Chapter 1

Mary Barnes stood under the arch that separated the hallway from the kitchen, wondering if it was her thoughts causing the feelings or her body making her think such things. The part of her brain that was still under the medication’s restraint screamed, starve those desires. It’s better to die of starvation than taste the forbidden fruit. But time and lots of water had washed most of the pharmaceuticals out of her, and Mary’s carnal needs had become a hungry beast.

Becky sat at the table, and Mary moved toward her. Becky had the same chestnut hair as Elizabeth and took it upon herself as a young girl to put it in those enticing pigtails Elizabeth had worn. Mary had discouraged it many times, but that only made Becky more persistent. Mary figured it was part of what her parents said, “God will punish you.” That explained why she had a daughter who reminded her of the unforgivable sin she committed over and over again with Elizabeth, Mary’s first and only true love.

How ironic, Mary thought. Her parents used biblical nails and shame to build the box they locked her in, and she escaped only to marry a more hypocritical version of her father. Then, while telling her shrink every ungodly thought she had, Mary used the pills he gave her and rebukes from her husband to construct her own prison.

Years after her daddy issues husband ran off to California, Mary still wore the self-imposed chains. Every time her son’s manly bulge caught her eye, or Becky wore shirts that demanded a bra, displaying a mirror image of Elizabeth’s obscenely erect nipples, or she got ensnared by one of her daughter’s enticing traps set for Jason, Mary killed her feelings with another pill and fortified the walls that held her in.

Without a husband to criticize her body or accuse her of being a whore when she tried to fulfill her sexual needs or the medication to kill the real Mary, a beautiful new world had emerged. It was bursting at the seams with erotic imagery, arousing smells, sensual touches, and pleasures that rivaled the first-time experiences from her youth. It was as if Mary had been granted a second chance at life. If it had been an overnight change, Mary would have been overwhelmed and terrified and run back to the bland, dull life on medication. But it hadn’t happened all at once. Day by day, her mind returned, and for the first time in years, Mary masturbated. It took several tries before the pleasure came without the guilt and even more before she allowed herself to fantasize. Eventually, Mary was free enough to let her son’s best friend join her in the land of pretend. She expected a bolt of lightning the morning she had the audacity to finger herself in the hallway outside Becky’s room while Evan fucked her daughter. When the boy looked at her in the kitchen on his way out, Mary swore she would go back on the pills and see the psychologist before something crazy happened. Instead, Mary convinced herself she could draw the line between fantasy and reality. She had enough self-control to handle anything, but something went wrong.

Her daughter, Becky, thought and acted like young Mary had and looked like Elizabeth, the girl who had always been able to make Mary forget the things she swore she’d never do again.

The previous night, when Becky came to Mary’s bedroom, climbed into bed, and kissed her on the mouth, her daughter’s lips unhinged Mary from reality. Time rolled back, and Mary was in the hayloft, reliving the last time she had been with Elizabeth. It had been a beautiful, passionate love-making session twenty years ago.

Now, Mary had to live under the same roof with Becky, a girl she loved with an unbreakable maternal bond. How could she want her daughter in every other ungodly way imaginable? God had opened the floodgates of his wrath just like her father, the preacher, said the day he told Mary she could never see Elizabeth again.

Mary collected the hair hanging over the back of the chair. Becky tilted her head back and asked, “Are you mad at me?”

She weaved the chestnut strands into a sloppy braid. Becky turned and rose to her feet. Mary looked her daughter in the eyes, wondering when Becky got so tall.

“Mom,” Becky said and slipped her arms around Mary’s waist, “I love you.”

“I know, honey, and I love you.” She held Becky’s face.

Becky grabbed Mary’s wrist and kissed her hand. “I don’t mind if you call me Elizabeth.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You kept saying it last night,” Becky said. “I kinda liked it.” She pressed her lips to Mary’s palm.

“Your father wouldn’t let me name you Elizabeth,” Mary said and kissed Becky’s brows. “That’s probably a good thing.”

Becky giggled.

Mary grabbed her daughter’s hand and led her down the hall to the bedroom. “It’ll be our secret.”

Becky smirked. “Yeah, one of our secrets.”