Because of those things, I answered her as gently as I could.
“I’m his wife.”
Chapter 1
Amy
All my life I’d been ordinary. Ordinary body: medium sized hips, five-foot-six barefoot, size seven shoes, average breasts—a C-cup on my good days or after a few extra Big Macs. I was neither fat nor skinny, but somewhere in between. Ordinary features: boring brown eyes and a nose a little large for my face, fullish lips, but nothing to write home about, and one of my front teeth was a bit crooked which caused a slight overlap that I hated and, therefore, my smile in every photo from the time I was seven and got my adult teeth was closemouthed.
The only things that stood out about me—not that they were really all that interesting—were the two fingers missing from my left hand and my long black hair. I couldn’t remember ever actually having the fingers, so I never really missed them, and I’d inherited my hair from my dad. I loved it, and kept it really long. I’d never cut it much, just trims every six months to keep it healthy and so I didn’t look like some sort of cult member with hair hanging to my ass. It was shiny and thick and reached just below my bra strap, so I could do anything I wanted with it. French braids, coronets, fancy up-dos, a long, silky ponytail, I’d learned to do it all.
It was one of the only things that I had control over, and it gave me something to hide behind in every new school and new city that we moved to. I’d lived in fifteen different cities by the time I was seventeen, and the most recent was Ballyshannon, Ireland.
We’d moved to the town only a few months before at the beginning of summer, and it was safe to say it was the hardest town to acclimate myself to. I’d lived in America my entire life, but I had dual citizenship in Ireland and the US because my mother was an Irish citizen. She’d gone to school in the United States, met my dad there, and the rest was history.
I’d always known I had dual citizenship, but actually having to use it was beyond belief. I was an American, dammit. It was what I understood, where I was marginally comfortable, where I believed I’d live my entire life.
I’d started at a private, all-girls Catholic school a few weeks before and I still had no idea how I’d ever manage to pass my classes. My teachers’ accents were so thick that I could barely understand them, my peers looked at me like I was a freak any time I spoke, and the way they calculated my credits was completely different than the schools I’d attended back home. It felt like I was going to be stuck in Catholic school hell for the rest of my fucking life.
The only thing I didn’t hate were the uniforms, though the plaid skirt and white blouse uniform felt a little like I was dressing for a porn shoot. It gave everyone a sort of equality—we were all dressing for pornos—that I hadn’t had in my previous schools. It was insane the way fads changed between large schools in the inner cities and small schools in the backwoods. I don’t know how many times I’d gone to school on the first day and looking like a complete weirdo compared to everyone else. Of course, at my new school all I had to do was open my mouth and the freak flag started waving yet again.
I was walking home, counting down the 128 days until my eighteenth birthday and wondering how I could save enough cash to get my ass back onto US soil, when a voice called out to me from the steps just a few houses down from the one we were renting.
“Would ye like to come in for tea?”
I didn’t realize at first that the woman was talking to me. I’d never seen her before in my life, but when she repeated the question, my head popped up from behind my hair and she was staring straight at me.
“Me?”
“Well, I don’t see anyone else, do ye?”
I searched the quiet street in confusion, but she was right. We were the only ones in the general vicinity. I can’t lie, the first thing that popped into my head was ‘Stranger Danger!’ which was ridiculous, seeing as how the woman was inches shorter than me and skinny as a rail. I could totally take her. But why the hell was she inviting me to her house?
I stepped closer to her as she sat patiently, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her when she grinned. She was cute, probably a bit older than my parents, with wrinkles at the edges of her eyes and deep grooves in her cheeks. Although she was smiling almost ear-to-ear, she looked… lonely. There was an exhaustion to her that didn’t come from a hard day at work, but from a lifetime of hard days at work.
“Do you normally ask strangers to eat at your house?” I questioned as I got closer.
“Ach, no! But I’ve seen ye around. Always with yer head in a book, always hidin’ behind that hair a yers.”
I snorted at her very apt description.
“Always had a snack for my boy when he got home from school. Young ones need that after a hard day. Thought I’d offer ye the same, if ye’d like.”
“I’m old enough to forage for my own food,” I said with a smile, thinking geez, she’s nice. “And I don’t even know your name!”
“Peg,” she answered with raised brows, waiting for me to reply in kind.
“I’m Amy. Nice to meet you, Peg.”
We both grew silent after that, at a standstill as I considered her odd request and she watched me like a hawk.
“Well,” she huffed, finally breaking the awkward silence. “How about ye make an old woman’s day and give me someone to eat with?”
I knew what she was doing, trying to make me think that feeding me wasn’t about me at all, but that didn’t stop me from nodding slowly. “You’re not that old,” I argued. “But…okay, if you’re sure.”
I wondered if she knew more about my life than she was letting on as I followed her into the tiny house, but it occurred to me pretty quickly that it didn’t really matter. My parents wouldn’t be home from work for hours still, so it’s not as if I had anyone to miss me. Plus, she seemed really nice. I’d learned over the past seventeen and a half years how to spot people with ulterior motives—it’s all in the eyes—and she really didn’t have any other reason for inviting me in. She was clearly hoping for a little companionship, and who was I to refuse that? I didn’t have anywhere else to be.
I learned a lot about Peg as we ate, mostly because the woman was a chatterbox. I actually kind of loved how she filled the quiet, because God knows I didn’t have much to say. She was Scottish, which explained the accent that wasn’t entirely like the ones I’d been hearing, but she’d been living in Ireland for more than twenty years, so it was an odd mixture of both Irish and Scottish. She’d followed her husband to his hometown after their wedding, and though I never got a clear answer, it seemed she was still married, but they hadn’t lived together for quite some time. Their son, Patrick, who Peg seemed to think walked on water, was away at University studying literature, and she’d worked at a local grocer for almost as long as she’d lived in Ireland.
She talked and talked and talked, and before I knew it, almost two hours had passed. I knew my mother would be home any minute, and though I didn’t think she would even notice my absence, I didn’t want to chance it. Who knows how badly she’d fly off the handle if she knew I hadn’t gone straight home from school. My parents had never had clear rules for me, but every once in a while, I’d unintentionally do something that would set them off and the punishments were severe.
“I better get home,” I said reluctantly, cutting Peg off as she went on and on about her handsome son. “My mom should be home soon, and she’d worry if I wasn’t there yet.”
Peg’s brows furrowed for a moment as if she knew exactly what I wasn’t saying, but almost as quickly as the frown appeared, it was gone and she was smiling brightly.
“Well, this has been lovely,” she said as we stood from the table. “Would ye like to come again tomorrow?”
I grabbed my school bag off the floor, thinking about my answer before turning back toward her. “I’d like that.”
“Perhaps tomorrow ye can tell me a little more about yerself. Seems I didn’t let ye get a word in edgewise today!”
br /> “I didn’t mind.” I replied shyly, my cheeks heating as I realized she’d noticed that I’d barely said a word the entire afternoon.
“I’ll see ye tomorrow, lass!” she called as I raced down her cement front steps.
I made my way home with fifteen minutes to spare before my mom walked in the front door, and was quietly doing my homework on my bed when she came to check on me.
My mother was beautiful. She made sure of that, with weekly trips to salons and daily workouts to stay trim. But it was a brittle type of beauty, one that looked as if one wrong movement would shatter the entire façade. I think the shit her and my father snorted up their noses had something to do with that.
“Oh, good, you’re home.”
“Where else would I be?” I asked, rolling over to look at her.
“Good point.” She brushed her hands over the light blue dress she was wearing, making sure nothing was out of place after her short walk home from the local realtors office where she was a receptionist. “Your father and I are having a guest over later, so be sure to stay in your room after you grab some dinner.”
“Okay,” I replied woodenly, refusing to show any emotion.
“Finish your homework.”
She walked out of the room and I listened for her bedroom door to close before I dropped my head to the bed and struggled not to cry. It had been months since they’d had any ‘visitors,’ and I’d been hoping that it was all over since we’d moved to a new town. They’d put me into a private Catholic school, for God’s sake, and we’d started going to Mass again every Sunday for the first time in years. I’d let myself believe that things would be different.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
At least I had tea at Peg’s to look forward to the next day, that was something. I leaned back up and returned to the math homework I’d been working on, but I wasn’t able to focus.
As excited as I was to visit with Peg, I couldn’t help the worry that pooled in the pit of my stomach. Our house was tiny, and I was going to have to figure out how to make myself as scarce as possible when their visitor arrived. I didn’t even know if I could stand to be in my bedroom, which shared a wall with both the living room and their bedroom.
I glanced at my window and came to the conclusion that I would climb out after dinner. The nights were still pretty warm, and if I took my flashlight, I’d be able to read while I was out there. I wasn’t sure how long I’d have to hide, but I was hoping I could still get a little sleep since I had school the next day. With that decision made, there was only one thing left to worry about.
How the hell was I going to discuss my life with Peg without hinting at all about my parents’ lives? I wasn’t clear on Irish customs, but I was pretty sure that hiring prostitutes—the younger the better—wasn’t considered normal behavior for married couples with children.
If Ballyshannon were anything like the previous towns I’d lived in, nothing good would come from people knowing about their extra-curricular activities.
No one could know.
Chapter 2
Amy
I waited until I heard my dad come home that night and voices began filtering in through the wall connected to my parents’ bedroom before I grabbed my comforter, a flashlight and my tattered copy of Fahrenheit 451 and climbed out my window. There was a thick patch of grass beneath it between our house and the one next to it that provided me a safe little cocoon as I leaned against the wall.
I wrapped my comforter around me, pulling it up and over my head so I could turn the flashlight on without drawing attention to myself while I read. It wasn’t ideal; I’d much rather be inside, but it worked. I was just glad our house had only one story, or I would have been shimmying down a frigging drainpipe to get away.
I read most of the book before my eyes grew tired, but I still hadn’t seen or heard anyone come out our front door. I wasn’t sure how late it was, but I knew from experience that sometimes ‘visitors’ stayed well into the night. I’d just have to wait them out.
I jerked awake with a gasp some time later when I felt someone shaking my shoulder. My feet were freezing, and I was soaking wet.
“What in God’s name are ye doin’ out here, Amy?” Peg scolded as she rubbed my shivering shoulders.
“I didn’t want my parents to know I was awake reading, so I snuck out here last night… I must have fallen asleep.” The lie passed my lips easily, but Peg’s expression told me she didn’t believe my bullshit.
“Now, ye remember when I said I’d seen ye around, dontcha?” she asked quietly.
“Y-yes.” I was stuttering as she stared me down.
“I see most things that happen around here. Probably comes from havin’ too much time on my hands…” She let that sink in as my eyes grew wide. “Seen that gash goin’ in yer house last night with yer da.”
I gulped, but stayed silent.
“Also saw her leave not an hour past,” she told me with a nod. “Get on back in yer bedroom before ye catch yer death.”
I scrambled to my feet, too relieved that she hadn’t asked me any questions to ask any of my own. I gave her an impulsive hug before I picked up my flashlight that had rolled a little from my hiding place and crawled back inside. Then I closed my window as she walked away as if nothing had happened.
When I glanced at my clock, it was four in the morning. Thank God, I’d get a couple of hours of sleep in an actual bed before I had to get up again for school. I was so exhausted, I couldn’t even think about how awful it was that Peg knew my secret.
***
I was distracted all day during school, my anxiety about what Peg had seen making me jittery and unfocused. I wasn’t sure what would happen. Would she tell everyone? Ballyshannon wasn’t a tiny town, but it seemed pretty close-knit. God, my life would be over if anyone knew, especially if my schoolmates’ devout Irish Catholic families found out.
By the time I walked home that afternoon, I could feel hives beginning to form on my wrists and the tops of my hands. I think it was a family trait; both my mother and I dealt with the physical manifestation of stress. I was alternately scratching and rubbing my arms through my cardigan by the time I passed Peg’s front steps.
“Thought ye were comin’ in for tea!”
I stopped abruptly, and whipped my head in her direction. “Oh, um…”
“The offer stands.”
“Okay,” I whispered back, turning toward her house.
I didn’t understand why she was still being so nice to me. She had to have some idea of what was going on. There was no way she’d misinterpreted the situation the night before; she’d practically spelled it out when she found me.
Peg held the door open as I walked inside slowly.
“Sit down! Sit down! I baked a caramel shortbread!”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked quietly as I followed her into the kitchen. “I know what you saw.”
“What does that have to do with anythin’?”
“Well… I just figured you wouldn’t want me over again, since… you know.” I mumbled back. I was so uncomfortable, my arms began itching almost all the way up to my elbows.
“Lass,” she sighed as she stopped moving around the kitchen and placed a plate of shortbread in front of me before dropping down in the seat across the table. “What yer parents choose to do hasn’t got anythin’ to do with how I feel about ye.”
“How you feel about me?” The pastry sat neglected on the table as I stared at it, afraid to meet her eyes.
“Well, from what I’ve gathered, yer smart.” My eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Yer kind, thoughtful, pretty, and yer just plain sweet the way ye’ve catered to an old woman’s whims like ye have.”
“You’re not that old,” I replied automatically.
“And ye’ve got nothin’ wrong with ye, no matter what yer parents choose to do in their own home.” She smiled at me gently, and reached out to squeeze my hand. “Now, enough talk about those perverted parents o’ye
rs.”
I choked on her matter-of-fact assessment of my parents, and giggled as she winked.
“Well, just one more thing.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a shiny new key, setting it on the table in front of me. “Ye can’t be spendin’ the night outside, especially once the weather starts turnin’ colder.”
I looked back and forth between her and the key in confusion before her offer became clear.
“You can’t give me a key to your freaking house! Are you crazy? I could steal all of your stuff! I could…I could murder you in your sleep! You don’t know me!”
She laughed at my indignation, and swiped the back of her hand away from her body as if she was literally brushing away my comments.
“Got nothin’ to steal!” she cackled. “Ye plan on murderin’ me in me bed, well, ye could do that by climbin’ in me open window, now couldn’t ye?”
“I can’t take a key to your house,” I argued stubbornly. “No. No way.”
“Ye’ll take it,” she snapped back. “Ye’ll use it if ye have the need, and if ye don’t, well, I’ll have someone to water me plants when I go on holiday.”
“You’re going on vacation?”
“Well, I haven’t yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t in the future.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mumbled, causing Peg to reach across the table and flick my forehead. “What the hell?”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in this house. That’s non-negotiable.”
“God-shit-sorry!” I hissed and dodged as she tried to flick me again. “I won’t!”
“Well, good then. Now can we eat? Ye said ye’d tell me about yerself today.”
I watched in awe as she stood back up to grab her own decadent looking pastry then sat back across from me as if we hadn’t been arguing for the past five minutes. The woman was quite obviously out of her mind, but I couldn’t help but find it endearing. She may have been more trusting than anyone I’d ever known, but I could also tell that she was no one’s fool. She’d known exactly what she was doing when she’d had that key made for me.