Giant Men and Violent Women

Be Our Guest

ASHLEY

"She's asking for you, Ashley," I hear Charlotte say.

I stop walking just short of The Governor's office and turn around to face her. She's still dressed in her ball gown—dark blue, puffy, just like Presley Ann's. Her face looks relieved, but it also looks worried. I have no idea what happened to Louisiana, but once again, I believe Charlotte's story. Just the look on her face tells me that what she said happened just might have occurred. She stands in the doorway of a guest room in The Governor's house. I know it's the room Louisiana is currently in. And here Charlotte is, wondering if I will go see her sister.

But I won't. I'm married to another woman. Louisiana is no longer my concern.

"Is this the end of the road for you and me?" I ask her.

She looks at me but says nothing.

I've always liked Charlotte. She was the kind of daughter who talked back to her mother, rolled her eyes at her father, and then winked at you after she did it. She was the fun girl. She wasn't the beauty queen. She was never pageant material. Mercer had a thing for her once, but that ended once she decided that Darling life was too slow for her, and we were nothing but mountain boys. She had no idea that Darling life was faster than Boston life would ever be. We make the rules here in Darling, and Boston follows our examples. Massachusetts leaving the Union is proof of that. Charlotte didn't get that then. I did. Mercer did. She underestimates Mercer. She has no idea what he does or what he can do. Mercer's fiancée, on the other hand, sees him for who he is. Dangerous. Poetic. Fun. Deadly. Mercer is bigger than Charlotte can even imagine. I wonder will she finally see that, now that she's home. Now that she and Mercer are older. I never judged Charlotte for wanting to leave this life or Mercer and starting one for herself.

Charlotte walks back into the guest room without saying another word. I head into The Governor's office.

Jewels.

"You're a poor loser," I say as I walk into The Governor's office, a small smirk on my face. My comment is intended for Jewels. Yes, I'm exhausted, but it's game time. Either I attack first or stand the risk of becoming prey. In war, unlike in football, it's the offense that wins the game.

Jewels turns from the window that he's been gazing out of and scowls at me. He has already lost, and the scorn on his face proves that he's a man who can't contain his emotions.

My father walks into the office.

"Ashley," Dad says as he takes a seat on a sofa in front of the fireplace.

"Jewels." He gestures for Jewels to take a seat on a sofa.

Jewels does so.

Cherokee walks into the office, her dark purple ball gown brushing past me. "I think things are going well," she says with a smile as she heads to the sofa area to take a seat.

"Splendid," I say, my eyes on Jewels.

He continues to glare at me. He's no match for me. But I still wonder about him.

Presley Ann never officially said that he helped Date cross into Vermont, thereby saving his life. I didn't have the chance to clarify that point the night she and I argued over it. And, with today being our bellringing day, it seems inappropriate to ask if her old boyfriend is being helped by her newest boyfriend. So, now, I wonder.

I wonder if Jewels is as pro-independence as he is pro-Presley Ann. Did he help Date to a doctor because he believed Date was justified in organizing Chap's death, or did he help Date because he'd do anything for Presley Ann? Not to give Jewels too much credit, but I think it's the latter.