Paul caressed my hand with his thumb. “It means we’ll be here for each other. Always. I’ll protect you and think about you. Just you, no one else.”

I smiled. “I like that idea.”

“We’re growing up, Eden. No one can stop that, not your mother or my father. Even they know that part of growing up is loving someone.”

I stopped. Looked him in the eye. “Love?”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Have you?”

I shook my head slowly.

“How else do you describe it?” he said.

“I don’t know. But love, it seems—”

“It seems right, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

In that instant I’d kicked the pebble away and now joy crashed through the dam like I’d never felt before. Joy that I don’t think could have any other name but love, and not in the way Mother or Father loved me. But it wasn’t just happiness that spilled out. It was fear too. Mother would eventually find out. She would know how Paul felt and how I felt about him. What would happen then?

“Eden!” Bobby yelled from the tree line. He held his turtle high over his head. “Can we take the turtle to the lake now?”

How long had we been there? “I’ll be there in just a minute, okay? Then we’ll go to the lake.”

“When can I see you again?” Paul asked.

I turned to Paul and held his hand tighter. “I don’t know.”

“Tomorrow. You always have the free hour at four, right?”

“But my mother—”

“Won’t have to know why you came. Did she know today?”

“No,” I said.

“See. As long as we’re careful no one will know. If no one knows then why can’t we see each other?”

I released his hand and stood to my feet. “All right. Tomorrow, a little after four. I’ll probably have to bring Bobby.”

“Eden!” Bobby yelled.

“I’ve got to go. Mother will come looking for us if we’re not back soon.”

Paul stood and took my hand again. “I’ll be thinking about you tonight.”

“I’ll think about you too.”

“Do you promise?”

“Promise.”

He took a step closer until his body brushed against mine, then leaned close and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”

I closed my eyes as his warm lips lingered on my skin. I was sure my heart would explode just then. Nothing else mattered and the world fell away. There was only Paul and me. And his kiss.

He stepped back and gently wiped his thumb on my cheek where he’d kissed me. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I said softly. But inside I was singing at the top of my lungs.

17

MOTHER HAD always told me that the reason we ended and started each week with a ritual baptism was to, once again, get rid of the old and make all things new. That’s why every Sunday morning Mother, Wyatt, Bobby, and I would gather in the holiness shed, as Mother called it, and drown me. That’s why Mother would lay seven straps against Bobby’s bared back. That’s why she would recite scripture, and rejoice after our sin was properly dismissed through the lamb and goat.

I was the lamb and Bobby was the goat, because I was born beautiful and Bobby was born ugly, she said.

I always felt much cleaner after baptisms each Sunday, glad to be rid of all of our sin. However much I hated the thought of being held under water until I was sure I was going to drown, I loved the feeling of being saved even more. The first few hours following my cleansing were always the happiest hours of my week, if only for the peace that purification brought me. We all felt it. Manna from heaven, Mother called it. Euphoria from God.

But none of that had prepared me for the exhilaration that had swept me away in the field with Paul the previous afternoon. I spent the rest of the evening and the following morning walking as if I were on a cloud, heart throbbing with feelings I hardly knew existed.

Though I tried, I couldn’t hide my excitement from Mother. But she was in quite a good mood herself and thankfully didn’t press beyond a question or two as to why I went about with a smile on my face, humming.

I felt a little guilty for keeping my love for Paul to myself—after all, I had vowed to tell Mother if I was ever even tempted to be romantic with anyone.

But I was eighteen now, you see? That gave me certain rights. I was old enough to handle my guilt directly with God and not through my mother. And I didn’t think he minded that I was in love with Paul.

That’s what it was, right? Love. The thought made me dizzy. And if just a small kiss on my cheek felt like heaven, I wondered what being married to Paul would feel like. Didn’t all girls my age think about marriage? They must, surely, and God had created marriage so he must not mind.

I couldn’t remember a time when the whole family had been so happy. Bobby was happy because I was happy. Wyatt was happy because Kathryn was happy. Kathryn was happy because Zeke was happy. Zeke was happy because God had blessed us all with a lot of money, or so I figured.

Mother was in such a good mood, in fact, that when I told her I was going to go for a walk alone during my free time, she only gave me a word of caution to stay clear of any trouble and seemed satisfied with my assurance that I would.

That was how I ended up on the gravel road for the second day in a row, this time without Bobby, who was occupied with building a miniature fort out of small wood blocks in his room. It was about ten minutes after four and I was a bundle of nerves, mostly good ones.

Taking that quarter of a mile walk all alone was unnerving, sure—the swamps were on either side and there was no one to warn me of any danger, like an alligator. But again, it was only like stepping out of the boat. I was a water walker now, wasn’t I? That meant facing my fears to reach the shore.

But this time that shore was Paul and my stomach was full of butterflies. Good butterflies. Wonderful ones that made me lightheaded with exhilaration. It was strange how only a few days ago I had tortured myself for the very thoughts that now excited me so much. It was like a dam had burst and suddenly my life was flooded with newness.

I imagined the man from my dream would approve, even if he was just a figment of my imagination. Or maybe my true self, speaking some truth into myself.

The edge of the field came into view and I picked up my pace.

If the Outlaw could see me now, he would say, “Jika jika jawa, Eden! Look at you go!”

And what would Mother say? But I already knew the answer to that, didn’t I? She didn’t like . . .

I saw the big black truck then, sitting out in the middle of the field, and I stopped cold. Zeke’s truck.

My heart began to pound like a fist. I quickly glanced along the tree line, but didn’t see Paul. Only Zeke, sitting behind the steering wheel, watching me.

My first thought was to run, because Zeke could only mean trouble. He’d come to punish me.

But that thought left as soon as it came, because I’d never been the kind to run from anything. I’d learned to face whatever was in front of me—it was better to pay the price than invite even more trouble.

Besides, who was to say that Zeke being here was trouble? Sure, the man made me cringe because I knew that he was the closest thing to God on earth and God always made me cringe. But maybe Zeke had come to thank me for my blessing.

That’s what I told myself as I started toward the truck, too afraid to dare think anything else.

The driver’s door swung open when I was twenty yards from the truck, and I stopped again, feeling totally exposed.

You shouldn’t have come, Eden. You see what happens when you cross the line?

There was still no sign of Paul—only Zeke, who slowly climbed out of the truck, dressed in black slacks and a black button-down shirt. He didn’t look at me. He just walked around the crew cab to the back passenger door, and opened it. Then reached in and gave a hard yank.