The Reformation of Marli Meade

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  “He says the truck is your father’s and that he had permission to use it when needed.”

  “That’s true,” Mr. Porter confirmed, “but I gave the truck to Jude. It’s his now.”

  “Did Nate know this transaction had taken place, or did he still believe the truck was yours and there for his use?”

  Mr. Porter shrugged, sucking loudly on the cigarette.

  “Forget the truck. What about the money?” Jude asked.

  “We have the truck and the money, yes. We have also taken the liberty to examine the inside of the truck.”

  Jude blanched. “Whatever you found was Nate’s.”

  “Do you want to know what we found anyway?”

  “You had no right to go through my truck. Just give it back to me and keep that little shit in jail.”

  “Hmm…well, I’m not so sure it works that way. We found several interesting items.”

  Jude launched into a tirade of curses and threats.

  Mr. Porter pulled his cigarette out of his mouth, examined the tip, and inserted it back between his lips.

  “We have a team dispatched as we speak, heading out toward the old abandoned Turner farmland.”

  Jude paled as his jaw clenched.

  “What will we find there, Mr. Porter?”

  “Nothing. I ain’t ever been out there. I don’t know nothin’ about it.”

  “Hmm…” The sheriff used the brim of his hat to scratch his head. “That’s interesting because I found a map in the truck, tucked way under the seat with directions to this little farm you’ve never been to. Have you used your father’s truck often?”

  “All the time,” Mr. Porter answered in place of Jude. It seemed he had no care to try and protect his son.

  Jude stepped back, distancing himself from Ambrose who had yet to take her eyes off him. “It’s Nate. He’s been running that meth ring. That piece of paper, all that money. It’s all his. You said yourself he’d been the one who had the truck. That stuff is his.”

  “Hmm…” The sheriff walked to the counter, grabbed a folder and returned. “Is this you?” He pulled out a picture and held it in front of Jude’s face.

  Jude’s eyes darted around the room, manic and crazed, like a cornered rat. Mr. Porter leaned forward to see the picture but made no comment and returned to his spot against the wall like none of this affected him in the least.

  “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “It proves that you were exchanging something for money with this teenage boy who died later that day from a drug overdose.”

  “You have no proof.”

  “This picture does paint a certain image, doesn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t paint anything. Who are you, Pic-ass-o?”

  “The handwriting on the map isn’t Nate’s.”

  “So?”

  “So. We have a sample of your handwriting, and it’s an exact match to your chicken scratch.”

  Sheriff Wilton nodded to Ambrose and she pulled out a set of cuffs.

  “Read him his rights.” Sheriff Wilton spit in Jude’s direction, a more symbolic move than anything else since nothing left his mouth. “Mr. Porter, your elder son is under arrest for running a meth ring that spans the tristate area.”

  Mr. Porter didn’t answer, or in any way acknowledge he’d heard and understood the sheriff’s words.

  Jude wrapped his arms over his chest, refusing to let Ambrose near him. “You piece of shit! You can’t arrest me!”

  “Cuff him,” the sheriff told Ambrose.

  Ambrose jerked one of Jude’s arms behind his back and had him cuffed before a new string of curses could escape his dry, cracked lips.

  “Go on, boy,” Mr. Porter directed. “I might bail you out.”

  Jude spewed hateful, threatening curses as Ambrose shoved him down a long hallway.

  “And as for young Nate’s future…” The sheriff turned to the father. “He is with his lawyer and PO at the courthouse, asking for emergency emancipation. And since your other son is a known drug dealer and you are under suspicion of child abuse, and the evidence being quite overwhelming, I’m sure the emancipation will be granted.”

  Mr. Porter’s mouth fell open, allowing the soaked, crooked cigarette to escape and fall to the floor. “I’m leaving.” He pushed off the wall.

  “I’ll want to talk to you again real soon. Don’t be going and skipping town or anything.”

  Mr. Porter stomped on the cigarette then clomped out the door, a trail of his foul stench lingering long after his truck drove away.

  UNCLE ROBERT?”

  We were still at the station and he was staring out the window again, a place I realized he often lingered.

  “Hmm?”

  Outside, twilight was descending. Wispy clouds hung low and fog was rolling in.

  “Um, I’m not going back, am I?”

  He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “I don’t know. We have some things to work out.”

  “But no one has asked me what I want. Don’t I get a say for once?”

  “What do you want?”

  Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? I wanted to be consulted, but didn’t know enough of the world to know what was best for me. Nate becoming emancipated made sense. Could I? I wouldn’t know where to begin and wasn’t sure I wanted to be completely on my own.

  “I’m not sure what my options are.”

  “To be honest with you, I’m not either. Would you want to return to the mountain?”

  “No.” I hurled the word out like it was rotten. I ran a hand over the smooth surface of my new jeans and looked down at my body. I finally felt like a real person, not a shell of something someone else expected. These clothes had brought me to life, and I was not willing to throw that away.

  But the mountain was the only thing I knew—the church, its teachings, the people, the land. They were in my blood, weren’t they? How would I feel if I quit them now? Severed all ties?

  That couldn’t possibly be an option, though. There was nowhere else for me to go.

  “There is one option.” It was like he read my mind.

  “What is it?”

  The last remnants of twilight evaporated, leaving darkness across the expanse.

  “You could come and live with me.”

  This was my only other option—to live in the tiny cabin with an uncle I didn’t know at all?

  “I still have the house in town.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded.

  But…live with him?

  I wasn’t so sure.

  Just then Nate returned and when he saw me, he sprang forward. “Marli.” And I was in his arms, breathing him in like oxygen.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked into his neck.

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

  Someone cleared his throat and Nate eased his grip.

  “Nate,” said a short, balding man with a sheen of sweat on his top lip. “We need to meet first thing tomorrow to work on getting you an apartment and a job.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The lawyer offered a brisk nod and walked out the door.

  “What did the judge say?” I asked.

  “What are you wearing?” Nate asked.

  “Oh.” I glanced down. “Um, regular clothes?” I asked like I wasn’t sure myself what I was wearing.

  “Well…” His gaze traveled up and down my body. “Wow.”

  A warm blush spread across my cheeks. “Really?”

  “Um, yeah. This pair of jeans? They’re really working for you.”

  I giggled, heat searing into every cell I had.

  “Let’s sit.” Nate pulled me to the bench where he’d been cuffed only hours before. “The judge granted the emergency petition, and there will be another hearing in six weeks.”

  “That’s amazing!” I kissed his cheek. “Where will you live?”

  “We’re going to figure that out tomorrow morning. I have to get a job that pays enough to afford rent
. Plus, I agreed to finish high school, which I would’ve done anyway.”

  “That’s going to be hard, though, right? Working and going to school?”

  “Nah. School has always come easy to me. I never devoted much time to it and have managed all right.”

  I nodded, running my fingertips over the back of his hand.

  “I do have to spend tonight in jail, though.”

  “What? No!” I said, suddenly furious.

  “It’s okay. I did take that money, and I don’t really have anywhere to stay anyway. So I’ll stay here tonight. There’s a bed, heat, running water…all that jazz. And I even get a hot breakfast. It sounds a whole lot better than what I’m coming from.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Look, things are finally settling on my side of the court. I’m considered a legal adult. It’ll take a few days to find a place to live and a job, but that’s okay. I used to work for a gas station in Briarsville and I know they can take me on again. If I agree to do mechanic work, I’ll get paid even more.”

  “Will you try to find a place here?”

  Brown eyes met darker brown ones and held them in an invisible lock. “I won’t leave you.”

  “I don’t want you to. I don’t know what—I don’t know…what I would do without you.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” he whispered. “I’m invested. In you. I’m invested in you and there is no way I would leave.”

  After several quiet moments, he pulled his gaze away and his eyes traveled over my body. “By the way, you really do look hot.”

  I burst out laughing. “You’ll never believe how I got these new clothes.”

  “Do tell. I have all the time in the world.”

  While Sheriff Wilton talked with Robert, and Ambrose argued with someone on the phone, I told Nate about Heather and her strange and unexpected generosity. When I left the station at eight o’clock that night, abandoning Nate to his night in jail, I felt a bizarre, and unexpected sliver of peace. Maybe, possibly, perhaps things would turn out okay. What a foreign concept that was.

  “WHAT’S GOING TO happen to the church and to Charles and Edna?” I sat in the front seat of Robert’s truck as he drove to his house in town. I agreed to stay there tonight and would decide about tomorrow…tomorrow.

  “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

  “I still don’t understand, though…what is your role in all this? I mean, I know you loved my mother.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “But what does the sheriff have to do with it? And why were you living on the mountain?”

  “I’ve been working with the sheriff since the day he left the mountain and became sheriff. After what happened to Sarah….” He cleared his throat. “I decided to move to the cabin and make sure the agreement to stop the punishings was kept. And to look after you. I couldn’t just leave Sarah’s child.”

  The road ran along the base of the mountain, snuggled against it like a beam holding up the wall of a building. Robert turned onto Main Street, passing businesses, empty buildings, the library.

  “So you were supposed to make sure no punishings happened?”

  Robert hit his thumb against the steering wheel like he was trying to spur himself on. He nodded.

  “We were taught about them,” I said, trying to fill the heavy sound of silence. “But we were told they didn’t happen anymore. I couldn’t believe when they did that to Mary. Polly’s sister was pregnant. She got pregnant by a guy at school. They took her to the church and had a ceremony there. They even had a snake.” I shuddered. “Then they dragged her to the river. She was screaming and terrified and it was awful. Then Edna took that hot marking stick and burned her arm.” I stared out the window. “I can still smell it.”

  “I wasn’t on the mountain that night. Otherwise, I would’ve intervened…done something. I’m just glad we were able to put a stop to it before things got out of hand this morning.”

  “Me too,” I whispered.

  The next mile passed in silence as the truck rolled down the road. Ten minutes later Robert pulled into the short gravel driveway of a narrow two-story house.

  “Was my mother ever here?” I slid out of the truck and walked forward on hesitant feet.

  “A few times.” Robert scoured the exterior. “I’ll never sell this place. To me, it still smells like her.”

  His pain was palpable and it mixed with mine, like a balloon doubling in size in my heart.

  “Was the sheriff there at…my mom’s punishing?” It was hard to get the words out.

  “He was the one who raced off the mountain to get me, but it was too late.” He paused for several minutes, his eyes staring at the house, his mind a million miles away. “They didn’t even bury her body. It was lying on the ground outside the church. Maybe they were going to later. Maybe they weren’t. After that day, Wilton left the church, became sheriff, and put a stop to it.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry if this is too much information. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I need to know,” I managed, though hearing these details was more painful than a knife to the gut.

  “When night fell, I took her body and gave her a proper burial. I marked her grave by planting a blackthorn tree.”

  “To protect her.”

  “To protect her in the way I never could.”

  The air was thick with moisture as dark, ominous clouds floated by overhead.

  “Let’s head in. We can talk more later.” Robert walked onto the porch but stopped and turned his head. “That okay?”

  I blinked several times. “That’s okay.”

  Robert slid a key into the lock and pushed open the door. He passed through but I stopped, feeling such a disturbing sense of déjà vu I wasn’t sure I wanted to proceed. My mother had passed over this porch and into this house, eager for a better life for herself, and she had died a dreamer. I did not want the same fate.

  “You coming?” He was watching me closely.

  Did he see my mother when he looked at me?

  Edna used to say I looked like her. Was he seeing a ghost? For his sake, it was probably helpful that my hair was black as coal.

  I walked inside.

  The front door opened into a living room that was airy and bright, lit by a small table lamp that illuminated mismatched furniture, a rug, and piles of books. A staircase was nestled on the right. Straight ahead was a narrow hallway I assumed led to the kitchen.

  “This is home.” Robert seemed self-conscious and uncertain.

  “I like it. It’s nice.”

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go to the grocery store tomorrow and get some things. You’re welcome to come with me if you want, or you can give me a list.”

  My feet were planted on the hardwood floor. I had never been in a house other than my own and Polly’s. It was unsettling and strange. The air smelled different down here at the bottom of the mountain, and the light was softer as if it lost its severity the farther it traveled away from the peak. The ground beneath my feet was charged with a different energy.

  “Marli?” He seemed as uncomfortable as I did.

  “I’m okay.”

  “It’ll take a while.”

  “I know.”

  “Come on. I’ll show you the bedroom where you can stay.”

  He switched on lights as he went, showing feather-gray walls bare of photographs or decoration. Upstairs was a narrow hallway that led to three bedrooms and a bathroom.

  “Here’s where you can stay.” Robert opened a door at the far end. “It’s not ready for company….” His words hung in the air.

  I slid to a stop, as did my breath, like my body and my breath had both just run into a concrete wall.

  A break in the clouds allowed the moonlight to cast enough light to show that this wasn’t a guest room. It was a nursery.

  There was a crib against the left wall, complete with baby elephant bedding and stuffed animals. Between the crib and the wall was a rocki
ng chair, the fabric similar in color to the bedding. On the right wall was a dresser that held a lamp with an elephant base and a photograph.

  I lifted the picture and turned on the lamp for a better view.

  It was a picture of my mother with a young Robert, his arms around her waist, peering over her shoulder at the camera. They weren’t smiling, rather their expressions were timid and afraid, as if a demon was lurking around the corner and they had to hurry if they wanted to capture that moment. But there was something intimate about the way they held each other that was unsettling, like I was witnessing a very private moment not meant for my eyes.

  “Who took this?”

  “A buddy of mine on one of the rare occasions she got off the mountain.”

  “This was my nursery, wasn’t it?”

  Why was it still here?

  He nodded.

  “Oh.” I walked around the room.

  Robert and my mother had designed a room for me sixteen years ago. His plan to rescue Sarah had carried down to Sarah’s unborn child. This was where I would’ve lived. How different would my life have been?

  I fell into the rocking chair, overwhelmed.

  “Um, if you decide to stay, you can redecorate. For now I can put in a blow-up mattress so you can have your own space. That’ll be better than sleeping on the couch downstairs.”

  I started rocking, back and forth.

  “Marli?” Robert coughed from the doorway like he was trying to fill the silence with sound, any sound. “I’ll go make some dinner. Come down when you’re ready.”

  The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone. And alone was what I felt…which didn’t make sense. For as long as I could remember I yearned to break away from the church, to run toward freedom. But now…I didn’t want to go back, though I also wasn’t sure how to go forward. Edna and Charles were my family, the only family I knew. The congregants of the little church made up my extended family. How could I go on without them?

  I wished Nate was here. The thought of him asleep in a cold cell made my blood boil. Probably because I knew what it felt like—to be imprisoned. I’d often felt trapped up on that mountain—locked in my own cell that consisted of the four harrowing walls of the church and the confines of my home.