Page 1 of Melt For Us, Daddy (Big Daddy Energy #4)

Jacob

S omething was wrong.

It wasn’t just that he’d been summoned to his father’s office, which only ever happened when he was in serious trouble. The weight of that something hung in the air, thick and oppressive, threatening to smother him with every breath he took.

Standing behind the heavy oak desk was the man himself.

A prophet, though not the prophet as that honor still belonged to Jacob’s grandfather.

From what he’d heard his mothers saying, the old man wasn’t long for this world.

Soon, he’d be gone, and Harlan Redding would take his place as head of the church.

The thought was enough to chill him to his very bones.

People said they looked alike, Jacob and his father and his father’s father.

Sometimes he could see it, around the eyes a bit.

But he prayed every night to a God he wasn’t even sure was listening, that his mouth never developed that hard, cruel edge and that his eyes never burned with the righteous hatred he could see in Harlan’s gaze even now.

“Jacob.” The deep timbre of the prophet’s voice seemed to echo off the walls. “For far too long, I’ve allowed my affection for you to blind me to the truth. You’ve been given far too much freedom, and it shows.”

If years of training hadn’t been enough to keep Jacob silent, the shock of his father’s statement would have done the job. Affection? Freedom? Did his father even know what those words meant?

Hands folded behind his back, Harlan stepped out from behind the desk, slowly approaching his only son. “It’s past time for you to put this foolishness behind you, Jacob. Time for you to finally step up and become a man.”

The very air in his lungs seemed to freeze. In the church, there was only one thing that could mean, though he prayed with everything he had in him that he was wrong. “Sir?”

“Marriage, son. A good wife has a way of settling a man’s spirit. And I have chosen a very good wife for you.”

Behind him, the door to the office opened and Jacob instinctively turned, his stomach sinking to the floor at the sight of Ruthie, one of his sisters, being led into the room by Caleb Barlow.

The implication was so horrific, Jacob’s mind refused to even process it at first. Child brides were not unusual in the church, but he’d never heard of anyone being forced to marry their sister.

Although he and Ruthie didn’t share the same mother, he knew enough of what went on between a man and a woman to know that it wasn’t right to expect those things from someone he shared his father’s blood with.

But as much as he wanted to scream, to rage at them for even suggesting this union, he knew he had to play his hand carefully. Being too bold was how he’d gotten himself into this mess and if he wanted to save himself and Ruthie, he needed to be careful. He needed to be smart.

Rejecting her outright, implying in any way that she wasn’t good enough, pure enough, would only result in punishment for her.

The deacons would declare her guilty of some fabricated sin and her father would delight in beating that sin out of her.

He’d seen it happen with his sister Hannah when she’d been declared unfit to marry one of the Tanner boys a few years ago.

The truth, Jacob knew, was that Elijah Tanner had taken his sister’s virginity against her will and then gone to the deacons, claiming she’d seduced him.

She’d worn the bruises and cuts from that punishment for weeks afterward. And she’d never been allowed to marry, leaving her without even that protection, thin as it was, from the other men within the church.

He could not, would not subject Ruthie to the same fate. Which meant he’d have to find some other way, any other way to delay the inevitable. Mind racing, he landed on feigning innocence, forcing his father to explain himself. “I’m not sure I understand. What is Ruthie doing here?”

The smile that stretched across Harlan Redding’s face was cold.

Evil , Jacob thought, but voicing such a sinful thought out loud would be a death sentence, only son or not.

“The kingdom of heaven is more than just an idea, my son. It’s a very real place, a place we as prophets of the sacred truth will someday rule. As kings.”

Turning, Harlan laid a hand on one of Ruthie’s shoulders, using his other to tilt her chin up.

Fear shone in the child’s eyes, making Jacob’s stomach churn.

“The kings of old believed in keeping their bloodlines pure. One generation to the next, never allowing anyone to taint their children. I believe they were right.”

Arguing would only make his father angry, but he needed some reason, some excuse that would delay this atrocity until he could figure a way out of it for good. “I thought I was supposed to be spending my days with the deacons. Keeping myself holy until my ordination day.”

“You will still have plenty of time for your studies. And there is nothing holier than the bond between a husband and his wife.”

“I understand. And I am sure Ruthie will make a fine wife for me someday.” The lie made him want to vomit, but he forced himself to play along.

“But I don’t think I’m ready to take on the role of husband just yet.

You said it yourself, that I have a rebellious spirit.

Certainly a man like that should not be given the honor of a wife until he learns to tame himself. ”

There. That sounded sufficiently pious, didn’t it?

But if the slight flaring of his father’s nostrils was anything to judge by, he’d missed the mark. “This isn’t a discussion, Jacob. You will marry Ruthie this Saturday. The prophet has spoken.”

You aren’t the prophet. Again he held his tongue against words that would only end in suffering for himself and likely Ruthie as well.

Heart pounding against his chest, he swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his throat. “Father, if we could just sit down and discuss this, I think you’d see?—”

Harlan lifted a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Caleb, would you please open the door?”

With a deferential nod, Caleb turned and twisted the doorknob, and Jacob could barely hear what his father said next over the roar of his own blood in his ears.

His youngest sister, sweet little Sarabeth, stepped inside, her face lighting with joy at the sight of Harlan, and Jacob’s heart split in two. At just barely five years old, she hadn’t learned to fear him yet. Hadn’t learned how needlessly cruel their father could be.

But she was about to, unless Jacob did as he was told.

Terror crawled up his spine as he jerked his head up to meet his father’s gaze. And in the pale gray, Jacob saw not just the hatred he’d come to expect but a glee that turned his blood to ice in his veins.

With his eyes locked on Jacob’s, Harlan reached for his belt, slowly opening the buckle and sliding the leather through the loops of his starched dress pants. “Caleb. You’ll need to hold Sarabeth for me. It’s her first time.”

His entire life, Jacob had only felt the lash of his father’s belt a few times.

But Harlan had quickly learned that while Jacob could and would bear his own punishment with silent stoicism and then immediately return to his ‘rebellious ways’, he couldn’t so easily shrug off his sisters’ pain.

He’d been ten the first time one of his sisters had been called to take his punishment for him.

A decade later he still remembered her screams, the way she’d pleaded with him to make it stop, because they’d both known that it was his fault.

After that, he’d learned to obey quickly.

Sometimes his temper still got the best of him and one of his sisters paid the price.

Always with him in attendance. Making him watch was his punishment.

One time, Jacob had hidden in the barn for three days when his father had declared that Hannah would bear his punishment for speaking out of turn in church.

Harlan had waited him out, refusing to dole out the punishment until Jacob was there to bear witness.

And he’d added extra lashes for Jacob’s defiance.

It was the first and last time he’d ever tried to evade his father’s discipline.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught Jacob’s attention and he glanced over to see Sarabeth struggling against Caleb’s hold.

“Stop it! I don’t like this game! Jacob, tell him to stop!”

The fear in her sweet, high voice snapped Jacob out of the trance he’d been in. “Okay!” He could hear the panic in his own voice, hated himself for the weakness. “I’ll do it, I’ll marry her. Just leave Sarabeth alone.”

Still holding the folded leather in his hand, Harlan waited, his gaze boring into Jacob as if he could see down to his very soul. And maybe he could. He was a Prophet of the Sacred Truth, after all.

The clock on the wall ticked off the seconds as father and son waged a silent battle.

Until, at long last, Harlan nodded ever so slightly to Caleb.

The older man released his hold on Sarabeth who immediately ran into Jacob’s arms. And though he knew he shouldn’t give his father any more ammunition to use his love for his sisters against him, he couldn’t turn her away.

Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms, settling her on his hip and bouncing her gently as he met his father’s burning gaze.

“It’s settled, then. On Saturday there will be a wedding. And my son will finally be a man.”

Taking that as a dismissal, he turned and walked stiffly out of his father’s office, a sniffling Sarabeth still perched on his hip.

Three days. He had three short days to figure out how to save himself, and the sisters he loved.

Jacob

Sleep eluded him. There was no clock in his room to tell him how long he’d lain there, staring up at the darkened ceiling, but he was certain it had been hours.

How was he going to fix this? Marrying Ruthie condemned her to a life of being used for her own brother’s carnal pleasures. Forced to carry children he was certain the Lord would consider an abomination. Nothing the church explicitly taught said so, but he knew the truth of it in his bones.

But refusing would mean a painful punishment for Sarabeth, not to mention what his rejection would mean for Ruthie. And Jacob had no doubt if that wasn’t enough to gain his compliance, his father would simply work his way through his daughters until his son finally obeyed.

An impossible decision. No matter what he chose, someone he loved would suffer.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that was the real reason his father had chosen Ruthie. To punish him in the cruelest way he could imagine by forcing him to be complicit in the torment of someone he loved.

The creaking of his bedroom door had him shooting up in bed, his heart pounding as he watched the slender figure, draped in a nightgown that covered her from neck to ankle, slip into his room.

“You’re awake. Good.” Hannah’s voice was low, but firm, and when his eyes met hers in the moonlight he saw the determination burning there.

“What’s going on? You’re not supposed to be in here. They’ll… you know what father will do if you’re caught.”

“I can take it. I have taken it.”

Grief twisted a knife deep in his heart. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“I don’t need your apologies, Jacob. I need your action. We need your action.”

“What are you talking about?”

Settling on his bed, Hannah pulled a note from her pocket, pressing it into the palm of his hand. “There’s a man I’ve been talking to, when I go to the protests at that place in town they call the den of iniquity. I want you to find him, give him this note. They’ll send help, I know they will.”

Staring down at the neatly folded paper in his hand, he tried to understand what she was saying. “I can’t. If I leave, they’ll…” He swallowed hard. “It was Sarabeth this time.”

The words that slipped from Hannah’s lips blistered his ears.

He didn’t even know what they meant, but he was certain they’d earn her a hell of a whipping if anyone but him overheard.

“I can’t believe he’d…” Pausing, she let out a short, bitter laugh.

“Of course I can. But still. She’s just a baby. ”

“I know. That’s why I can’t go. I need to be here to protect her.”

“That’s why you have to go.” Urgency infused her tone as she leaned in, gripping his arms. “They won’t hurt her without you here to bear witness.

You know that. It’s the way it’s always been for you.

And Ruthie… well, hopefully he’ll be too focused on finding you to try and marry her off before you get us out. ”

She was right. He knew she was right. And yet, the thought of leaving, of not being here to protect his sisters with what little power he had sat in his gut like a rock. “Who is Zachary?”

Something flickered in her eyes, but the room was too dark for him to really identify it.

“I don’t know, exactly. Police, I think.

He’s been making nice with us at the protests but I saw him one day, talking to some giant of a man outside that ‘den of iniquity’.

I’ve been feeding him information, hoping it gets to the right people but there’s only so much I can tell him with the others hovering so close by and we can't wait any longer for them to come rescue us. You need to go and you need to tell them what’s happening and you need to send help.

I’ll do what I can to protect our family while you’re gone. ”

“How? This place is guarded night and day. I’d never get free.”

“Go to the protest tomorrow. Don’t ask permission, just put on your ‘only son of the prophet’ act and tell them you’re going.

Slip away, and find a way into the building.

I think there’s another entrance, maybe in the back because they’ve stopped using the front door.

Find Zach, or anyone, I don’t care, and give them that note. ”

Was this really the solution? Was abandoning his family the only way to save them?

Just the thought was enough to tear him in two. But the more he thought about it, the longer he sat there in the dark with Hannah watching him with those wide, determined eyes, the more the plan made sense.

“Okay.” Dragging air into lungs that suddenly felt too tight, he nodded once. “I’ll go. And I’ll get you out. I’ll get you all out. I swear, Hannah, when I come back, I’m coming with an army.”