Chapter 5


    Amber


    It’s quiet in the house. This morning I helped Marjorie pack an overnight bag for each of the children and I put them in the minivan for her. After that, I tried to keep Fiona, Tom and Benjamin busy. Thankfully, it had finally stopped raining, so we went outside and they tried to teach me the rules of soccer. In the meantime, Marjorie was spending time with her youngest girls and Ray was feeding the animals with the two ranch hands who were on weekend duty.


    Technically I have Saturdays and Sundays off, but I didn’t mind helping them out. It was actually kind of fun playing a two-on-two match with the three oldest kids. They had to take turns teaming up with me, so they wouldn’t be stuck on the losing team the entire time. I would’ve been offended by that, except that I definitely suck at playing soccer and I''m not too proud to admit it. The children were being good sports about it, though. By the time Ray was done, Fiona had just scored her fourth consecutive goal against Tom and me, ending our final game in a pathetic 11-0.


    ‘Maybe you’ll get better if you practice really, really hard,’ Tom tried to console me, while I sat down on the ground, completely exhausted. ‘But I do think you should only be on Benjamin’s team the next time we play.’


    I pretended to glare at him, but honestly, I can’t blame him after that last gargantuan defeat. After our final match, I helped Marjorie to get all the children showered and dressed in time for their grandmother’s birthday party. Around two in the afternoon they were all loading themselves into the minivan, the only car on the ranch large enough to contain the entire family, and drove off to see their family. And I was left alone.


    It’s quiet on the ranch, with all of them gone. This is the first time I''m alone in the house since I started working here. I always have the weekend off, but last weekend Hailey came over and we spent some time together. The two previous weekends I just stayed with the family to help out and to get to know them better, since I’d only just started working for them. This time, I''m all by myself with no one around to talk to. Even the ranch hands who are supposed to be on duty are nowhere in sight. They’re probably inside their own cabins.


    Not really knowing what to do with myself, I head back to my own quarters. They consist of a small living room with a kitchenette, a separate bedroom and small private bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet. I left my phone on the charger next to my bed this morning and when I look at the screen, I see I have a missed call from my parents. I scrunch my nose. I guess I should call them back. This is the third missed call from them this week, and it’s not like I have anything better to do today.


    With a reluctant sigh, I make the dreaded call and squeeze my eyes shut. My mother answers within seconds.


    ‘Scott residence.’


    ‘Hello Mother!’ I try to sound cheerful.


    ‘Amber! Finally! I have been calling you since Thursday,’ she scolds me. ‘You do know that it is impolite not to call back your own mother, do you?’


    ‘Yes Mother, I know. I apologize,’ I sigh. ‘I’ve just been very busy.’


    ‘Busy with what? Not with men I should hope?’ Her voice sounds ominous.


    ‘No Mother, not with men.’ I can’t hide the irritation in my voice. ‘I have a job here, in case you forgot. I spend my days caring for five children on the ranch.’


    ‘Yes, and we all know what kind of men work on ranches.’


    ‘That is a horrible thing to say! Mr. Jenkins is a good man and very devoted to his wife,’ I protest.


    ‘I''m not talking about the owners,’ my mother declares impatiently. ‘Hailey assured us they are very devout people. Otherwise we would have never agreed to you moving so far away to work for them.’


    I roll my eyes, but I bite my tongue. I''m twenty-three years old, so she couldn’t have stopped me from going anyway, but my mother tends to act as if I''m still thirteen.


    ‘I''m talking about the other men who work there,’ Mother continues. ‘The cowboys and such. The immoral riffraffs who curse and defile women any chance they have. You are staying away from those men, aren’t you?’ she warns me.


    The image of Jake pops into my mind. I suppose I have heard him curse several times, and he certainly appears to have been with his share of women, if the insinuations of his coworker are to be believed. I have no idea whether or not he’s religious though. Truth be told, I’m not even sure whether or not I’m truly religious either. I was raised to believe in God, and maybe I still do, but the strict way my parents carry out their faith never sat well with me. Stolen story; please report.


    ‘Is that the only reason you wanted to speak with me, mother? To check if my virginity is still intact?’ I ask without hiding my annoyance.


    ‘It’s very important to save yourself for the right man, Amber,’ my mother says sternly, after a short silence. ‘Only when you are married in the eyes of our Lord, should you give a man your most precious gift. I am only concerned for your soul!’


    ‘Well, you don’t have anything to worry about. Both my soul and my hymen are firmly intact mother,’ I say dryly, before letting out a sigh. ‘Is there anything else? Otherwise, I have to go.’


    ‘Make sure you pray and go to church,’ my mother adds quickly.


    ‘Absolutely,’ I lie. ‘And twice on Sunday. Have a good day, Mother.’


    I hang up my phone and toss it on the bed. Right now I wish I had one of those old heavy landline phones, so I could actually put the receiver down with a bang. The call with my mother has not exactly put me in a better mood. However, it did strengthen my resolve. One way or another, I’m going to build a life here—a life I enjoy, filled with things I truly want to do, rather than simply following their orders. And a big part of that is that I plan to lose my virginity here. I''m done crouching beneath my parent’s thumb. I want to live! Now, all I have to figure out is how…


    By the time the evening falls, no grandiose idea has come to mind yet. I finished reading my book, made myself some dinner and ate it by myself too. Then, out of frustration, I decide to change my linens, fold my laundry and even clean my already spotless bathroom. When I drop down on the small couch after my little cleaning spree, it suddenly feels as if the four walls of my quarters are closing in on me.


    I don’t even have a TV in here! So far, I’ve just been watching Netflix on my laptop before going to sleep at night, which kind of reminds me of home. My parents always strictly monitored my internet access, but I managed to hide the old laptop Hailey secretly gave me in my room. Streaming movies goes a lot better when you don’t have to piggyback on your neighbors spotty Wi-Fi connection, but it just seems like too sad a thing to be doing on a Saturday night.


    I get back up, and after a slight hesitation, I open the door next to my kitchenette–the one that leads to the main residence. Ray and Marjorie told me that I''m welcome to be in the main house any time I want, but it still feels weird to be in here without any one of them present. It kind of feels like I''m an intruder.


    I go in there with the intention of sitting on their couch to watch their TV, which I guess feels slightly less pathetic than watching a show on my laptop in bed on a Saturday night. But as soon as I step into the living room, my feet seem to get a mind of their own and change direction. Instead of plopping down on the couch, I sit down on the stool behind the piano. It’s an old black Yamaha that has definitely seen better days, but Ray keeps it well-tuned. It belonged to his grandfather, he told me when they were giving me a tour of the house on my first day. I gently run my fingers over all the keys once, and place my feet on the pedals. I instantly feel the rush of familiarity I always get whenever I sit behind a piano.


    This, I can do.


    Without even thinking about it my fingers start a familiar routine. Piano Sonata No. 21 in B-flat major, from Schubert. The first classical piece I ever mastered. After that, my hands automatically continue with Rondo Alla Turca, from Mozart. A piece that is upbeat and cheerful, but my mother could never protest against, because the famously religious Amadeus Mozart was on her list of approved composers. I slide into the next song and a smile starts to form on my lips. Für Elise. My first rebellious act on the piano. Back when I was eleven years old, I thought it was the most badass thing that I dared to disobey my mother by secretly learning Beethoven, who was of course not on her approved list, due to his more ambiguous and controversial relationship with religion.


    It wasn''t until I was sixteen that I also dared to play modern songs and started singing along with them. Only when my parents weren’t home, of course. My mother considered singing anything other than hymns an unnecessary frivolity in life. And even hymns were only sung during Christmas and Easter, when it was appropriate. The moments when I was home alone and was able to play and sing to my heart''s desire, were the most happy and peaceful moments of my teenage years. That is kind of pathetic, when you think about it.


    My fingers hold still for a moment when the sadness of that realization fills my mind and soul. I couldn’t wait to get out from under my parents’ thumb. I guess I love them, they’re my parents, but I’ve always felt incredibly suffocated in that house. I was so happy when Hailey helped me land this job! And I really like it here. The family, the ranch, everything is great! But I had not anticipated how alone I would feel out here, all by myself.


    I don''t know whether it’s a conscious decision or not, but suddenly the melody of a melancholic song fills the room and I softly start singing along.


    ‘Two a.m., where do I begin? Crying off my face again. The silent sound of loneliness wants to follow me to bed.’


    I feel the emotions behind the song resonate in my body, as the words keep pouring straight out of my soul.


    ‘I’m the ghost of a girl that I want to be most.’


    It feels as if the words were written for me personally. I want to be more. I want to be better. I want to live! I ease the pressure of my fingers on the keys when I reach the diminuendo. My voice softens almost to a whisper.


    ‘Broken pieces of a barely breathing story.’


    Then I speed up into the crescendo. My fingers start pounding the keys, as if I want to make them feel the emotions of the song just as intensely as I do. I pour my heart and soul into the words when I sing them, and I can''t prevent my eyes from tearing up.


    ‘Dancing slowly in an empty room. Can the lonely take the place of you? I sing myself a quiet lullaby. Let you go and let the lonely in. To take my heart again.’


    I let the words fade out as I gently play the final chords, before my hands fall limply into my lap. Then I suddenly hear a familiar voice behind me.


    ‘Wow, you really got some pipes on you, Poppins!’