Either way, I’m basking in it. I want to remember this feeling the rest of my days.
I tiptoe into my room and peer out the window just in time to see Bruce climbing into his car and pulling away. Perfect timing. I have no idea how long I’ve been up here, but I can’t imagine it’s been more than an hour.
Heavy footsteps trudge up the stairs, sounding closer with each thump. My door swings open wide, my father standing in the doorway. His jaw is set, and he’s peering down at me with a fevered stare.
Does he know?!
I pull in a long, cool breath and force a smile on my face. “Hi, Dad.”
He shuts the door behind him and charges at me, his fists clenched and his face reddening with each heavy second. “What you did tonight was unacceptable.”
My heart whooshes in my ears as I attempt to steady my breathing. “Can you be more specific?”
His lips pinch together into a menacing smile, his eyes dart around the room. He lifts his hand to his jaw, raking the side of his face in slow, hard strokes. I don’t recognize this man. This man is not my father. I don’t know who he is.
“You do understand Bruce Waterman is a member of the quorum, right?” His penetrating gaze holds mine. “He came here to meet my daughters, whom I boast about on a regular basis. My pride and joy. My shining examples…” He shakes his head, gathering his thoughts some more. “You’re an embarrassment to me, your mothers, and the rest of the family. You have disgraced us. Who do you think you are, running off like that?”
My father has never spoken to me with words so harsh before. My lip trembles, and I feel myself falling from the highest high to the lowest low. I sink into my mattress, burying my head in my hands.
“I was uncomfortable,” I sob. “The way he looked at me. The whole thing. And Bellamy said—”
“You have too much free will. That’s the problem.” His voice cuts through mine, muting my opinions. “Something has changed in you, Waverly. You’re not the young woman I raised you to be.”
“You’re wrong. I am a good woman.” I stand up for myself knowing my words fall upon deaf ears. Once my father’s mind is made up, there’s no convincing him otherwise. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do.”
“You’re lying.” His hands dig into his hips. “You’re looking me in the eye and lying.”
I shake my head, wiping away tears that stain my cheeks and make my hair stick to my skin. He knows. He probably knows everything. Or he’s bluffing. Either way, I’m fighting a losing battle.
“You’re not going to college this fall, Waverly,” his voice is a low sneer. “I clearly haven’t done my part raising you into a respectable young woman who can make proper choices for herself. You demonstrated that tonight by the way you treated Mr. Waterman. I fear for your soul if I send you out on your own. The modern world is wicked, filled with temptations and sin.”
“You don’t need to fear for my soul, Dad.” I wipe away heavy tears, but they continue falling, landing on the tops of my thighs. I glance up at him, pleading with my eyes because I know my words are merely lightweight. “You promised. You promised I could go to college if I got my scholarship and demonstrated that I’m responsible and dependable and—”
“Some things are more important than college.” His words set fire to my future.
“Bellamy went to college.”
“She attended the local community college, living at home. You will be granted the same opportunity.”
There’s nothing for me there. “How is that fair?”
I don’t have time to wipe my eyes before the sting of an open-palmed slap warms my cheek. I haven’t been physically punished since I was a child. My breath halts, our eyes meet again. My hand flies to the burning warmth radiating from the side of my face.
“You are not to ask questions anymore. Do you understand that? I am your father. I know what is best for you. Your future is in my hands.” His voice is low, raspy and desperate in his throat as he wags a finger in my face. “You are to remain chaste and true until the day you are sealed to a husband of my choosing.”
I want to tell him it’s too late. Instead I bite my tongue, knowing that going tit-for-tat with my father never ends well for anyone.
“I said, do you understand?” He spits his words at me.
“Yes, Father.” I hang my head low, unable to meet his omnipotent stare. “I understand.”
He straightens his back, pulling his shoulders firm, his fists clenched tight. A lingering silence fills my room until he disappears a moment later. I rise up and amble to my dresser, taking a good, hard look at myself in the mirror. There’s a handprint on my cheek, splays of white and pink making an outline of my father’s hand. My eyes are watery still, achy and swollen. My hair is disheveled and out of place, and I thank my lucky stars my father didn’t notice. He must’ve been too busy seeing red to pay any attention to my appearance.