And I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself.

“It’s just special,” I said. “Actually, they’re all special.” I had a collection in my room, eight of them, each one named and specifically appointed to match the personalities I’d given them. Mother wouldn’t let me have any real dolls but Wyatt had convinced her to let me keep the ones I made. Apart from Bobby and Paul, they were my best friends.

“How do you make it so smooth?” Paul asked.

“By tucking in every strand.” My attention returned to my thin fingers working nimbly with the grass. “It just takes a little practice and some patience. See?”

“You do it so well,” he said.

“Eden likes to make straw dolls,” Bobby repeated. At fifteen he was nearly the same he’d been at ten—maybe a couple of inches taller.

“What’s her name going to be?” Paul asked.

“How do you know it’s a girl?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I just think of dolls as girls.”

My dolls looked like miniature scarecrows, complete with arms and legs and different colored seeds for eyes, some dressed in pants for boys, some in dresses for girls.

“Then I’ll name her Alice.”

“Alice?”

“Eden dreams about Alice,” Bobby said.

“Hush, Bobby. Paul doesn’t want to hear about my dreams.”

“Sure I do.”

“Sure he does,” Bobby said.

I felt shy—Paul might think that my recurring dreams were stupid. I mean, who dreamed they were named Alice and lived in a psychiatric hospital? Nobody sane, right?

“Just dreams,” I said, embarrassed.

“Silly dreams,” Bobby said.

We were quiet for a little while, but I could feel Paul’s eyes on me as I worked, which made it hard to concentrate.

“Bobby, do you want to go on a mission?” Paul finally asked.

Bobby perked up. “I’m good at missions.”

“You think you could run to the house and bring back a drink?”

“I’ll go to the house and bring back a drink,” Bobby said, pushing himself to his feet. And then he was ambling off, consumed with his mission.

The thought that Paul had sent Bobby away so that we could be alone didn’t occur to me until Bobby was already halfway across the back yard. One look at Paul’s face and I knew that I was right.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“If you like,” I said.

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

My face flushed and I glanced at the house, afraid that Mother was close. But we were still alone.

“We shouldn’t talk about that,” I said.

“Randal has a girlfriend.” One of the other boys who I hadn’t met. “He likes Susan. He told me that they hold hands and kiss. His father doesn’t mind. He says it’s normal.”

“And maybe normal’s not so good.”

“Maybe. Or maybe normal’s okay.”

I knew I was defiling myself by not running away right then, but I didn’t want to run away. So I kept working on Alice.

“What would Zeke say about that?” I asked.

“My father kissed a girl when he was fifteen. He knows that I’m growing up.”

“And what would he say if he knew you were talking this way to me?”

Paul didn’t answer, but I suspected that Zeke would beat him silly if he knew he was trying to tempt me. We both knew that I was different from the other girls.

“I think you’re very pretty,” he said.

By now my face had to be beet-red. Paul wasn’t as sheltered as me, but I had a feeling he wasn’t as experienced as he would like to be. I should have reprimanded him right then.

But I didn’t.

“Thank you,” I said, embarrassed.

“I like you.”

Liking was good, right? It was okay.

“I like you too, Paul.”

Like a brother, of course. But that’s not what my heart was telling me. And my mind was telling me that I was going to hell.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

I stopped my fiddling on the doll and looked up at him. Then past him to see if anyone was coming. We were still alone.

“You know I can’t do that!” I whispered.

“I know. So we don’t have to tell anyone. Even our parents got married, you know. We aren’t just kids anymore. And besides, I think you like me too.”

“Of course I like you. But not . . .”

“I can tell by the way you look at me.”

“Me? You’re the one always looking! And you have to stop it.”

“Why?”

“Because!” I whispered. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Why? Because you like me too?”

I couldn’t just lie to him, so I hesitated, suddenly at a very uncomfortable loss.

“Eden!”

I jerked my head up and saw that Mother was rounding the house, walking our way.

“Here, Mother,” I called, waving a hand.

Paul spoke quickly, under his breath. “Come to the field at four o’clock on Wednesday. I’ll be there.”

I kept my eyes on Mother, heart pounding.

“I just want to talk to you. Wednesday at four o’clock, okay? In two days. I know four is your free hour before dinner. Just sneak out to talk to me.”

“It’s getting late, sweetheart,” Mother called. It wasn’t getting late—that was her way of ending whatever was going on. “I think it’s time for Paul to go home.”

“Don’t forget,” he whispered. “Four o’clock.”

“Sweetheart?” Mother walked up from behind Paul, glancing between us. “Did you hear me? I said I think Paul needs to go home now.”

With a parting gaze into my eyes, Paul pushed himself up and flicked a stick he was fiddling with into the grass.

“Why don’t you walk, Paul. Be good for you.”

He dipped his head. “Sure. Thank you for having me.” He faced me. “See you around.”

And with that he walked away.

“I don’t trust that boy,” Mother said, watching him vanish from sight around the house. She looked at me. “Why’s your face red?”

“Only because it’s hot, Mother.”

She cast a disapproving glance down my dress, and I was afraid she might question me further, uncover my lie, and make me spend the rest of the day in penance.

I had lied to her; guilt racked my mind.

Instead, she sat down across from me and drew her legs back like mine.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked. Something had shifted her mood.

“Yes, Mother.”

“I know we don’t celebrate your birthday, sweetheart, but you’re eighteen today. I know you don’t get to spend a lot of time with friends.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled. Reached forward and brushed my cheek with her thumb. “You’re such a beautiful angel.”

Relief cascaded over me. “Thank you, Mother.”

“You don’t think I’m too hard on you, do you?”

“No,” I said.

“Tell me why I keep you away from dark waters.”

“So that I don’t fall in and drown.”

“Good girl. The only drowning you’ll do is in the clear waters of salvation.”

She was referring to my baptisms. “Yes, Mother.”

“What would have happened if we’d never rescued you?”

“I would have drowned.”

“And did you come willingly?”

I knew this part all too well, and having narrowly escaped being caught in a lie, I was only too eager to rehearse my rescue.

“Not at first. But sometimes children don’t see the danger they’re in. They have to be disciplined so they don’t get too close to the water. Or the fire.”

“Fires of hell,” she said, offering me a proud grin. “That’s right. God delivered you and restored me. And today is a very, very special day. Do you know why?”

Besides my birthday, which wasn’t a very special day at all, I had no idea. So I just looked at her.

“It’s a very special day because today God is returning what the locusts have eaten sevenfold, Darling. I have some very exciting news for you.”

I had rarely seen Mother so excited.

She continued, beaming. “All of our hard work is paying off. You’ve been faithful and remained pure and now that you’ve turned eighteen, God has seen fit to bless us all beyond our wildest imagination.”

“He has? How?”