Broken Branch

by John Mantooth

  For something larger than me. This, always the vague answer.

  When she’d met Otto and James singing their spirituals just outside of Montgomery, something inside her had shouted that this could be it. She’d volunteered to accompany some of the nursing students to a poor region of the state where they were to offer free care for the rural farmers and their families. But Trudy had quickly wandered away, drawn by the sounds of singing and guitars that she heard across the river. There, she found a small crowd of people gathered outside a barn. James and Otto were in the front singing spirituals. James played the guitar like it was some appendage God had sewn to him at birth, just so He might be more glorified. And when he strummed it, each vibrating note was filled with the passion that had been so absent in her father’s church. And Otto—Lord, Otto had been the one she fancied first—had sung like an angel, and spoke in mysterious tongues when the spirit moved him, and testified in fever about the redeeming blood of the lamb.

  She left the university the next week and traveled with them, town to town, revival to revival. Now she saw her foolishness, but then she was too blind, too hopeful that what they sang about was real.

  She switched from Otto to James because Otto didn’t seem interested in anything but the Lord. James, though, was kind to her and sometimes she caught him staring at her when he should have been praying or focusing on worship. She figured this meant he fancied her, although she couldn’t really make out how she felt about him. But since she wasn’t really looking for a man as much as she was looking for God, she didn’t think on it too much and just let herself be swept up in the majesty of giving her life to God completely. The only way that seemed possible was to give herself to James completely as well.

  The rest had happened quickly, like nightfall at the end of a winter’s day. She’d used the money left from her father to purchase the land for Broken Branch. All of it. She could tell herself that at the time she’d believed the land would be blessed by God and they would isolate themselves in purity from the rest of the world, a world that Otto had explained to them was ate up with war and hatred and perverted sexual desire.

  “Here,” he had said, standing under the big oak tree in the clearing, “We will make a life for ourselves and our children. A godly life, untouched by the outside world.” He’d looked around then, as if really seeing the place for the first time. He looked up at the outstretched branches of the oak. One branch was broken, hanging down, supported by other limbs. Otto stood on the tips of his toes and clutched a part of it, pulling it toward him. Once he got his hands around the thick part of the branch, he twisted it hard and pulled it free. “Like this branch, we were once a part of the world, but now we are broken free and will become our own tree, watered and tended in the spilled blood of the Lamb.”

  He smiled broadly. “Here in Broken Branch, we will find refuge from the storm.”

  But he’d been wrong, Trudy realized, as James struck up the next hymn. Sooner or later, the storm always finds you.

  4

  That evening after she’d seen the children to bed, Trudy sat thinking about those old notebooks. She’d put them somewhere in the cellar, far out of sight, in a place she hoped James would never look. But even if he did, he was unlikely to read them. They weren’t the Word, and James had long ago established that he felt reading anything besides the Bible was a worthless endeavor, a waste of the time God had given you. Maybe she’d go down and pull them out sometime. Maybe, she thought, feeling just the tiniest ripple of excitement, she’d even start writing again.

  It was a nice thought, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Not with Rodney and Mary to take care of. Not with what was happening in Broken Branch. Still . . . the urge was strong.

  She shook her head, dismissing the thought. She needed to talk with James. He was outside, smoking on the porch. This was his ritual, and he always sat out there no matter the weather. Sometimes, if she was feeling lonely, Trudy joined him. Lately, she chose to stay inside, lonely or not. She’d become honest enough to admit to herself that she didn’t love him, that she had in fact never loved him. Still, she’d made a commitment before God that had to be honored so she carried on as best she could.

  For James’s part, he didn’t seem to mind the coldness that had come into their bed. After the children had been born, he seemed to grow less enthusiastic about those things, claiming he felt awkward doing such in front of the Lord.

  Trudy had gained weight, but she was still pretty. She kept her hair shorter now than she had when she’d met James, but it was still dark and thick, and when she found time to wash it in the creek, she’d even call it luxurious. The weight she’d added in the last few years wasn’t too bad because she was tall enough to carry it well. She’d often caught other men—like Ben Turner for one—staring at her. Despite the satisfaction she gained from knowing other men still found her attractive, James’s lack of desire hurt her in ways she couldn’t explain.

  So she grew used to being lonely, and on this evening, her decision to join him had less to do with loneliness than curiosity. She wanted to see how James felt about Otto’s sermon from earlier.

  “It’s cold out,” she said, placing a blanket over him.

  He smiled. “You are a good wife, Trudy.”

  She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that not only was she not a good wife anymore, but she wasn’t even sure she wanted to continue being a wife at all, at least not his wife. Instead, she put on the smile she thought he’d like to see and sat down in the chair next to him.

  “What did you think of Otto’s message this morning?” she said.

  He shrugged. “The man speaks the truth. Always has. It’s why I wanted to settle here when he bought the land.”

  Trudy resisted correcting him. Otto hadn’t bought the land. Trudy had bought it. Sure, Otto had handled the paperwork, but Trudy had written the check to the bank. She owned it, yet she knew reminding James of such a thing would be useless.

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Something on your mind?”

  “It’s just that . . .” she hesitated, fearing she might be making a mistake. Her faith was weak, and she hated to reveal the weakness to James, but she couldn’t help it. Not this time.

  “It’s just that the Watsons were good people. No different than anyone, James. You remember Horace. He used to sit and smoke with you at night. And Cecily was always ready to lend a hand when someone needed it. I just don’t—”

  He turned on her suddenly. James was not a man to anger easily, so she was taken aback when she saw it flash in his eyes. “Let me ask you something, Trudy. Are you God?”

  “James, of course I’m not God. It’s just—”

  “Then you don’t have nothing to say about it.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t have an opinion because I’m not God?”

  “It’s not that, Trudy.” He softened a little and touched her arm gently. “The fact is we don’t know what was in their hearts. The sin that reigned in there.”

  “Exactly!” she said. “We don’t know.”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” he said calmly, and suddenly she wished he was still angry. His stubborn adherence to calmness and kindness made her crazy. It made her want to give in to the demon she felt inside her, so she could lash out at him in anger.

  “Finish,” she said sharply.

  “We don’t know their hearts exactly, but God has provided plenty of evidence through his storm that they were not pleasing to him. We shouldn’t dwell on things like this, Trudy. It leads to discontent, and discontent leads to sin, and sin leads to the devil, and—”

  This time, Trudy interrupted him. “The devil leads to God’s wrath.”

  She’d heard him say such things so many times, and she realized that the order and comforting familiarity of such a statement somehow was an anodyne to James, a soothing pacifier for
a man who was afraid to be a man.

  5

  Two more storms came, neither as bad as the one that took the Watsons, but bad enough. Three homes were damaged, and one of the Newtons’ dogs had been crushed beneath their porch when a branch from the oak tree slammed into the front of their house. Worse, the second storm had taken the roof off the church, something people claimed in whispers was a sign.

  Trudy helped with the cleanup, just thankful that no one had been hurt this time. She tried not to think about the possibility that the whispers were true and that God was displeased with them all.

  6

  The last two storms gave rise to the inevitable. People began to talk of leaving. It wasn’t discussed in front of Otto or James or a few other men, like Earl Talbot and Franklin Meyers, but the women who washed clothes at the creek discussed it openly enough. After a quick glance around to make sure Rachel, Otto’s wife, wasn’t with them, Trudy joined in enthusiastically. She even volunteered that she’d consider leaving without James, which caused the other women to look at her sternly as if she’d just committed some unforgivable sin. After that, they worked in silence, dipping their husbands’ work shirts in the cold water and scrubbing them with rocks until the darkest stains were almost gone, though no amount of scrubbing, Trudy realized, would ever remove them completely.

  She kept one eye on Rodney as she worked. Since the attacks started, she tried to never let him out of her sight and that meant bringing him along with her when she worked. The other women questioned her about it at first, but eventually became accustomed to his presence. Rodney was mouse-quiet and usually played off to the side by himself, never disturbing any of them. In fact, the only time his presence seemed to cause any of the women any consternation was when one of them tried to engage him in conversation. He was nearly eight, an age when a child was expected to respond. When he didn’t, the women took it for a slowness, or worse, a kind of calculated rudeness. Trudy understood it was neither. Rodney was quiet and different, but he was still only a boy, and he had plenty of time to grow up. He clung to her fiercely, and the attacks only made this worse. The other women just didn’t understand, she thought.

  Since bringing him along, she’d only had to leave twice when she saw the signs of an attack coming. Both times, she managed to get him away from the other women in time. When she returned, she told them he went to play with some of the other children. No one seemed suspicious so far, and she hoped her luck would hold out.

  It was only as she was packing up her basket at the end of the day that Trudy saw Rachel a few yards down from them. The drooping branches of a willow tree had concealed her from the other women as they’d talked, and Trudy knew she’d be all too eager to report to Otto exactly what the women had said.

  She hated Rachel for many reasons, both petty and worthwhile. She hated her for being beautiful, for always looking polished and attractive, even after having two children, even after a long day’s work in the fields. She hated her for her voice, which always sounded sweet and made men turn their heads away from their tasks to see her. She hated her because their eyes always lingered, taking in her femininity, which seemed to pour off her in waves. But most of all, Trudy hated Rachel because of her attitude. Her smugness, and the delight she seemed to take in the misery of others.

  Yes, she would certainly report all of it to Otto.

  Let her, Trudy thought, but the sentiment sounded more confident than she genuinely felt.

  7

  Two days later, Otto called an emergency meeting and everyone gathered at the oak tree. It was like church except James wasn’t holding his guitar and instead of beaming at them all as they gathered, Otto frowned deeply. He seemed disturbed by whatever he was about to tell them.

  Trudy clenched her fists and hoped for the best.

  He’d spoken for less than a minute when she realized they were getting the worst.

  “It’s come to my attention that many of you are thinking of leaving.” He paused, wincing, shaking his head. It seemed this knowledge hurt him deeply. The congregation murmured, feigning surprise, pretending that they hadn’t just hours before spoken in whispers of the very thing he was describing.

  “God came to me last night, brothers and sisters. He came to me and reminded me of something. Maybe some of you have heard this story before, but even if you have, it bears repeating because it’s a great reminder that God keeps his promises, but he expects us to do the same.”

  He turned and looked at James. James nodded at him and joined him, so that the two men were standing side by side.

  “Most of you know James and me met in the south of France, fighting Germans. Some of you know that we were stuck in a trench with some of our fellow soldiers for nearly four weeks. We had minimal supplies and nothing to do but pray and worry and pray some more. See, we were surrounded. Germans on all sides, and they decided to just wait us out.” He dropped his head. James did the same, and Trudy knew it was because the memories were painful. Once, she’d tried to ask James about this time, but he’d shrugged her off.

  “So while they waited, we starved. Some of the men took to cursing God. Day and night, they screamed at Him because He wouldn’t protect them, because they were hungry and He wouldn’t feed them. I prayed, brothers and sisters. That’s all I knew to do.” He looked at James. “James here can tell you that.”

  James nodded solemnly.

  “My prayer was simple. I asked God to save me. If He saved me, I’d promise Him I’d speak His word the rest of the days of my life.” He stepped closer, leaving James standing behind him. He leaned in, like he was telling each individual person a great secret. “I fell asleep. I suppose it was from hunger or maybe God just chose to protect me like that. I don’t know, brothers and sisters, but what I do know is that when I woke up, every one of my fellow soldiers were dead. The Germans had come into the trench and shot every last one of them dead. Somehow, they’d passed right over me, and it was because I’d trusted in the Lord. I checked each body for signs of life, but didn’t find any. Just as I was about to climb out of the trench, I heard a man’s voice. He was on the far side of the trench, hiding in the waste and filth. He was praying.”

  Otto reached back for James and pulled him up beside him again. “He was praying, brothers and sisters. Praying.”

  He dropped his head and James did the same. If Trudy had not heard this so many times in the past, if her heart was not already hardened against this story and against the two men, she might have felt the urge to drop her head as well, but instead, she only stared straight ahead. Something shifted inside her, and Trudy knew it was the demon. She felt afraid and exhilarated when it moved, reminding her that she didn’t have to stand idly by forever.

  “So,” Otto continued, “we stand before you today, but humble soldiers in the Lord’s army. We stand before you not as owners of our own lives, but as men bought and sold by the blood of the Lamb. I made a promise to God if He’d give me a second chance, and He did. So I have to honor that promise. It’s not optional, brothers and sisters. It’s required. So when I say to you that these rumors of people leaving Broken Branch are an affront to me, what I really mean is that they are an affront to God above, for my eyes have become His eyes, and I see with His love and His justice.”

  He patted James on the back. James nodded and stepped back near the base of the oak.

  Otto stood alone, his thin frame wavering with an inward passion, the same wavering that she’d once thought was proof of something real, but she wondered now if looking for proof of God was an exercise in futility.

  “God told me that anyone who leaves this place will suffer.” He frowned, and Trudy thought the pronouncement honestly pained him. “He made it clear, brothers and sisters, that anyone who leaves is leaving because they are afraid, and fear is the great bane to our Father. He won’t tolerate it. Hear this prophecy from the Lord our God!”

  “Amen!” someo
ne shouted. Franklin. He was a loudmouth, a reactionary. People like him were the reason Trudy had begun thinking about leaving in the first place. People like him were the reason she felt compelled to keep Rodney hidden away as much as possible. She could only shudder, when she imagined the way Franklin might react to one of Rodney’s attacks. A demon, he’d no doubt say. And that would be all that was needed to start a mob in Broken Branch.

  Otto grinned and pointed in Franklin’s general direction. “I knew the faith of this place was strong. Satan may attack us, but we will cast him out!”

  “Cast out the sinners!” Franklin replied. Some other folks cheered, and Trudy found herself stepping away from the circle of followers, more sure than ever that she needed to leave.

  8

  But Otto wasn’t finished yet. Trudy had to stop short of leaving the circle because that would call unwanted attention. More than that, leaving a meeting would be viewed as deeply suspicious. So she stayed, praying it would end soon.

  “I’m going to ask for some honesty now,” Otto said. “I already know who has been talking about leaving. But I need those people to confess in front of the community. Only then can we forgive you and move on with our lives.”

  A deep silence passed over the clearing. The breeze died, and no one moved.

  Trudy knew Rachel would have told Otto everything. She knew it would probably be easier on her to go ahead and confess, to beg for forgiveness, but she couldn’t bring herself to give Otto the satisfaction.

  After the silence grew almost unbearable, Otto turned to face Trudy directly. “Nothing is hidden from God. No deed or thought,” he said.

  Trudy met his gaze defiantly.