“I think if anyone manages to break in, they’ll assume she’s dead,” the Thief returned, and they both laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.
It was only then the Orphan Girl realized how close they were to one another. The Thief had positioned them so his back was up against one of the table’s thick legs, his body between hers and the doorway. She was half in his lap, pressed flush against him, their faces only a few inches apart. She felt the moment he registered this, too, in the way that his heart began hammering against hers.
“Agnes,” he murmured. The way he said the name sounded so reverent. She wished it was really hers.
She thought he might kiss her; but then there were more shouts, sounding very near the door. The Orphan Girl jumped, and the Thief tightened his hold on her with one arm. His other hand came up to cup the back of her head protectively, like she was precious. “You’re safe,” he told her. “I’ll keep you safe, I swear.”
Somehow, she believed him. The Orphan Girl couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt the security of knowing someone was looking after her. She ought to be terrified; but how could she be, wrapped in the Thief’s arms, her ear pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrumming of his heart?
Shewas the one to turn her face up to him.Shewas the one who broke her vows, seeking the warmth of his lips with her own. Later, the Orphan Girl would remind herself of this, remind herself of how weak and sinful she was. But in that moment, it didn’t feel wrong. He was so gentle, so reverent with her, as he cradled her face in his hands and stroked her chin with his thumb. She lost herself in his touch, yes, but she found herself there, too, her heart and her spiritand her body in perfect, vivid harmony together, lost in his patient, reverent embrace.
They kissed. They only kissed. But that was enough to mean she could not continue being a postulant. The Orphan Girl might have done many, many things wrong, but she couldn’t live a lie. She couldn’t pretend her vows hadn’t been broken. She couldn’t pretend to be the same girl she’d been when she walked into the prison that morning.
Even as she was kissing the Thief, she knew it, but in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. This would be the end of their story, of course. He was in prison, and she would have no other choice but to go back to her family. There was just no other way this story could go. But they could have this for now, this one stolen moment of time, just for them.
That was what she told herself. But when it came time to leave, it was still agony. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she wouldn’t be coming back. Even though he had never truly been hers, she felt the loss so keenly. And even though an ending with the two of them together could have never been, she knew a part of her would always be longing for it. Her heart was his now. That was all there was to it.
That’s the thing about thieves, though. They take what doesn’t belong to them, and even if they give it back, it no longer feels like it’s yours anymore.
Chapter 6
Nina
Everyone keeps talking about how nice it is to finally get a vacation. To be totally honest, it hasn’t felt like much of a vacation for me so far. While my family spent the morning exploring some of the local hiking trails, I stored everyone’s suitcases for them and organized a grocery pickup so there will be plenty of food around for my cousins to eat. (And believe me, preteens and teenagers caneat.) Then I had to help everyone get ready for the “family package” video we’re going to film. For each Mountainette, the producers are putting together a short video of her with her family to show her background and where she came from. Even though the video will only be about two minutes long, we spent all afternoon getting ready. I had to help the twins straighten then curl their hair, then spend more time finding Isaiah a suitable replacement for his dress shirt after he spilled orange juice all over the front.
All of that sounds like a lot of whining, I know. If I’m thinking positively and with a heart full of gratitude, I’m sure there are perks to being here in Green Valley. Like ... at least I won’t have to clean the church building for the next eight weeks. That will definitely feel like a vacation for me!
There was very little time left to get myself ready for the family package, but that doesn’t matter so much. I’m sure I’ll only be in the background anyway. I’m not planning on wearing anything special—just one of my long floral skirts, a button-up dress shirt, and my best, softest cardigan. I’m sure that’s not exactly what the producers mean by being “TV ready,” but it’s what I have available.
If it were up to me, I’d probably wear something different. I’ve been really into A-line silhouettes lately, so maybe I’d do something with that pattern. A simple material, since that shows up best on camera—and a bold color, maybe, with minimal print. High heels, to give my silhouette some length. A shade of lipstick that doesn’t match with my dress but doesn’t clash, either.
But that’s all just wishful thinking. I haven’t bought a brand-new outfit since ... maybe since I was eight? Everything has been secondhand since then, hand-me-downs from my cousins or thrift-store bargain finds.
Envy. I cut off that train of thought quickly. I’m happy and I’m healthy and I’m fed and I have shelter. Anything else is just icing on the cake of life.
When Lyle arrives at the suite, he brings the same boisterous energy from yesterday. “Millers!” he calls enthusiastically as he enters the sitting area. He meets my gaze and gives a slight nod. “And Delgado.”
People don’t usually single me out when I’m with my family. I’m usually just the shadow in the room, the one they pretend not to notice, unless I’m serving food or drinks. Maybe because I crave attention and praise—at least, according to many of the sin accounts given to me by my aunt at the end of each month—I can’t help but like Lyle, even though I know he’s going to rub my uncle the wrong way. Between his innate cheerfulness and his penchant for pastels, it’s a real toss-up for what’s going to get Uncle Aaron’s goat more.
“Aren’t we all looking snazzy?” Lyle asks, and Uncle Aaron doesn’t bother to hide his grimace at the word.
Lyle quickly walks us through the filming process—how we’ll be shooting in various locations around Green Valley, how we should pretend we don’t notice the cameras unless we’re being directly interviewed. How they’ll set up separate times for filming those one-on-one interviews, which are called “confessionals,” even though we might not film them until long after we shoot the outdoor sequences. It will all depend on what the producers decide they need to develop the narrative.
I can’t help but find it all fascinating, even though it’s obvious all of the showbiz lingo is grating on Uncle Aaron’s nerves. He’s no stranger to lights and cameras, since he often broadcasts his sermons and has to deal with all of the production elements that go along with that. But Uncle Aaron also has an innate dislike of anything to do with “Hollywood.” That’s his catch-all term, meaning anything ranging from show business to progressive social politics. “Hollywood’s at itagain,” he might grumble to himself if he sees a commercial with strong sexual undertones, or even something as benign as a same-sex couple holding hands.
I truly, sincerely hope that Lyle and Uncle Aaron don’t get too much one-on-one time together. I have a feeling that would not go well for anybody.
Finally, it’s time for us to head out. “All right, Millers!” Lyle encourages us. “I know you have a big crew, so it might be easiest if we all just caravan. I’ll lead and you can follow?—”
We all stand up. I brush my hands over my skirt, wishing the floral print wasn’t quite so big. It’s going to look terrible on camera. Not that my tight braid or oversized dress shirt will look much better.Vanity, I remind myself. Today isn’t about me. It’s about Harmony.
I move to follow my cousins out of the room when Uncle Aaron gives me a little shake of his head, almost like an afterthought. “Not you, Antonina.”
My stomach clenches, anticipating the blow a second too late, before I feel a familiar queasy sensation, like I’ve been spun around in circles too many times and can’t properly orient myself. This isn’t the first time Uncle Aaron has humiliated me in front of a group of people, but somehow it always takes me by surprise. Somehow I always trick myself into thinking,This time will be the last time. That it won’t happen again.
“It will just be too confusing to explain the family dynamics,” Uncle Aaron says calmly, without any trace of rancor in his voice, but without any suggestion that he can be budged on this issue, either. “And this is Harmony’s big day.”
I wince, even though I immediately understand what he means. Aunt Hope is darker than the others, but with her dyed blonde hair, she can pass for maybe being European, or just really tan. There is no question that I’m Hispanic and that I don’t fit in with everyone else. Having me in the mix on television would mean we’d either have to take time out of Harmony’s story to explain who I am, or invite lots of questions online. Either way would take the attention away from Harmony and put it onto me—the very thing that Uncle Aaron is always challenging me not to do.
