Reaping A Princess

ADAMANTINE NUMBNESS

There was a soft glow kissing the treetops the night my life started to derail.

The sky, cloud laden and tinged the shade of Himalayan salt, promised to lay down a blanket of white by morning and I missed how the sight of it used to feel like a fresh start. A new beginning just waiting for me to step out into the bright, sparkling world and leave new marks.

It took me a long time to realize the truth.... I was snow.

Every indentation of fortitude, line drawn, and crevasse within me would eventually melt away, leaving no trace of my attempts to amount to more. No matter how ferociously I accumulated, I'd be reduced to a lesser form of my solid self.

✟

"Finished, Sarah?"

Papa's voice startled me from my thoughts, and I closed the book he made me read from every evening before bed.

"Yes, Papa."

I didn't allow the sigh resting on the tip of my tongue to pass through my lips. I would never voice aloud how redundant and tiring reading the Bible was becoming. I knew the Lord's word like I knew my own heartbeat. It was true and steady, and I could close my eyes and recount almost every passage by memory.

But Papa didn't care. There was no such thing as a perfect woman, and according to him, men want a well-versed wife so if I couldn't be anything else, I could at the very least be that.

"Repeat the most poignant verse you read tonight."

I lifted my chin and spoke clearly. "Galatians 5:1—For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery."

His expression did not change, though I knew I had irked him by how he clipped out, "The freedoms you seek are not yours to have, Sarah. You've a purpose, but it's not the one you seem hell bent on claiming."

Setting the Lord's book aside, I rose from my seat at the window and fully faced him. "I thought only God knows my purpose."

"Of course, He knows your purpose."

"Only God," I repeated more pointedly.

His hand came up to stroke his long, greying beard but there was no mistaking the fire I'd lit. It flickered dangerously within his eyes.

"As the Head of this household, as your father and a man of faith, I know more than you ever will."

"But do you know as much as God?"

His hands balled up into fists and he began storming toward me. I knew what I had done; the storm I had summoned. I wasn't sure why my tongue had become so sharp but something inside me just couldn't bear to concede anymore.

"Papa," Noah called out as he rushed in from outside. "Caleb said there's an issue with the truck. Needs you to come and take a look at it."

Papa stood in the middle of my room; hands still clenched until he raised a pointed finger at me. "No man will want a smart-mouthed wife. I'm going to take a look at the truck, then you and I are going to revisit Proverbs 22:15."

Noah shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, but I didn't show an ounce of emotion at the obvious threat and my bravado only served to agitate him further.

"You do not look worried, daughter. Do you not recall the verse?"

"I recall it," I said in a smooth tone. "'Folly is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline drives it far from him.'"