Break My Fall (The Breaking Trilogy Book 1)

by M. Mabie

  As quickly as I could, I looked through the bathroom cabinet, but only found empty bottles still on the shelves. Three different brands, all empty. Had I known Jacob needed them replaced, I would have added them to my shopping list.

  Since there were no pain relievers, I quickly wet a washcloth to cool down my face and neck. I selfishly allowed myself a minute, and then returned to the table where I’d kept Abraham waiting. He’d drank some of his water, and I considered re-filling it before I sat down, but I’d already wasted enough of his time, and I took my seat.

  “Myra. I’m not angry with you.” His hand reached toward mine, but I dodged it and rested my palms together on my lap. “I’m concerned,” he said.

  His face was softer, and the pinched spot above this nose had relaxed.

  “That’s thoughtful of you, but I’m fine.”

  “Are you attending the Men’s Legacy Board meeting today?”

  He must not have understood how those worked. He didn’t even wear a ring. “I didn’t know there was one. Only Legacy men attend them. Why would I go?” He’d been away from Lancaster for a long time.

  Abraham readjusted in his seat and dragged his teeth over his top and bottom lips before he spoke. “The meeting is about you.”

  Me?

  That was odd. The Legacy Board usually met on Friday nights, at least when Father attended, and it was Saturday.

  I couldn’t hold my posture, and I sagged into the hard back of my wooden chair.

  “They called a special meeting for the Legacies and some, maybe all, of your brothers to decide what they’ll do with you.”

  It wasn’t any of my business what the Legacies discussed, I reminded myself, but I felt lanced and hoped it didn’t show. Sometimes things were difficult to accept, and this was one of those times. Surely, I wasn’t the first widow the board had to assist.

  I leaned on God. “Well, I’ve been praying for guidance. It’s a blessing to have such intelligent men handling things.”

  “Don’t you think you should have some say in what happens?”

  The roses on the placemat in from of me blurred as I stared at them. They became one ball of red and pink. “They’ll know what’s best.”

  He switched chairs, taking the one on the end beside me and he leaned closer, but I didn’t dare move.

  “How can they possibly know what’s best or know at all what you want, if you don’t know yourself?” Abraham’s voice was gentle, and it comforted the tenderness in my chest, but his words made it ache more.

  What would it matter if I had known what I wanted? Everything was up to the Legacies, and I wasn’t a disobedient woman. I’d never even had a single hour of Service and Testimony. Marching around the church square with my missteps written on a sign sounded like torture. Not to mention sitting in front of the church with it during Sunday service and asking the congregation, your family, Pastor, and God for forgiveness.

  There was nothing I could do but trust in God.

  I leaned away but turned to face him. “Is that why you’re in town? Are you going?”

  “I am,” he told me. “And I’ve come here to talk to you and tell you what I know so far—which might not be much—and give you some options they might not explain to you. Then I’d like to go speak on your behalf. Whether it’s just to tell them to give you more time to think or to tell them what you want.”

  “But why are you here doing this? Why not one of my brothers or your father?” Why would they send someone I didn’t know very well? That seemed inconsiderate, or maybe I was just ungrateful and petulant.

  He scratched his beard and propped his elbow on the table top. “Do you want me to be brutally honest with you?”

  The word brutally seemed gruesome and made my stomach ache. I was confused and shrugged, unsure if I wanted to know or not. Some things women simply didn’t need to know.

  “I’m here doing this because what they’re doing isn’t right. And they’re not here because they don’t care about what you want. They’ll put you wherever is the most beneficial for them, not you.”

  Brutal was accurate.

  “Like where?”

  Through my confusion, I realized God had answered my prayers, and although it wasn’t what I’d expected, he’d sent Abraham there to give me answers.

  “I’m not sure of all their suggestions, and I’m aware people are bringing some to the table today. One possibility is for you to go to another widower.”

  I knew of a few ladies who shared a duplex near the hotel. They were widows too, but much older than me. They had been married to brothers and had sons who were band holders. I wasn’t sure how I’d fit in there, but I could be of service to them.

  “At least I’d be with other women who know how this goes.”

  His mouth lifted on one side, but it wasn’t a smile. “Well, that’s an option, but I was talking about bereaved husbands. It was suggested that since you’re so young, you’d possibly remarry a widowed Legacy to give them more children.”

  Another husband? An older one who I’d sure lose sooner than later? Then I’d be right back in the same position?

  I reached for his half glass of water and drank the rest of it, and when I sat the glass down, Abraham walked it to the kitchen and refilled it.

  “Thank you,” I choked out. I hated the sensation growing inside me to cry. My face started to twitch, and my ears popped when I fought a sob from slipping past my puckered lips, but the tears spilled anyway. I turned away from him and wiped them away with my shaky fingers.

  “It’s okay.”

  “I don’t think I would like that,” I confessed, my voice falling out every other word.

  “Listen to me. If you don’t want that, then I won’t let it happen.”

  I was embarrassed of my emotions, but he sounded so strong, and he was there talking to me. Comforting me. God had worked on his heart because I believed he wanted to help and that was a good thing because I’d never felt more helpless in all my life.

  “You won’t?”

  He shook his head no. The rage was back in his eyes, but he was too tender and patient while I poorly handled my situation.

  “Also, your brother Michael said that maybe you could live with them.”

  Denise had been so curt with me.

  He added, “Actually, for the sake of being honest, he said he could use the extra pair of hands at home. One of your brothers said he didn’t want another mouth to feed.”

  That was so hurtful. No wonder they didn’t invite women to meetings.

  “What else?” I asked, wanting it all out there.

  “I’m not sure, I only heard those three options first hand, but I’m sure there are other suggestions they’ll discuss. Most will be like those though, I’m sure.”

  “I’m not sure what to think.” It was a true test of my faith. Either I believed in everything I’d been taught about the Banded Legacy members and how they acted on behalf of God, Himself, and then let them decide my fate—possibly one that didn’t sound at all appealing. Or I could ask Abraham, an outsider, what he thought.

  I had no clue what his morals were or whether he was a good man or the rouge vagrant I’d been told he was.

  No, he was there. Asking me what I wanted, and they weren’t.

  There was something very loyal to that, something trustworthy. He had nothing to gain or lose either way, and he’d taken time out of his Saturday to help me.

  I’d prayed for him. Was this God working inside him? Was this God’s way of showing me the right path? I wasn’t positive, but that idea soothed me.

  There was one way to know if I could trust Abraham. One way to be sure. Something my father had done for me before he got lost inside his head, and it had always made things better.

  Men’s words were closer to the ears of God.

  “Will you pray over me, Abraham?”

  17

  Abe

  I didn’t believe in praying over people, not the way they did. What she wa
s asking me to do was pray on her behalf, and the notion that her prayers weren’t as powerful as mine was only more proof of how wrong the women in that town had been treated.

  They’d been groomed into submission. Trained to accept their second-class lives.

  I couldn’t help them all, but I could help her.

  She was scared, that was obvious, and seeking her faith to cope. I didn’t see anything wrong with that, but I wasn’t the kind of man she was used to. And even to make her feel better, more comfortable, I wouldn’t pretend to be one of them.

  I would support her if it meant she might choose to set herself free. But she needed reassurance to believe me.

  I compromised. “I’ll pray with you.”

  I hadn’t prayed out loud in years, but as she closed her eyes and bowed her head, I took note of her banded right hand, and I spoke to Him without hesitation.

  “God, please help me today. Guide me to do the next right thing. Please give Myra the strength to trust me and the confidence to trust herself. Amen.”

  I hoped that was enough.

  “Amen,” she whispered. “Thank you. Do you pray a lot?”

  I nodded. Yes.

  After leaving Lancaster, I hadn’t been asked about my faith or religion much. Most people aren’t interested in how or when someone else prays, but I did believe, and it was important for her to know that. I wasn’t there to preach, I was there to tell her the truth and give her a voice.

  “I know Lancaster is your home, and if you want to stay here and accept what comes, that’s your choice. But you have other options. As far as I see it, if Jacob owns this house, then it belongs to you, according to the law, but I doubt they’ll tell you that. I’m sure my father already has his hands in Jacobs affairs, in terms of his insurance and estate. If you want to fight for the house and stay in Lancaster, I’ll help you get a lawyer who doesn’t live here to sort it out. Fairly.”

  “If I don’t do what the Legacies want, then I’ll be punished.”

  It was true. If she chose to stay, they could make it difficult on her. She’d be shamed for her disobedience. They’d make sure she was uncomfortable, probably until she cracked.

  That’s what had driven the Griers from Lancaster thirty years ago. They couldn’t get pregnant, and my grandfather suggested their marriage be annulled and that they remarried others. When they resisted, he went as far as publicly asking his congregation to quit praying for their bands and for them to have children. He told the whole town God didn’t approve of their rings and that that was why they hadn’t been blessed.

  The Griers didn’t agree and left.

  My grandfather had been wrong. They had Ashley, their only child, a few years after they bought the mill. They were blessed.

  “Or you can leave. You’ll have a place to stay. You can get an education or a job. Outside of this town isn’t what they’ve told you. It’s not Hell on Earth. There are good people and opportunities.”

  “But I’ll be banished.”

  She needed someone to embrace her and hold her, someone who could empathize. I wanted to, but that would only cause her more stress.

  So, I did what I could from a few feet away, employing the calmest volume. “If you choose to leave, that won’t matter.”

  She whispered as if she was fearful someone might hear her. “I’ll lose my family. My father.”

  Where her face had been flushed hot from being outside, she was pale now, and her blue eyes were red-rimmed. She was slumped and tense, curling into herself. Leaving was more terrifying than the options I’d told her, more startling to her than being punished.

  I wanted to creep inside her and show her what strength felt like, because if she had just a taste of it, she’d realize how powerful she was. Only they didn’t teach women how to be strong. No, a strong will wasn’t how a Godly woman behaved.

  Sadly, even my mother was a victim of her own false Godliness.

  But I wasn’t in Lancaster for my mother. She lived the way she wanted, the way she chose, married to the Pastor. Myra wasn’t going to have a life like that, regardless of whether she stayed. She’d either become some old man’s second wife, or she’d be enslaved somewhere to live a life of servitude.

  There wasn’t a damned Godly thing about it.

  So until she was strong enough to fight for herself, I was committed to doing it for her.

  “Will you trust me?” I asked.

  18

  Myra

  I was scared. Scared to move. Scared to speak. Scared to even think about what Abraham had told me.

  I felt weak and small.

  Why was this happening to me?

  I wasn’t sure about anything.

  “Myra, please look at me.”

  It took effort, but I did as he asked. Hopeful and compassionate, he held me with his gaze. His hazel eyes were serious, but also a surprising source of comfort as they searched me. They felt warmer still when his head slightly tipped to one side.

  “If you decide to leave, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t lose anything, not even your family. You have a lot to think about before the meeting.” How could one man be so intimidating and so kind at the same time? “Do you trust me to speak on your behalf? To protect you?”

  I believed he’d told me the truth. Not that anyone else was lying to me, that I was aware of. They weren’t telling me anything at all. For that and how he looked at me—not through me—I did trust him.

  More than that, I trusted God. He’d sent Abraham to me.

  “Yes,” I answered, and the second the words passed my lips I felt peace return. Some of the burning in my chest extinguished, and I straightened.

  His smile seemed foreign, but I welcomed it.

  “Okay, then. I have an errand to run right now.” He stood, and my eyes followed him up. Appreciating how nice he looked, I wondered if the changes he’d made were for me and just the idea of that rooted itself deep within my chest. “I’ll be back. Until then, decide what you want. What you need to be happy. Don’t worry about anyone else. Just yourself.”

  That was selfish, but doing what he asked came easily. His voice, his stature, and his presence almost demanded it. Having him speak for me, represent me, gave me optimism. Abraham and his dominance were there for me, and they were gifts.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  The grin had slipped off his face, but I didn’t mind because once again he looked headstrong. His fierceness was on my side, and I felt its power working.

  His hand lifted, and I froze. Slowly, he neared the side of my head, and I wanted to lean into it, but I didn’t. He stopped short of touching my cheek, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, his air passed over my face and then he drew his hand back to himself.

  “I’ll be back,” he said through clenched teeth, but I wasn’t afraid of him like I had been before. I wanted him to be strong now.

  He left me at the table with another full glass of water, and I did what he’d asked me to. I thought about what I wanted and contemplated whether God was answering just one of my prayers or maybe all of them.

  All at once.

  I’d been taught when God shows you the right path, you must go. And, given my situation, trusting Abraham was right and natural.

  I’d never experienced such sensations or the type of major emotional swing I’d had, from despair to blessedness. My head spun from it all as I walked to the bedroom where my knees hit the floor beside the bed.

  Instinctively, I went to Him.

  Dear Lord,

  I’m reminded of one of my favorite passages from Romans. The pain that you’ve been feeling can’t compare to the joy that’s coming.

  I believe it. I’ve asked for patience. I’ve asked for grace, too. Now, I feel rewarded. Thank you.

  I don’t want to be passed to one of my brothers or fight for this house. It isn’t mine. Being a companion to a widower isn’t in my heart, and when I married Jacob I wasn’t sure it was in my hea
rt either, but I did it because I was told it was my path. We both know how that went.

  So, what I’m asking from you today, God, is that you lead me with this feeling I have right now. I’ll follow. Surely, this is you working because it feels so big.

  It is in your hands, and I will obey.

  Please be with Abraham and guide us both where you see fit.

  Amen

  I left my hands linked and let my head rest on top of them. I waited for my mind to settle and come to rest. When I was calm, I went over what Abraham asked me to consider carefully and sat with each idea individually. Prayer hadn’t changed how they made me feel.

  In fact, it only proved how giant the thought of Abraham was inside of me. Even with my eyes shut, thinking of his name colored my imagination with greens and rich browns, light and sunshine. The smell of vanilla and spice came to me on a make-believe breeze, and I stayed in that space until he returned nearly an hour later.

  He knocked on the front door, and my steps were quick to answer.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, his hands in his pockets on the small stoop.

  “Yes.”

  19

  Abe

  I’d left my truck running because it was so hot. I’d been sweating since I’d left an hour ago and the AC was only just cooling off on my way back. Additionally, I was almost sure she was going to tell me to leave. I was a perfect stranger who’d showed up out of the blue and dropped a bomb on her lap.

  “May I come in?”

  She looked around the quiet neighborhood and nodded, her search ended on my truck idling in her driveway.

  The long, navy skirt she wore swayed as she moved back from the doorway.

  I came inside and asked, “Did you make up your mind?” because we didn’t have much time. Vehicles were already pulling in at the church when I went by.

  Her expression and demeanor were different. She stood straighter, higher, and I took that as a good sign. I’d support whatever she decided and, by the looks of it, she was calmer than when I’d left.

  “I’m not exactly sure what I want, but I don’t want the things they want to happen.” Her voice showed how vulnerable she was, but she spoke clearly and with her head up which was new in my experiences with her. “And I don’t want to be alone.”