Cats In the Cradle

11. Emma

I helped mama prepare supper that night, and a few of my siblings and their families came over to eat as usual. The men talked and joked loudly and the women ate silently, only speaking when spoken to or when one of the children needed help.

Father had told me that we'd be having our important talk after supper, so I ate as slowly as I could. Mama and I made lasagna with fresh pasta and homemade sauce from homegrown tomatoes. And fresh garlic bread. Mama was a fantastic cook, and it was my very favorite meal, so it was admittedly challenging to eat so slowly.

But I was trying to delay the inevitable.

"Emma, are you feeling alright?" My older brother, Lars, asked me. He was 4 years older than me, but we were best friends. There was one child between us—my sister Abigail, who was 2 years older—but she and I had never really gotten along well.

She was beautiful. Much prettier than me, with her slim waist, large breasts, wide childbearing hips and long, dark, perfectly wavy hair. My hair was also long and dark, as we weren't permitted to cut it, but it was stick straight, like Mama's.

I was taller than average and had more of a boyish figure. My hips were narrow and my breasts were hardly a full handful. But Mama assured me that she'd been the same before marriage, but pregnancy and childbirth had changed things.

Father hoped she was right. Although, he didn't seem to mind Mama's childish figure when he married her. But he was a good man; much kinder than most men around here. So I think he was afraid he may never find a good husband for me. It had been very easy to find a good husband for Abigail.

But perhaps it was working out the way The Great Spirit had intended. All Abigail had ever dreamt of was getting married and pleasing a man. She was overjoyed when my father announced that he'd found a husband for her a week before she turned 16. She eagerly completed her month of pre-marital training lessons with Orion. Positively delighted to be married a month after her 16th birthday, even though he was 8 years older than her.

And she bragged often about how she hardly ever needed to be corrected by Orion or her husband Michael because she was such a natural.

Mrs. Abigail Augustus was lovingly doodled on every scrap of paper she could get her hands on.

And even I had to admit that she really was very good at pleasing a man. I hardly ever saw her with bruises. She rarely limped. She was blessed with twins during her first pregnancy, and gave birth to them almost exactly 9 months after her wedding. Then she fell pregnant again only three weeks after the twins were born, despite breastfeeding. And she'd recently announced that she was pregnant again.

What a blessing.

It was because she was born to be a good wife, she bragged. Born to be a mother.

Born to be a slave.

"Emma, your brother asked you a question! It's very disrespectful to ignore a man! " My brother-in-law, Harris, scolded me. He was married to my sister, Elizabeth, and I was pretty sure she hated him. She was 2 years older than Lars, and she and I had also been pretty close before she was married off.

But she wasn't bold. She was quietly defiant. Just obedient and fertile enough to not get punished too often or sent to Orion for more training.

"I apologize, Lars," I said softly, knowing he likely wasn't even offended. Harris was just insufferable.

"I'm alright. Just not...feeling too well tonight. My stomach hurts," I told him, looking meaningfully into his eyes.

He knew I was terrified of getting married, and Father had likely already spoken to him about whatever our talk would be about tonight. He understood that my stomach would sometimes start hurting when I was anxious.

"Maybe you could ask Father for permission to go lay down? There are more than enough hands to help clean up after supper," he said kindly.

Lars was a good man. Perhaps even better than Father.

"Absolutely not," Father told me, somehow overhearing our quiet conversation.

"You're 17 now, Emma. No longer a child. I spoke to Mr. Allen last week, and he doesn't have anymore unwed sons for you, unfortunately. But he says he thinks he has someone in mind who would make a wonderful husband for you. Strong, healthy genes, like the rest of my sons-in-law." He smiled proudly around the table, always in the best mood when he was surrounded by family.

"We'll talk more after you finish all your supper and help clean up. You need to gain a little weight, if you're to become a mother soon." He said sternly, watching me closely as I picked up another small bite of the lasagna.

I hadn't even been honest with Lars before, when I said my stomach was hurting.

But it sure was hurting now.

"Abigail, give Emma another helping of the lasagna," Father said, eyeing my tiny forkful with obvious disapproval. "Emma, if you don't finish every single bite, you'll be chained up and whipped. I won't be embarrassed by one of my children again. Eat."

Abigail scooped another large helping of lasagna onto my plate, and my stomach hurt even more just looking at it.

But I knew Father was watching me closely. He prided himself on having tall, strong sons and fertile, obedient daughters. He always found tall, handsome, strong men to breed them, wanting only the best of the best for his bloodline.

He prided himself on having beautiful, intelligent grandchildren. And he was always so happy, loudly praising The Great Spirit, when one of his children announced that they'd be giving him more.

I couldn't be the one to disappoint him. Not like my oldest sister.

So I stabbed my fork into a large chunk of the lasagna, keenly aware of all the eyes around the table watching me carefully.

And I ate.