Steven had dreamed those dreams with her. They spoke of marriage and how many kids they’d have. He told her how much he wanted to be the kind of father his own dad was. He even painted a picture of having their first son baptized in the United in Christ Church, the baby’s head cleansed of sin by the hand of his own grandfather.
I have no idea if he believed in those dreams too or if he was just toying with her. I don’t care. Either way, he built her up on good days and then used the fantasy of their future together to tear her to pieces when he was angry. He knew just what Meg wanted and he terrorized her with her own childhood dreams.
He thinks he knows what I want too. He thinks I’ll do anything for it.
We walk through the dusk toward a big white house with a wraparound porch. The lights glow with welcome and warmth. I can hear faint laughter from inside.
“Steven,” I whisper, tugging him to a stop. It’s time to make clear just how eager I am for the smallest bits of affection. He turns toward me and I gaze up at him, stars in my eyes. “I love you.”
He smiles and cups my cheek, holding me tenderly for a moment before he gives me a gentle kiss. He doesn’t reply in kind, but he does gaze fondly at me for a long time before putting his arm around my waist to lead me toward the front stairs. He looks pleased, and he should be. I’m vulnerable and he has the power.
The party is exactly what I expect. There’s soft, vague music playing beneath the murmur of conversation. There’s a room off the entry where everyone leaves their coats. Many square feet of middle-aged white people stretch out before us. I see a few children darting between the adults.
I stay close to Steven as he picks a trail through the guests. Most of them hold wineglasses, but I’m not allowed to touch. I will absolutely be imbibing in the bathroom within the hour. I’m not good at watching other people do things I want to do.
If I were really Low Self-esteem Jane, this party would feel magical. The Hepsworths probably call themselves upper-middle-class, but through the eyes of almost anyone else in this country, they’re rich. The lights of an outdoor pool glint through a back window, and they can probably only use it a few months a year, if they bother using it at all. The floors are all hardwood and crowned with molding that looks like icing on a wedding cake. There’s a dining room and a study and a media room, and of course a huge kitchen, complete with two sinks and a fridge that blends in with the cabinets.
This is the kind of life I can look forward to someday if I can just learn to be what Steven wants me to be. If I can please him, if I don’t make him mad, if I live in the right.
Steven finds his father and raises a hand to hail him from across the room like a long-lost college buddy. As far as I know, Steven saw him on Wednesday for Bible study. They love each other excessively, and I’m beginning to think their relationship may be my key to Steven’s downfall.
“Dad!” We’ve worked our way through the crowd to Pastor Hepsworth for the requisite father-son hug and backslaps. I stand demurely aside.
“I see you brought your pretty friend,” the pastor finally says.
I smile shyly. “Thank you for the invitation, Pastor Hepsworth.”
“It’s my pleasure, dear. I’m happy you could make it.”
“You have a beautiful house. Steven was just telling me he didn’t grow up here, but he got the chance to stay for a while during college.”
“Yes, we lived a little more modestly when Steven was young, but the Lord does provide.”
“He certainly does. And Steven can’t speak highly enough of you, sir. I wish I’d had a father like you when I was growing up.”
He nods sympathetically. “The world isn’t what it used to be, I’m afraid.”
“It sure isn’t.” I lean a bit closer and put my hand on his arm. “But I want you to know that the church was a sanctuary for me when I was a girl, and I know there must be a lot of young women who look up to you as a father figure. I know I would have.” I nod earnestly and slide my hand down his arm. “Thank you so much for that.”
His eyes actually look a little damp. He grasps my hand between both of his and squeezes. “That means the world to me. Steven, this girl is just a darling.”
“She is,” he agrees.
“Oh, stop now,” I scold. “You’re making me blush.” He’s not, but my words alone will make it true. I wrap my free hand over his for a moment and slide my fingers along his knuckles before he lets me go.
Steven grins proudly.
They start talking church business and I smile vacantly as though I’m not listening. I am.
Before I arrived in Minneapolis, I’d thought I could set Steven up for embezzlement and get him sent to prison, but I can’t see a way to make that happen now. The business is a standard midlevel health insurance company with lots of moving parts and redundant safeguards. The accounting department is located at the headquarters in New Jersey, and all checks are cut there in a process that seems as laborious as childbirth. Steven doesn’t have an expense account. He doesn’t distribute payroll. He doesn’t even shift money from department to department.
But the church . . . the church no doubt has looser accounting standards and probably a slush fund that pays the Hepsworth family expenses. I may be able to find a way to funnel some of that money into Steven’s personal account. Or maybe just write him a few checks from their account. I’m not bad at forgery.
“Daniel’s cabin is open next weekend if you’re interested,” I hear Steven’s dad say, and Steven perks up.
“Are you kidding? I’d love to get out.”
“Get out for what?” I ask.
“Deer,” he says shortly, as if I’ve interrupted important talk.
“Oh no!” I cry. “You don’t shoot them, do you?”
The men both laugh condescendingly. “Of course we shoot them,” Steven says.
“But they’re so cute!”
“They’re also a nuisance. You know how many car accidents they cause every year?”
“But—”
“Where do you think your food comes from?” Steven asks. “The supermarket? It comes from animals that people kill.”
“I know that.” I pout a little, and Pastor Hepsworth reaches out to pat my arm.
“This is why men hunt and women don’t.”
Steven winks. “Maybe I should teach her how to hunt and toughen her up a little.”
“No way,” I protest, but then I see the opportunity I’ve been presented. “Although . . . I have always wanted to learn to shoot.”
“Oh ho!” Pastor Hepsworth cries. “She gets better and better! Maybe you should give her some lessons.”
“I could come to the cabin with you this weekend!” I suggest.
Steven clears his throat. “That wouldn’t be appropriate, Jane.”
Oops. I’ve painted myself as a woman who’d spend the night with a man she’s dating. “Of course. I only meant—”
“Perhaps just a day at the range to start,” Pastor Hepsworth suggests. “Or maybe fishing.”
“Yes. Perhaps.” We fall into an awkward silence. “Well,” I murmur, “I think I’ll find your wife and wish her a happy birthday.”
“Good idea,” Steven says, turning away from me to talk to his father again. I’ve been dismissed for my transgression. Such swift punishment.
I smile as I walk away. Steven truly doesn’t want his father to see him as anything other than the perfect Christian son. I’m kind of surprised he ever let Meg move into his house in the first place, but she told me once that his family had no idea. He probably made her keep all her stuff in boxes in the storage room just in case his dad stopped by.
I know Steven will stick close to his father for a while at least, so I grab a glass of white wine from the caterer’s bar and roam the rest of the house. I discover a big family room and another office, this one tucked at the end of a hallway near the laundry.
Slipping inside, I close and lock the office door behind me and turn on the light.