stick-thin girl with a dark, pixie-cut hairstyle. “Good afternoon, ladies,” she says. “I believe Erin is going to share today, unless there's something pressing anyone else wants to bring up?” She looks at everyone, but I feel her
gaze heavy on me. I avoid her eyes, staring at a spot over her shoulder instead. “Okay then, Erin, are you ready?”

The pixie girl clears her throat. Tattoos snake up her neck and down her arms, and a spike protrudes from her eyebrow. She's dressed in dark clothes, and I realize for the first time that these girls are not kept here like me. I'm not sure how I missed it before. They must come voluntarily from the outside. A wave of jealousy hits me, followed by a new resolve to gain my own freedom. And soon.

“I'm not like y'all,” Erin begins. “I wasn't kidnapped or forced to do anything. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

Heather nods. “We all have different stories. But you're here for a reason, Erin, and you wanted to share, so I'm guessing there's more to it than that.”

Erin nods. “I guess I should say I
thought
I knew exactly what I was doing. See, I didn't grow up in the nicest home. My daddy drank, and he was a mean drunk. I was the oldest, and as soon as I was tall enough I started standing between him and my ma. She wouldn't stand up for herself. When I was twelve, I'd had enough. I went after him with a knife. Nicked him pretty good, but he survived. Lucky bastard.”

My hands curl into fists where they rest on my knees. The look on her face reminds me of how I felt when I shot Joel. Murderous and wistful at the same time.