Page 146 of Melt For Us, Daddy
And then, at last, Hannah nodded. “I believe you.” She glanced up at Jacob, then at Ivy, her brow crinkling. “But I still don’t understand how you can be okay with… this.”
“As I said. I chose this.” Cordelia’s lips curved upward, her expression shifting to a knowing smirk. “And once you get to know me, you’ll realize that I am not the kind of woman who does anything I don’t want to do.”
“I guess for now I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“I guess you will.”
With that tentative truce in place, Cordelia turned to Sarabeth, who was watching the whole thing unfold with wide eyes. “I’m so happy to meet you, Sarabeth. Your brother talked about you all the time. I know he’s very happy to see you again.”
“You’re really pretty,” Sarabeth whispered, reaching out to brush her fingers over Cordelia’s cheek. “I wanna be pretty like you when I’m big.”
“You’ll be pretty like you when you’re big, and that’s even better. But it’s more important to be kind and strong like your brother and Hannah.”
“Jacob is the best big brother ever.”
His heart twisted painfully in his chest at Sarabeth’s solemn statement. Most days he didn’t feel like the best big brother ever, but he was damn well going to do whatever it took to live up to that heroic view she had of him.
Meeting Hannah’s gaze, he felt another of those sharp jolts in his chest. Of all his sisters, she’d had it the worst, and it killed him to know he hadn’t been able to save her from it. Even though he’d helped get them out, she’d still carry those emotional scars long after her physical bruises healed. Much like Cordelia.
Apparently sensing they needed a moment alone, Ivy slipped between them. “Why don’t Cordelia and I take Sarabeth down the hall to check out the vending machines?”
Worry flickered across Hannah’s face. “Oh. I don’t know…”
“Ivy is a teacher. She’s great with kids,” Jacob explained, bouncing Sarabeth on his hip as he forced a grin for her benefit. “How’s that sound, Sarabeth? You want to go with my friend Ivy and get a treat?”
“Okay!”
Taking Sarabeth from him, Ivy launched into an excited explanation of the delicious treats waiting for them in the vending machine. Cordelia hovered for a moment, her gaze searching his face.
“I’m okay,” he assured her, leaning down to brush a kiss over her cheek. “I promise.”
“All right.” Still not looking entirely convinced, she gave a single slow nod. “We’ll be right down the hall if you need us, baby.”
“I know.”
With a final worried look behind her, Cordelia slipped from the room to follow after Ivy and Sarabeth.
“Baby?”
Embarrassment heated his cheeks, but Jacob shrugged as he met Hannah’s amused gaze. “Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No. It’s just… odd. Are you happy?”
Warmth filled him, not from embarrassment now but from the sheer joy his women brought him. “I don’t have words to explain how happy I am. Cordelia and Ivy… they saved me. They’ve helped me accept who I am, and they gave me the courage to stand up to our father when he found me outside the club.”
“Zach said he tried to...” Hannah’s fingers trembled as she lifted them to brush over the bruises on his neck that had just begun to fade.
“I’m okay now, Hannah. I’m safe, and so are you and Sarabeth and the others.”
“Not all of them.” Grief filled her eyes. “Some of our sisters stayed behind. They refused to leave their husbands. Said it was the devil’s work, that the enemy was trying to destroy the church but they wouldn't let him. We got Ruthie out, and all the younger ones, but so many of them stayed behind, Jacob. They stayed, and I don’t know why.”
That same grief settled heavy in his chest. “Hopefully someday they’ll see the truth. If and when that happens, we’ll give them somewhere to run to.”
“I don’t know if I can, Jacob. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to forgive them. Or our mothers. I am definitely not strong enough to forgive our father.”
“And that’s okay, too. I don’t believe God will hold that against you. I think…” He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “I think God, the real one, not the version the prophets preached, loves us enough to understand that some things are too big, too painful to forgive. And that’s not our failing, but a failing in the person who hurt us.”
“I’m not even sure I believe there is a God.” The words were barely a whisper. “How can I, after everything we endured? How can I believe that there is some benevolent Father out there who just lets his children suffer?”
