11

"Lord, I pray to you. I lay myself at your feet and ask you for forgiveness and for the grace and strength to do what I have to in order to live eternally with you in heaven."

Jem knelt on the side of her bed one morning. For the past week since deciding to accept Ben's courtship, she had been following the same routine: Wake up at 5 am, pray until 8 o'clock, and go about her day until night, then pray until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Many days, she would wake up on the side of her bed, her knees still bent from the night before. She avoided Owen as much as she could, and even during prayer group yesterday, she wouldn't let herself even look at him. He was making it easy since he did not make any motion to approach her anyway. She stayed after to talk to Ben, then left for home with Becca. 

She had spent a total of 8 hours with Ben throughout the week, trying to get used to the idea of spending the rest of her life with him, but no matter how much she tried to accept it, she couldn't picture that kind of future with him. She couldn't even muster up an image of the two of them together past the age of twenty. She couldn't imagine his face any older than it was; it was like he was stuck in time, only in the moments that she'd spent with him. So she prayed and prayed throughout the day, under her breath and in every moment that her thoughts began to drift to Owen and the endless world her mind had created with him.

Becca stirred awake, "Jem? You awake already?"

She turned around, "Yeah."

She just hummed in response and turned back around, pulling the covers over herself again. 

~

The Sanderson wedding was held in the church, and Jem sat next to Ben. She had to, and Mom looked so pleased when she looked over at them beside eachother. Jem's heart ached. 

The music was so beautiful that she could just about get lost in it, almost forget her troubles for a moment. When she looked up at the couple in the front of the church, staring into eachother's eyes with so much love, Jem felt a stinging in her nose that threatened to spread. She looked over at Ben, and he looked at her with those sunken eyes. For a second, she felt a strange peace in his presence, like she could maybe finally fathom something with him, but it flitted away when her eyes passed him and found her dad. He still wore that blank expression on his face, staring ahead but at nothing in particular. It was like he was seeing something completely different from the rest of them, and Jem wanted to sit next to him and look through his eyes. She'd always wanted to see the world through his eyes, but in that moment, it was for a different reason than her childlike wonder. Right now, she wanted to feel whatever it was he was feeling that made him so completely unaffected by his surroundings. 

At the end of the ceremony, the entire congregation gathered on the lawn for the reception, and Jem stood near the snack table as usual. She grabbed two donuts for herself and Ben. 

When she spotted him, he was talking to Owen and Misty.

She walked up and smiled softly at him, handing over his donut.

"Thanks," he said with a bashful grin. It pulled at her heartstrings in a way she wasn't used to with him. She felt a sudden flicker of hope.

Misty gave her a kind look, "It's so beautiful out here, isn't it? Giving you two any ideas?"

Jem played her part and offered a giddy but slightly embarrassed smile, looking at Ben with some form of admiration, "Yeah, I s'pose."

It wasn't a complete fake, she did feel some kind of affection for him when she looked at him. Maybe it was the atmosphere or the soft lighting, but she was starting to warm up to him.

She glanced at Owen despite herself, noticing his cool expression. He was oddly silent then. 

Misty gave a pleased smile, "I heard you were taking over for Heidi with the dance troupe. You come up with any new dances?"

"Um, no, not really. I haven't had the chance to meet with any of the girls yet."

Owen grunted uncomfortably. 

"Well, I'm sure you have plenty of amazing ideas anyway."

Jem nodded with a curt smile at her.

"Yeah," Ben cut in, which surprised her a bit, "She's really wonderful to watch as well. A great dancer."

Jem's chest swelled. He'd never outright complimented her before, and this was so unexpected that she allowed herself a genuine grin when she made eye contact with him, "Thanks, Ben."

The rest of the night, Jem spent talking with Ben. It wasn't all that intriguing, but she couldn't expect too much from him, she'd already established. So instead of judging him and wanting more from him, she made herself content listening to his gross stories about poop and ill chickens. He was only a boy, after all.

~

At the end of the reception, Jem decided to stay longer in the chapel after everyone had left. Mom made her take her bike along in the trunk since this wasn't unusual for her lately.

She knelt in the front pew, the darkness of the chapel surrounding her. 

"Thank you, Lord. I can already feel the effect of your will. You've done so much for me already, all I ask is that you keep giving me these graces and allowing me to be open more fully to the plan you've made for me and Ben."

But as she said this aloud to herself, she began to sink back into the doubt from before. The illusion that had taken hold of her this evening faded, and she was again left with the dread of this future she never chose for herself. 

The panic that had struck her a week prior now consumed her again. About Dad, about dance troupe, about Ben and Owen. It was too much. It was so so much. She couldn't make herself thank God again, not for forcing her to go through with this. It was unbearable and she dared to finally pray for what she really wanted, and what she had been wanting for so long.

"Take this burden from me. I don't care, Lord. Take Ben away from me, draw me away and--- and let me live. I want to be free from this. I want Dad to stop drinking, and I don't understand how giving up these sufferings to you has done any good for me. I thanked you for giving me these punishments because I thought I would be given something in return but all you've done is punish me more. Why are you doing this to Dad? Why would you do this, knowing how much it hurts Mom and the children? It can't be for mine or anyone's good. I just don't understand."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she sniffed it away. "You took away dance troupe, and you took away my dad, and you took away my right to choose who I should love. What do you want from me? What good could this possibly be worth---?"

Her head snapped up when she heard a creak at the front of the chapel. She thanked God that she had only been whispering her prayer or Owen would have heard from the doorway.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

She sat up, "No no, don't worry. I should be going anyway."

"No, carry on with what you were doing, it really isn't an issue."

"It's late, I should go."

They stared at eachother, her sitting still and Owen standing and contemplating something Jem couldn't place her finger on.

Before she could stand to leave, he came over to her pew and sat next to her, almost touching.

"Is everything alright, Jemmy?"

Her heart hammered in her chest, watching his face by the small glow of the window.

"Y--yes, everything's fine." She spoke in almost a whisper.

"You can talk to me, you know, if anything is troubling you."

She nearly scoffed, "I can talk to you? Really?"

"Yeah, Jemmy. You always can." 

His eyes bore into her, and every beat of her heart hammered like a rhythm without a tune. She wanted to move away, but everything about him drew her in. 

He smelled like cigarettes and pine and summer air, and nothing about him was what she should want, but everything she couldn't help but need. 

"Owen..." She breathed.

"Yes?" his voice was softer, more intimate. A shiver went through her, and she was sure he could see it.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer her, "Talk to me, Jemmy." his arm crept over the back of the pew, surrounding her with his scent, his body, everything.

He was so close now, his warm breath cascading over her throat and down her skin and the neck of her shirt. His jaw clenched, and he looked down at her lips, not hiding the emotion in his eyes.

"You took away my dance troupe," she said finally, "You took it away and acted like it shouldn't mean anything, but it does to me."

"I'll give it back."

She could hardly believe her ears, "Y--you what?"

"Take it back. I'll find some excuse to cancel group prayer. None of the kids seem to appreciate my way of doing things anyway."

"I do."

"You aren't like them."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"What else?"

She blinked, "What else?"

"Yeah. What's bothering you? I have to know."

She cleared her throat, "Well, um, my dad... He's been drinking again and--- I don't know."

"How do you know that?"

"I've seen him," She snorts, despite herself.

Owen lets out a short laugh, "Oh. I see."

"Is there anything else?"

She swallowed, becoming more aware of his presence and how close he's gotten to her now. 

"No."

"Yes, there is."

What was he doing? Did he know? How could he?

"How do you know that?" Her voice was barely a whisper, not daring to speak any louder.

The corner of his mouth quirked, and a pained expression took hold of his features, "Jemmy.."

And before she could ask him again, he placed a hand on the side of her face and brought her closer to him, grabbing her waist with his other hand. 

"Jemmy..." There was a question in his eyes, and Jem thought for only a short second that she couldn't allow this, but immediately broke when he let out a shaky breath.

Seeing the permission in her eyes, he brushed his lips against hers. 

At first, he only hovered, as if contemplating what he should do, but then he pressed softly against her, feeling around. Jem didn't know what to expect from him, but for some reason, she'd thought he would be more insistent or rough, but he continued slowly, pressing gentle kisses to her lips. His kiss was soft, but she felt his urgency in the grasp around her waist and neck, pulling her harder and harder against him, needing more of her but not knowing how much he could take at once or how much she was willing to accept from him.

In a fluid motion, he grabbed her thighs and pulled her onto his lap with a grunt. He disconnected from her briefly, and she could feel the grin on his lips more than see it, and it sent a shiver up her spine. 

His breathing was ragged as he kissed her more firmly, pulling her tighter against him, his hand tangling in her hair, his arm wrapped all the way around her now. Jem gasped, which made him chuckle softly. She followed his movement, lacing her hands behind his neck and holding him close to her. 

It was so wrong, so terribly wrong, but she couldn't even think of that when she felt his touch on her skin or his lips kissing her jaw and neck so desperately. How could anything so good be wrong? How could something be wrong if she didn't feel guilty? Sure, she would feel it after it was over, but in his arms now, not an ounce of shame could hold her back.