Only she and Rodney remained.
She reached for him, beckoning her son to her bosom. She wanted so badly to shield him from the storm. But he stepped away from her and turned to the wind, waiting for it to overtake him. She swore, and just before he was tossed into the deepest part of the swamp, she saw him look back.
When she woke, the rain was no longer beating upon the hatch. There was no thunder. She lay perfectly still, trying to work out some scenario in her mind where it was going to be okay, where the dream she’d had was just a dream, where she’d be allowed to leave this place and her son wouldn’t turn away from her and face the wind.
She couldn’t see it, though, no matter how hard she tried.
31
Some time later, she climbed the ladder again, dragging her bad hip along despite the pain, and tried the hatch. She wasn’t expecting much—if anything, she hoped the rock had shifted enough for her to just peek out—so when it lifted open easily, she was stunned. Throwing it back, she pulled herself through the opening, only to find water up to her knees. She stood to her full height to see what devastation the storm had wrought.
Except there was none. The place was clearly changed, but other than the deep flooding (which, now that she thought about it, seemed too deep), there were no signs of damage. The trees were unbroken, their limbs strong and intact. A light misting of rain fell. The moon—half of it anyway—lay in the sky, half-tilted, as if napping.
She turned and gasped when she saw that all of the houses were gone. Only a single cabin remained, and she saw again that she was in the dream, except she couldn’t be dreaming, could she?
It didn’t feel like a dream, but, of course, the best dreams never feel like dreams; they carry the weight of reality, and there could be no doubting that weight was pressing on her now.
Something changed. At first it only seemed to be the light, but then she realized she was moving, tumbling, falling. When she finally stopped, she was back inside the shelter, the darkness so intense that she could almost pretend she wasn’t there at all.
But she was, and hours later when she found the energy to get up and climb the ladder, the rock was still there and the hatch wouldn’t move even an inch.
32
Trudy lost track of time inside the shelter. It was impossible to do otherwise, as the darkness muted any semblance of the outside world. She was alone, and she resigned herself to the fact that she was likely to die that way.
She was aware that everyone else might already be dead. The storm might have killed them all, in which case, she found her own fate a little easier to swallow. If her children were dead, Trudy had nothing else to live for anyway. How sad, she thought. Her life had once held so much promise, but she’d thrown it all away for James Sykes, a man she didn’t even love. But that wasn’t quite true, was it? She didn’t love him, had never loved him, but he wasn’t the only reason she’d thrown her life away. She’d also done it for God. Some people, she knew, had to be brought to the Lord kicking and screaming, but then there were others like herself that just craved to have that void filled in their lives. To say she needed God to fill that void might be oversimplifying. She needed something to fill it, something big, something larger and greater and more mysterious than her.
Because if there was nothing greater to the world than the laws of science and the greed of man, she didn’t much see the point of it all.
Yet she’d risked everything to chase that mystery, to find the point to her life, and here she was paying with that very life, less sure about any divine being than she’d ever been before.
Though there was the swamp.
The swamp. G.L.’s swamp. She’d dreamed about it. But what about the second time? She’d been alone, and everything had seemed so real and authentic, even down to the pale moonlight on her skin.
Could that be the place where God lived, and if so, why did He only allow her a brief glimpse? She wished very badly she could talk to G.L. again. She’d make him explain all of it, from the very first time he ever went. Why hadn’t she pushed him harder about it before?
At some point the hunger pains began, but she tried to ignore them. She tried to sleep, thinking it was her best defense against hunger and fear, but she couldn’t.
Instead, she thought of Rodney and Mary, and how she could possibly ever help them. It occurred to her that her best bet, her very best chance, would be to play along, to become the meek follower. There were several advantages to this, she realized. One, she would get James and Otto off her back so she could think. Two, she would have time to regain Rodney’s trust. His betrayal hurt her more than anything, but she didn’t blame him. He was frightened like everyone else, and he was only a boy. Yes, she’d play along but subvert in private, getting Rodney fully on her side. After all, no one loved him like she did. The third advantage—and she realized now, this was the most important one of all—was that when she did act, no one would be expecting it.
She’d strike swiftly and without regret.
She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, satisfied in the plan. She ignored the small voice inside her that wanted to remind her that things rarely went so smoothly and thought instead of the demon she’d felt inside her. She’d tried so many times to push it back down, but now she wondered if she shouldn’t embrace it. It was a demon that wanted to take her over, to lash out at anyone who might try to hurt her or her children. It was angry, and she liked the power she felt when it squirmed inside her. She’d have to control it. She’d have to let it swim inside her, feeding it with small crumbs of vitriol and promises of vengeance. And then when it was time, she’d let it fly, screaming from her belly to do the damage it wanted so badly to do.
Much, much later, after more sleep and more worry, the hatch opened and the brightest light Trudy had ever seen flooded her eyes. She felt the demon flip inside of her and was thankful that it was there.
33
When she stepped out into the bright sunlight, Trudy couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to see what had become of Broken Branch. The others were standing in a semicircle around her. She saw their faces in flashes, between squinting and closing her eyes. They were solemn, but no one looked sad.
She squeezed her eyes shut and fell to her knees. Hands were on her shoulders. Without looking, she felt certain they belonged to Otto and her husband.
Otto began to speak.
“You see the way the Lord honors the righteous, Trudy?” He tugged on the collar of her dress, trying to make her sit up, trying to make her look.
She raised her head and opened her eyes again. Trees were everywhere, littering the clearing. She’d never seen so many blown down, so many roots turned toward the sky. Yet there was something wrong. Despite the overwhelming evidence that the twister had come right through the center of Broken Branch, none of the houses appeared to have been touched. Nor had the oak tree, which she saw still loomed above her, the only missing branch the same one Otto had torn away when they’d established the community eight years ago.
“So you see how God protects the righteous, Trudy? Do you know that the meadow looks worse? But the church was shielded from all. Can we have a clearer sign that God is more pleased with us?”
The old Trudy would have said that God could strike Otto dead and that would be the clearest sign of all, but the new Trudy remembered her promise, remembered the demon inside her that would wait as long as it was fed occasionally. The new Trudy lifted her face and looked Otto in the eye.
“Inside the darkness, I found the light, Brother Otto. I found God and fell before Him thanking Him for sparing me. I thanked Him for the wisdom of my husband, James, and most of all for the wisdom of you, Brother Otto. For without it, I would have been hanging on that tree, damned, with Simpson.”
The silence in the clearing was staggering. No one murmured; no one breathed.
Otto extended his hand, smiling. “Rise, my
sister. And welcome back to Broken Branch.”
Trudy took his hand and stood on watery legs. She badly needed something to eat or drink, but she would wait until they offered it. The old Trudy would have demanded it. Not the new.
Otto let go of her and she felt James’s arms around her, holding her up. For an instant, she almost let herself enjoy the security. She could be safe as long as she did whatever they wanted her to do, as long as she bent her knee and kept her mouth shut. But Trudy could never do that for herself. For Mary and Rodney, though . . . except, she reminded herself, no amount of subservience would save Rodney if the wrong person saw one of his spells.
Otto pointed up to the missing branch in the tree. “Brothers and sisters, the branch which has been separated from the tree symbolizes God’s covenant with us. He has pulled us away from the wickedness of the world and made us strong and blameless in His sight. As long as we remain steadfast and revel in His goodness and not in our sin, He will keep the other branches intact.”
“Amen!” the congregation called. It was louder than she’d ever heard the congregation before.
“Now, let us make our sister who has returned from the dead feel welcome in this place.”
Each person then lined up and embraced Trudy. Only Ben spoke to her as he held her.
“You see, Trudy? You see? I showed you because I knew you needed to know.”
And she did see finally. She saw exactly how to behave in order to survive here for just a little longer.
34
She waited until she and James were back home, away from the watchful eyes of the rest of the community, to ask about Rodney and Mary. She tried not to let the desperation she felt come through in her voice.
James shrugged. He was gazing at her, his eyes intense. “I’m so happy for you,” he said. “Anytime someone finds the love of God, it is truly a time to rejoice.”
She smiled at him, doing her best imitation of Rachel. If she could act like Rachel, she had decided, she could be successful here.
He smiled back, reaching for her. “It’s been a while.”
Lord, she thought. There were downsides to behaving like Rachel too, she saw.
“Of course, James, but please tell me about the children. A mother needs to know these things.” She tried to keep smiling, but it was difficult. She wanted to clench her teeth in anger and claw at his face the way she’d clawed at Otto’s when they put her in the shelter. She breathed in deeply, calming herself. James was but a follower. This whole place was made up of followers. She needed to save her anger for Otto, the head of the snake.
“Otto thought it might be better if they stayed with some others until you settled in.”
Until he’s sure I’m not going anywhere, Trudy thought.
“Of course,” she said. “I understand.”
He reached for her then, but it was too much. “My time, James. My monthlies. I’m sorry.”
He nodded briskly. “Later, then.” He stood and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To pray for you, Trudy. I don’t believe you’re where you need to be yet.”
35
With the house empty, Trudy found sleep difficult. She went out the back door and through the woods to the creek.
The night was quiet enough to hear the creek as it ran over the rocks. It sounded like something more than just a creek at that moment. There was something beneath it; maybe it was the hum of the earth itself, maybe the night sky was singing, maybe Trudy only wished there was something else, and because she wished for it so hard, she imagined that it was there.
She sat down and dipped her hands into the cold water. She cupped them and splashed her face. It stung at first, but she splashed more and the coldness of the creek almost made her face go numb.
The problem with playing this role—the biggest one because there were many problems—was that she allowed them so much power. If Rodney hadn’t suffered an attack yet, that was a true miracle. She could only hope that whoever he was with either wasn’t truly watching him or would take pity on the boy and not mention it to Otto.
How had her life become so twisted? She’d tried to walk the straight and narrow path, but she was beginning to believe such a thing did not exist.
Marrying James had seemed like such a sure bet.
He’d been the picture of virtue then, but Trudy saw how even being virtuous could turn to evil if it was based on fear.
She didn’t want to go back home. James might come back and he might question her more about her lie. He usually didn’t pursue her after she told him it was her time, but in this case, it had been clear to him that she was lying.
Trudy needed a sign, a clear indication that she’d find her way out of this darkness, because she felt lost in the deep woods, and every direction she turned was the wrong one.
A leaf floated lazily toward the creek. It was spring, but the trees had been rocked so hard by the storms, the leaves were falling anyway. The breeze felt good off the creek, and Trudy thought she might just go to sleep here.
She’d no sooner closed her eyes and laid her head down on the grass when she heard a sound that made her sit up.
Across the creek, in the vines and brambles, something moved.
Trudy waited, holding her breath. G.L. had spoken of alligators, and the men had mocked him. Bobcats, they’d said, maybe a coyote, but nothing big enough to make the scars that braided his chest and shoulders like risen stripes. Still, in this night silence, anything seemed possible.
And strangely enough, this thought made her happy for the first time in a very long time.
Happy, but still nervous. Afraid. It was possible to be both.
Another, sharper, sound. A branch cracking underfoot.
“Who’s there?”
The wind answered back, but there was nothing on it, not even a scent or a sound, just the steady pressure on her brow, blowing back her hair.
She stood, hoping and not hoping the sound would come again. Her whole life had been shaped by the search for something she couldn’t explain, something that couldn’t be broken down in dismissive tones by her father or perverted by Otto and James’s selfish interpretation of it, and she thought she might be willing to do anything to find it.
She couldn’t say why, really, but she was suddenly sure the noises she heard were Simpson. He was here, just across the creek, stumbling through the heavy tangles of vines and weeds, that part of the woods that there was no sorting out, the place where dark tunnels hid, unknown to the human eye.
He’d come to tell her the truth, and with the truth she would be able to survive.
“Simpson?”
She took a step into the creek, not caring that her sandals would be ruined. He was just over there. If the moon would come back out, she’d be able to see him. In fact, she thought she already could. His eyes—they shined in the moonlight, high in the mess of branches and vines.
She stumbled in the creek, falling forward. There was a screech, and she got her eyes up in time to see an owl fly clear of the kudzu. Its great wings beat the night and lifted it through a gap in the trees, where it momentarily blotted out the stars. Trudy lay in the creek, watching it rise into the night, wishing she had wings or at least legs steady and true enough to get away from these woods.
36
Ben found her there a few minutes later, shivering.
“I noticed James leave and thought I might pay you a visit. You weren’t there so I followed your trail down here. You leave a trail as wide as a grizzly bear in the woods, woman.” He sat down beside her and brushed against her damp dress. “Lord, Trudy, what happened?”
She shrugged. “I fell in.”
“And you didn’t think to go home and put on dry clothes? Is it that bad with James?” He touched her arm. “He doesn’t hurt you, does he, Trudy?”
“What if he did? You’d be too afraid to do anything about it.” Trudy sat up, saw the hurt on Ben’s face, and immediately regretted saying it.
“It’s true,” he said. “Though, I don’t look down on it the same way you do, Trudy. I mean, I admire your bravery, but sometimes being brave ain’t being smart.”
She stood and wrung her dress out. She’d need to get back or risk trouble with James. She certainly didn’t need that.
“If there was an alligator that had you cornered, Trudy—”
“An alligator? There’s no gators around these parts.”
“’Course there ain’t, but this G.L. fellow has been on my mind lately. What we done to him. It wasn’t right.”
“But you didn’t try to stop it.”
Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. If there’s a gator facing you down, you go along to get along. You don’t charge it, ’cause if you do, it’ll eat you alive.” He paused and shook his head. “You saw what it did to Simpson.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Can’t what?”
“Go along to get along. Oh, for a while I can, but eventually I’ve got to strike back at the gator. I’ve got to get out of that corner and live my life.”
“But, Trudy,” Ben said, “that gator’s one thing, but this situation here, with Otto and Broken Branch. He’s got God.”
“Does he?”
Ben nodded solemnly. “I might not be so sure, but like I told you before, I found Simpson. When I showed it to Otto, he was as surprised as I was. Hurt too.”
Trudy shook her head. “So you think God killed Simpson?”
Broken Branch Page 7
