The Marriage Bargain

Chapter 1

DARIA

Don’t move another step, a voice from behind me said softly and slowly.

I froze, more from the rattling sound around my feet than the voice behind me. My body realized what it was before my brain could process it.

A shot rang out. Specks of dirt and blood flew against my thigh, giving my numbed body a clue that it was okay to let go.

I screamed, jumping up and down and turning around like a jack-in-the-box toy that had been recently sprung.

It’s ok. It’s ok, the calming voice attached to the tall, lean body said.

Delayed fear sent my senses into overdrive. My throat hurt as raw screams continued to purge themselves from me. I held on to the sweaty, white t-shirt of the form holding me for dear life.

It can’t hurt you, my hang-on-for-dear-life savior said.

Is ... is...ah is is it dead? I sniffled.

Yes, the calming voice said. Didn’t you see it? he asked, as I kept my face buried in his shirt.

No.

Playing on your phone, huh?

Yes, I breathed, still scared to let go of him. Thank you. I’m glad I didn’t see it. I probably woulda freaked out.

He laughed. I could feel the rumble of it in his chest.

Alright, I did freak out. But I woulda freaked out more if I’d seen it first.

Then I’m glad I came along. I definitely wouldn’t have wanted that to happen. As it is you almost got the vapors.

Are you making fun of me Glory Falkner?

I would never make fun of you Daria Sunshine Decker. You might have one of your henchmen come and chop my head off.

Even I had to laugh at that.

Seriously Daria, you have to be careful walking along these country roads this time of year. Just like we humans like sunshine, snakes do too. And they’re out in full force, especially along paths like this. Being a city girl, you probably ain’t used to thinking about stuff like that. But you’re in the country now, so you better if you don’t want to get bit?

I know about creepy crawlies. I just forgot is all.

They’re harmless, actually – if you’re paying attention.

I’ll take your word for that, I said, shivering as I looked over my shoulder at the still wriggling body of the approximately five-foot long rattlesnake. Glory had blown its head full off, and seemed as unfazed by it all as if he’d kicked a rock out of the road.

No really, they are, he persisted. That’s why they rattle; to let you know that they’re there. They don’t want to tangle with you any more than you want to tangle with them.

The only problem with that is, I wouldn’t bite something I didn’t want to tangle with, I said, my eyes darting to the swollen body of the serpent. It looked like it had recently downed a piece of dinner.

They only do that if they have to. The worst thing you can do is freak out. You’ll scare it, and it’ll attack because it feels threatened. The best thing to do is freeze, try to figure out where the rattling is coming from, then move slowly away from that area. If you do that, you’ll usually be fine.

"It’s the usually part that gets me. And you make it sound so easy. Nobody is calm when they hear a rattlesnake. Nobody but Tarzan maybe."

Ok, then you be Jane – and freeze, he smiled, his impossibly white teeth glowing against his bronzed skin.

"Alright Mr. Comedian. Fine. I’ll put it in my notes. ‘See rattlesnake. Freeze and back away.’ Got it."

Jokes aside Daria, I wouldn’t want you to get bit. After all, can’t afford to harm a Decker. Your father might come and sue the whole town.

Just what is that supposed to mean? I asked, my hackles up at the reference to my father. There were times I hated the name Decker.

Y’all own every dang thang in these parts — from the bank to the mill, to the auto supply store. You can’t take a piss in this town without hitting the side of a building with the Decker name on it. We’re poor folk down here. We can’t afford to have anything happen to you; not if it could have been prevented.

At this, I finally pulled away from him, my distaste for his commentary on my family greater than my fear of the dead snake in the middle of the road. Thanks again, I said, and started to walk away.

Was it something I said? he asked, pulling at my hand.

You haven’t said anything that everyone else hasn’t thought. No biggie, I said, pulling my hand away from his and slipping my phone in the back pocket of my jean shorts. Wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I didn’t mean to make you mad. I was just joking; trying to get your mind off big man here, he said, pointing at the dead rattler with its tail still wiggling. I turned my head away quickly. You look like you still want to crap your pants, even though it’s dead.

It still doesn’t look dead to me, I said as the snake continued its death wriggle.

You want me to prove it to you, he said, bending over to pick it up.

Nooooo! Put it down. Glory please, put it down! I screamed.

Alright. No need to burst my ear drums. Lordy girl you have a pair of lungs on you. I gotta go check the grave yard for disturbed corpses cuz I know you’ve woken a few.

I burst out laughing, thinking only Glory could move me from anger to sheer terror to laughter in just a few seconds. It’s true, I said. I still could crap my pants. ... You’re really not afraid of them? I asked skeptically. How did one ever not fear the slithery suckers. I hated’em and feared’em with a passion.

Nah. They just trying to live like the rest of us. And they’re a great part of the ecosystem around here. Without snakes, we’d be run over with rats. They destroy crops and can cause a lot of other property damage. So snakes are as necessary as rain or sun for a farming community like this to survive.

I shivered, still in a somewhat arrested state of fear of the dead serpent. But it was more than that. I was in awe of Glory and how he not only knew about nature, but appreciated it.

I wish I could be so cavalier about them. Your explanation of why they exist helps – a smidge, I said.

That’s a start. Knowledge is power, and this land is for all of us – plants, animals, humans. We humans have got to do a better job of sharing it, or so much will disappear by the time we have kids.

I know he didn’t mean it that way, but the thought of one day having kids with him made me smile.

I took one more look over my shoulder and shimmied. Ugghhhh, I said. It’s still moving. Why is it still moving?"

Don’t be scared. It’s an involuntary reaction. Hey, maybe learning how to shoot will help you feel less afraid of them – of your country surroundings, Glory said. I could teach you.

My eyes lit up. You would?

Sure. Every girl should learn how to handle a weapon, even city girls. You never know when you might have to defend yourself – against man or slithery beast, he laughed.

My mother was a great shot. She’d grown up in the country – right here in Comfort. Since I was knee-high to a doorknob, she’d regaled me with stories of how my grandfather had taught her and my aunt Daisy to shoot, much to my grandmother’s chagrin.

My maternal grandfather had apparently been had been an avid hunter and had taught both of his girls how to shoot; kill and skin animals; smoke meat; preserve fruits; grow their own vegetables – a whole host of things I knew nothing about as a city girl.

One thing living in the country will teach you is how to take care of yourself. Every girl needs to learn how to do that, my mom explained when she sent me to my Aunt Daisy’s that first summer. I was ten-years-old, and scared to death to be away from my parents. But, I was also excited about doing all the things mama had told me about growing up in the country.

My upbringing could not have been more different than my mother’s, which is why she sent me back to tiny Comfort every summer to stay with my Aunt Daisy.

A quaint little town tucked in the northern part of the Sunshine State, Comfort couldn’t have been more different from the tropical, sunny beaches most thought of when they thought of Florida.

To me, Comfort was more like Georgia or Mississippi or the Carolinas, than Florida. The actual official name of the town was Comfortville, but I doubt if five people knew that. My mother and father – who were both born and raised in Comfortville – told me that it had been called Comfort for as long as anybody could remember. City leaders had decided long ago that it would confuse travelers if ‘Comfortville’ was printed on signage because nobody knew it as that. That’s why all the signs sported the name ‘Comfort.’

And the name suited the tiny little country hamlet beautifully. Everything about it wrapped you in peace and comfort. It had whispering willows that hung low on the banks of calm rivers swollen with catfish. You could see fat bullfrogs on dusty, red-dirt trails; chase butterflies under the giant leaves of a soaring magnolia; and bottle lightning bugs as they shimmered through a night sky hugged in the scent of honeysuckle.

I loved every second of my time in Comfort. And the fact that I was a city girl with a country heart pleased my parents. I didn’t understand why they were so surprised. What kid wouldn’t enjoy the freedom of roaming the countryside – swimming, speeding down dirt roads on bicycles, and having a spur of the moment ‘jump from the top of the barn to the haystack below’ game of ‘I Dare You’?"

My cousin Emmaline and I disappeared into the happiness of the country and our neighbor’s yards – from the time my aunt let us go outside after we finished our chores in the morning, until supper time. The only rule we had was not to let dark catch us away from home. This meant we had to be in our yard when the streetlights came on. If we weren’t, that spelled trouble.

Aunt Daisy’s warning rang in our ears if we even thought of misbehaving while we were out and about: "Don’t let me hear you been cutting up. I’ma get in that behind first, and ask questions later. Ya hear me?"

My aunt Daisy was as sweet as pecan pie; a typical southern belle of a petite woman. Hair always done. Nails perfection. Clothing flawless, right down to matching shoes and purse. But get on her wrong side, and she would whip your behind without blinking!

My mama was the same way, which was why it was no problem for me to obey Aunt Daisy when I spent summers with her. Besides, I would never risk not being able to see Glory.

I’d liked him since the first time I laid eyes on him at seven-years-old. And when I started spending summers with Aunt Daisy at ten, my crush deepened. I didn’t properly know what a crush was at ten years of age of course, but I did know one thing: I loved me some Glory Falkner.

One day when I was thirteen while me and my cousin Emmaline were fishing and talking about boys, I told her that I was gonna marry him some day.

GET IN LINE. EVERYBODY and their mama wants to marry Glory. Everybody except me, she laughed.

Why don’t you like him?

I’ve known him forever. Thinking about him that way grosses me out. He’s more like a brother or a cousin, she explained, turning her nose up.

Well lucky for me since we’re cousins, because one day me and Glory are gonna get married, I laughed.

I don’t think Uncle Ernie is gonna let you marry someone like Glory, Emmaline said, her eyebrows almost meeting her hairline.

What do you mean ‘someone like Glory?’

You know how your daddy is ... only the best for his little princess. And it certainly ain’t no dirt-poor farmer boy from a little hick town like Comfort.

Father’s from Comfort, and he married mama. And mama’s from Comfort. She was poor.

He’s a man. It’s okay for men to marry down, but not women. We are supposed to marry up.

What does that even mean? I asked.

Don’t you learn anything in that fancy, private school of yours? Emmaline said, exasperated. It means that women are supposed to marry someone who can take care of them. What can Glory do for you?

I’D NEVER FORGOTTEN me and Emmaline’s conversation, which took on some urgency now that I was fifteen and it was my last full summer in Comfort.

The thing about Emmaline is, she was always way more worldly than me, even though she was born and raised in Comfort. It had less to do with the fact that she was a year older, and more to do with the fact that she was a grown woman in a teenager’s body.

Even though I was born and raised in New York City, Emmaline was classier, more worldly, and more – well, everything. She was all I wasn’t. Emmaline knew stuff. She just did. So when she said something, I took it as gospel.

‘I don’t think about marriage like that,’ I’d responded to Emmaline’s question of ‘What can Glory do for you?’ Marriage is about love. About two people wanting to be together, I’d explained, my innocence and naivete on full display by the look that had crossed Emmaline’s face. Would you marry someone just for money? I’d asked her.

Nope, cuz I’m gone have my own. But I definitely don’t wanna marry someone who’s poor. I been poor all my life and it ain’t no fun. And that’s all you got round here. That’s why I’m gone dust this town off my feet when I graduate high school and go find my fortune.

And where is that? I’d asked.

In New York. I’m going to be a famous actress. Everybody’s gonna know my name. I’ma be like Janelle Monáe or Zendaya or Taraji. A superstar. You just watch, Emmaline had said. I shoulda had your parents and you shoulda had mine. Never met a young person who loved Comfort as much as you, except maybe Glory.

I had smiled at that.

At the time, I’d looked at it as the stars already lining up for us to be together. It had made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I remembered thinking how much I’d love living in Comfort.

Emmaline had been right, we should have had each other’s parent’s. She was a country girl pining for the bright lights of the big city. And I was the exact opposite. Comfort had always felt like home to me.

Like Glory.

I PLUCKED A BLADE OF grass as I sat on the bank of what Glory called his ‘thinking pond,’ already missing my summers in Comfort.

Why do you call it your thinking pond? I asked.

Cuz this is where I come to think, he explained simply.

I smiled at the memory. Like Glory’s explanation, things were straightforward in Comfort. While my hometown friends dreamed of summers filled with shopping, boating and other adventures in Europe, the Caribbean or other foreign lands, I literally couldn’t wait to escape the concrete jungle that was my New York City to be in the fresh, country breezes of Comfort. And this summer was particularly poignant because it would be the last time I’d come for a whole summer.

Even though I was only fifteen, I felt like my childhood was coming to an end.

Next year I would turn sixteen, and my parents were sending me off to a summer abroad program in Italy. The year after that, I was going to France and Africa. The year after that, I’d turn eighteen, graduate from high school and go off to college. NYU, according to my parents, although I was applying to quite a few more Ivy-league universities.

Yeah, my life was that planned out. I felt thirty-five instead of fifteen at times.

I wasn’t ready to leave