Sins and Reborns

Chapter two

GRACE

At twenty-one, most people attend college, work to pay off debts, travel the world, and even start families. In my household, though, your age didn't mean you were old enough to make your own decisions.

I sort of became his secretary. My daily schedule consisted of waking up at five in the morning, read the bible, recite the passages, memorize, highlight (onto a separate sheet, of course), that he'd need to read that day. After that, I'd assist my mother with chores while she assisted Wesley with homework.

All throughout the day, my father would serve hours for bible reading or any other religious texts aloud to him. I'd recited them for him for hours until my brain felt fried. At ten p.m., I'd fall flat in bed right away. At ten-fifteen, I'd be asleep under the blinking stars. They formed the Ursa Minor. In those fifteen minutes, I'd wait by the window... for him. Outside, in the dark sky, sometimes stars glimmered, glinting at me as a formulation of hope.

The alarm clock rung in my ears as I stretched. Immediately, I rushed to the window to draw back the curtains. Sun rose over the horizon. The streets secluded at this time. Connor walked by at seven-thirty, so I had time to complete most of the morning chores before his arrival. I took the duster around the room, searching for any crevices, completing the proper clean up to proper neatness before my father arrived.

He didn't bother knocking. He walked in like he owned the place – which he did.

"Grace," the warning tone puzzled me. "We talked about cleaning up after yourself. Explain, what is that?"

The grey dust ball lay in the corner, barely visible in the morning light, the corner shielded.

My mouth already worked with the apologies. "Father, it was an accident. I checked everything. Every corner. Every spot. I will clean it up. I will do better. I will –"

"Sloth." His words rumbled through me like an illness. "It is like you're out to insult me. To cast us in bad light."

"I didn't see it..." I felt a sour taste in my mouth. "I can be a proper lady. I can..."

"I don't want to hear it." Straight, to the point. "Your mother wants you to work on the garden this afternoon. The rose bushes need trimming. Later in the evening, you will come with me to the church. We've got to pay for those sins."

"I understand."

Due to my idleness, I never made it in time to see Connor. Mother put me to work right away. From seven until nine, she barked commands at Wesley, even as he began to cry. At eight years old, he was a grade A student, but my parents were strict. If they knew he didn't memorize the whole texts, there was trouble. It happened with me when I was a young girl, and it was happening with Wes now.

I caught his red eyes across the room when I prepped brunch. I wanted to whisper I was sorry.

At one p.m., Mother led me outside for garden duty. "Trim the rose bush. Replant these tulips. A woman must know yard work."

First, I trimmed the bushes with secateurs, careful with the prickling thorns. It burned when it pricked you, the glob of blood enticing. Apparently, Mother didn't have gloves my size. Ironic since we were the same size; with gloves size hardly matters. I removed any branches growing inward, cleaned out the dead wood. I dug out the suckers, right below the graft union. Mother claimed they take away the nutrients.

Next, I replanted the tulips, smudging dirt on my forehead as I wiped it. When the dirt brushed against the thorn wound, a burn went through me. The shovel dug hard in the ground as the heat of the sun blistered through my clothed back. The yellow tulip a reminder of a new day. It bloomed under the afternoon glow, fresh and young.