Sweet Contradiction (19 page)

“It’s going to be fine. I’m here,” he murmured the words against my forehead as he placed a chaste kiss there. I tried to summon a smile in reply, but I’m afraid it just didn’t happen. I tightened my grip on my Matt’s hand and took a step forward.
Let’s get this over with
, I thought.

We walked up the creaky stairs and stepped up onto the porch. Just as I stepped in front of the front door, it was jerked open. My mother pushed the screen door out and it screeched just as I remembered it doing for so many years. The sound caused the hairs on my arm to raise. Eyes the same color as my own met mine.

“Well, you’ve grown,” my mother said softly. “I see you’ve let your hair go wild.” I ran a hand over my hair. She was right. I’d worn so many braids as a child. As a teen I had to have my hair up or pinned back so it wouldn’t serve as a temptation of vanity for myself or as a temptation of lust for the opposite sex. When I left, I let it grow out and rarely wore it up unless I did it in a sexy updo when I was going out for the evening. Even though I’d worn my jean skirt out of respect for my parents, to keep the peace, so to speak, I didn’t wear my hair up. I didn’t want to them thinking they held that much control over me.

“Well, come in Elizabeth, your father is inside and it’s almost time for dinner.” Matt and I followed my mother into my childhood home. The living room was as dimly lit as it always had been and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The room looked as if I could have been gone only four days, instead of four years. It was the exact same. An old fashioned brown upholstered sofa sat against the wall and two chairs covered in the identical fabric sat across from it. In between them was a large, oak wood coffee table which housed an enormous open Bible, which probably weighed at least twenty pounds. Nothing hung on the walls, except a few photos hanging over the sofa. One picture was of my mother’s parents on their wedding day, one was of my father’s parents, and one was of our family standing in front of our home when I was very small. My father stepped out of the hallway just as my mom disappeared into the kitchen.

“Elizabeth. It’s been a long time,” he spoke sharply.

“Yes it has.” I answered in clipped tones. “Dad, this is Matthew Wright.” Matt stepped forward and held his hand out.

“Please call me Matt.” My dad’s eyes glinted, their hazel shrewdness sizing him up and finding him wanting in a single glance.

“Matthew.” My dad grabbed Matt’s hand and shook it. “You’re the Pastor’s son of that new age church just outside of Salem, ain’t you?” Matt nodded.

“New Hope Community Church. And, yes I am.” Matt stepped back and clasped my hand in his. I swallowed and waited. My dad’s jaw clenched and his hand tightened into a fist. I must have flinched because Matt tightened his grip on my hand just a little. My father refocused his gaze on me and took a step forward. Matt’s entire body became rigid, his posture straightening and going on alert.

“You’ve completely tainted yourself with the world, girl.” My father said in disgust. My cheeks burned and my head bowed before I could stop myself. All those years of belittling and shame were not as easily forgotten as I thought. With Matt’s hand in mine I found strength though. I raised my chin and viewed my father from an outsider’s point of view. He’d never been kind, never had an encouraging word to say, only tore me down, shamed me, and made my life a living hell. I didn’t need his approval, I didn’t need to be afraid of him any longer either.

“I am how god made me,” I said softly.

“God didn’t make you no whore, girl.” My dad spat. Matt’s breath hissed in through his teeth and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Don’t speak to her like that. She’s no whore and I’ll not have any man saying she is. I don’t care who you are.” The muscle in Matt’s jaw jumped as he ground his teeth together. My dad took another step forward, standing toe to toe with Matt. Matt towered over him by a couple inches.

“Dinner is ready.” My mother spoke from the doorway. My father stared at Matt for another few moments before finally stepping back and walking toward the dining room. I breathed out a relieved breath and took Matt by the hand to go to the dinner table.
Just get through dinner, just get through dinner
, I repeated over and over like a mantra. Of course, that was asking just a little too much.

After the chicken, potatoes, salad, and rolls were passed around, my father prayed over the food. The differences between his prayer and that of Pastor Wright’s were as comparable as night and day. I could feel the anger and disgust flowing off of Matt in waves. I placed a hand on his thigh under the table, waiting for my dad to finish his prayer time sermon. When he finally finished, I smiled sadly over at Matt and picked up my fork to try and get the visit over as quickly as possible.

“Well, what have you been doing for the past four years, Elizabeth?” My mother asked as she put butter on her roll. I wiped my mouth and took a sip of water, trying to formulate a reply that wouldn’t cause any more strife than necessary.

“I’ve done a lot of traveling,” I said quietly.

“Where did you go?”

“Well, I’ve been to Texas, Florida, the Carolinas, and several other states,” I answered with a shrug. My mom’s eyes slipped over to my father’s. He had a frown in the middle of his forehead as he ate his food.

“How did you pay your traveling expenses?” she asked as she took a small bite of her roll.

“I used some of the money granddad gave me for my eighteenth birthday, but mostly I found odd jobs wherever I happened to be. Waitressing for tips mostly.” I shrugged and took another bite of my chicken and potatoes.

“And you, Matthew? What do you do?” My mother asked conversationally.

“I help my father run his farm through the week,” Matt answered carefully.

“And do you have brother and sisters? What do they do?”

“I have two brothers. Daniel is in the army, on leave right now. Hunter is helping on the farm while he’s finishing up his degree.” I stared at Matt, I hadn’t known Hunter was getting a degree. I wondered what he was studying.

“And you own several businesses, don’t you?” My dad chimed in, his voice like a whip. Matt stared at my dad, his eyes narrowing into dangerous glints of ice. Matt owned businesses? My head was spinning.

“Yes I do,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“You and your family own a lot more land than any one family should be allowed to. It’s sinful,” my dad hissed. My stomach dropped. I wiped my mouth off on my napkin and glanced over at my mother. Her head was bowed to her plate, her eyes devoid of any emotion. I wanted to shake her, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“Maybe we should leave, Matt,” I whispered.

“You own one of the largest movie theatre chains in the state of Missouri. How much money do you have sitting in your bank?” my dad asked as he took a sip of his water.

“Dad!” I hissed.

“No, that’s alright, Beth.” Matt sat his napkin on the table and faced him unflinchingly. “I’m very wealthy. I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve worked for every dollar I’ve ever made. I run a good business.”

“You’re prideful and money
is
the root of all evil. Guess your daddy didn’t teach you to read the Bible when you were growing up. You should ask Elizabeth for a few verses, I’m sure she’s still got them all memorized. I made sure of that. Every time she sins, every time she plaits her hair in the mirror, paints her face like a harlot, every time she allows you to defile her body, she has a voice in the back of her mind telling her how wicked she is and a verse etched into her memory to remind her exactly where she is headed because of that wickedness.” My dad cut into his chicken and took a bite of potatoes like we’d just discussed the weather. Matt’s eyes were wide, his body rigid. I stared down at my plate, but my appetite was gone.

“I’d like to leave now,” I whispered. Matt nodded and stood up from the table. He glanced over at my mother. Her face was blank, but her eyes shone just a little with unshed tears. He nodded his head in her direction.

“Ma’am.”

She nodded once in return and then returned her eyes to her plate. “Come on, Beth.” I stood up on shaky legs and put my hand in Matt’s and let him lead me out of the dining room. When I got to the living room and had my hand on the door knob I heard my dad’s voice from directly behind us. Matt put a hand behind my neck and squeezed lightly.

“Elizabeth, I brought you up better than this,” he said with a growl.

I turned around and faced the man I’d had to call father even though he’d never treated me any better than a stray dog that had been thrust upon him to try his sainthood. He stepped closer to me and I thought for just a split second that he was going to be gentle, say something to make me think he had been the way he was because somewhere deep inside he truly did love me, no matter how messed up his ways of showing it.

“He’s there for you now when you allowing him between your legs, but will he be there if he puts a bastard in you? Or will he move on to another whore?” My dad jeered. A
crack
echoed through the room and mingled with my mother’s gasp. It wasn’t until I felt the burning in my palm that I realized I’d struck my own father. His face was a mix of shock and rage. His hand swung back and Matt was suddenly there, grabbing him by the arm.

“You won’t ever hit her again. Try it and I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life.” Matt growled as he shoved my father back a step. “Let’s go, Beth. Now.” I walked out the door in a daze, barely remembering the drive back into town or back to the house. Then, Matt was talking over me, Jen asking a bunch of questions, and Hunter grumbling something about
that no good piece of sh—.
It wasn’t until Matt was tucking me into bed that I let everything really sink in and allowed the pain, humiliation, and anger to surface. I wept. I hadn’t wept when I left to go out on my own, barely eighteen and fresh out of high school, I hadn’t wept when my parents never called me except to berate me for something, but I wept then. I wept until I had no tears left to shed … and then I slept.

offee. Must have coffee,” I grumbled as I dropped into the chair and plopped my head down on the table in front of me. Jen pulled a mug out of the cabinet and filled it up and then pushed the sugar bowl and almond flavored creamer over to me. I mumbled my thanks before shoveling in an unhealthy amount of both into my cup.