The Reformation of Marli Meade

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  I stopped at the fence, watching a long black snake slither out from behind a headstone and pass out of sight into the forest. “What is your church like?”

  “Like this. Tucked at the end of a long dirt road. Nothing near it for miles. Not quite as hard to get to. Probably a little bigger, the building and the number of congregants. But it’s basically the same. The message, the expectation.”

  “The demands?”

  He coughed. “Yeah. The demands.”

  I moved down the fence line, Queen Anne’s lace, aster, and clover growing along the rails by my feet, adding the only pops of color to the shadowy brown and green landscape.

  “They’re all the same—these churches,” he continued. When he spoke, I could tell he did so with great effort, like the physical act of releasing words from his throat caused him pain.

  “What do you mean?” I pulled a handful of clover out of the ground.

  He cleared his throat and I envisioned myself punching him right where the sound originated. “There are churches like this all over the South. They’re all isolated and hard to crack if you aren’t born into them, and all operate by the same set of rules and beliefs.”

  “What are you saying?” The clover started to wilt in my suddenly sweaty palm. “I thought our church was our church and that there were a few others like it…but are you saying that it’s part of a larger…network of churches?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. Your church. Mine. A hundred others spanning across I don’t know how many states.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I heard my parents talking about it. My dad is on some top secret board or whatever. The main church is tucked away somewhere in the Cumberland Mountains in Tennessee. I think it’s harder to find than even the smaller churches. There is no reason you would know this, though, unless your father told you. It’s not common knowledge.”

  “Why not?”

  “Dunno.” He launched into a coughing fit while I stumbled through the cemetery fence in silence, my mind full of webs and interlocking vines and invasive thoughts that wouldn’t settle into any pattern I could comprehend.

  I made my way to a small tombstone, the name Orpah carved into the surface. It was for Polly’s sister who would’ve turned five this year had she not died before her first birthday. She’d developed an illness that, untreated, had taken her life. The Church on the Mountain didn’t believe in doctors and modern medicine. Maybe a doctor could’ve helped Orpah. Maybe not.

  Her grave had a fresh bouquet of purple asters resting on it which meant Polly had been here not too long ago.

  “Um, is your mother buried in this cemetery? I was…sorry to hear she died.” Josiah stared at his hands as they clasped the fence.

  “She died when I was born.”

  “Yeah. I remember someone saying that.”

  I stole a glance at him. If he weren’t so uncomfortable in his own skin, he could be handsome. His skin wasn’t clear, but it wasn’t overwhelmed with acne, either. He was taller than Nate, who was several inches taller than I, but he had a mousy quality, an afraid of his shadow way of being that made him seem insignificant somehow. I could take him out with a swift kick to the nether regions if I wanted to.

  Without a word, I walked away, falling in step with the tail end of the congregation.

  Charles was ahead, standing at the river’s edge wearing dark slacks and a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. A belt cinched the too-big trousers at the waist making the fabric pucker. He wore a hat, not dissimilar to the one Nate owned.

  Edna stood off to the side of the river bank, fussing over the picnic table where the congregants placed casseroles, meats, sweet tea, and desserts. This was a day of celebration, and every Easter Sunday of my life had been spent here doing just this.

  The men of the congregation were gathered on the side of the river, talking, praying, watching Charles. The women hovered around Edna like agitated bees, each vying for a word or recognition from the preacher’s mother. Polly was there, with Mary and Samuel.

  Mary was being held up by Samuel and Polly like she couldn’t walk on her own. Her skin was pale, eyes sunken with dark circles underneath. She wore an ankle-length black dress. At one point she stumbled over a tree root and Samuel caught her before she hit the earth.

  As I watched them, a distinct wave of nausea swelled inside me. I thought about Nate’s kiss in the hallway, Nate walking me to the library…sitting across from me while I cried.

  Had I lost my mind?

  Josiah stopped at the water’s edge and dug a flat rock out of the muck.

  “What do you think of this marriage?” he asked.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.” He washed the rock off in the water.

  “I, um…” I tugged at the end of my braid. Would he run and tell Charles if I said I didn’t want to get married? Would he brand me willful and disobedient, landing me in Edna’s poor and angry graces and a bride by nightfall?

  But what did I have to lose? The wedding was already due to take place within a year, maybe as early as this summer. I had survived a night in the church. I could survive whatever else came my way.

  “I wish I were older.”

  “You are young.”

  “I just turned sixteen. It’s not like I’m almost seventeen.”

  When he didn’t respond, I went on.

  “I don’t have the faintest idea what it would mean to be someone’s wife. I mean, I’m completely oblivious.”

  Overhead a hawk circled, weaving in and out of the wispy cloud cover.

  When it passed out of sight, I turned to Josiah. “You’re eighteen?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s young, too, especially for a guy to marry. Isn’t it?”

  I dug my nails into the skin of my palms. Something in this conversation was productive. I just wasn’t sure what. “Do you want to get married?”

  “No.”

  Hope sprang alive like a red-hot flame. “You’re old enough to refuse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I brought my hands together like I was praying. “You’re old enough to refuse this marriage.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You don’t want to get married. Refuse.” Whining was not how I usually operated. It rarely garnered me anything other than a swift smack to the mouth, but I couldn’t help it. This might be my only chance at freedom. It would take time to find a new husband and maybe, just maybe, I would be eighteen before a new one was found, and I could simply walk away.

  “Josiah, please.”

  His expression hardened, making him, for the first time, ugly. “This is my only escape.”

  “What is?”

  “This wedding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Hope was such an elusive thing.

  “My only escape.”

  The hawk reappeared in the distance but I didn’t watch its ascent. Josiah was staring at me, leaning over until his face was inches from mine.

  “I hate my parents,” he whispered. “I hate the church. I hate everything about it.”

  “Then how is the wedding your escape?” The volume of my voice mimicked his. “You’re eighteen! You can do anything you want!”

  Mr. Lowe, standing near the edge of the water some yards away, was watching us, arms crossed over his chest.

  I stepped back as sadness, and defeat, spread across Josiah’s face. It was the worst possible expression his face could show. “I can’t do anything I want. If I marry you, I get my inheritance, but not before. Otherwise, I have no money, no nothing.”

  “Your inheritance?”

  “My grandfather made a small fortune in the coal mines before he took over as preacher for our church. He died five years ago and left the money to his grandchildren. I get my share when I marry.”

  “Well…well…can you find someone you actually like?” My shoulders sagged like weights had been attached to them. “Someone who’s
not me?”

  “No.” The word was like a kick in the gut. “I want out. Now. Not in a year. Two. Or five. Now.”

  I blinked several times.

  “And your grandmother seems eager to get you married. I’m sorry, but it’s a perfect fit.”

  It was not a perfect fit.

  “But if we marry, won’t we be stuck with your family? With your church? It seems almost as bad as mine, and if what you’re saying about all these churches under the same umbrella is true, it is as bad.”

  He picked up another rock.

  “Do you mean to run away then? After we’re…married? Where will we go?”

  As he looked at me, I realized how wrong I was. The previous expression had nothing on the one that spread across his face now—one of pity.

  He would take his inheritance and leave, leave me with his parents. I would move from one Edna to another, from one tyrannical father to another, from one church to another.

  I collapsed and pulled my knees under my chin, rocking back and forth, desperate for any ounce of solace. Josiah glanced around and fell down beside me.

  “Look.” He coughed. “I’m sorry. I could take you with me, but really…” He pulled a weed out of the ground and ripped out the white petals with one harsh tug. “I need a clean break. You can then, you know, go back to your home.”

  My heart exploded in a million painful splinters.

  CHARLES EASED INTO the water as the congregants gathered. Dull silvery clouds floated by, keeping the air cool and the threat of rain ever present. Edna started an Easter hymn, her voice forceful and strong and slightly off-key. On the second verse, she raised her hands inviting the congregation to join in.

  As voices filled the air, Betty Jean lumbered into the water until it was hip deep. Charles laid one long, bony hand on her arm, one on her forehead.

  “Then Peter said unto them…” The Bible verse tumbled out of Charles’s mouth. “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost!”

  He shoved Betty Jean under the water. “I baptize you, Betty Jean Rutledge, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!”

  Several men helped lift her out of the water. The next person came forward, and then the next and the next. I held back as long as I could, but a piercing glare from Edna told me it was my turn and I better get in line and get in line now. The water washed over my feet, rose to my calves, causing the skirt to suck in against my skin. Soon, I stood in front of my father.

  “Marlina Emmaline Meade, do you accept Jesus Christ as your savior?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you accept that you are descended from God’s Eden serpent and that you have a special mission while on this earth, to deny temptation and evil? To repent and purify?”

  “Yes.”

  He clutched my shoulder, long fingers digging into my flesh like a clamp. I tried to slide away but his grasp was too strong.

  His other hand found my forehead and without warning, he shoved me deep into the river. The bumpy, rocky bottom dug into my back as he pushed down…down.

  And held me there.

  My lungs started to scream. Sharp rocks cut into my skin. I grabbed at his hands but they were cold and unmoving. Terror shot through me like a flaming arrow.

  He’s going to kill me.

  The current lifted my feet.

  He knows about Nate and he’s going to kill me.

  The world started to blacken.

  With one final effort, I dug my nails into his skin until his flesh gave way. Only at the last moment, as darkness encroached like an oncoming storm, did he yank me out of the water.

  I stumbled into Betty Jean’s hands, gulping air as water ran down my face.

  “Be careful, daughter-mine,” he said, eyes unblinking. “Do not tempt God’s hand.”

  Edna stood to the side, her gaze mirroring her son’s.

  I fought my way out of the water and darted into the forest. Water poured from my hair, dripping off my long, heavy clothes until a puddle surrounded my feet. The river lay before me, congregants milling at the edge like good little holy soldiers.

  It took several minutes but my breath was finally starting to slow when I saw someone on the other side of the river, weaving through the trees like a black-clad ghost. Squinting, I could tell it was a man. At first I thought it was Nate, sneaking up like he had at church that day. But it wasn’t. The figure was too tall and bulky, face obscured beneath a low hood.

  The congregants sang their devotion in high clear voices, oblivious to anything but God’s Holy Spirit. An enormous dark cloud obliterated any direct sunlight, and a deep chill settled into my skin. The man passed in and out of the grasping shadows of the forest, weaving in and out of the trees until he drew close enough for me to see his face.

  It was my Uncle Robert.

  He was staring at me, eyes sunken in his pale face, his beard adding an unrelenting wildness to his expression. In his hand was the flattened head of a black snake, pierced between thumb and palm, its body alive and writhing around his leg.

  Why would he be here? Lurking in the shadows?

  Staring at me?

  He lifted the snake and held it out toward me. Was it a sort of warning? An omen? I had no idea, but I could tell he was trying to tell me something.

  The snake’s body thrashed through the air, desperate for solid ground and safe cover. With a quick toss, Robert launched the snake into the air, its muscles mirroring a slithering motion while it soared until it finally landed on the ground and quickly disappeared into the woods.

  I clutched the rough tree bark to keep from falling to the ground, for once glad to be surrounded by this meager congregation.

  ARE YOU GOING to the library?” Nate fell into step beside me as I hurried to my locker. It was a damp and cloudy Monday morning, a soft patter of rain painting the world gray.

  “I am.”

  “Mind if I come? I think I could use some quality reading time today. I’ve been lax in my literary duties as of late.”

  I forced a chuckle that died at the release. My mind was in a murky place today, with ghosts and demons and dark sinister clouds floating in its midst.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know.” But I did know, didn’t I?

  “Did something happen at home?”

  I scanned the hall but it was empty. “Yes…and no. I can’t explain it. Nothing happened, I guess. I just feel it.”

  “Feel what?”

  “Something bad is about to happen. It’s stupid, I know. I mean, I’m engaged to be married. That’s bad enough, right? But I feel like it’s something else. Something worse…and it’s going to happen to me directly.” Either I was going to be married to Josiah, or Edna would bury me within the church. Then there was Charles. Had he tried to drown me yesterday or was I insane?

  Delusional?

  And Robert…What was he trying to tell me with that snake? Or was he threatening me? If I found a snake under my bed one of these nights, I felt sure I would know how it got there.

  Was there nowhere I could feel safe?

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.” Nate bent in front of me. It took a moment before I could meet his eye. “I won’t,” he said.

  “There’s nothing you can do. I talked to Josiah and tried to get him to refuse this stupid marriage.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Not good. He gets some sort of inheritance if he marries. He’s in it. There is no trying to find someone else. He wants married yesterday.”

  “He wouldn’t stand up for himself anyway.” Nate rubbed a hand over his chin. “Let’s just go. Let’s leave.”

  “What?” I shook my head to clear it in case I didn’t hear him correctly.

  “We can leave.”

  “And go where?”

  “Anywhere. Mexico. California. Canada. What does it matter? You can’t stay here.”r />
  I studied his face, absorbing the angles of his jawline, the swell of his cheekbone. “Why?”

  “Why? What kind of question is that? You can’t stay here is why.”

  “But what about you? Why would you want to just run away with me? Leave your family behind for someone you barely know?”

  He huffed and walked away, took three steps then turned back. He stopped in front of me, lips parted. Then he threw his hands in the air and started to pace. “I don’t know why. It’s a mystery to me. Maybe I just like lost causes.” He stopped in front of me again. “But I do. I care like I’ve never cared for anyone before.”

  “You’re wasting your time.” My voice cracked. “I’m done. There isn’t anything I can do to change it.”

  “There are always options.”

  “Yeah? What are they?” It was hopeless to try and keep the sound of defeat out of my tone. There was no future for me and Nate. There wasn’t even a chance, a wish, a dream of what might have been. Somehow that felt like the greatest tragedy of all.

  “Look, Marli. I don’t know you very well. You certainly don’t know much about me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “Nothing. I mean, we don’t know anything about each other. But I do know that I want to get to know you better, and if you’re married to Josiah, I can’t do that.”

  His words didn’t make sense. As simple as they were, they were full of webs and arms and long-reaching implications I couldn’t even begin to decipher.

  “There’s just something about you.”

  “There is?” My heart burst into a fast, fluttering rhythm.

  “Yeah. I mean…you’re beautiful. I love your crazy hair. It’s unlike any color I’ve ever seen. And those dark eyes that, I don’t know, make me not want to look away…” He glanced at my mouth. “Unless I’m looking at those insane lips.”