Taking Faith

by Shelly Crane

  "I know what humanity is."

  "Do you?" she asked back, her voice harder. She had to make him see, to break through the barrier the community had planted in him.

  "Yes!" he said, exasperated. "Of course! My father…may not have been the kind I wanted, but he had my best interests in mind."

  "Roger, you can not be serious!" she yelled and worked to lower her voice. "He abused you! Not only have I seen the scars on your back and stomach, but I've seen him hit you with my own eyes and you're a grown man! I hate to think what he did to you when you were a child," she said, her voice strangled.

  Roger stared straight ahead and breathed slowly. He didn't rebut or defend and Amy was grateful. He had to see the hypocrisy of what he was saying, right? Eventually he got out of the car, taking the keys with him, and walked around the car to lean on the hood.

  She left him alone, but knew she needed to turn it up a notch when she got home. Home… She gulped and corrected herself; when she got back to his house. She waited for him to finish his think or freak-out or whatever it was that he was doing up on the hood. She'd never been abused or anything, but tried to imagine being told and thinking that was the proper way to be brought up only to realize way into your life that it wasn't? She couldn't imagine the kind of turmoil your mind would be in.

  When he finally got back in the car he didn’t say anything. He just drove them home. When he pulled into the garage, he reached over Amy to open the door for her. She sucked in a startled breath and held it as his face sat a half inch from hers. He flicked the latch with his hand and then smiled a little as he sat back. "Sorry. Isn't that what a gentleman does? Opens the door for his wife."

  She nodded. "Thanks." Then she tried not to roll her eyes at how breathless she sounded. She got out and immediately went to the kitchen. The kitchen seemed like her neutral zone, a place where she could grab the reins and control the situation, so she was eager to get back to that. For dinner she planned steak and baked potatoes.

  She started to wash the potatoes, but realized she was missing her favorite ingredient for cooking; music.

  She peeked back into the living room, finding it empty. She could hear the water running in the shower and she hoped he didn't mind her turning on some music. The radio above the TV crackled to life and she smiled when John Mayer's Heartbreak Warfare came blasting through the speakers. She loved him.

  She turned it up before making her way back to the kitchen. He was in the shower so he couldn't hear her, right? She belted it out as she brushed the potato skins with a sponge.

  If you want more love, why don't you say so.

  If you want more love, why don’t you say so.

  Just say so.

  How come the only way to know how high you get me

  is to see how far I fall.

  God only knows how much I'd love if you let me

  but I can't break through it all.

  It's a heart…heartbreak

  She swayed her hips as she rubbed the seasoning on the steak. She felt so lighthearted tonight for some reason, and found herself half smiling. When she heard the bathroom door shut, she stopped swaying pronto.

  When he moseyed into the kitchen a little later, she had to stop her mouth from falling open. He was buttoning his shirt, his feet bare and his jeans weren't even buttoned up the whole way. His shaggy, black hair was a wet mess of curls. Amy turned away, but not before he saw her cheeks turn pink.

  She heard him say, "Huh," from behind her, but when she turned back he was gone. She finished dinner and served it to the table. She sat and called him.

  "It's ready."

  He came in from the living room and stared at the spread. Then he eyed her with a critical glance. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and then he sat. He ate in silence, glancing over at her every now and then. She knew he was suspicious or confused about something, but she wasn't really sure about what. She said nothing, however, and just ate her dinner as the radio continued to play in the background. It had moved on to Coldplay's Fix You.

  She had to bite her tongue so as not to mouth the words. When she looked up and once again caught Roger looking at her, she got up and cleared the plates to keep from smiling. He was so on edge! What did he think she was going to do?

  She cleaned the kitchen and then brought him a drink as he sat in his chair. He took the glass from her and stared at it in his hands. Then he glared at her, his jaw hard. She was confused at his anger, and when he put the glass down and got up from the chair, she couldn't help but to step back and gasp as he closed in on her.

  He pressed her to the wall near the front door with his hands on her upper arms. She thought he'd slam her into it, but once he was close enough to the wall, he slowed their movement. He looked down at her, his face inches away.

  "I can't let you just walk out of here, Amy. I've told you that. So why the show? Why the charade? No matter what you do or say…I. Can't. Let. You. Go."

  "I'm not trying to get you to," she breathed. "Let go, Roger."

  Chapter 9

  He let his grip tighten a bit, not enough to hurt her, but enough to let her know he was on the edge. "Why, Amy? Tell me why you're doing this?"

  "I already told you!" she said loudly and sighed. "I'm not trying to trick you. I'm just trying to be the wife that you asked me to be."

  "Please stop."

  "Stop what?" she asked in exasperation.

  "Just…stop being so..."

  "Roger-"

  "Stop trying to make me fall in love with you!" he roared. His fast breaths blew on her cheek from his open mouth. "I can't afford to. You can't either. Stop it," he growled, but his resolve was just gone. He leaned forward and pressed their cheeks together and repeated his plea in a whisper, "Stop it."

  They stayed like that for several minutes strained with a mix of confusion and comfort. Amy knew he was breaking through some of his barriers and Roger knew that Amy was just trying to be what he wanted her to be, but didn't know how to accept that. Eventually, Amy had enough. "Roger," she whispered, her lips touching his cheek with the closeness. "Roger, it's all right. I'm just trying to... I'm not trying to pull the wool over your eyes or run some scheme-"

  "I know. I know," he sighed and moved one of his hands to her cheek. "Amy." He rubbed their cheeks together and she thought he was going to kiss her. "Oh, God, help me. I can't do this," he said and pushed away from her so quickly, she almost lost her footing. He went into his room and slammed the door.

  She leaned on the wall to catch her breath and covered her mouth with her fingers in confusion. What had she done that was so terrible? She moved to the couch and balled herself up on one corner. She echoed Roger's sentiments. She didn't know if she could do this either.

  Later, she woke with a warmth around her she hadn't felt in a long time. She gripped the hard, warm arm with both hands and was lifted. She found herself pressing closer and rubbing her cheek on soft cotton. She heard a surprised chuckle, but couldn't make herself wake to investigate. A scruffy chin rubbed a small kiss over her forehead before she was placed in softness and comfort. When the blanket was pulled over her she sighed and pulled her knees up.

  She felt him rub his finger over her cheek and he began to murmur things to her, almost like a confession.

  * * *

  Roger couldn’t believe how soft her skin was. It was like…flower petals. That was the only thing he could think of to describe it. He knew she was asleep and it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop touching her face. He let his thumb rub over her cheek bone, back and forth. He was such a bastard. She'd only been trying to be good to him and he'd practically spit in her face and ran out there like a total idiot.

  She didn't deserve this, any of it. But he was scared. He didn't know how to protect her here. He didn't know how long they could semi-pretend to be doing what they were supposed to be doing. They were even supposed to be hosting another dinner for a guy and his wife on Friday. Four days.

  He had no doubt tha
t Amy could fake her way through another dinner, but it was him he was concerned about. He focused on her little nose and ran his finger down the length. She was delicate, fragile, beautiful, loyal, strong, and most of all, caring to the point of ridiculousness. She cared for him and he had been a mean S.O.B. when she arrived. He just needed to work out the kinks in his thinking. He needed to figure out how to pretend and go with the flow as good as Amy was doing.

  He leaned forward even more, his lips right at her temple. "I'm going to try with everything in me to be what you need right now. I've got to keep you safe, I just have to. We'll do this our way. Screw them and their rules. You and me, Amy, we're doing our own thing. I just want you to be happy and I'm sorry that the chance for real happiness was taken from you. I’m even more sorry that I was a part of that, but if I do nothing else before I leave this world, I want to make you smile every day. I want you to know that no matter what happens, you can depend on me to be there in any way that you need me. I wish I could just set you free, but I'm…trapped. I can't and you know what? God help me, Amy, but I don't want you to go anymore. I know that's wrong, I know it's…crazy, but you are…"

  He was going to say 'Making me fall in love with you', but he just couldn't seem to fit those words in his mouth. He swallowed them down to stay buried forever. No matter what happened, he could not tell her he'd fallen for her. She'd hate him even more than she already did.

  So, while she slept, he took his petty penance and kissed her forehead once more. "I'll see you in the morning, sweet girl."

  He ended his sad repertoire and left her there buried in the blanket. She'd slept on top of his comforter every night and he knew why. It was one of the little things she did to deny; to be in rebellion of what was going on without actually being in rebellion. Because once you gave up all of those little things it all became too real. He understood that better than anyone, he thought.

  But for tonight, he wanted her to have all the comforts available to her and just hoped she wouldn't feel overwhelmed in the morning.

  * * *

  Amy woke up and looked around the room. It was morning, but early. She was in the bed, which wasn't where she'd fallen asleep. She remembered…being moved. Being warm and the deep murmuring... Roger must have come out and gotten her last night from the couch. But then where was… Ahhh.

  He was asleep on the floor next to the bed.

  She wondered if she should wake him for work, but then jumped, even shrieking a little, when the alarm next to her went off suddenly. He reached up with his eyes still closed and slapped the button. He sighed and did this grumble thing as he rubbed his eyes. Then he looked up and stopped. He gazed around disoriented for a minute before setting his gaze on her once more. "Morning," he said, but it sounded an awful lot like a question.

  "Morning," she said softly, remembering how angry he'd been last night and thought she was trying to trick him. She wondered how to act, but stuck to her plan. "Thanks for putting me in bed. I slept really good last night."

  "You're welcome." He cleared his throat and sat up. "And I'm sorry I was such a butthead."

  She giggled and tried to cover it with her fingers. His brow shot up in humorous question so she said, "Butthead?"

  "Well, that's what I was being wasn't it?"

  "A little. It's all right." She flopped back into the bed and stretched. "I can't imagine growing up the way you have."

  "I can't imagine growing up the way you have," he mused and sat on the side of the bed.

  She smiled, pulling her knees up as she lay on the pillow. Her hands rested on her belly and she tapped her nails together. "My dad was…" she looked at him, "really great. He was a fireman. He died when I was sixteen."

  His brow bunched. "Sorry."

  "You know, it's sad, it is, but to know that your father died trying to save someone…it makes it a little bit better. There was a huge fire at an apartment complex and a woman's teenage son was still inside, so my dad went back in to find him. They both died, but just knowing that he tried…" She gulped, but kept her smile in place. "My mom was always the stay at home kind, so she quickly had to get a job as a waitress at night. I've never seen a woman so tired in my life. I got a job, too, but we made it all work. Dad's insurance paid off the house, so we just took care of everything else."

  "Insurance? You mean life insurance?"

  "Yeah." The way he said it made her think he almost didn't know what it was. "Do you not have life insurance?"

  He shook his head. "No, we don't do that kind of thing here."

  Amy nodded in understanding. Why would you leave your wife that you stole money after you died? “What happens if someone dies here?"

  "Well, the wife is placed with another man if she's young enough. If not…" He looked away. "The money from the bank account and the man's house is set in a will to go to another man. A son sometimes or a friend's baby that will need the house when he grows up."

  "So, you guys have a lot of money, huh?" she asked to change the subject.

  "We all do. We only shop with each other and we have everything we need here. We do a lot on the stock market and investments, too, as a group."

  "Huh. Must be nice."

  "What?"

  "To have money to do whatever you want with."

  "Not whatever I want," he said bitterly. "I can't leave town without checking out with a guard. I can't move away and start new somewhere else. I can't let you go…"

  She sat up and looked at him. "You'd really let me go?"

  "But I can't," he answered. "I told you, Amy, I don't want you here." She bristled. What did she have to do for this man to get him to stay in nice mode for just two seconds? She scooted to the opposite side of the bed and got up. "Where are you going?"

  "Breakfast," she answered quickly and made her way to the kitchen.

  She was starting the coffee when she felt his hands on her arms from behind. "I don't want you here," he repeated and she jolted. Why was he doing this? "That's what I said, but not what I meant, or it came out wrong." He turned her to face him. "I meant you don't belong here. I feel…differently and I can't imagine you getting in the crossfire. We won't be able to live like this, Amy," he said softly. Everything he was saying was soft and filled with concern. "We can't pretend forever."

  She took a deep breath, but when she did, she inhaled his soap and cologne. He was so close. "I'm not pretending. I'm just being me."

  "You don't love me." Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "That's what I thought. Then you're pretending," he concluded and she saw his point.

  "I don't see another way at this point. Roger, you don't belong here either. You're not like them."

  "But I am."

  "No, you're not."

  "Oh, yes I am," he growled bitterly. "I am exactly like them. I stole you didn't I?"

  "Technically, some Hispanic man in a van stole me. If you think about it that way…you kind of saved me. I could be with one of them," she jerked her head to the door, "right now. Or in some…whore house." She shook her head at the thought. "I could be dead for all I know."

  He looked in her eyes and she finally, after all this time, saw the color of them. They were a deep brown, almost black, but with little pieces of gold. He seemed to be taking note of something himself as his eyes searched and ran over her face more than once. "Are you an angel?" he whispered and gave her a crooked smile. "It's the only explanation that makes any sense."

  "Maybe," she said coyly. "So you better start being nice to me."

  He nodded as if she had commanded him. "I will, I promise. I'm really sorry. I just didn't know what to do with you. I was…scared for you and scared of you. I don't like feeling like that."

  "Then don't anymore. We have an agreement, right? We're just an old married couple now." She said the words to him, and meant them. If she never saw an opening to leave she would just be here with this man. What other alternative did she have? And if the opportunity did arise, she'd leave and Roger would get over her
leaving.

  He smiled, seeming relieved. "Shake on it." He held his hand out.

  She was temporarily stunned. She'd never seem him grin like that before, so carefree and finally like he wasn't holding up a massive pile of worries, and it was distracting. She'd be lying if she pretended it wasn't. He smiled wider and took her hand from her side. He shook it in his. "We have a deal."

  "Deal," she whispered, because her voice refused to cooperate. She should feel like she was signing a deal with the devil, but she didn't. She was…intrigued and eager about what was to come. She wanted to scold herself, but there wasn't time.

  The work day was calling and the coffee maker beeped to let her know that the brew was ready for consumption. And she really needed a freaking cup of coffee.

  Chapter 10

  The next three weeks went just like that. Work, home, dinner, sleep. She slept in the bed and he found his way to the floor next to it every night. They woke, were pleasant and sometimes even joking, and then another work day started. They had hosted another husband from the community once already and it went just fine. Amy realized that if you just kept your head down and your mouth shut, they really didn't even seem to notice you.

  But Roger noticed. She caught his eyes on her constantly.

  To say that she wasn't feeling something for the man was the biggest kind of lie. But she was just pretending and showing him some kindness, and he was definitely just pretending. He'd told her so and shook on it.

  Today was a Friday and she was looking forward to the weekend. Maybe she could talk Roger into another drive in the convertible. She smiled at that as they pulled into Mitchell's Supply. She followed him back into the shop and took her usual stool. He immediately started on a sign that needed to be finished. He was carving the indentions with a hand tool, back and forth. Scooping and slicing pieces of wood off as he went. She watched, fascinated. When he stopped, she looked up to see him silently laughing at her. "What?" she asked and smiled.