Break the Faith

by M. Mabie

  FRANKLY, IT WAS SURPRISING how many heads didn’t turn as we entered the sanctuary at the church. Close to my side, Myra found a spot near the center of the large room and took a seat in an aisle that wasn’t completely empty.

  Did she want people to see her? Oh, she was clever.

  Like she’d never left, Myra kept her eyes down and her mouth shut. I hated it but respected the hell out of her willingness to do it for the chance to make things better for someone else.

  Before long, the music changed, and the rest of the congregation took their seats. Her brothers sat along the front and their families in the pews behind them.

  “Good brothers and sisters,” my father said from the pulpit. His eyes landed on me and his brow rose as he continued, “He has brought us together again. God is good.”

  The audience repeated, “God is good.”

  He droned on and on about how the Lord had blessed Brother Fox because he was such a faithful and loyal servant. He’d answered his call to take a wife and rear children for the kingdom. He’d been a staple parishioner, tithing and giving to his community. He’d raised men for the Father and was a model band holder and an honorable Legacy man of Lancaster.

  All the while, we sat there. Side by side, our hands touching between us, but not holding each other’s like we would—like I wanted to. We waited for it to be over.

  I wondered what Myra thought of it all. If she saw through his grandstanding like I did or if she had a different perspective since it was her father who he spoke about. All the things being said about her dad were true, in the eyes of the community. Were they true to her too?

  Did she look at the alter and see a funeral or a campaign the way I did?

  Again, I refused to donate to the church and passed the basket when Myra handed it to me.

  There wasn’t anything wrong with donating, in fact I had in the past weeks when I’d attended the church in Fairview, but a funeral wasn’t the time nor the place to push an agenda. And I’d be damned if they got a cent of my money in Lancaster.

  When it was over, her brothers carried the box past our aisle, and I wrapped my arm around my girl when I heard her sob.

  To hell with what it looked like. To hell if it was too much public affection for their judging eyes.

  I wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever let someone I loved suffer alone. There were half-truths everywhere, but I loved Myra, and her father had died.

  Those were facts.

  Losing parents was a natural part of life, but little felt natural to me in that place.

  We filed out with everyone else and walked through the courtyard to her car for the processional ride to the cemetery.

  As we marched through the lots to the gravesite, Myra waved at a few young girls who I assumed were her nieces, but it was brief, and their mother was quick to lead them back into formation beside their family.

  We stood in the back, and she grabbed my hand to leave before they lowered his body into the ground. “They didn’t even include me,” she said as we were fastening our seatbelts in the car.

  The Festiva was blocked in on the narrow lane, but at least we were out of the wind which had turned frigid despite the clear sunny skies. We would have to wait until at least one of the cars around us pulled away because there wasn’t enough room to maneuver a path out.

  “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

  “I don’t understand it.” Her voice was both frustrated and pained. “He was my father too.”

  Either they really didn’t care about their sister or their pastor had something to do with it. Disgustingly, probably both.

  There was a tap on the back of the old car. In the rearview mirror, I watched my father run a finger down the side to my window before he knocked on it.

  I cranked down the glass.

  “Hello, Abraham. Myra.”

  I wished then we would have brought the truck so I didn’t have to sit so low with him at the window. I bet he loved it.

  Myra didn’t answer, but she nodded when he leaned over to look inside.

  “Hello,” I replied.

  I’d agreed to do what I could. Agreed to look the part to the best of my ability. I prayed I wouldn’t let her down.

  “I didn’t think you two would be able to make it, but I’m glad you did. It’ll let us catch up while you’re in town. Get a few more things settled.”

  “A call would have been nice,” I said, edging my tone as much as I could. “My wife would have appreciated hearing the news from family.”

  I glanced up but couldn’t take how it felt having him looking down at me, so I pressed my shoulder into the door and opened it to stand up outside.

  He stepped back, giving me room, and the few inches I had on him made all the difference to me.

  “I’m sorry. It’s a shame no one called, but I suppose they just assumed—since you don’t really like to take calls—that you wouldn’t answer anyway.”

  He was punishing Myra for me not answering his calls. A new low.

  “We’ve been busy.”

  His face split into a loathsome smirk after glancing at my right hand, noting the change of where my ring had been.

  “I bet you have, son.” He rubbed his palms together. “Block by block, he builds the kingdom, and both He and I have blessed you with a truly Godly helpmeet. I think you owe me some gratitude.”

  My breath held, and my jaw tensed. “You’re right about that. I thank God for Myra every day. Sometimes all day long.”

  It was true, but I could only imagine what he thought I meant. A wickedness flared in his eyes, and I suddenly considered what Myra proposed might not be so hard to accomplish. More than anything, he wanted me to be like him. Wanted an heir, a predecessor to follow through with his tyranny. Wanted his name to go on. It was twisted and evil, and it made me hate him even more. But as I stood there, my distain for him was diminished by my need to beat him.

  I’d done it before, and I could do it again.

  “Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection,” he quoted the Bible. It made me sick, and I liked the book of Timothy even less.

  “He who loves his wife loves himself,” I countered. When would he learn he couldn’t best me with Bible verses and out of context lines?

  “Indeed. Are you joining us at the church for food and fellowship in Brother Fox’s honor? Your mother would like to see you.” Just then I saw her walking to the car, her eyes trained on me as she gave a tiny wave.

  I returned it with the warmest smile I could manage.

  He wasn’t above using God, faith, or my own flesh in blood to get under my skin, but I wouldn’t let him shake me so easily.

  “Myra, would you like to go?” I asked loud enough to be sure my question was clear.

  He added, “And I’m sure Mother Hathaway would love nothing more than to talk about a banding reception and pray with you for your conception. I know she’s heartsick for a grandchild.”

  “Thank you, Pastor,” was all she said. It was eerie how easily she’d fallen back into that old way, false as I knew it was.

  She wasn’t to be underestimated, and I was so damn proud.

  My father didn’t bother with pleasantries or goodbyes and marched off to shake a hand and lead the line of cars through the town.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to leave today?” Myra asked. “I’m uncomfortable here. It’s not my home anymore.”

  Funerals were rarely comfortable, but it wasn’t just that. After your eyes were opened, everything looked corrupted and soiled. Even fond memories seemed tainted.

  She’d pushed Lancaster aside in her mind at the cabin and Fairview, but it wasn’t as easy to do when you were here—in the heart of the monster.

  “We don’t even have to go to this lunch thing if you don’t want to.” All she had to do was say the word, she’d been through enough, and I only wanted to get her home. Make her happy. Cheer her on.

  My phone buzzed, but it was probably another text from s
omeone back home. They’d all been checking on us since we’d left. I’d also seen Myra typing replies on hers as we drove.

  “We should go to the church, but I’d like to sleep in our bed tonight. Plus, I don’t want to miss too many classes. Two is enough.”

  I respected how high she was putting herself on her priorities.

  “You’re not going to get an argument from me. I hate this damned place,” I contended as we pulled in across the street from the church in one of the last spots around the town square. “We’ll eat. I’ll deal with my father, and then we’re out of here. With any luck, we won’t be back for a long time—if ever.”

  “I can’t help but think of all those other women now. Before, I was just part of it. You know? Like I was just as sucked up into everything as they are.” She turned her cell off and slipped it back into her purse. “Now I’m different, and I can’t come back to this. I can’t even imagine how I’d live like this again.” Her head rocked side to side and her hands fidgeted on her lap before she shook them out. “It’s too much. It’s too wrong. And all these children being lied to and forced to fall in line...” She was about to lose it, I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. It was something close to panic.

  “Hey, our kids will never—ever—know what this is like. They’ll never have to go through this.” I moved her hair behind her ear, and she stared deep into my eyes. “I will never let anyone force you to do anything again. Do you understand me? Not my dad. Not some Legacy Board. No one. Never again, Myra. We can just pull out of here and never come back. To hell with that money. To hell with it all.”

  God knows that had been my plan when I’d left all those years ago, but I’d never regret coming back for her.

  “I can’t just look away, knowing that others are suffering, Abe. I won’t be able to sleep knowing I could have helped them if I was just braver.”

  She was what it meant to be Godly. Her heart was so big and filled with such compassion for others that it was inspiring. She was becoming an activist, like the women she’d told me about when she learned about suffrage, even if she didn’t notice it in herself yet.

  “Then let’s do this.” I reached for her hand and I squeezed. “I’m not worried about my father, and I’m hungry anyway.”

  Finally—finally—a smile. That beautiful peachy blush bloomed on her cheeks.

  “Well, I can’t let my husband starve.” She inhaled and let it out. “Don’t leave me alone in there.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  And I didn’t.

  We went through the receiving line where many people came up to her and offered their condolences, they didn’t say much to me, but I was glad they acknowledged her. We found a place around the edge to sit and I was half-way through my first plate when Robbie’s familiar voice behind me asked, “Mind if we sit with you?”

  Myra offered a friendly grin to Robbie’s wife, holding their newest baby in her arms as her husband set down both of their plates across from us. Their two older daughters climbed onto the bench beside their mother with paper plates with sandwiches and fruit in their hands.

  “I’m so sorry about your father, Myra. He was our family’s banker for years and was always there to help us out when times were rough. He was a good man,” Robbie said.

  My girl wiped her mouth and replied in her new, more confident voice, “Thank you.”

  7

  Myra

  Every time someone came up to me, I saw how they looked at my ring finger and then smiled.

  Had I done that to people before? Not that long ago, my sole purpose in life was to serve God and have a family of my own—for Him.

  It was funny how they seemed different, yet I’d been the one to change.

  Robbie Carter and his family sat across from us, and as expected Jenny, his wife, and I remained quiet as the men talked. I ate here and there, only picking at my plate. Jenny rocked her infant and silently encouraged her two other girls to eat their food by pointing at their plates when they’d begin playing.

  The young mother looked tired and truthfully the baby did too, although it was asleep in her arms.

  The tiny girl didn’t appear nearly as lively or even as big as Violet, who I knew for a fact was younger by a few months at least. I remembered hearing at church on the Sunday before Jacob died that Jenny had given birth. Either they had a tiny girl, or their baby wasn’t doing as well as she should.

  Since my appetite was weak, when Abe got up to get seconds, I handed him my plate to throw away.

  “Jenny, would you please let me hold her while you eat?” I extended my arms to her and warmly encouraged her with a nod.

  I adored babies and from having such a large extended family, I knew a mother of three had her hands full most of the time—plus, their laps and arms. Their plates rarely got finished before the next thing came along.

  “You don’t mind?” she asked.

  I leaned over the table as she stood to transfer her into my care. Bouncing a few times, I got adjusted and then sat.

  Maybe the baby girl had just been sickly, but if that were the case, she would have benefited from staying home, and not from attending a funeral with germs and dozens of grubby little hands to spread them. No. Especially on a chilly fall day.

  Jenny diligently ate while she could.

  “Do you girls have school yet?” I asked the strawberry blonds to her right to keep them distracted from her.

  The eldest nodded yes and the younger one said with her mouth full, “I’m too little.”

  “Oh, well, you’ll be big soon and then you’ll want to learn as much as you can.”

  Finally, the older one spoke, not more than a whisper, “I can read.”

  Jenny wiped her mouth. “Ella has been going to my sisters for classes while I’m still so busy with Eva. Her boys are a little older than Ella, so she’s been doing studies with them.”

  The girl couldn’t have been more than five or six, but at least she was ahead. Maybe if I would have learned how to earlier, I’d enjoy reading more now.

  However, I was getting used to it and I didn’t all together hate it anymore, but I still preferred reading when it wasn’t something I had to read for class. Articles and blogs I’d found on Pinterest were my favorites, and I could read a ton of them.

  Abe returned with another heaping plate and two desserts, and he slid one to me. It looked like peach cobbler which had always been one of my favorites too. I’d have to remember to make one at the house sometime.

  Without hesitation, he took his finger and ran the side of it over Eva’s cheek like I’d seen him do many times with Violet. I adored the way he looked at babies. Thoughtful and caring. Yes, he was awkward with them, but they didn’t seem to annoy him like my nieces and nephews did my brothers most of the time.

  I pulled the plastic fork sticking out of the top of the dessert closest to me.

  “Those are both mine,” he said leaning over so only I could hear. He winked, and I felt a flutter in my chest. He was teasing me, and I welcomed it.

  Was it possible for a man to get more attractive every day? Was that how God kept men and woman together?

  Meh. I didn’t want to think about God, not there. For my sanity, it was important that I kept Lancaster and my new budding beliefs separate when I could.

  I took a bite of the cobbler anyway.

  When Jenny noticed, she put her fork down and gestured that she’d take the baby back, but I waved her off. Eating with one hand wasn’t impossible, and I wasn’t as tired as she looked. I could manage fine.

  “Thank you again for calling us,” Abe said to his friend between bites.

  “Yeah, I’d called you a couple other times a few weeks back too, but I just thought it was like Pastor said. That you two might be in New Mecula, and we’ve heard how bad the telephone signals are there.”

  Between eating the dessert and pretending to give all my attention to the baby, I listened.

  Beside me Abe tensed.<
br />
  “No. We haven’t been to New Mecula, and we don’t have any plans to visit. We live in Fairview,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, well that’s what I thought.” Robbie scooped up the last of his potatoes on his fork and held it in front of his mouth before he added, “We almost made a trip up there a few weeks ago.” Then he filled his mouth with food.

  “Did you have work around our way? A farm sale or something?”

  The red-haired man took a drink of his water and then answered, “No. We were thinking of taking Eva to see a doctor up there, but Dad and the Legacy Board thought it was best to wait. That’s when your dad said you probably weren’t around anyway.”

  “Is she sick?” Abe asked and glanced our way. The infant in my arms hardly moved except for her quick, tiny breaths.

  “We’re not sure. She isn’t like the other two girls were. So we wanted to see, but like the Legacies said all babies are different.” The couple shared a look. “For now we’re just doing our best and praying.”

  I knew firsthand that prayer alone didn’t always fix things. It hadn’t fixed Maureen, Mom, Jacob, or Father for me when I’d asked.

  The table was quiet for a few seconds before their middle girl whispered to her mother, “I need to go potty.”

  “Ella, can you take her down the hall?” She pointed across the room. “Take her to the one down there. Go and come straight back.” Her voice was gentle as she gave them instruction.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the young blond replied.

  Abe gathered our plates again, after seeing I’d put down my fork and nodded that it was fine to pitch the small portion I’d left uneaten. Then he piled the Carters’ on top and took them away too.

  “Thank you,” Jenny said and reached for the baby in my arms. “Good thing He doesn’t give us more than we can handle.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that as I passed the tiny bundle back to her mom. Sometimes I didn’t even feel like I was on His radar, and maybe I never was.

  “God is Good,” she said as she beamed down at her baby girl. It wasn’t hard to miss the dark circles under her eyes or the worry inside them.