Page 74 of Ceremony of Lust
“And people think Zev is responsible? Grandmother, Zev doesn’t leave this house much. There’s absolutely no way he could do any of those things.” But she doesn’t look reassured. Her mouth is still a hard line, and her eyes are still full of wariness. “What else is being said?” She opens her mouth but snaps it shut. “Tell me.”
“They say he murdered a woman.”
“Well, he didn’t,” I reply quickly.
“Maybe you trust him too much,” she murmurs.
“He makes it easy.” The words slide off my tongue and out of my mouth. “He makes me feel like a woman and not a girl. He respects me. He’s never hurt me. He’s my husband, Grandmother, chosen for me according to our traditions. Why should I doubt him?”
“He’s your husband, you shouldn’t,” she says with a flat voice. “But there’s darkness lurking in all of us, Yael, and some are darker than others.”
My eyes narrow. “Why are you saying these things to me? You practically pushed me into marrying Zev. I thought you liked him.”
She sighs loudly, and her eyes close. “You’re right, Yael. I’m sorry. I do like Zev, but now that you’re pregnant, I can’t help but worry about you more than I usually do.”
My entire body relaxes against the couch. “You don’t have to worry about me. Zev is perfect for me. I know in my heart he and I were made for each other. He respects me and treats me well. What more could I ask for?”
She shuffles out of her chair and moves to sit beside me on the couch. I slide my arm around her hunched shoulders and cuddle her close. The familiar scent of her—lavender and vanilla—is comforting. “I’ve missed you.”
She spends the rest of her time hovering, crocheting silently beside me as I read or watch a movie, her eyes continuously sliding over to me.
“Why don’t we ever talk about my mother?” I ask one night during her stay.
She puts her crossword puzzle book down in her lap, slips the pencil into the margin, and closes it. “What do you want to know?”
The list of things I want to know about her is endless, and I don’t know which question to ask first. “Do I look like her?”
A slight smile forms on her lips. “Very much.”
“Do I act like her?”
Her head tilts to one side. “Sometimes. I used to catch myself when you were getting into mischief. Her name was right on the tip of my tongue whenever you did something she would have done.”
“What happened when she was matched?”
My grandmother sits up straighter and sets her puzzle book aside. “That’s in the past, Yael. Sometimes, it’s too painful to talk about, and I never want to hurt you. Maybe one day, you’ll learn the truth, but it won’t be today.”
My grandmother’s harsh response swallows up any more questions. I don’t want to hurt her, and even though a mystery surrounds my mother, it can wait. She’s dead and finding the answers to my questions won’t bring her back or make me feel connected to her.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, taking her hand gently in mine.
She picks up her book, opens it up to the puzzle she was working on, and sighs. We don’t say another word for the rest of the night, and my mother isn’t mentioned again.
Her presence these past few days has distracted me from the ache in my heart, but it doesn’t protect me from missing Zev. At night, I can’t control the emotions flooding through me, and rivers of tears stream down my cheeks as I lie in bed. Nor can I control the restlessness I feel without Zev’s warm body beside mine. I twist and turn, reaching out for him, searching the sheets for any sign of him.
“Come back,” I whisper, night after night.
When my grandmother finally leaves, Zev’s mother takes her place.
“This is ridiculous,” I moan as I sip another cup of freshly brewed chamomile tea. “I don’t need babysitters.”
“No, you don’t,” she agrees with me. “But your first trimester of pregnancy can be difficult and it’s best not to suffer alone.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
My body has finally relaxed and settled into being pregnant. I’m not sick as often or quite so violently. If I wasn’t so worried about my husband, I might be happy about the changes I’ve noticed or about the life growing inside me.
“Have you talked to him?” she asks, seemingly indifferent.