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“Coming,” I repeat, feeling my body rocking back and forth, feeling the pleasure slosh through me like wine in a jug.

“Some people even ask for it. They say make me come. Can you ask me that?”

“Father Daddy,” I groan as softly as I can, “can you make me come?”

“Yes, I can,” he growls. His face buries itself against my neck as he strums vigorously against my flower. The explosion goes off like a rocket inside me, bucking my hips over and over again and filling his palm the sweet nectar that comes from deep inside me.

He lays me back on the bed, kissing my cheekbones and forehead as my breath slowly goes back to normal.

“That was wonderful. It was beautiful, Angel,” he coos.

“Thank you, Father Daddy.”

“You still have so much left to learn. Would you like to continue training?”

“Yes, please. I really would. I want you to teach me everything.”

I feel him nod. “Will you please meet me in the barn tomorrow at dusk?”

I smile. I can't believe my good fortune.

“Yes, I will.”

I grin happily, standing up from the bed and finally opening my eyes. He is smiling at me so sweetly it makes my heart ache.

“Dinner smells like it is just about done, Angel. Do you still have work to do?”

“Yes, Father Daddy, I do,” I answer obediently, shifting side to side and getting my legs under me. I feel shaky and rubbery, but I do manage to stand up straight. The force of the joy inside me alone should make me buoyant enough to walk.

“I think you're going to be my favorite, Angel,” he smiles as he moves to leave my little room. “I hope you're prepared for that.”

Chapter 71

Angel

This day is going so slowly. I even slept in an extra half an hour, laying in my bed as long as possible to make my chores seem more urgent. If they’re urgent, I assume they will go by faster.

But no.

Instead, I count every string bean that I pluck from the vine. I count every weed that I pull out of the dirt between the radishes and the lettuces. If we don't get some rain soon, this garden is going to turn completely to dust.

I turn on the soaker hose and use the remaining few inches of the rain barrel. It won't be enough. It will have to rain the next two or three days or we will have to ask Father Daddy to do something.

Father Daddy.

Father Daddy.

I can't stop thinking about it. Everything reminds me of him. The earthy scent of the dirt between my fingers. The sultry tops of the radish leaves under my thumb. I never noticed before how the whole world is organized this way. Things beget more things. All of life is about joining and reproducing and cultivating every effort for production.

I can't believe how Brother Owen and Father Daddy have altered my mind. I knew this ceremony was going to be magical, but how could I have known it was going to be like this? How could I have known there was going to be a real, secret place in my heart and my body that I had never explored before? I feel brand new. I feel reborn.

But really, I should have known. I had always been told that womanhood was a special place, apart from the girl that I was. But I suppose that day to day, I began to believe that it was simply more of the same. I became cynical. I lost faith in the idea of the magic until Father Daddy and Brother Owen showed me the way.

I have some green tomatoes that I can fry up later, and I happily twist them from their furry green stalks and put them in the basket along with the beans. It's a pretty good harvest for our tiny garden. We will eat well tonight, that's for certain.

As I trudge up the back steps, I try to focus on my next chores. Scrubbing the floor should take about an hour and a half. Getting the washing of the lines will take another hour. Dusting everything, yet again, maybe thirty to forty-five minutes. And then I will get dinner started. And then it will almost be dusk.

It will almost be time.