Free The Chosen One by Carol Lynch Williams

on itself. “He wants me to marry my uncle. Your brother.” I’m almost screaming.
    Father flinches.
    I run to the bathroom, slipping a little on the wet kitchen floor.
    Like Mother, I curl myself around the toilet. I let out a scream, “Aaaah.” My voice echoes around my face. Then I throw up so hard it feels like my eyeballs are going to pop out of my head. The skin stretches over my chest, burning. All the day’s food, gone. And when I’m sure I’m finished vomiting, when I start to move away, I puke again. Then again. “It’s not fair,” I say. “I don’t love him. I don’t even like him.” My voice goes high and screechy at the end.
    Just hold on .
    In another room I hear Carolina say something, then start to cry.
    I know I should be quiet. That I should do what I’m told. But I can’t help it. Another scream tears from me. Without meaning to, I’m crying.
    Someone taps on the door.
    “Kyra?” Mother says.
    My throat is raw. The room stinks. I’ve cut the palm of one hand with my nails from making such a tight fist. My nose is stopped up. My heart is broken.
    How did I wind up here? How did we all wind up here?
    “Kyra?” Mother says. “Father will talk to them again.” She doesn’t come in the room with me. Her voice is low like maybe she doesn’t want my sisters to hear what she says to me. Or maybe she doesn’t want those who listen in on us to hear.
    It doesn’t matter what she says, though. No matter what her promise might be, I can’t do it. I cannot bear the thought of marrying my uncle. The thought gives me the dry heaves. Makes my head pound.
    I will not do it. I will not .
    Pushing myself up from the floor, I reach for a towel and wipe my mouth. And right at that moment I decide, without a doubt, no matter what, I’m leaving.
     
     
    WHY ARE THERE so many babies?
    Because children are an heritage of the Lord. Says so right there in the Old Testament. Listen to those words fall from all the Prophets’ mouths. Since time began they’ve been saying this.
    During church, when I should have been paying attention and thinking about God, I thought about family. About Joshua and me marrying, having our own babies.
    Nothing is like a new baby. Those tight, angry little faces. The way they blink at the light, bothered. Those tiny fists. Squished noses. I love babies fresh from God.
    All those babies, coming right here to us.
    Coming, maybe, to Joshua and me.
    If.
     
    __________
     
    UNCLE HYRUM SHOWS up for dinner, and us not even expecting him.
    He makes Father leave Mother Victoria, though this is Father’s week with her. He makes Father come to dinner at my house.
    “We need a man to chaperone,” he says, “to show that I’m honorable,” and he claps Father on the back with a laugh. Not one of us laughs with Uncle Hyrum. He settles on the sofa.
    “It’s good to see the women of the community,” Uncle Hyrum says, “to see how they run their homes.”
    Mother glances over her shoulder at him. I know she wasn’t planning a big dinner, nothing more than pancakes. She scurries around the kitchen, then says, “Come with me, Laura. And Kyra, please set the table.” The two of them hurry out the back door. Mother doesn’t look like she feels that great again. Maybe Uncle Hyrum has made her sick to her stomach. He sure has me. I try not to look at him while I work. But I can’t help it. I steal glances at him and Father as they sit in the living room.
    His hair is gray at the temples and is slicked back with something that makes it appear wet. His shirt is buttoned all the way to his throat again.
    Carolina sneaks over to Father’s lap. He wraps his arms around her tight.
    After a few moments, Mother comes back into the house. She carries a platter of roasted meat with carrots and potatoes lining the plate. Laura has a pan of rolls in one hand and a pie in the other. I’m betting they’ve been to Mother Claire’s house. We haven’t eaten this good for months because cooking