The Family (24 page)

“Doc, Farriss, and Twig, come see me. Everyone else, see you at dinner.”

They were soaked at this point, but Twig waited patiently for Adam to finish talking to Doc and Farriss. Farriss gave her a nod. They hadn’t spoken since Adam had made him put Sapphire down.

* * *

“How are you?” Adam had his warm hands on her shoulders. Everyone else had dispersed.

“I’m good,” Twig said cheerfully, trying to channel her emotions about his announcement into her answer.

Adam squinted his eyes and looked at her for a moment.

“Really?”

Twig wondered what he was thinking as he scrutinized her.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just keeping my head down and doing my thing.”

“Doing your thing? That’s cute. I don’t think I’ve heard you say that before.”

Twig didn’t respond to this. Had she picked that up from Leo? She’d better be more careful.

“Walk with me.” Adam slipped his arm through hers.

“Okay,” Twig said, assuming he was just going to walk her to dinner. But he led her away from the dining area.

Instead, he took her to his cottage.

Twig had never been to Adam’s cottage before. He had always lived by himself while Tina and Kamela shared a cottage next door. She wondered where she would live once they were married. Twig was surprised to see that he kept his front door locked and used a key to get in. The cottage was spotless and just as sparse as her own living quarters, but it was much bigger. Several doors were shut. Twig wondered what was behind them.

“I’ll be right back.” Adam came back with towels and a dress. “You can change in here.” Adam led her to a bathroom, which was obviously a spare, as there wasn’t a thing in it. No bars of soap, no towels. Twig was drenched, and despite feeling terribly uncomfortable, she was happy to change. Why had he brought her here? He wouldn’t try to have sex with her before they were married, would he? She noticed you couldn’t hear the intercom in here. The quiet rose around her.

When Twig came out, Adam was sitting on the couch with two glasses of wine in front of him on the coffee table. He was running a small towel through his thick hair.

“Hi,” he said, beaming.

“Hi,” she said back a little hesitantly.

“Come. Come sit.”

Twig sat next to Adam. Her heart was pounding.

“I brought you here because I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” Twig said quietly. She felt so tentative around him, so quiet compared to how she felt with Leo. She was scared of him, terrified that she would say the wrong thing and upset him.

Adam handed her a glass of wine. “To us.”

“To us,” Twig repeated, trying to smile. She had to be convincing. The surer he was of her, the more he would leave her alone until they got married. Or at least, that’s what she hoped.

“Go ahead.” He nodded for her to sip her wine.

“Is it okay?”

He nodded again.

She took a small sip. It crossed her mind that it might have something in it. Something to make her sleepy or drunk. Something like the pills she took in the hospital. But there wasn’t anything she could do but drink it. It tasted like velvet on her tongue.

“It’s a very old wine. Perfect to honor our union.” He realized what that sounded like to Twig. “Our union in marriage, Twig.” He patted her knee and laughed. “Stay here.”

Twig noticed Adam didn’t touch his wine. He got up from the couch and disappeared behind one of the closed doors. Twig’s brain buzzed wondering what was behind those doors. She took another sip of wine.

When he returned, he was carrying a leather bound book about two inches thick.

“Open it.”

Her hands were shaking, but she managed to take the book and open it to the first page.

Photos. Photos of her when she was a little girl. She turned the pages slowly. More photographs. It was like watching herself grow up. Playing, gardening, eating, and even making her nature paintings. An entire photo album devoted to her. On the last page, there was a recent photo of her, asleep in her bed. Twig had no idea when it was taken. She felt sick.

“I’ve always known you were special, Twig. And I always knew we would be together one day.”

Adam wants you. He’s not going to let you go.

He had been planning this. This marriage. Longer than she or Avery could have ever imagined. It had nothing to do with growing the Family, or wanting more children. The thought sickened Twig. How many other girls had he been photographing? Or was it just her? Avery was right. He wasn’t ever going to let her go. He had just been waiting for her to grow up.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered. “But you’ve known. About my…um, my paintings.” The word “painting” felt wrong now, compared to what Twig could create with real paint and canvas at Gran’s cottage.

“It’s okay that you are nervous, darling.” Adam took the book from Twig’s hands. He put his arm around her and moved next to her so that there wasn’t any space between them.

“Look at me.”

Twig took a deep breath and looked at him.

“You were just a girl. I needed to know the ins and outs of you. I’ve been watching you for a very long time, as you can see.”

“But why wasn’t I punished?”

“You were. When I was ready to put a stop to it, you were,” he said. “That’s all in our past, now. I think we understand each other?” He brought his head close to hers, and his lips touched hers. She felt the pressure of his mouth and knew that she would never feel for Adam what she felt with Leo. Shame and anger surged up in her as he prodded her lips with his tongue. Tears began to well in her eyes.

She shot up. “It’s the wine. I’m so sorry.” Twig covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom. She vomited in the toilet. Adam was at the door asking if she was okay. She had to pull it together. He couldn’t know he repulsed her. If he felt rejected or threatened, there was no telling what he might do.

“I’m okay,” she called back. “I’ll be right there.” She splashed cold water on her face. She opened the door and buried her head in his neck. “Forgive me, Fath—” she stopped herself, calling him “darling,” instead, mimicking his endearment for her. “I’m not used to the wine. Please, just give me a little time. This is all so new for me.”

“Of course.” Adam squeezed her and stroked her hair. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you!” Adam lifted Twig’s head so he could see her face.

“I love you, too,” she said and put on what she hoped was the most winning smile of her life.

31

It rained all night. Twig couldn’t sleep. It was an unfriendly rain that pounded at the windows and clawed at the roof relentlessly. She considered taking one of Doc’s pills. Adam’s photo album had frightened her to the core. Sickened her. Unnerved her. He had been watching her. Documenting her year after year. The last photo especially had scared her. Was he still watching her that way? Did he know about Gran and Leo and was just playing with her? Did he photograph her in town? Eating at Meng’s and kissing Leo on the steps of the cathedral? Would he set a trap for her to walk into?

No. If he knew, he would make it known immediately. He would think she was making a fool of him, and he would never put up with that. And yet, that hardly comforted her. It was as if she now realized how fine a line she had been walking. She’d always felt watched on a more general level, but he had been specifically watching her. And his hypocrisy knew no bounds. He had a camera. The thing she had wished for time and again and knew she could never have. He railed against technology, but she had seen him use the very things he deemed so evil.

But none of that mattered. He lived by different rules because he could. He was their leader, and that was that. He could do whatever he wanted.

But should she stop breaking the rules?
Could
she? For the first time, she could sense the ticking clock counting down. Her newfound freedoms, so beloved, were limited and would soon have to come to an end.

But she would squeeze the marrow out of every moment she had left.

32

Twig held a piece of bread between her teeth to keep from crying. She was chopping onions.

Leo was coming over for dinner.

Twig and Gran had spent an afternoon looking through Gran’s numerous cookbooks. They had decided on a simple turkey, stuffing made with cornbread and crispy bits of what Gran called Facon, a sweet potato casserole, biscuits, cranberry sauce with ginger and orange, and a green salad. The kitchen smelled divine. How and where Gran had procured the materials was a complete mystery. Gran’s generosity seemed boundless. Avery was out walking while Gran and Twig cooked.

“What is this music?” Twig asked, removing the bread from her mouth and scooping the onions into a bowl with the edge of her knife.

“Cesaria Evora,” Gran answered. “She’s from Cape Verde, an archipelago off the coast of West Africa.”

“She’s wonderful. Have you been there?”

“Cape Verde?”

“Yes, or Africa in general?”

“Many times.” Gran was whipping the sweet potatoes into a fluff. “I have many lovely memories of Africa.” Gran put down the bowl of sweet potatoes for a moment. “But Cape Verde was a Portuguese colony and is very different from Africa in general.”

“Maybe someday I’ll go there,” Twig said wistfully. “I never really considered travel until recently.”

“Until meeting Leo?”

“That, and finding out I’m from somewhere else to begin with,” Twig laughed awkwardly, knitting her brows and shaking her head.

“Of course. So you and Leo are really fond of each other?” Gran asked.

“Yes. I mean, I haven’t known him very long, but…” Twig finished her sentence with a sigh.

“Ah, to be young,” Gran said warmly.

“Were you ever married, Gran?”

“Oh, yes. But is that the question you really want to ask?” Gran raised one of her pretty eyebrows. Her black eyes glittered. Twig had that gossamer feeling again of being reminded of something unnamable and vague when she looked at the drama of Gran’s eyes. Twig didn’t know much about movie stars, but she imagined they looked something like Gran.

“Go on,” Gran prodded in the same way she had prodded Avery the first day Twig came to her house.

“Have you ever been in love? Do you remember the first time you felt it?”

“I have been in love many times, my dear, and I remember all of my first times. My marriage, however—that was a different feeling. A much more ‘duty’ type of feeling.”

“I know what you mean,” Twig said glumly.

“How are you doing with all of that? If I may ask?” Gran had a crisp and direct way of speaking. She didn’t seem to waste her words or her gestures.

“I feel like I shouldn’t really talk about it, but maybe that’s habit.” Twig thought of Adam’s photo album. Without thinking about it, her eyes glanced outside the window. He’s away, she told herself. He’s away right now.

“That’s why I came here,” Gran said suddenly. “To get away from duty. When my husband died, I felt…well, I felt released, to be honest. So I packed it all up and came here.”

“Wow.” Twig was stunned. Gran didn’t usually talk about herself.

“Come on, dear. Let’s get started on the pie while we talk.” Gran gave Twig an empathetic nod. “Then we’ll go get dressed. We’ll be in a good place to let everything take care of itself while we get dolled up.”

“Oh,” Twig said quietly. “I only have this to wear.” She held out her white skirt in her hands.

“Not if you’ll let me play your fairy Gran-mother for the evening.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds good to me!” Twig laughed.

“You don’t know the story of Cinderella?”

Twig shook her head. But Cinderella—wasn’t that what Leo had called her when they met that day in Meng’s?

“We could talk for hours, couldn’t we?” Gran laughed lightly. “We can’t cover one news item before another one comes rolling off the press.”

“Hrmph,” Twig muttered. “Story of my life.”

“Yes, I imagine it would be.” Gran looked thoughtful for a moment. “Listen, I’ll get the dough from the fridge, and you can roll it out and pinch it onto the plate while I skin the apples. I want to hear more, and maybe I can tell you the story of Cinderella.”

Gran knew a lot about the Family from Avery. She also knew about Twig’s engagement. Perhaps that added to the sense of ease Twig felt between them. Twig could also tell there probably wasn’t much Gran hadn’t seen or heard. She didn’t shock easily. Twig could see why Avery had chosen Gran as her confidante. She listened and she cared, but she didn’t pity you.

Gran set down a big ceramic bowl filled with apples on the kitchen table. Twig sprinkled flour on the table and began to roll out the dough with a large wooden rolling pin. Gran told Twig the story of Cinderella while they worked. Twig couldn’t help but think how much the toddlers back at the compound would love a story like the one Gran was spinning. Of course, she would never be able to repeat the story to them.

When they had finished making the pie, Gran loaded Twig up with a pile of fluffy yellow towels and told her to shower. She was going to finish a surprise she was working on.

Twig showered beneath the lemony foam of Gran’s shampoo and then pulled on the bathrobe Gran had left for her and wrapped her hair up in a towel.

Like everything else, Gran’s bedroom was exquisite. It was small and the walls were painted a pomegranate red. The bed was covered in a white quilt and a thin blanket woven through with threads of yellow and turquoise was folded on the end of the bed.

A black and white photograph, neatly matted and framed, hung above the bed. It was blurry but looked like a woman running on the beach with two young children.

“Are those your children?” Twig asked, looking around the room. A candle burned next to a vase full of flowers on a dark wood dresser.

“Yes,” Gran said quietly. She was standing near the window wearing a simple but well-cut black cotton dress. Handfuls of glittering pink beads hung around her long neck.

“Where are they?” Twig pressed.

“My relationship with my children is very strained.” Gran paused. “That would be a very diplomatic way of putting it. We don’t talk.”