like, or what it would be like to go someplace exotic like New York. It’s all gone. You’ll be like my parents, and yours, never dreaming of anything other than what you can see .
.
.
My throat closed, and I couldn’t put a voice to those selfish thoughts. It felt like my world was growing smaller and smaller, closing in on me.
***
I returned to the dog kennel after supper, under the guise of checking on Sunny. Glancing at my basket, my mother commented on how I was intending to make the dogs fat. Guilt hammered in my chest as I smiled weakly. I hated lying to my parents, but it seemed as if it was becoming easier and easier.
Maybe this was what it meant to be growing up.
I trudged across the field, my heart heavy with my own sins and with the knowledge that Elijah would no longer be a part of my life and my transgressions. Not the way he had been before. Little sins were expected of young people and largely ignored. But once you joined the church, such dalliances were absolutely forbidden. Nothing from Outside that had not been approved. Elijah would belong entirely to God. And I would not want to tempt him from any of that—but I could feel the chasm already growing between us.
I choked back a sob. My heart ached. It ached for the adventures that Elijah and I had dreamed up for ourselves since we were children. They were all gone now, lost. I knew that he was making the right decision. I understood his reasons . . .
But some selfish part of myself wanted to be first in his heart. Before God.
And that scared me, because that impulse felt truly evil. Ashamed, I placed my hand over my heart and recited the Lord’s Prayer. But I could still feel the hot evil of that seed there, taking root.
“It’s me again. Katie,” I said, as I hauled back the heavy barn door.
As before, the dogs greeted me. I fed them their scraps and headed back to the paddock.
There were signs that the young man had moved during the day. Straw had been disturbed, and the blanket was gathered tight around his ears. I knelt beside him and peeled back the blanket. It was stuck to his hot cheek with a sheen of sweat.
He blinked at me as I did so. His teeth were chattering, but his gaze was lucid. “Bonnet. You’re Katie. From the note?”
“Yes.” I situated the basket between us, feeling suddenly pinned under that icy gaze. “I brought you some supper.”
“Thank you.”
I reached toward him, and he flinched.
“I mean to check your wound.” I showed him my empty hands, as if I were dealing with a wild animal.
He licked his lips and nodded. I gently unwrapped the band- age. He winced as the gauze stuck to the wound. I didn’t like what I saw. The rim of the wound was yellowing, and a red runner crept across his cheek. His skin was scalding under my fingers. I bit my lip. This was beyond my power.
He must have seen that. “How bad is it?” he asked.
I didn’t want to lie to him. “It’s infected.”
He stared up at the ceiling of the barn. “No antibiotics here?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll wash it out again with antiseptic, but . . .” I knotted my fingers in my lap. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“It doesn’t really matter, anyway,” he slurred.
He seemed to be fighting to maintain consciousness, and I wanted to keep him talking. I brought a cup of milk to his lips. He dribbled it down his cheek. He was too weak to hold his head up. I propped my hand behind his neck to help him swallow. I forced down a cup of milk and another of warm broth.
“What happened out there?” I asked. “What happened Outside?” I thought of the stained knife.
“My motorcycle wrecked . . . I was chased . . .”
His eyelids began to fall, and I wiped the broth from his chin. “Chased by whom?”
“They were fast, faster than me . . . like birds . . .” His eyes became more unfocused, and I wasn’t sure he saw me anymore as his pupils dilated in remembered fear. “ . . . soundless . . .
.
.
My throat closed, and I couldn’t put a voice to those selfish thoughts. It felt like my world was growing smaller and smaller, closing in on me.
***
I returned to the dog kennel after supper, under the guise of checking on Sunny. Glancing at my basket, my mother commented on how I was intending to make the dogs fat. Guilt hammered in my chest as I smiled weakly. I hated lying to my parents, but it seemed as if it was becoming easier and easier.
Maybe this was what it meant to be growing up.
I trudged across the field, my heart heavy with my own sins and with the knowledge that Elijah would no longer be a part of my life and my transgressions. Not the way he had been before. Little sins were expected of young people and largely ignored. But once you joined the church, such dalliances were absolutely forbidden. Nothing from Outside that had not been approved. Elijah would belong entirely to God. And I would not want to tempt him from any of that—but I could feel the chasm already growing between us.
I choked back a sob. My heart ached. It ached for the adventures that Elijah and I had dreamed up for ourselves since we were children. They were all gone now, lost. I knew that he was making the right decision. I understood his reasons . . .
But some selfish part of myself wanted to be first in his heart. Before God.
And that scared me, because that impulse felt truly evil. Ashamed, I placed my hand over my heart and recited the Lord’s Prayer. But I could still feel the hot evil of that seed there, taking root.
“It’s me again. Katie,” I said, as I hauled back the heavy barn door.
As before, the dogs greeted me. I fed them their scraps and headed back to the paddock.
There were signs that the young man had moved during the day. Straw had been disturbed, and the blanket was gathered tight around his ears. I knelt beside him and peeled back the blanket. It was stuck to his hot cheek with a sheen of sweat.
He blinked at me as I did so. His teeth were chattering, but his gaze was lucid. “Bonnet. You’re Katie. From the note?”
“Yes.” I situated the basket between us, feeling suddenly pinned under that icy gaze. “I brought you some supper.”
“Thank you.”
I reached toward him, and he flinched.
“I mean to check your wound.” I showed him my empty hands, as if I were dealing with a wild animal.
He licked his lips and nodded. I gently unwrapped the band- age. He winced as the gauze stuck to the wound. I didn’t like what I saw. The rim of the wound was yellowing, and a red runner crept across his cheek. His skin was scalding under my fingers. I bit my lip. This was beyond my power.
He must have seen that. “How bad is it?” he asked.
I didn’t want to lie to him. “It’s infected.”
He stared up at the ceiling of the barn. “No antibiotics here?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll wash it out again with antiseptic, but . . .” I knotted my fingers in my lap. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“It doesn’t really matter, anyway,” he slurred.
He seemed to be fighting to maintain consciousness, and I wanted to keep him talking. I brought a cup of milk to his lips. He dribbled it down his cheek. He was too weak to hold his head up. I propped my hand behind his neck to help him swallow. I forced down a cup of milk and another of warm broth.
“What happened out there?” I asked. “What happened Outside?” I thought of the stained knife.
“My motorcycle wrecked . . . I was chased . . .”
His eyelids began to fall, and I wiped the broth from his chin. “Chased by whom?”
“They were fast, faster than me . . . like birds . . .” His eyes became more unfocused, and I wasn’t sure he saw me anymore as his pupils dilated in remembered fear. “ . . . soundless . . .
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