Page 1 of Melt For Us, Daddy
Prologue
Jacob
Something was wrong.
It wasn’t just that he’d been summoned to his father’s office, which only ever happened when he was in serious trouble. The weight of that something hung in the air, thick and oppressive, threatening to smother him with every breath he took.
Standing behind the heavy oak desk was the man himself. A prophet, though not the prophet as that honor still belonged to Jacob’s grandfather. From what he’d heard his mothers saying, the old man wasn’t long for this world. Soon, he’d be gone, and Harlan Redding would take his place as head of the church.
The thought was enough to chill him to his very bones.
People said they looked alike, Jacob and his father and his father’s father. Sometimes he could see it, around the eyes a bit. But he prayed every night to a God he wasn’t even sure was listening, that his mouth never developed that hard, cruel edge and that his eyes never burned with the righteous hatred he could see in Harlan’s gaze even now.
“Jacob.” The deep timbre of the prophet’s voice seemed to echo off the walls. “For far too long, I’ve allowed my affection for you to blind me to the truth. You’ve been given far too much freedom, and it shows.”
If years of training hadn’t been enough to keep Jacob silent, the shock of his father’s statement would have done the job. Affection? Freedom? Did his father even know what those words meant?
Hands folded behind his back, Harlan stepped out from behind the desk, slowly approaching his only son. “It’s past time for you to put this foolishness behind you, Jacob. Time for you to finally step up and become a man.”
The very air in his lungs seemed to freeze. In the church, there was only one thing that could mean, though he prayed with everything he had in him that he was wrong. “Sir?”
“Marriage, son. A good wife has a way of settling a man’s spirit. And I have chosen a very good wife for you.”
Behind him, the door to the office opened and Jacob instinctively turned, his stomach sinking to the floor at the sight of Ruthie, one of his sisters, being led into the room by Caleb Barlow.
The implication was so horrific, Jacob’s mind refused to even process it at first. Child brides were not unusual in the church, but he’d never heard of anyone being forced to marry their sister. Although he and Ruthie didn’t share the same mother, he knew enough of what went on between a man and a woman to know that it wasn’t right to expect those things from someone he shared his father’s blood with.
But as much as he wanted to scream, to rage at them for even suggesting this union, he knew he had to play his hand carefully. Being too bold was how he’d gotten himself into this mess and if he wanted to save himself and Ruthie, he needed to be careful. He needed to be smart.
Rejecting her outright, implying in any way that she wasn’t good enough, pure enough, would only result in punishment for her. The deacons would declare her guilty of some fabricated sin and her father would delight in beating that sin out of her. He’d seen it happen with his sister Hannah when she’d been declared unfit to marry one of the Tanner boys a few years ago. The truth, Jacob knew, was that Elijah Tanner had taken his sister’s virginity against her will and then gone to the deacons, claiming she’d seduced him.
She’d worn the bruises and cuts from that punishment for weeks afterward. And she’d never been allowed to marry, leaving her without even that protection, thin as it was, from the other men within the church.
He could not, would not subject Ruthie to the same fate. Which meant he’d have to find some other way, any other way to delay the inevitable. Mind racing, he landed on feigning innocence, forcing his father to explain himself. “I’m not sure I understand. What is Ruthie doing here?”
The smile that stretched across Harlan Redding’s face was cold. Evil, Jacob thought, but voicing such a sinful thought out loud would be a death sentence, only son or not. “The kingdom of heaven is more than just an idea, my son. It’s a very real place, a place we as prophets of the sacred truth will someday rule. As kings.”
Turning, Harlan laid a hand on one of Ruthie’s shoulders, using his other to tilt her chin up. Fear shone in the child’s eyes, making Jacob’s stomach churn. “The kings of old believed in keeping their bloodlines pure. One generation to the next, never allowing anyone to taint their children. I believe they were right.”
Arguing would only make his father angry, but he needed some reason, some excuse that would delay this atrocity until he could figure a way out of it for good. “I thought I was supposed to be spending my days with the deacons. Keeping myself holy until my ordination day.”
“You will still have plenty of time for your studies. And there is nothing holier than the bond between a husband and his wife.”
“I understand. And I am sure Ruthie will make a fine wife for me someday.” The lie made him want to vomit, but he forced himself to play along. “But I don’t think I’m ready to take on the role of husband just yet. You said it yourself, that I have a rebellious spirit. Certainly a man like that should not be given the honor of a wife until he learns to tame himself.”
There. That sounded sufficiently pious, didn’t it?
But if the slight flaring of his father’s nostrils was anything to judge by, he’d missed the mark. “This isn’t a discussion, Jacob. You will marry Ruthie this Saturday. The prophet has spoken.”
You aren’t the prophet. Again he held his tongue against words that would only end in suffering for himself and likely Ruthie as well.
Heart pounding against his chest, he swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his throat. “Father, if we could just sit down and discuss this, I think you’d see?—”
Harlan lifted a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Caleb, would you please open the door?”
With a deferential nod, Caleb turned and twisted the doorknob, and Jacob could barely hear what his father said next over the roar of his own blood in his ears.
His youngest sister, sweet little Sarabeth, stepped inside, her face lighting with joy at the sight of Harlan, and Jacob’s heart split in two. At just barely five years old, she hadn’t learned to fear him yet. Hadn’t learned how needlessly cruel their father could be.
