Chapter 29
"I know this is devastating, but I hope you understand why we have to postpone our wedded bliss," he states, his eyes leveled on me.
"I understand," I murmur, wanting to dance with joy but then feeling bad about feeling so good when someone died.
"I knew you would," he assures, a tiny smile on his lips.
I nod solemnly.
"The postponement just can't be avoided with what just happened."
I nod.
"Monica, this whole tragedy has taught me a lesson." He eyes me as if he expects me to ask him what it is.
"It has, Master Barstowe?"
"Life is way to short, and we have to do everything possible to reach happiness."
Of course, he's only talking about himself. He's not talking about my happiness or anyone other than the Elders and the Masters. It twists my stomach to think that they believe they're the only ones entitled to be happy--to be free.
"Even though we have to put our love on hold, it's important for me to tell you how much I love you."
I take a heavy gulp.
"I've never loved anyone like I love you--not even my poor deceased Mildred."
I wonder if he treated Mildred like he treats me? Probably not.
"I know I've got other wives, but you're really my one and only. My Little Bird. The highlight of my life."
If I'm so special then why do you beat me? Why won't you give me my freedom?
"Even though our marriage will have to wait, I'll carry you in my heart while I'm away."
What kind of heart do you have that your love is so twisted?
"Another thing," he mentions, "About the holy surgery."
"Yes?" I ask with curiosity.
"I want it postponed until I get back."
"Okay, Master Barstowe." I force myself not to smile.
"I'll be here for it," he says with a shaky voice. "Mildred might've died in the hospital without me, but I'm not going to let you go to one without me overseeing your procedure."
"Yes, Master Barstowe."
"I couldn't bare it if anything happened to you."
I realize that he's scared that while he's away, the Elders might take their revenge on me for having taken care of Beatrix.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he snaps. "You're safe in my hands."
But I'm not safe with you.
He sighs. "As much as I hate leaving you here while I'm away, I don't have a choice. Please forgive me."
"Yes, Master Barstowe."
"Forgive me for abandoning you."
Feel free to abandon me at any time.
"Pack my clothes, Little Bird. I'm leaving immediately."
As I handle his attire, he sends for Miguel to give him instructions while he's away. I pack the clothes just like he likes them--perfectly folded and with crinkly tissue in between every article of clothing. Then I spray it lightly with the cologne he likes. Frankly, I don't know why he even bothers with it. The cologne, no matter how strong it is, can't mask his rancid body odor.
When I finish with his things, I start on my chores. Feeling a lot lighter than when I got there, I'm breezing through them.
"My, someone's happy," Betsey states.
"I'm just doing my work the best way I can."
She raises an eyebrow as if she doesn't believe me. I don't care what she thinks. But I know that she'll be almost as happy as I am when she finds out that my marriage has been postponed. She doesn't like the idea of me marrying the Mister anymore than I do. I'll be the one wife she'll never have complete control over because of the way he feels about me.
As the Mister steps out of his study, I hear him tell Miguel, "Remember to do everything like I told you. You have to make sure my bills are paid and those other miscellaneous things I asked of you."
"Ye-ye-yes, M-M-Master Barstowe."
"I'm trusting you, boy."
"Th-th-thank you."
"Now go to the hospital and tell them I cancelled the surgery for Monica."
Miguel nods and throws a quick glance at me before he steps over to the door. As the door closes behind him, I breathe out a long breath of relief.
"Canceling Monica's marriage surgery?" asks Betsey with a smile.
"Yes," the Mister answers gruffly.
"Why?"
"Is it your business?"
"I'm sorry, Master Barstowe," mutters Betsey. "It's just that as the head-wife, I like to keep abreast of things."
The Mister grunts. "I'll tell you what I feel you should know, is that clear?"
"Yes, Master Barstowe," she mumbles dejectedly.
"If I don't personally tell you something, it's because it's none of your business."
"Yes, Master Barstowe."
"The postponement of Monica's marriage surgery is something that concerns only Monica and myself," he snaps.
"Yes, Master Barstowe."
He turns to me, dismissing her. "Are my things packed, Monica?"
"They're packed, Master Barstowe."
"Gather the wives in my study. We'll be having a meeting before I leave."
Swiftly, the family-wives and I do what he told us to do. He sits behind his massive desk and eyes us sternly.
"I don't know how long I'll be gone. A massive tragedy has befallen me."
"We'll have you in our prayers, Master Barstowe," Betsey blurts. "I'll make sure of that."
"Thank you, Betsey."
"We'll have extra prayer sessions asking the Great Master to keep you in his circle of protection and love."
"Thank you, Betsey."
"You take our love and hearts with you, Master Barstowe," she states with emotion. "You don't know how much we'll miss you. You don't know how anxious we'll be until you get back. You're void in this house will be felt profoundly."
"That's what I want to talk to all of you about--my not being here. I don't want to come back to find all kinds of problems like I've done at other times," he snaps as he eyes Stacy. "This household should be an example to all the other ones."
"You're so right, Master Barstowe," gushes Betsey.
"I hate being ashamed of my family! I hate having the Elders tell me they had to take disciplinary actions against my wives because they wouldn't behave."
Stacy had once been put in the isolation room while the Mister was away because she had failed to attend church for the day. She told them she was sick, but they said the only excuse for not being in the Great Master's home would be if she was dead.
"That's not going to happen this time, Master Barstowe," asserts Betsey, her hands on her hips.
"This time there's a head-wife. Betsey, I'm holding you personally responsible if things are not in place when I get back."
"You don't have to worry, Master Barstowe. I'll keep this household running as it should, as if you were here."
"I'm counting on you, Betsey."
She smirks. "I'm honored to have your confidence."
The Mister has us leave his study to make the final preparations. When we're in the living room, Betsey abruptly turns to me.
"He'll be gone," she states, an ugly glimmer in her eye. "No telling what can happen when the cat is away."
Her sight bores into me.
"No telling," she sneers, cackling.