"They took my wife!" he wails. "They were going to kill her if I didn't help them! What could I do? I couldn't let them kill her if I could do something to save her. I didn't know what else to do," he sobs.
He gives me a pleading, pitiful stare. I don't know if he wants my forgiveness or my surrender. My anger is barely restrained; I feel no pity for this manipulative man who pretended to love my Aunty. To think I had encouraged this hoax, had considered a future where Chuck was a part of our lives. Aunty's gifts of wisdom and discernment had kept us safe again. She had no interest in this viper; a true wolf in sheep's clothing. Walking around among us while working for Pravda!
The Spirit tries to whisper to my heart of forgiveness and pity. I swat the encouragement away like a pesky fly. I want to feel angry. It feels so much better than sad and scared. I want to hold on to it forever. Chuck's tears do nothing to move me. They only disgust me. No one else seems to pity him. The Elder's sit in stunned silence, glancing back and forth between me and Chuck. I'm at the center of all of this. My future will be decided by what this crying man knows. If he'll tell us.
I try to be calm, but there are still sparks in my eyes when I look up and ask, "Are they still after me?"
I had hoped, after talking with Jack, that maybe they didn't find what they wanted, maybe I was already safe.
Chuck nods pitifully in the affirmative.
I feel cold and numb.
They still want me.
My life is over.
Rev. Depold speaks with an authority that still contains traces of his trademark kindness, "We need to know everything Chuck. Start from the beginning. You owe Ivy that much."
Chuck nods pitifully again, sighs and begins. "Nancy and I are from South Carolina. About a year ago we met a missionary from Texas. He told us about God; and, after we got Life, we wanted to go tell Theo, Nancy's sister. Theo lived in Gainesville, about an hour from here. We didn't find her there, but we thought maybe she'd be with her son, so we come up this direction. Theo’s son lived out in the country near here, a farmer. We were camping in a field just outside of Toccoa when they surprised us at night. Some thugs from Pravda. Beat me up and told me they'd kill Nancy if I didn't do what they asked. Said there was a girl named Ivy in this town that they wanted. I told 'em 'no'! Then they—" he pauses apparently overwhelmed with grief, "—they cut off Nancy's hand! In front of me!"
He drops his head into his handcuffed hands and wails a pain-filled cry of complete agony. The sound hurts me, and I know I'll never forget it. That wail, that agony, will follow me from this room and haunt my dreams until Jesus comes for me. My anger cracks slightly, and small drips of sadness start eking out, forming rivulets on the dam walls around my heart.
Andrew nudges Chuck roughly. Chuck lowers his hands and stares at me with tears on his cheeks. I stare back, unable to look away as he continues his gut wrenching tale.
"I didn't have a choice. I couldn't watch her die! They dropped me off down the road from your gate. I wanted to find a way to tell you without getting Nancy killed, but I just couldn't figure my way out." With shame on his face he says quietly, "I met with them at the fence a bunch of times. I told 'em it was too hard. That you weren't ever alone and I couldn't do anything about it! I was stalling. It was killing me. I knew they'd kill Nancy easy if I didn't hurry up and give 'em something. So I took the picture to prove I was working on it. I found that camera in an empty apartment in my building. I gave em the picture and they gave me," he swallows another sob, "Nancy's ear. Said if I didn't deliver you, they'd give me the rest of her—in tiny pieces next time."
He sobs into his arm again; and, this time, everyone lets him cry in peace. We're all being moved to compassion, despite our anger and betrayal. This broken man has been through so much. I'm sure every man in the room is wondering if he would've done the same for his wife. Would we have the strength to say no if our dearest loved one was being threatened and abused and we had the power to make it stop? I'm finding compassion that comes from God and not from me. Chuck is my enemy, but I'm supposed to "bless those that curse me" and "turn the other cheek." So much harder than I thought it would be when I read those verses in naivety and said, "No problem, Lord, anything for you."
Chuck collects himself again and continues—speaking quickly—pushing to get to the end of his traumatic tale. "I heard you two were going out of town to shop. I wasn't supposed to meet them again for two weeks, and I didn't know what to do. I left the compound with a fishing pole, told the guards I was going fishing. I walked to one of their blood centers. Got a mask off of a—a dead guy in the street. Nobody stopped me. I told the Pravda guy at the blood center that you were important to Pravda and that you were going to be in Commerce the next day. I had another picture, I had taken three pictures that day. I gave it to a Pravda worker, and then I came back to the community and waited.
“When you came back safe, I knew I was in trouble. I mean, I was real glad you were ok. I didn't want anything bad to happen to you. I just didn't know what to do you know?" he looks down at his feet in shame. "I'm supposed to bring you with me next time I meet them. Supposed to be tomorrow. But I already decided I wasn't gonna do it!" he says loudly.
He hasn't earned any trust with this story, and I don't believe him. By the condemning looks on the elder's faces, I'd say they don't believe him either. Mountain Man Jack said it's all about blood. They think my blood is special enough to go through all of this. All the trouble to Chuck and his wife, all of the weeks meeting at the fence and the attempted kidnapping. All of this for one person?
Me.
What will they do to me if they get me?
"Is Ivy in any danger from anyone else in the community?" Mr. Terrell asks.
Before I can even be nervous about that possibility, Chuck shakes his head "no," and I sink back in my chair relieved. Then Chuck stares into my eyes, and in a low voice he says, "But she's in terrible danger from the rest of the world." A shiver shakes my whole body when he says even quieter, "They want 'er real bad."
Chapter Forty-Three
Aunty's Admirers
We bury Aunty today. Rosa and I are sitting on my bed, ready too early for Aunty's funeral. Rosa still hasn't spoken, and I don't know how much she understands. Though I haven't cried yet today, she seems to know that I am sad because she sits close to me and pets me sweetly. I hope she and I will see happier days together. I know she has already seen way too much sadness in her short life. I want to show her happiness. She came to me in one of my darkest times, and I find it hard to give her more than an occasional smile. She must think that all of life is hard and tragic. I wonder what that must do to her little personality. I hope that she isn't too damaged by life already.
Rosa surprises me by crawling across the bed to the nightstand and pointing at Aunty's Bible. She wants me to read to her? I already devoted myself this morning before waking her, but this morning's Bible reading didn't bring me comfort. I can hardly remember now what I read. I pick up the Bible, but then decide to read first from the little daily book that I skipped this morning. I read out loud to Rosa:
"Give up the illusion that you deserve a problem-free life. Part of you
is still hungering for the resolution of all difficulties. This is a false hope!
As I told my disciples, in the world you will have trouble. Link your hope
not to problem solving in this life but to the promise of an eternity of
problem-free life in heaven. Instead of seeking perfection in this fallen
world, pour out your energy into seeking Me: the Perfect One.
It is possible to enjoy Me and glorify Me in the midst of adverse
circumstances. In fact, My Light shines most brightly through believers
who trust Me in the dark. That kind of trust is supernatural: a
production of My indwelling Spirit. When things seem all wrong, trust
Me anyway. I am much less interested in right circumstances than in
right responses to whatever comes your way."
The recommended reading at the bottom is Psalm 112:4,7. I look the verses up in Aunty's Bible and read them out loud too:
"Light arises in the darkness for the upright; He is gracious and compassionate and righteous... He will not fear evil tidings; His heart is steadfast, trusting in The Lord."
Rosa looks up at me when I finish reading and smiles at me encouragingly. She can't have understood any of that. I'm still not sure she even understands English. But she looks at me like, "See? It's going to be ok." I smile at her and hug her close. It's time to go say goodbye to Aunty now.
*****
I walk across the street, Rosa’s little hand in mine. I'm happy to have her with me. The new responsibility is not a burden but a comfort. I feel less alone, and I thank God in my heart for sending her. It was so good of Him.
Tim is waiting outside in the cold morning air for me. I am relieved to see him. He came over last night to check on me, and I told him all about Chuck. I suspect he had already heard about it from Andrew, but he let me tell it all as though it was new to him, patiently listening. I am surprised to discover that he is suddenly my closest friend. I wouldn't be in my right mind right now if he hadn't carried me through this.
I feel somehow like it honors Aunty, too. She saw before I did what a good man Tim is. I still feel strongly attracted to Matt. I don't want to marry Tim. I'm sure I'll never get to marry anyone. Our time on earth is almost up, and I'm being hunted by zombies. The odds of me living long enough to marry someone and have a "normal" life are zilch.
The viewing feels like ten hours instead of one. I sit with Rosa near the front of the U.R. meeting room, across from the wooden casket. It's a simple casket, nothing pretty about it. It is raw wood, hastily constructed, without even a coat of stain. It seems almost an insult to bury her in it. I can't help but wonder if Jamie's dad intentionally didn't make something nice because everyone thinks I'm a problem lately.
I look down at my feet and avoid looking at the ugly casket or at her. I've already said goodbye; once when she left me, and then again as I prepared her body to go. I'm here today because it's what she would think is proper. I speak to as few people as possible. Only looking up when they linger near me and it becomes rude to avoid them.
In the short line of well-wishers, Harmony is the first to sit down next to me. I'm too dead inside to make effort towards our broken friendship. She is too awkward to know how to fix it on her own. She sits for a minute, neither of us speaking, the awkwardness increasing. I find anger building inexplicably inside me again. When I think I might not be able to hold it in any longer, Harmony chokes on a sob and surprises me with a kiss on the cheek. Then she's gone. My anger evaporates leaving only footprints of minor irritation. I go back to my quiet staring at the floor.
Jose and Ellen come separately, each taking a turn away from Thomas' bedside. Ellen tells me that they told him and that he cried for me. I guess he had to find out eventually. I wish he didn't have to know and be sad.
Dr. Markowitz stands next to my chair for a long time, his hand on my shoulder. Each time I look up at him to see if I should say something, he doesn't look at me but continues to stare silently at Aunty. Then, without any words, he squeezes my shoulder and walks away. I'm relieved because I have nothing to say. I never realized that there were men who cared deeply for her. Mr. Terrell seems to have been carrying a secret torch for her as well. I suspect that he cared a lot. That his suspicion of Chuck may have begun with jealousy over the attention Chuck was flaunting at Aunty.
I think Dr. Markowitz may have cared for her more deeply than just normal friendship, too. Her passing matters more to them than I would have ever realized. I wonder if she cared for them the same way. I'm ashamed that I have no idea. I feel guilty when I think about how much time we spent talking about me. I wonder if I really knew the real Aunty. I wonder if anyone else knew her, really knew her, better than me? If there was someone she confided in, would I long to know all that she shared or would I be jealous that it wasn't me?
If Mr. Terrell hadn't discovered Chuck's secret life yesterday, I'm sure Chuck would be here. Fake crying and making a show. Trying to figure out how to kidnap me. I think they have him in one of the cells where Matt was held. I barely slept last night thinking about Chuck and his wife. Part of me wonders if I should give myself up to save her. My anger from yesterday is mostly gone. I feel bad for him. He never wanted anything to do with me. I tell myself it's my love for Rosa that keeps me from suggesting I trade myself for Nancy. But I know it's cowardice, too.
I can vividly imagine what they would do to me. I have this horrible picture in my head. I see myself lying on a cold steel table, strapped down. I'm in a dark room with bright lamps shining down on me. I can't see into the shadows around the room, and I know they are there, staring at me. I'm wearing only a paper cloth across my body and there are needles in both of my arms, draining me of my blood. In this disturbing vision I know that they are draining me dry, not just taking small amounts. I know I'll die on that cold table alone.
I shiver, lost in my morbid fantasy. Rosa pulls on my arm and brings me back to reality. Reality is barely better. I ask her if she needs to go potty and she nods emphatically. I lead Rosa down the center aisle. Everyone stares at me as we slip through the doors at the back of the room.
*****
Rev. DePold's sermon is short. He speaks of what Aunty did for the community and how she loved me. He reads about Heaven from the Bible and reminds us of how beautiful it will be. Staring straight into my eyes, he reminds us that we don't grieve as those who have no hope. We'll be with Aunty again soon. His quote at the end is the only part that I'll remember. It's beautiful. He quotes the author C.S. Lewis:
"If I find in myself desires which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."
*****
At the small cemetery behind the old Methodist church building, there are only a handful of people. Tim and Rosa stand close to me, seeking warmth in the cold wind. Mr. Terrell stands whispering to Dr. Markowitz. Rev. DePold and a few other Elders and their wives make up the rest of who Aunty counted close.
It's less than I thought there would be. I guess Aunty didn't really make many close female friends either. We lived for each other and our work here. Was it enough? Were we right to seclude ourselves? Now, with her gone, I'm lost. She felt that way driving home from Commerce. I saw it in her eyes that day. She was terrified that someone had tried to take me. She didn't know how to live without me either. And now, somehow, I have to be the one who figures out how to survive alone. At the last minute, Ellen, Harmony and Sherry quietly join us. It fills the small group out a little and makes the gathering feel more complete. I'm thankful that they came.
As they lower my Aunty into the cold ground, I turn away. It hurts unbearably to see her drop from my sight for the last time. With my back to the grave, I see someone watching us, standing close to a tree at the far end of the field. He doesn't hide when I turn, but lifts a hand of greeting and friendship. A gloved hand. It's Matt. He came. I turn back around quickly as Tim starts to lean past me, interested in what I'm looking at. He doesn't see Matt but steps close to me and puts his arm around me in comfort. I cringe away slightly, knowing that Matt is still watching.
Mr. Terrell picks up a hammer and begins to pound a simple wooden cross into the ground to mark her grave. Someone has crudely etched her name into the front. The echoey sound of the hammer hitting with each swing reminds me of the Jesus movie. The horrible sound as the soldiers swung their hammers and nailed him to the cross. I had to turn away during the movie, unable to watch, even though it was just an actor. It felt real and I knew it was real. My Jesus had been nailed to a cross for me so that I wouldn't have to die. Aunty is still alive. She isn't really dead. I wish that my certainty could alleviate some of the lung crushing grief I am drowning in.
>
I must look awful because Tim offers to take Rosa for the afternoon so I can sleep. It's true I've had very little sleep in the last few days. I give in and accept his help again. The way we pass Rosa back and forth and share responsibility of her, it’s starting to seem like we are married, and Rosa is our child.
We leave the gravesite as a group, and Rev. Depold steps alongside me. "Ms. Scott will be taking over the Inn, Ivy. You are welcome to stay there for as long as you need; Julia would probably love some help learning the ropes."
I don't know what to say. I hate the thought of anyone else running the Inn—especially the cold fish, Ms. Julia Scott. The Inn needs someone kind and good with people; someone with the gift of hospitality. Ms. Scott is hard working, but she couldn't come close to replacing Aunty. I have no desire to live there with her. I'll show her around and pack my things and go. I'm not sure where I'll go. But I won't stay there.
"When will she be moving in?" I croak. It's been hours since I've used my voice, and those hours have been filled with more crying.
"Tomorrow."
"Ok."
There's nothing else to say. I don't need permission to leave, and I don't want to be told where to go. Let him think I'll stay there for now.
Before stepping away from my side, Rev. Depold says, "I have a word for you Ivy. I read it this morning and I believe God wanted me to give it to you. Just to you. It's another quote from C.S. Lewis. He's one of my favorites. It's this: 'God, who foresaw your tribulation, has specially armed you to go through it, not without pain but without stain.'"
Not without pain but without stain.
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