The winter sky was filled with stars. They all glowed so brightly that I wondered if they were completing against one another as to who could shine the brightest. But those thoughts passed through my mind like a shooting stare as my eyes descended upon Candy's face. The glow of the stars and moon shined down upon her, and my breath was stolen from within my very lungs.
She laid upon the grass while staring up at the stars with anger briefly flickering in her mismatched eyes. They were such a lovely feature; she was truly the only woman I have ever laid eyes upon that I didn't dismiss within moments.
Kneeling beside her, I could not help but brush away the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes. As expected, she filched away from me as if she was ice and I, fire to whom would burn her.
Sighing, I retracted my hand, "Are you hurt?" My eyes briefly scanned her body but with both her dress and sweater blocking most of my view, I could not see any wounds.
She blinked slowly before scrambling to her feet, she acted so hastily that she nearly knocked me off my feet.
"I'm fine." She bit out through gritted teeth.
She was such a stubborn woman; she would rather have her teeth pulled then admit she was hurting.
But with yet another sigh, I shook my head and stood, "This path leads through the pastor, it's a couple miles long and will consume our hour."
I was as giddy as a schoolboy about simply walking with her for an hour. I wanted more time, much more time, but I was forced to accept simply an hour for now. I prayed earnestly to God that someday I would not have to settle for just an hour of her time. I prayed I would soon be blessed with every moment of her life.
She nodded and wrapped her arms around her too-skinny waist. My eyes narrowed, I blamed myself whole-heartedly for her current malnourishment. Yes, she may as well have been skin and bones when I took her, but over the last two weeks she appeared to have lost three if not five pounds. I snuck her food whenever I could and did my hardest to keep Pa away from her. But when Pa is constantly watching every move I make, it is nearly impossible to sneak more than a biscuit or apple to her. The food I bought her should hopefully last her a week or two, but that is only if she rations it. My fists balled, for one way or another she will have to starve each day. I hated myself for putting her in this situation, but I could not allow such an angel to die before my eyes.
Blowing out a hot breath, my eyes took in her face and narrowed when I noticed a small cut on her cheek. It was small and barely bleeding but the sight caused great anguish to feel my soul, for I should've ignored her threats and just lifted her over the fence. But I was trying to prove to her that I'm not the man she thinks I am and so I foolishly watched her throw herself over the fence, and then stumble down the hill like a sack of potatoes.
My hand itched once more to reach forward but only this time to wipe anyway the drops of blood oozing from her cut. However, she beat me to it and roughly wiped the blood away with the back of her hand.
"Shall we?" I didn't dare offer her my arm as I desired to; for I knew she rebuke me as she has done countless times. With a shake of my head, I pushed myself into a slow stroll.
She fell into step beside me and only a fool would've missed the way she limped on her left leg. I made a mental note to cut our hour short tonight and simply do a short loop around the pastor instead of cutting across it to the other side.
"Are you and your brother close?" I inquired eager to learn as much about her as I could.
"No." Her words were flat; yet with a rough edge sharp enough to cut.
I wanted to pry and discover why she wasn't close with her brother but if I shove her for information, she will shove me back and the micro progress we have made will crumble. So, with a guttural sigh, I went on to tell her how my brothers and I were close, how our bond was stronger than most.
She quietly listened and I thought for a moment she was content, until I saw the roll of her eyes, "How peachy." She mumbled as she limped beside me.
I allowed her comment to go in one-ear-and-out-the-other, and simply continued, "Joshua is the most anti-social person on the planet, he's like a bear. When he's not working, he prefers to be on his own. But he loves the farm and one day it will be his."
One day the farm will indeed be passed down to Joshua, it's his birthright. It wasn't a sore sport between my brothers and I, for I knew for a fact that Aaron, Asher, and Elijiah have been biting at the bit to leave for years now. They're souls weren't made for this kind of life, and I would never hold that against them. I'd never dream of taking over the farm, I'm fine with the mediocre work I do. If Pa died, and Joshua took over, Tobias would agree to stay and work as along as Joshua left those savage wolves alone. Enoch was too young for me to even tell what he desired; however, he did have a fondness for the horses that even myself nor my brothers ever held at such a young age. And then there was Caleb, he never spoke of his wishes. He never grumbled underneath his breath about hating the farm, nor had he ever whispered his affection for it. He was like a dog; he did what he was commanded to do and remained silent when he was free of any commands. I had a feeling his true emotions, thoughts, and desires would only be revealed when Pa laid six feet under.
"Does he write poetry?" Her question was spoken on trembling lips, if she was cold, she did not let on.
My eyes narrowed for to simply imagine Joshua's beefy fingers trying to hold a pencil to write anything brough only amusement to me, "No."
Her eye furrowed, "But the other day he was carrying a piece of paper with a poem on it...Esther mentioned something about a bird poem?" She was grasping at straws to draw my mind close to hers, but she didn't need to; for I already knew exactly what she was speaking of.
"He was simply reading a poem someone from long ago wrote."
My tongue rolled each word off my lips with such caution that I barely remembered to breathe. It wasn't that I didn't want to tell her about Ruth, it was more of that Ruth's story wasn't mine to tell. She was Joshua's everything, and to speak of her without his permission felt wrong.
Candy's eyes narrowed, she was far from done with this conversation, "Esther had mentioned a girl...Ruth, her name was Ruth."
I wanted to throw back my head and very well howl to the moon in frustration. But I knew if I followed through with such actions, she would realize this was a deeper tropic than she even realized. So, with a plastered smile, I changed the topic, "Do you like pie?"
As if I was a crazed man, her lips pulled upwards in an unsettling frown, "Pie? What does pie have to do with this conversation?"
I could no longer contain my frustration and without hesitation, my hands rubbed down the length of my face roughly. God why must you have blessed me with such a beautiful, intelligent, and stubborn woman?
"I do not wish to lie to you." I mumbled into the palms of my hands.
"Then don't." Her arms were tightly wrapped around her bony waist, and I wondered if she did that to comfort or contain herself.
"Ruth's story is...long and painful." My heart ached just imagining the once lively girl. She was as beautiful as blooming sunflowers and as vibrant as the very sun. Her raven hair and wild laugh still haunts my dreams in the late hours of the night.
She squared back her shoulders, "I've got all night."
A dry laugh escaped from within me before I could stop myself for why must she pry a story from the past? I would answer any question she asked me, but not this one.
"It is not my story to tell."
The story of Ruth is more completed than the creation of the world. It's layered and each time it is told, it seems more dark secrets escape from it every time it is brought back to life.
She pursed her lips and threw her glaze over the vast pastor that was covered in a light layer of snow.
Sensing her silence as a rejection, I frowned, "If you wish to know anything about me," My eyes locked upon her body, "I shall tell you."
As the sun craves to shine, I desired more than the breath within my lungs, for her to simply gain an interest in my life; in me. I wanted her to look me in the eyes and tell me she feels this pull towards me as I have felt since I first saw her. More than life itself, I wanted to hold her face within my hands and rest my forehead against her own. I needed her to tell me I wasn't crazy for feeling as if my soul was being pulled towards her own.
But as we walked in silence, her lips did not even dare to move and the hope that had been building within me crumbled.
I didn't want to know what her favorite flower was or what color she adored her body in, I wanted to skip all those childish questions and dive straight into why she wanted to rip her soul from her body. I wanted to know what haunted her so thoroughly that she thought her only escape was death. I needed to know...for only then could I save her.
God save her please.
Biting my tongue, I sighed loudly, and asked softly, "What is your favorite flower?"
I wondered that if I perhaps coaxed her voice out with simple questions as such as that one, maybe I could pry the questions I desperately needed to know out of her.
I expected her to roll her eyes, laugh at me for such a childish question, and even rebuke me with harsh words. But she accompanied none of them, instead, she relaxed her shoulders and raised her chin.
"Roses." She paused as if truly debating if they were her favorite, "But not because their romantic or a symbol of love, not even because men hand them out like candy in hopes of getting into a girls' pants." She hissed the words like a bored cat, and I could not hide nor contain the smile that pulled at the corners of my lips.
"Why do you like them?"
It was as if I asked her to count the steps of the Eiffel Tower as she sighed dramatically, "Because like everything else that is beautiful, it has thorns to protect itself from the hands of those who just want them for it's beauty."
I took in her words as if she was a princess and I, her mere knight. Her words were filled with wisdom, and I had no doubt my angel before me, had thorns of her own.
I've been pricked by them before...
"Why do you stay here when there is a whole world out there?" Her eyes bore into the mountain ahead of us, and very truly, I wondered if she could see what lay beyond it.
Her question was spoken on soft lips and yet, it still surprised me. No one had ever dared to ask such a question. My brothers were in the same position I was in, it is just easier to accept your fate then fight it.
I threw my gaze ahead of me, "My life is..."
Strange, dangerous, confusing...not my own.
"Complicated, and there are things that forbid me from leaving...plus, I've never left Holyoke, I wouldn't know where to go, I'd just be lost."
Her eyes met mine and in them I saw the words, 'you are already lost', clear as day.
However loud her eyes screamed the words, she simply shook her head and gestured with her hand for me to ask her a question.
"Have you ever been in love before?"
I couldn't help myself, I needed to know about her in every way. I prayed that if I asked her one serious question after a few childish ones, she would answer them instead of rebuking them.
A deep murmur slipped from her lips, "Once."
Under the moons soft glow, her skin paled a shade whiter than her normal ghostly complexion. Her eyes narrowed as if her mind was dragging her to a memory from long ago. I wanted so terribly to read her mind, to be sucked into it and to discover what that memory was. But instead, I was forced to wait impatiently with my hands laced together.
She didn't even glance at me as she began to speak, "I once met a man who swept me off my feet, stole the very breath from within my lungs, and then broke my heart into a million little pieces."
Pain overtook my heart for I desperately wanted to gather her into my arms and promise her that I would never break her heart as that man had. To whisper comforting words into her ears and hold her until the sun rose again. But as my eyes slid over her ridged body, I knew all I would receive from her would be a harsh rejection.
She was the type of woman that must come to you for comfort, not the other way around. I both admired and disliked her for it.
I could never hate her...not even an ounce of her.
We walked for a few minutes before she broke the heavy silence, "What about you? Have you ever been in love?"
I could not meet her eyes as she stared so intensely up at me, "Yes."
I craved so deeply to tell her that the only woman I have ever loved is her. But I knew if those words even dared to be spoken, she would chastise me for them. She would very well hate me for them. Consequently, I'm left to only bear them within me, for her to hate me would be as if the world around me erupted into flames.
I would curl up and die...
Her eyebrows furrowed, "And how did it end?"
Her words were sharp and yet, my mind screamed at me that there was a hint of eagerness in the undertone of her words. Perhaps even a speck of jealously.
I shook my head at those utterly foolish thoughts, she could barely stand for me to even touch her; so how could she be jealous of the possibility of me loving another woman?
It was only when we neared a cluster of horses that I finally spoke, "It hasn't."
Chaya's P.O.V
I shouldn't be jealous, and I shouldn't be surprised that Malachi has a lover, he's one of the most handsome men I have ever laid eyes on and even boldly, I would say his looks nearly matched Ryders.
What is wrong with me? How can I even compare my husband to this man? Truly I am going mad and perhaps I am.
We'd only returned from our walk hours ago and yet, here I laid underneath the bed wide awake wondering if my jealously is the product of my new-found madness or if perhaps Stockholm syndrome was beginning to take effect.
Whatever the reason is, I must nip this in the butt, or I would soon find myself throwing myself at him or even worse, falling in love with him.
I laughed at that thought, for truly love was enemy number one in my life and plus, how can I love Malachi when I don't even have a heart anymore?
Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I reasoned with myself that the feelings, if they could even be called that, I felt towards Malachi were simply forgery. They weren't real, no, they were just a lie that my heart created to trick my mind into believing.
I mean, it was ridiculous to even consider having feelings for him. Over the last couple of weeks, I have been here, I haven't been allowed to eat at the dinner table with them like a human being. No, I was forced to help prepare the meals but never once did Esther invite me to stay. I suppose that was for the best though, I wouldn't even know how to interact with them. I was doing my best to pretend to be nice to them, but kindness can only go so far and mock-up kindness even less.
They were just too naïve, they bought every plastered smile I offered them, every giggle I choked out, and every word I spoke they bought without even examining it's worth. The longer I was held on this farm, the more I felt like the lost teenager I was all those years ago. It's only been five years since I was freed from foster care and yet, I felt as if I was still, it's hostage.
I felt lost and yet I didn't know where to run to. The very walls around me felt unstable and I didn't know how to hold them up. I wanted so badly to be embraced but to whom arms would hold me?
Sighing bitterly, I turned onto my side and glanced into the darked shed, when we returned from our stroll my ankle had been throbbing and I'd barely made it back to the shed without collapsing. Malachi had offered to message it or even get Aaron to examine it, both of switch I turned down. One, for Aaron seemed to either be oddly interested in me or have very strange social skills. And two, I feared more than the world ending, that if Malachi were to touch me, I'd melt into a pile lava.
Burning only for him...