Reckless: Shades of a Vampire(32)

“Yes, father,” Emma says. “Apron on, put tray down, apron off, sit to his right. Yes, father.”

“Let him know that you obey God, and thus, will obey him. Remember the scripture. And so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.”

“Yes, father. First Timothy, verse two twelve. I know it. “Submissive to their own husbands…”



Peanut butter and cookie dough aroma fills the house, as the droplets rise and pucker at three hundred and fifty degrees. Emma pours water into the coffee maker, and loads up three scoops of Folgers coffee grounds into the pot. She turns it on, and sets a tray with sugar, cream, cups and napkins. Her mother walks in, wearing a lavender dress and high-heeled shoes she rarely ever wears.

“All ready, Dear?” her mother says.

“You certainly are,” Emma says.

Emma’s mother walks over to her and brushes a hand into her hair. Emma looks her mother in the eyes. Her mother has tears welling in them.

“Be at your best Emma,” her mother says in a soft voice. “Your father wants this for you. He has planned very carefully. He thinks the time is right. He thinks God has sent the right person. It is your job, dear, to make sure the deal is done.”

“Deal?”

“We came into this world with the plight we have, Emma. We have few choices. We are called to serve the men who serve the Lord. We are followers, and servants.”

She touches the bite mark on Emma’s neck.

“This might be the only thing that keeps him away,” her mother says. “You are such a beautiful girl. But nobody wants a tainted girl. I know it was a mistake. You know it was a mistake. Your father knows it was a mistake. But he may wonder what you did to deserve this.

“They don’t handle snakes anymore at David’s church. So maybe he won’t think anything of it anyway. But try to keep it out of sight. Try not to flaunt it in his face.”

“I know,” Emma says. “Sit to his right, so he can’t see the left side of my neck. I know. Father already told me.”



Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Oh, goodness. He’s at the door,” Emma’s mother says. “I’ll get it. You gather the things, and give me us a moment. Then come into the parlor. We’ll visit for a few minutes, then leave you to alone to get acquainted. Good luck, dear.”

Emma hears talking near the front door as she scoops fresh cookies from the baking pan onto the tray she has prepared. She isn’t listening to the small talk from the parlor. Her mind is elsewhere, focusing on someone other than David, the preacher’s son.

Emma wonders where Michael went, what Michael is doing, and if Michael is thinking of her. She feels her insides twitch, and her pulse quicken at the thought. She closes her eyes, thinking of their embrace, his kiss, and his smell. She glances out the kitchen window into the late afternoon light at the tractor he used to drive while she watched, hungrily.

“Emma, dear,” her mother calls. “Emma. You have a guest.”

She’s lost track of time. She isn’t sure if three minutes have passed or thirteen.

“I’m coming, mother.”

Emma takes the tray and walks into the parlor wearing her apron, just as her father instructed. She sees her father and mother standing on each side of a short young man.

“Emma,” her father says. “This is David.”

“David,” her father says, “this is Emma.”

David is perhaps five-foot-six inches tall – clearly an inch shorter than she is. He is wearing a dark suit, a pressed white shirt, and a wide black tie. He’s wearing black patent leather shoes, slightly scuffed, and he’s holding a pot of orange mums. He has short, closely cropped dark hair, a long, slender nose, and a pale face covered in red scars and still-festering pimples – some rearing white heads.

“Evening, Emma,” David says, extending his arm. “I brought these for you.”

Emma doesn’t move.

“Oh, how nice, David,” Emma’s mother says. “Here, I’ll take them. They are beautiful.”

“God gives us much good,” David says. “We can thank him for flowers.”

“Amen,” Jeremiah says.

“Emma,” her mother says. “Don’t you want to put the tray down, and offer David some coffee and cookies?”

“Oh, yes,” Emma says, walking the tray to the coffee table.

She puts it down.

“Would you like some coffee and cookies? They are fresh.”

“Yes ma’am, I would.”