Page 86 of Ceremony of Lust

Even though I have two sisters, Isabella and Jacqueline, I know in my gut which one it is. “What’s happened?”

“Jacqueline is dead,” my father chokes out.

The world seems to spin slightly. Jacqueline is dead? Shame sits heavy on my chest. I was supposed to help her. I was supposed to find some kind of justice for her, knowing she suffered through the Fertility Ritual, so she didn’t have to endure the embarrassment of divorce. I let her down; I let down my entire family.

What happens next is unexpected and rare in my family. We don’t show emotion or affection often but in times of despair, it’s often necessary. I wrap my arms around both of my parents in an awkward embrace. My mother shuffles between me and my father, clinging to my suit jacket as she cries uncontrollably. My father backs away and my arms close tightly around my mother. He recognizes what she needs—me. I’m the oldest and now I’m the Chief Elder. She needs me for strength and guidance, and I need her too for reasons she’s not aware of yet.

“It was suicide.” My father’s voice is so soft and solemn, a tone I’ve never heard him use before, not even when my grandparents died.

I look around the hallway, and even though it’s empty, I still fear someone interrupting this moment.

“Let’s talk at home,” I suggest, still cradling my mother against my chest.

“Yes, seeing Yael will do your mother good,” my father says, tugging her away.

That wasn’t the home I meant, but who am I to deny them comfort?

“I’ll meet you there.”

Anger and grief consume me during my drive home. Jacqueline lived her life according to the letter of Ripley’s laws, the very laws which probably contributed to her death.No more. My hands bang against the steering wheel. Jacqueline’s death illustrates the very reason I agreed to become Chief Elder. Our traditions and customs have to change but that doesn’t stop the hole in my chest from tearing wide open.

How much can one man lose in a single night? I really didn’t want to find out.

My parents are right behind me when I pull into the driveway of our home. My mother’s tears have subsided but when my father collects her from the passenger side of the car, she clings to him. I help keep her steady as we climb the few porch steps, but I don’t have to reach for the door because it opens.

“Isabella called me,” she says softly as she welcomes my parents inside the house, wrapping her arms tightly around my mother first and then my father. “I’ve already started making some tea.”

As I start to pass her, she stops me. With her face upturned, she pops up onto her toes, wraps her arms around my neck, and hugs me. My emotions can no longer be ignored, and I cling to her as my eyes start to sting with hot tears. “Thank you,” I murmur.

“Are you okay?” she whispers against my neck.

“No,” I admit, clutching her tightly. “Yael…”

She releases me too soon and says nothing more before rushing toward the kitchen.

My father ushers my mother over to the sofa, easing her down gently before settling next to her. They both look stunned. He takes her hand, patting it gently before lifting it and kissing the back of it. Maybe they do love each other after all.

When I catch sight of Yael carrying a tray with the teapot and mugs into the living room, I pop up and rush to grab it from her.

“Thank you,” she mutters but doesn’t meet my gaze.

And then she sits down on the opposite side of the room.

“I should have done more.” I break the silence in the room. “She told us she endured the fertility ritual and god knows what she was dealing with all this time.”

“Do you think that’s why she… did this,” my father asks, as he hugs my mother closer.

“It’s a theory,” I reply.

Jacqueline was a strong woman and she loved being a mother, but the pain in her eyes was hard to miss when she came to the penthouse for dinner. There was something she was struggling with and I’m positive it involved the fertility ritual.

“We have to be there for Anton,” my mother says. “He’s going to be so confused and want to know where his mother is. We have to make sure he’s safe.”

“Don’t worry,” Yael chimes in with a soft smile. “We will.”

My mother sits up and rubs her hands into her eyes. “There’s so much to do,” she says, leaning forward to reach for the tea. My father bats her hand away and prepares it for her, placing a tea bag in a mug and then pouring water into it. He blows on it as he hands it to her. I’ve never seen him take such care of her before, or maybe I haven’t noticed until now.

“You won’t shun them, will you?” my mother asks.