Was I absolutely mad even to consider the possibility?
Why had I run away at all otherwise? If I couldn’t make this happen, what was the point? Most likely, my father and my sisters expected me to turn back. I was sure they were confident about it. I could almost hear Daddy telling them to let me go. “She’ll be back once she realizes how impossible it is for her out there alone.” Whether I had imagined her or not, Ava was frighteningly positive that I was going to realize this. What more could I do to show my defiance?
What more?
The ring, I thought, and lifted it out of the box. I turned it slowly in my fingers. The diamond glittered like a precious stone with more than simply monetary value. It was a magic stone for me, a stone from which I could draw power and strength. Once my sisters saw it on my finger, they surely would fall back. It was one thing to have a boyfriend like Buddy but another to be actually moving forward toward marriage. Surely they’d see that. They’d see that it was too late to change my mind or interfere.
Slowly, fighting back my natural resistance, I slipped the ring onto my finger. As soon as I had done so, I felt a sharp chill of fear so deep inside me that it made my heart writhe as if it were recoiling in my chest and, in doing so, pull my outer body inward toward my spine. I had to take deep breaths, but after a moment, I felt the resistance retreat and become replaced with a warm feeling, a feeling that traveled on the surface of my blood, coursing through my veins and lifting my spirits. I felt so good that I stood up and laughed, turning my ringed hand this way and that, as if I were displaying the diamond for a crowd of onlookers, perhaps my ancient ancestral spirits. I could imagine them cringing, shocked, and then shrinking until they were gone completely. It was a feeling of being free, untied. I had thrown off the chains of my heritage and, in this symbolic move, defied a thousand years of destiny.
To drive home my determination and prove to myself that I was not doing this just for the moment, I called Liam.
“I need to see you right away,” I said.
“Is something wrong?”
“I need to see you,” I said. “Can you come?”
“I’m on my way,” he said.
It was nearly nine. The house was quiet. Jim Lamb was in his room correcting student essays, I was sure. The new tenant, Collin Nickels, had so far lived up to his predictions for himself. I rarely saw him in the hallway. He was never in the bathroom when I went to use it, and if it weren’t for seeing him at dinner occasionally, I would not know whether or not he was still there. I was sure that both Mrs. Winston and Mrs. McGruder were downstairs in the living room. Perhaps Mr. Brady was with them or watching television in the den.
I waited and watched from my bedroom window until I saw Liam arrive. Then I went down slowly. He had already entered the house and was chatting with his great-aunt and Mrs. McGruder. They all turned my way when I appeared. I kept my hand in the pocket of my jeans. For a moment, no one spoke.
“Everything all right?” Mrs. Winston asked.
“I think so. Liam?” I headed for the front door. He nodded at his great-aunt and followed me out.
“What’s up?” he asked as soon as he had closed the door behind him.
I walked to his car without replying. He hurried to open the door and got in quickly.
“Are we going somewhere?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I hope so.”
He tilted his head and smiled with confusion.
“What . . .”
I took my hand out of my pocket and showed him that the ring was on my finger.
Like July Fourth fireworks, his face burst into a smile full of electric sparks. He gazed at me with his heart in his eyes, so full of happiness that he brought tears of joy to mine. Yes, this is right, I thought immediately. Yes, this is good. Without speaking, he embraced me and kissed me.
“I swear,” he said, whispering into my ear, “you’ll never be sorry.”
I didn’t say it, but I thought, Yes, but will you be?
We kissed again.
“You know,” he said, nodding toward the house, “you have those two on pins and needles.”
I nodded. I knew what he wanted. “Okay,”
I said.
We got out and reentered the house. Mrs. Winston and Mrs. McGruder rose from the sofa in the living room and hurried to the doorway the moment they heard us returning. Their faces were full of concern. Had Liam done something terrible? Were Mrs. Winston’s warnings justified?
“Great-auntie Amelia,” Liam said. “We decided you should be the first in the family to know.”