Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I try to answer, but my throat is full of bees. “That’s—wow. Yeah.” My voice cracks on “yeah,” and Brenda laughs, mistaking it for dry wit.
“We need to celebrate this!” she says, and steers us away from the crowd, herding me and Lachlan toward a shadowed stretch of the hall. She knows exactly where to go; it’s the same place she would have dragged me at age seven if she wanted to tell me a secret, or keep me from embarrassing myself in public. A niche between two marble columns, so narrow that when you sit on the bench inside, your knees almost touch the far wall.
Here, the light is different. Candlelight rather than chandeliers, guttering in iron sconces. The velvet bench has a line worn into it where hundreds of privileged asses have left their mark. The air is cool, the stone sweating with old history. There is a faint scent of beeswax and a sharper one, animal and mineral, maybe the ghosts of a thousand private conversations. The string quartet outside is muffled by the stone, so that the only real sound is the clink of glass from the party and the wet click of my own tongue when I swallow.
Brenda doesn’t sit so much as lounge, knees crossed, velvet dress spilling around her like a pool of blood. She pats the space beside her, and I sit because that’s what you do when your mother tells you to.
Lachlan sits on her other side, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles are bleached. His gaze is fixed at a point on the opposite wall, the small muscles in his face working overtime to keep it smooth. He is, I think, only just breathing.
“So,” he manages.
“So,” I echo.
“So amazing!” Brenda trills. Of course, my mom has no idea that I’ve been having sex with her brother, so her voice is bright and alive with gossip. “So, I suppose the cat’s out of the bag, isn’t it? I’ve always said families are complicated, but this is a record even for us.” She nudges Lachlan with her shoulder, and her laugh rings like silver. “You know, it’s the damndest thing. When my mom married your dad, I was already off at college, so we never got to know one another. You were like a baby, practically.” She looks at me, eyes wide as a child’s. “Of course, you weren’t a baby, but it always felt more like we were more friends than siblings, didn’t it, Lachy?”
Lachlan’s mouth turns up at the edges, but it isn’t a smile. “Suppose it did,” he says. “Didn’t see much of you growing up. Or anyone, for that matter.”
“Oh, you were in that awful prep school, weren’t you?” Brenda says, as if it’s a game of Trivial Pursuit. She turns to me, her hand still warm on my arm. “He was always getting into trouble—weren’t you, sweetie? Just a terror. My mom used to say the boarding school saved your life.”
Lachlan’s jaw ticks. “Irma packed me off after my dad died. Your mother didn’t want me around.” His tone is light, but there’s glass under it.
Brenda tsks, dismissing the pain as if it’s just another embarrassing childhood photo. “Oh, darling, it was the best thing for you. Look at you now! Military, then seminary, now a pastor! Mom would be so proud if she’d lived to see it. Don’t you agree, Stella?”
I try to nod, but my head won’t move. “Um, I don’t really know what Grandma would think.”
Brenda leans in, conspiratorial. “Honestly, he’s the reason I even started going back to church. I told your father about it—‘You’ve got to meet Lachlan, he’s just wonderful with young people. He went through so much himself as a young person, so he’s incredibly mature.’” She gives another laugh, not even a hint of bitterness. “And your dad loves the idea of helping others. That’s why he’s so invested in these fundraisers, you know? He thinks they keep the world from falling apart.”
I gargle a little. It feels like the world is falling apart just fine on its own.
“So Dad knows about this.”
Brenda waves a hand in the air.
“Of course, Thomas knows. Thomas is the man who got you the assistant pastor job, Lachlan. I sent him a note around the time you were graduating from divinity school, and just sang your praises. So Thomas got the board to interview you, Lachlan, and now here you are.”
Lachlan stares at my mom.
“Your ex-husband got me my job.”
My mom beams happily.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Thomas helped you get a foot in the door by forwarding your resume to the relevant members of the board, but you aced your interviews and earned this position on your own merit. You were amazing, from what I heard. They loved you.”
Lachlan stares at her.
“But you never said anything. Thomas either.”