Page 1 of Liar Byrd
Chapter 1
Byrdie
Red dirt stains my light blue skirt, and the scent of wildflowers is so thick that if I stuck out my tongue, I would taste its floral sweetness.
It’s been two months since Mom brought us to New Mexico, and I barely recognize her from the frazzled blonde who burned toast every morning and could never hold down a job long enough for us to keep an apartment.
She sold most of our things, threw the rest away, and gave what little money we had left to Jeremiah as if our past no longer mattered.
“The material isn’t important, Byrdie,” my mom likes to tell me, her dark blue eyes sparkling with fierce intensity. “Jeremiah is so wise. We can learn so much from him.”
She marinates in Jeremiah’s every word.
On another hot and sticky morning, I’m busy pulling carrots, beets, and potatoes from the vegetable patch. The five women beside me are pondering the best options for a seventeen-year-old who has no interest in marrying anyone.
Kali nods firmly and says, “We have to find you someone,” as she tosses two potatoes into the large basket we’ve been filling all morning.
“Byrdie is so pretty with her white-blond hair and dark blue eyes,” Seren says shyly. “It should be someone handsomeandkind.”
I smile at her. “That’s sweet, Seren, but?—”
“The physical is just a shell, Seren,” Enid talks over me, her voice as severe as the sweet smile on her face. “You must sit closer to the front at church so you do not miss more important lessons during Jeremiah’s sermons.”
Seren flushes, embarrassed, and I drop my potato into the basket with a thud instead of hurling it in Enid’s face as she deserves.
Even in a fifty-person compound in the middle of the New Mexico desert, there are cliques and there are bitches. I thought I'd left those behind in high school, but apparently not.
“Seren?” I wait for her to lift her head, meet her brown gaze, and say clearly and firmly. “Thankyoufor wanting a kind husband for me.”Even if I don’t want a husband at all.
She smiles faintly. “You’re welcome, Byrdie.”
“Byrdie needs someone older. More mature,” Samantha says, eyeing me closely, as if Seren hadn’t spoken at all.
“She needs a firm hand to guide her. To set her on the right path and keep her on it,” Lacey adds.
When Angelica nods, agreeing, I duck my head so none of them will see me roll my eyes. “I don’t mind waiting for a bit,” I say, knowing I’m fighting a losing battle.
In Jeremiah’s compound, women marry young. I’m the youngest and the only unmarried. None of the women I’m gathering vegetables with for tonight’s dinner are older than twenty-three.
Using the back of my hand, I brush away flyaway strands of white-blonde hair from my face. The sun bleaches it more each day, giving my face and the backs of my hands—the only skin on show—a lovely sun-kissed glow.
We’re all dressed in loose, ankle-length pale blue linen dresses with long sleeves to hide our shape, and our hair is braided and wrapped around our heads. It’s hot, oppressive, and I’m ready to scream when a tickle starts up at the back of my neck.
I scratch at the itch, wincing when something bites. Glancing down at the mess on my palm, my face tightens in disgust, and I scrub the crushed remains of a red ant into the skirt of my dress.
The itch remains.
I turn, half-listening to the women still deciding on a potential husband for me. My gaze clashes with a tall, dark-haired man standing with his hands folded behind his back in the shadow of the arched church entrance.
Jeremiah.
He’s handsome in a quiet, intense way. He wears a blue linen T-shirt, black baggy linen trousers, and he’s always barefoot. His dark brown beard is thick but cut short, and his eyes are silver.
I loved his eyes when I first met him.
I thought they were sincere and mysterious and wise. My eyes followed him as he moved from the church to the dining hall and then to the group of cabins where we all sleep. Everyone on the compound is half in love with him, and for a little while, I was too.
Until this new life began to feel as suffocating as the intense New Mexico desert heat.
