Tanner's War

by Amber Morgan

  Something about her reminded Beth of Mia, and she managed to smile back. “Hi.” It was all she could manage to say, and she felt pathetic for it.

  “I bet you’re starving. Tanner told us what happened in the diner. Why don’t you come through to the bar? We just ordered pizza.” Roxy took Beth’s glass from her and slipped her arm through Beth’s, tugging her out of the kitchen. She didn’t give Beth a chance to say no, which was probably just as well, given how thick her tongue felt in her mouth.

  The bar was a cacophony of music and chatter, and for a second Beth wanted to bolt. There were men lounging on sofas and playing pool, women dancing with each other and grinding against some of the men. The smell of beer hung thick in the air, along with something musty and dank she didn’t recognize. The lights were low, the music was aggressive. There was a heavy sense of carnality in the room, and Beth had a feeling Abram would expire of outrage on the spot if he could see it.

  The thought gave her courage and she let Roxy guide her to a table in the corner. She could see Tanner, or rather the back of him—his unkempt dark hair was unmistakable. He’d stripped off his leather jacket to reveal a T-shirt and a leather vest underneath, and she could see tattoos snaking all around his big arms. An older black man sat with him, dressed similarly, his vest decorated with patches. His thick, bushy beard put her in mind of a Viking, but there was a kindness in his face that she liked instinctively. The third person at their table was a black woman with thick, glossy hair that Beth envied immediately. She was laughing wildly at something Tanner had said, slapping his arm in an easy, affectionate way that Beth envied even more.

  Roxy all but pushed Beth down onto the stool next to Tanner’s. “Look who I found hiding in the kitchen! Beth, this is my old man, Judge, and this is Tamsin.”

  Tanner turned to smile at her, his entire face lighting up, and if the other two spoke, Beth didn’t notice. She smiled back, warmth threading through her. In the dim lights he looked enigmatic, a little dangerous, but for that beautiful smile. She wondered how she looked to him, dressed in someone else’s clothes. Not that the ones she’d been wearing when he found her were any better. Much worse, in fact.

  “You okay?” he asked her. “Sleep well?”

  She had to lean in to hear him over the music and he slid his arm round her shoulder as she did. It was a protective gesture that both soothed and stirred her. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Just hungry."

  "Well, take the edge off while we wait for pizza." Tamsin pushed a beer towards Beth.

  Beth hesitated, then thought of how furious Abram would be and accepted. She sipped her beer while the others chugged theirs, savoring the taste. Even so, by the time the pizza showed up, she was a little lightheaded, just enough that the room felt hot and her body felt fuzzy at the edges. It was a nice feeling, she decided, leaning closer in to Tanner. He still had his arm around her, his touch creating a simmering tension in her belly that she didn't have a name for. But that was nice too. She tried to keep track of the bubbling conversation around her, but compared to the heat of his body against hers, their talk didn't seem to matter.

  "When we're done eating, we should talk," Tanner said to her as she reached for a slice. Her stomach lurched a little, and she became aware of the group's eyes on her.

  "Of course," she said, not really sure what she was agreeing to.

  Roxy reached over from her seat on Judge's lap and squeezed Beth's knee. "Don't look so scared, honey."

  "Long as you're here, you're safe," Judge added. Tanner gave him a sharp look that Beth didn't understand, but the older man smiled at her, leaving her in no doubt he meant what he said.

  Still, she could only manage a couple of slices before she felt sick, and worry over what Tanner wanted to say erased both her appetite and the light buzz she'd got from the beer. She eased out from under his arm and stood up. Tanner jumped up immediately, knocking his stool over and earning a burst of laughter from Tamsin.

  "Let's go somewhere private," Tanner said to Beth, turning his glare briefly on Tamsin. She didn't seem to care anymore than Judge had.

  He took her out the front door, where they stood under a porch sheltered from the wind, and stared out at the rows of bikes and trucks together in silence for a few minutes. There was a touch of awkwardness between them that she hadn't felt inside. Well, there was really only one thing she could imagine he wanted to talk about, so she decided to break the silence.

  "You want to know what I'm doing, don't you? What I'm running from?" She hugged herself, both against the cold and the anxiety filling her.

  He glanced down at her, expression soft. His scowls may not have affected his friends, but his tenderness definitely affected Beth. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, hide away from the world there. "I've got an idea," he said, "but yeah, it would be good to hear it from you."

  She swallowed hard. "Okay." She couldn't look at him as she talked. It was much easier to stare into the darkness and let the words spill out. The sense that she shouldn't bad-mouth the Church was just so hard to shake off—if she didn't look at him, she could at least pretend she was just ... talking to herself. Thinking out loud.

  She could do this. She could.

  Chapter Six

  Beth's parents had joined the Church of the Serpentine Cross six months before Beth was born. Her father had left a year later. She didn't remember him, but her mother always described him in such virulent terms that Beth couldn't help but think that was a good thing. The Church had arranged a marriage for her mother with a good man, Samuel, and they'd had four children together. That was Beth's family. It wasn't an overly affectionate family, but there was a quiet love between them all.

  But that wasn't where the family ended. There was the Family, the Church itself. The little community that followed Abram and his teachings. Abram, a wild, bony figure who'd always reminded young Beth of a scarecrow. Abram, who plucked writhing snakes from wicker baskets every Sunday and shook them over his head while he talked of sin and transgression, of God and punishment. Abram, who came round the run-down houses of his congregation to whisper of the evils of the outside world, the sanctuary of the Church. You are safe here, he'd tell Beth and her sisters. Safe from wicked men and the corruption of the modern world. God will scourge them from the earth, but you will be safe.

  He was mesmerizing, with his snakes and his visions of a doomed world. Terrifying. His wife, Mary, was forever pregnant, a wan, gaunt figure silently pumping out babies. Sometimes her thin face or neck would display ugly bruises, but whenever Beth asked her mother why, she would be shushed and told to mind her business. Good girls held their tongues. Good girls obeyed.

  Life in the Church was one of constant work. Work to maintain their little house, which leaked in the winter, where the hot water was never quite hot enough, and where the stairs creaked dangerously when you ran up them. Work to watch over her younger sisters. Work to memorize the right parts of the Bible and Abram's teachings. There was a school for the children, but Beth had no idea if what she was learning was true or not. They were expected to take everything on faith, and faith was something she struggled with.

  She wasn't sure she could have faith in a God who apparently wanted so many of His children dead. She wasn't sure she could trust a God who would pick Abram as His voice. Where was the compassion and forgiveness in what Abram taught? Where was the kindness in a God who told his prophets to take venomous snakes to their breasts?

  When Beth was fifteen, Abram told her mother and Sam that she was ready for marriage. In a rare act of defiance, Beth's mother insisted she was too young, and still needed at home. Her siblings ranged in age from two to ten, and Beth's mother couldn't care for them all alone. Sam, of course, did little to help, because raising children was women's work. Abram dropped the matter, but afterwards Beth was always aware of him watching her, and she felt there was something poisonous in his eyes.

  When she was twenty, Mary died. It wasn't really a surprise to the commu
nity. She'd had thirteen children, and each one seemed to leave her more and more frail. Abram made a show of mourning, but it rang false to Beth. She watched him every Sunday, sweeping his gaze over the women of the Church and she wondered who he'd pick as his new bride.

  A few weeks before Beth’s twenty-second birthday, Abram came over for dinner. This was a huge event, verging on terrifying, and Beth’s mother bewailed the state of the house, forgetting that it was Abram who kept them from repairing the cracked window frames or the dying boiler in the first place. Beth’s gut churned the whole day as she pictured Mary’s black eyes and wasted body. She couldn’t eat the meal her mother served. She pushed the meat and vegetables around her plate nervously while Abram talked of duty and honor, and her parents nodded solemnly.

  Afterwards, her parents and Abram retreated into the front room, leaving Beth and her sisters to clean up. Beth felt dizzy and faint, barely able to concentrate on her chores. A grim sense of foreboding fell over her like a shroud. Once Abram left, her parents delivered the news. She was to be married. Her oldest sister, Hannah, could take over helping with the youngsters and the household management. Beth was to become Abram’s new bride.

  She’d known it was coming, but their words were still like ax blows, blunt and brutal. She barely managed to get outside before she threw up.

  “It won’t be until after your birthday,” Sam said, as if that made it any better. Beth punched her pillow that night, then cried into it, unable to shake cold visions of the future where Abram kept her pregnant and beaten until she was dead too.

  The day after her birthday, Abram cornered her alone in the kitchen. Her sisters were at a Bible study class, her parents were working. She realized later it had probably all been pre-arranged—how often was she ever alone? She’d been sat at the table, trying to mend a shirt that really needed to be thrown away, when he appeared in the doorway, his shadow falling across her.

  “I thought it would be prudent for us to talk before the wedding,” he said.

  Beth swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, keeping her eyes fixed on the shirt. “Oh?” Her voice trembled. She hated herself for it, but she simply couldn’t overcome it.

  She felt him move closer. “You shouldn’t be afraid to look at me, Bethany. I’ll be your husband soon.”

  When she still didn’t look up, he knotted his fingers in her hair and yanked her head up. She gasped in pain, eyes watering. Abram smiled.

  “You’ll quickly learn I’m an impatient man,” he told her. “But you’re a good, obedient girl, or so your mother assures me, so I’m sure we won’t have any problems once we’re man and wife, will we? Stand up, please.”

  He released her hair and Beth stood, chewing her lip to keep herself from crying. He pulled her into the middle of the kitchen and paced around her, like she was a horse he was assessing for purchase. She gasped again when he ripped her shirt open, exposing the dirty white bra underneath. He grabbed her by the hips, squeezing and tutting critically. “Narrow hips. Mary had good, strong hips.”

  “Sorry,” she heard herself saying distantly, as if she was watching herself on TV. His touch repulsed her, but she couldn’t pull away.

  He groped her breasts, flexing his fingers hard into her flesh, as if he was trying to bruise her. “You’re young, at least. And your mother is obviously fertile, so let’s hope you inherited that.” He sounded vaguely disappointed in her, and Beth wondered what he’d expected. He’d known her for her entire life—it wasn’t as if she’d been hiding childbearing hips and bountiful breasts away somewhere. He could have picked any woman in the Church. He had forced himself on her, not the other way round.

  He tilted her chin so she was forced to look at him, one hand still mindlessly roaming over her left breast. His touch was passionless, automatic. It made Beth feel infinitely worse. “Given my position within the Church, Bethany, it would not be improper for us to consummate our relationship before the actual marriage. God has chosen you as my bride—we are already wedded in heart and spirit.”

  Horror cut through Beth and it must have shown on her face. Abram frowned and pinched her breast, making her wince. “’Wives submit to your husbands as to the Lord,’” he intoned. “’For the husband is the head of the wife.’ Do you understand, Bethany?” A slow, menacing anger filled his voice and darkened his face.

  She tried to answer but her throat was too dry. Her skin crawled and she could almost feel herself shrinking under his glare and his touch. This would be her life, night after night, growing weaker and smaller under Abram’s dominion. Something inside her revolted. “Please,” she managed to say, keeping her eyes down, “please, can we wait? I want … I want to go to my marriage bed pure and humble before the Lord. This …” She waved her hand around the dingy kitchen, “this isn’t where we should …” She couldn’t quite spit out the word consummate, but something in her tone made Abram back off. He released her with one last, slow caress of her breast. She hugged herself, hiding her breasts from him.

  “You are a modest girl. You will make a good wife, a good example to the women of the Church.” He nodded, an oily smile on his face. She wondered if it had been some kind of test. If she’d submitted and let him have sex with her, would he have called her a whore and cast her out?

  It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. He was leaving, nodding politely to her as if he hadn’t just assaulted her. Beth didn’t dare breathe until he’d shut the front door and she knew he was really gone. Then, only then, did she cry. A bitter mix of fury and grief filled her, and she saw her life stretching out into dismal daily abuse at Abram’s hands. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

  She stared around the kitchen. The windows were clean but the frames were warped and rotting. The plates in the sink were chipped and the tiles underfoot were scuffed and cracked. The house was always cold, no matter what time of year it was. The clothes she wore had been her mother’s, and her own clothes would be handed down to Hannah eventually. Her mother and Sam always insisted happiness didn’t come from material possessions, but from the joy of the spirit. But Beth didn’t have either, so how was she supposed to know?

  She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t be his wife.

  Once the idea was in her head, she couldn’t get rid of it. It hung there like poisonous fruit, sweetly tempting and sickening at the same time. Where would she go? Could she really leave her sisters behind? What would she do? She had no skills, no formal education … Nothing.

  She sat down, realizing she was shaking.

  There was no other choice. She would run. She had to.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time Beth stopped speaking, Tanner was ready to kill someone. He balled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to slam them into the bricks. He had to wait a few seconds before he spoke, not trusting himself not to start yelling.

  "So this Nathaniel guy ..."

  "One of Abram's sons," Beth said. She was still staring ahead, unfocused. There was a soft pain in her voice, as if she was remembering something horrible. Tanner wanted to take it away from her. More than wanted—needed. He didn't want to hear that aching, or see the angst on her face.

  "Motherfuckers," he said. His body trembled with violence. He'd been here before, too many times. This was the trouble Nash accused him of borrowing, this rage that boiled away all common sense. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't stop it. The whole time Beth talked, he'd been picturing his sister, Melissa, bloodied and weeping and begging Tanner to help her.

  He snapped and smashed his fist into the wall with a yell. The abrasive shock of pain was almost refreshing. Beth yelped and jumped away from him, almost cowering, and Tanner's anger was doused immediately.

  "Oh fuck, Beth, no. I'm not gonna hurt you." He reached for her, but she shied away. He bit his lip, fighting frustration. After what she'd been through, how she'd lived, of course she was going to be scared. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I just ... I need ..." He needed to fight, that was what he needed. Drain the wild
ness from his system. He heaved a deep sigh. "Are they gonna keep coming after you, these Church bastards?"

  Beth nodded. "I think so. It's a question of pride. Abram won't be shamed before the Church." She hugged herself, shivering. "Perhaps ... If you'd be kind enough to give me a ride somewhere ..."

  "No!" He didn't mean to yell again, but there was just no fucking way he was dumping her somewhere. "No, Beth, no way. You can't run from shit like them. You can't let them beat you."

  "What choice do I have? I've got nothing, nobody—"

  He whirled round and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her hard against his chest. She gave a little gasp, staring up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "You've got me now," he said, an unexpected fierceness rising in him. Before he could think better of it, he kissed her.

  It was probably a mistake. But fuck, she felt good in his arms. She melted into him, opening herself to his possessive kiss and pressing her soft body against him eagerly. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet in his need to get as much of her as possible. She tasted sweet and fresh, and his cock hardened as he wondered if her cunt tasted as good as her lips. The thought spurred him to kiss her harder, deeper, sweeping his tongue over hers, then biting her lip. She moaned—half pain, half encouragement, but the sound cut through some of Tanner's blind lust.

  "Shit," he said, releasing her abruptly. "I shouldn't have done that."

  Her face crumpled and he realized too late how callous that sounded. He thumped the wall with less force, and ran his hands over his face, trying to compose himself.

  It wasn't easy. His cock was throbbing and his whole body felt hot and tight, wired for action. Beth stared at him with a mixture of hope and shame on her face, and all he wanted to do was snatch her back into his arms and start kissing her again. For starters, anyway. Everything else he wanted to do to her ...Well, fuck. She probably hadn't heard of half the things he wanted to do to her.