The Registry (17 page)
As Whitney continued to babble on about the kiss, Andrew gave Mia a look of fury. She was taken aback by his anger. She had assumed he would be happy about leaving them. His look faded and he started to answer Whitney.
“They are partners, married if they live together. Two men can marry each other. They don’t go through the Registry. They had to pay the government a fee. It’s not a big deal. If you make it a big deal, it is going to make you stand out as some sheltered little girl,” Andrew said. His voice was firm and cold.
This calmed Whitney down, and she nodded—in agreement or out of fear, Mia wasn’t sure.
Andrew began storming down the stairs. Whitney was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of two men being married, but Mia had bigger things on her mind. Could Andrew want to come with them? She couldn’t think of any other reason he would be so upset at her suggestion that they part ways. Maybe he wanted to make sure they actually crossed; she doubted any train would take them right over. Or maybe it was something more. She held her breath at the thought he might want to join them in crossing.
“Do you think they chose each other?” Whitney asked, still fixated on Frank and Alex.
“It sounds romantic. I’d like to have a partner, have someone love me as much as I love them,” Mia said.
Mia immediately regretted saying that. She wasn’t concerned with romance. She left a confused Whitney and began the descent down the rail-less stairs. She heard Whitney get up and start the climb down, too. Her stomach made a gurgling noise; with all this excitement Mia had forgotten how hungry she was. She hoped Frank had made something she liked for lunch, but at this point, she would take anything he offered and be thankful.
The marriage document signed by the groom states that he will love, cherish, and protect his bride. He promises to provide for her and care for her above all others. She is his queen and will be treated as such.
—The Registry Guide for Girls
T
he Piozzi farm was larger than Mia had thought. A wooden fence lined the property. She was not sure what the point of the fence was, as it wouldn’t keep anything out or in. Each post had a single horizontal piece of wood attached at its center, and it was so short a cow could have walked over it.
The three of them stood at the start of the fence, closest to the farmhouse. Andrew began opening pails of paint and handing out brushes. Mia dropped to her knees and started swiping her brush back and forth on the wood. She found the task relaxing. Her mind could drift to other areas of concern without sacrificing her work.
She felt guilty for making the suggestion that Andrew part ways with them. She convinced herself he was just concerned for their safety, but she had noticed his look of betrayal at her suggestion. She had a hard time believing Andrew’s feelings could be hurt at all. Particularly since not having a family didn’t seem to bother him. He never showed any self-pity. The idea that he would stay with them when it was unnecessary was insane to her. After all, he had three weeks left. Wouldn’t he want to spend some of that time following his original plan? Her concentration broke as Whitney began to complain.
“I hate this.”
Mia wasn’t sure whether she was referring to the work or their current situation. Either way, she lacked the energy to comfort her friend. Mia had thought learning about Corinna’s article would have brought Whitney more on board, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect.
Eventually Mia tuned Whitney out and daydreams filled her head. She imagined living like Frank and Alex. Open and affectionate with someone she loved, running out to greet her partner with a big kiss. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, not because she had to but because she wanted to. Making a home together, helping each other, kissing each other. Mia’s heart almost stopped at this last thought. She glanced toward Andrew, who was working his way down the fence much faster. He was the man she was imagining her life with. She felt her stomach flutter at this realization and whipped her head away. The idea of her and Andrew had never occurred to her. It was never an option. Now her head raced with the possibility. If he joined her across the border, could he be her mate?
She wondered if he felt something too, and that was why he wanted three tickets. Mia knew she needed independence, not a romance. Before she could dwell on her thoughts further she was tossed back into reality.
“I need one of you to come inside. Alex is doing some interior painting. He could use the help as long as we have you.” Frank pointed toward Mia. “You. You have the smallest hands, good for delicate work.”
“Excuse me, sir, I’m the painter. He doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.” Andrew started walking toward Frank.
“No, you stay out here. You’re working the fastest.” Frank moved toward the house, calling back toward Mia. “Come on, little guy.”
She had no choice but to follow. If they were going to stay here long enough to raise money for three train tickets, she would have to do some things alone. Not looking back toward Andrew or Whitney, she marched straight to the house and followed Frank inside.
Much like the inside of the barn, the interior of the house was a pleasant surprise. Each room was more magnificent than the next, with modern appliances and furniture. The kitchen was white with musical notes painted on the walls at random spots. All the décor was also accented with music; even the dish towels looked like sheet music.
The sitting room had a giant television set. Mia had never been allowed to watch TV, but her father kept one in his bedroom. Plush leather couches surrounded the entertainment center, and pictures of Alex and Frank doing various activities hung on the purple walls. Mia was certain neither of these rooms needed any work.
She followed Frank into the third and final first-floor room, the dining room. A large dark wood table took up most of the space. A chandelier of equal size hung low from the ceiling. Behind the table, twin windows outlined in the same dark wood showed the backyard, giving Mia a clear view of Andrew and Whitney. The walls were a pale pink color. Mia loved the room.
It was shocking that a room so exquisite was in such a run-down house. Mia must not have done a good job of hiding her thoughts because Frank was quick to explain.
“Alex is from New York and likes to keep the old-world elegance. I used to own all the land beyond the fence, but I sold it off. With the money from the land sale, he can pretty much set up this house any way he wants. I keep to the basement. That’s where I have my comfy furniture and the stereotypical farmer stuff.” Frank was nervous. Mia wondered why.
“You can keep that junk down there until I’ve completed everything up here,” Alex said as he walked in. “I still have to finish this room, the upstairs, and the outside. You’ve got a year left with that gross old furniture, so you better enjoy it.” He wore an apron over his jeans and flannel shirt. His eyes shimmered as he looked at Frank.
“We’ll see when it happens.” Frank gave Alex a fake look of disapproval.
It would have been clear to anyone that these two were in love. Mia had been around them for only a minute but could tell their feelings were strong. Their love was authentic and unashamed. She had never seen affection of this sort. Most relationships were about honoring and obeying, but Frank and Alex were more about loving and cherishing. Mia was surprised she didn’t feel jealousy, just admiration. It took her a moment to remember where she was and that she was staring at the couple with wide eyes. She shook her head and looked away, hoping they didn’t notice she wasn’t acting manly.
“While I have you here, I was thinking about changing up this room a little.” Alex started to walk around the table. “Maybe add some details to the painting.”
He faced the wall and moved his hands up and down. Mia thought it would be a mistake to change anything; the room was perfect. He continued to talk about lighting highlights and painting the room a darker pink. He asked her to come over to look at some samples he had against the wall. She shrugged instead of giving her opinion. She was trying to avoid speaking at all costs.
“Come on, you must like one more than the others,” Alex said. Mia felt bad. She pointed to the wall, signaling not to change the paint.
“Oh? You flatter me.” He held his hand over his heart. “It’s so nice to have a lady’s opinion. We don’t get that, well . . . ever!”
Adrenaline filled Mia. She made eye contact with Alex and her flight reaction kicked in. She pushed him and made a break for the door. Frank was standing in her way and he picked her up. She kicked and punched, trying hard to wiggle free, but he held her in a tight grip from behind. She started to hyperventilate but wasn’t ready to give up her fight. She pulled her legs up and pushed off the great table, sending them both flying into the wall. She felt pain surge through her head; although she was free from Frank’s arm, she had hit it on the door frame during her escape attempt. Mia tried to stand up, but Alex had run over and was crouching in front of her. Frank also seemed fine and he reached for the back of her head.
She heard their voices but could not listen to what they were saying. Instead, she felt blackness come over her. Even though she tried hard to hold on to it, consciousness slipped away from her.
A bride makes no promises or vows; there is no need. It is understood she will do everything in her power to please her husband and honor his desires.
—The Registry Guide for Girls
T
he creak of the floorboards, the farm machines starting in the distance—these were the sounds Mia woke to every day. She could tell the sun was starting to rise, but she didn’t want to get out of bed yet. She decided to wait for her mother to come and wake her. Sure, she might get in a little trouble for being lazy, but it was worth it for just a few more minutes.
She wondered what they were going to learn today; maybe sewing. It had been a while since they had worked on their seams. Mia hated sewing. She groaned before flicking her eyes open. As she focused, she felt fuzzy. Literally fuzzy. She was lying under a leopard-print throw. A blanket she had never seen. She looked up at the wall and saw a giant painting of two men posing with each other. She did not understand what was going on.
“Good, you’re up! I got scared for a second that you gave yourself a concussion.” Alex was seated on the bed next to her with a bottle of water. He handed it to her.
Mia’s memories came rushing back. She sat up in the bed and kicked off the leopard-print throw. She wanted to jump out, but she was in the middle of a huge mattress. If she tried to roll toward the end, he would just grab her. She froze in fear and scooted up toward the dark wood headboard.
“Please, calm down. We don’t mean you any harm.” Alex again tried to give her the water. “We want to help you.”
Images of the trucker flashed before her eyes. She didn’t want the kind of help he wanted to give.
“Think about it. We haven’t called anyone yet. If we had, they would have been here by now. We are wealthy and have no need for your reward money. We are not supporters of the Registry. What reason would we have to turn you in?”
Everything Alex was telling her made sense. She wasn’t sure she could believe him, but she was thirsty. She relaxed a little and reached for the bottle of water. She could see how happy he was as she took a sip.
“How long was I out for?” To her, it felt like a full night’s sleep. “Where are my friends?”
“You were asleep for about an hour. They’re still painting out back. You knocked your head pretty good.”
Mia noticed the pain surging in her skull. She lifted her hand and felt a bandage over a bump. As she winced, Alex produced two pills and put them in her hand. Weighing her options and finding none, she swallowed the pills.
“How did you know I was a girl?” Mia was sick at the thought of her disguise failing.
“Honey, you aren’t just a girl. You are Grant Marsden’s wife. He is a dreamy, rich man. You are all over the news. It’s hard not to recognize your face.”
“I’m not his wife, and he’s a psycho. He married me after I ran away.”
Alex gave a perplexed look, not seeming to understand the arrangement either.
“Why would you want to help me?” Mia asked.
“Well, lots of reasons.” Alex paused to collect his thoughts. “One of the downsides of living the lifestyle Frank and I do is that we can’t have children of our own. We can adopt. A boy, but never a girl. Who would give a girl away?”
“So because you can’t have a girl you want to help me?” Mia asked.
“We helped another runaway once before. Years ago, she stayed with us for a long time, and she was like a daughter. She was kind and sweet. She loved to read and was always asking questions.” Alex placed his hand over his mouth and choked back tears. It was clear this was emotional for him. “We agreed that since we would never see her again, we would help any girl who crossed our path and treat her like she was our Steffy. We thought we were going to change the world, make a difference, but people are more content these days. So, you’re our first since her.”
“Why are people more content? Why don’t more run?”
“I’m not sure, sweetie; my guess is the government’s been more effective at keeping outside information away from the people.”
Mia thought about the article. They weren’t doing a foolproof job.
“What happened to her? Your Steffy?”
“I’m not sure. Hopefully she made it out of the country. It would be too dangerous if she tried to contact us.”
It was clear to Mia this was a sore subject for him. Her instincts told her to reach out and give him comfort, but she still wasn’t convinced of his intentions.
“Why don’t you just adopt a boy?”
“It’s hard; the government wants babies turned over. We’ve taken in older boys who we thought of as sons, but they never want to stay. They’re too programmed not to accept love.” Alex reached out and grabbed Mia’s hand. “But will you let us help you? For Steffy?”