“Sorry I’m late,” I tell Hannah who’s staring at my face and I shake my head and hope she can see the pleading in my eyes not to ask.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t and we get through breakfast like it was any other morning.
After breakfast I stick close to Hannah. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. She seems very distant today and I wonder if she’s worrying about my face. Jessie hasn’t said much either and now I wonder if something happened to them for being my friend.
“Are you okay?” I ask Hannah as we settle into the drawing room. I have no idea where Sandra, Mary and Bernie are. I’m just glad they aren’t here.
“Yes,” Hannah lies.
Jessie rolls her eyes. “Dear God, just tell her Hannah.”
My stomach twists as I look at Hannah. Oh, no. Dread pools in my shoes as she looks up at me. Please don’t tell me he hurt her. I keep repeating in my head.
“My date with Lucas is today.”
I let out a half laugh on a heavy breath with relief. “Stop worrying and enjoy it.” I give her a real smile and her lips tug up, her blue eyes widening.
“Thanks Ella.” She hugs me and when I meet Jessie’s eyes she isn’t smiling.
“You want to tell us now about your face?”
I’m more grounded now, so I keep my smile on as I think of Hannah and Jessie being safe.
“I’m embarrassed, but since you both are my friends.” I sit down with a smile. “I tripped over a floor full of clothes.” I hold up my hands.
“Clumsy is not the word.”
Hannah buys it and starts laughing. Jessie smiles, but she’s not completely convinced.
“I went to your room last night after the whole Sandra thing but you were asleep,” Hannah says when she stops laughing “and it was a mess.”
“Yeah, Master Andrew kept us talking until I wanted to shove a bread roll into his mouth to shut him up.”
I grin at Jessie, I wouldn’t mind shoving a few more in his mouth too. I’m sure they would fit.
I keep my mind focused on the here and now as we chat. I don’t let it drift off to the dark corner of my mind. My smile widens as I strengthen my resolve. I am not going there. No, I am staying here with my friends even if it lasts only a little while.
CHAPTER NINTEEN
LUCAS
I have spent the last few days going through the member’s records. I found a Sorcha Newtown, but nothing much about her. She was married with one child, her family donated five million to the community. But nothing about her death, no details at all about a missing finger. I’ve locked myself away, hoping to keep my distance from Ella. Each day it’s getting harder. Having Mark giving me updates has kept me from going to her.
She is safe.
I pick up another old leather bound book and flip it open. The pages are surprisingly fresh. Everything is handwritten and curvaceous making it hard to read.
It is a list of rules. Some of them are laughable. If you are caught stealing from a member of the elite community, you lose a hand. If you steal from your own neighbor, it’s a full thirty seconds on the electric chair-unless that member is from the elite community-therefore, it reverts back to the first rule and you lose your hand. Putting your hand on an elite, you also lose a limb. I flicker through it, my stomach twisting. These could still be enforced if we wanted to.
I couldn’t imagine that these specific rules are in the ladies’ contracts. A reference to the rules in the smallest of prints is what I imagine. I stop turning the pages when I make out the word finger.
If one is found to be unfaithful to their spouse, they will be given two minutes on the electric chair followed by the removal of their wedding finger.
I’m re-reading it, making sure I have it correct. My mind skips back to Declan’s wake. His hands had been perfectly arranged, but if you looked closely, you could see the slight gap. It was his wedding finger too.
Both Sorcha Newtown and Declan were having affairs. Both lost their ring fingers, but why are both of them dead? Why did someone see fit to kill them?
Closing the book, I don’t get up from the desk in the small room where all the files, rules and history of our community are kept. Getting up, I take out Declan’s file. There is no mention of his tattoo or how he died. I’m surprised to see they mentioned his finger, but not which one was missing.
I pause at the noise of someone outside the door. My heart palpitates and as quietly as I can, I put the file back and the book back, just in time as the door opens. My relief is short- lived as Mark steps into the room. There is something precarious in his eyes that has my full attention.
“Master Lucas, I have word on your father.”
My heart crashes against my chest. Mark’s skin has whitened and I’m tempted to grab him by the collar of his shirt.
“He visited Ella.”
I don’t move. I don’t breathe.
Mark purses his lips. “I’m not comfortable reporting on him.”
I react quickly pushing the table aside and I hold firm not touching him. “Tell me everything.”
“As far as I can gather, she threatened Sandra’s life.”
Trepidation drips slowly into my bloodstream and feeds my fear. What is the punishment for threatening another lady?
“So he had a word with her about it, I’m not sure what transpired but he struck her.”
The blood freezes in my veins.
“Master Lucas, you should…” I’m out the door with Mark on my heels. “Think about what you are doing, this isn’t wise.”
I pause and I’m so close to hitting him. “Be quiet.”
He’s stiff as I turn to him, but he stops following me.
I can’t allow any thoughts or feelings to enter my system. My goal is to get to my father. That’s it. I don’t see the space around me as I move, my footfalls are as quick as my heartbeat. I find him in the main library. His smile is quick when he sees me. It’s not a smile that you give to a son you love, it’s a smile of victory like he knows what he has done. My steps falter and I breathe for the first time. Mark's words about this not being wise are at the forefront of my mind. I want to let him know he is right about Ella, but it would put her more in his line of sight. My hands tighten, but he struck her. He put his hands on her.
“Is there something the matter, son?” His taunting tone should be my indicator that he is toying with me, but I eliminate the space between us.
“You put your hands on her.” The words are low as I try to reel in some of the darkness that floats around me. My father pauses what he is doing.
His smile is gone. The deadness in his eyes would terrify me on any given day, but today, I’m beyond the consequences.
“She’s off limits.” My voice remains low, if it rises I fear I will snap.
“You don’t give me orders.”
My resolve liquifies onto the floor and I grip his neck, his eyes widen in shock.
“She’s off limits,” I repeat.
He removes my hand from his neck. The shock passes quickly. “I did you a favor, she should have been punished for her actions.” He steps away from me, and rightfully so. “She may still be punished.”