The year is 1879. When thirteen-year-old Ruth Merritt Holbrook emerges from her family's burning estate, bloody and charred, but entirely numb--She makes headlines. Reporters believe she is deranged. They accuse her of having set the fire. All the h...
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We were caught. I was foolish, not for having slept with him, but for having been so clumsy about it. Arden must have been right outside the broom closet listening—like a deprived little creep—because he managed to walk in at the most ill-timed moment. I was hasty in my recovery and acted the lady, yelling at him and threating that my father would hear of his perverseness. But then, everyone present knew that I—and of course Augustine—were the real guilty parties.
I knew better. Levi will be angry—my father will be furious. Father could kill me for this—others have been killed for less. And yet I cannot even seem to care about that now. I am supposed to be using this paper to write my father a letter, to beg for his forgiveness, but I am too prideful to sink to such levels. Instead, I sit doing this because if I am writing Arden will assume it is to my father and it will prolong any unpleasantness from him.
The truth of the matter is that I cannot write to my father. He would not respect me for doing so. We are not meant to ask for forgiveness, we do not receive it. Such is the way with people like us. Which is beside the point, he has made me what I am. Of course, he would have preferred that I use my talents for other things, but they are my talents all the same and I have the self-control of an ill-bred dog—I jest.
I will write to Levi instead. He has always understood me—even if he pretends not too. We are very similar, he and I. He has very little self-control. I know because I am often the person who breaks it. He will scold me, saying things like: "Rosie, could you not have picked someone else? Anyone else. Another man? Why should it have been that one, of all people?" And I will smile and tell him that he worries too much. And I worry far less than I should. Levi warned me and still I let Augustine into my bed. But it will be fine. I am sure of it.
It must be fine.
Father has pardoned me before, why should he not pardon me now? I am the favorite of his children—he has reminded me of it often. But I have broken a rule that is unforgivable. One that will cost Augustine his head if Berith is less kind than I hope my father will be. Levi will convince him to keep me, I am certain.
Arden has cleared his throat no less than fifteen times; I should focus my attention on this letter before he loses all patience with me.
