The Reformation of Marli Meade

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  Charles slid the snake into the box and closed the lid.

  Betty Jean turned toward the audience. Beginning the strange language anew, her eyes wide and staring and unfocused, she lumbered toward the exit. Charles followed, then Edna. The line of Lowes came next, Mary carried between her parents, her feet faltering underneath her. If she was even conscious, I could not tell.

  Polly held the hands of the younger children and kept her head down.

  Mrs. Stone grasped my hand, her skin rough and papery. She yanked hard on my arm, forcing me to fall into the line that wove in and out of the pews and out the church door.

  The clouds were low, stifling in their thickness, expansive in their weight, like Heaven wanted to crush this sinful world of ours.

  As the group found their way to the riverside, Charles and the Lowes stepped toward the river, Betty Jean close by. Edna stood by a fire that was lit at the river’s edge. She held something in her hand.

  “Fire cleanses us of our sins as does water. God has judged her and now it is time to cleanse her! To wash Sister Mary of her grievous sins, we will use both fire and water to better pave her path back toward God, back toward the one truth.”

  Mary started to weep as if she’d finally come alive again, loud waves of sobs pouring into the damp, chilly night air.

  Charles eased into the water. The Lowes followed. Somewhere in the distance, thunder crackled.

  “The devil will be gone from this precious child! God save this lamb from the devil’s grasp and return her to your fold!”

  Edna pulled a long, thin stick out of the fire.

  Mary started to shriek, and when Mrs. Lowe could no longer hold her, a male congregant stepped forward to help Mr. Lowe immobilize his daughter. Mrs. Lowe, bowed and clutching at her stomach, stumbled to the river’s edge.

  At some point, Mrs. Stone’s hand was replaced with Josiah’s, trembling as much as mine.

  Edna handed the stick to Charles, the metal tip burning red in the dark night. She returned to the fire and pulled out a lit torch, the flames casting raw red light over the small party. She held the torch behind Mary and waved it around like she was cleaning the air of permeating sin.

  Charles lifted the sleeve of Mary’s dress, pushing it up until it bunched near her elbow. Mary was hysterical now, shrill cries piercing the night. Two more men came forward to help hold her as Charles pushed the burning tip of the stick into her wrist, branding her with the image of a serpent’s splayed tongue.

  The smell of burnt flesh was pungent—acrid and repugnant. I stumbled toward the bushes, vomiting until I was emptier than a discarded rusted can. When I looked up, Charles was leading the Lowes and an unconscious Mary farther into the water where they would begin the rebirth baptism.

  There was no denying the sight of myself in Mary’s place, and I vomited again and again until my insides were dry and brittle. When Josiah offered his hand, I took it. Maybe I couldn’t straddle the two worlds. Maybe this church’s hold was too tight and I would never be free.

  I DIDN’T LEAVE my bedroom the next morning to meet Nate, but oversleeping wasn’t the reason. In fact, I hadn’t even gone to sleep.

  And it wasn’t that I didn’t feel well, or that it was cold outside and my bed was too warm to abandon. It wasn’t that I no longer cared about him.

  It was the smell. It lingered within my nostrils as if the tiny hairs had captured it, absorbed it, and now it was part of my permanent being. This, even after using a box of tissues to try and rid my body of the odor.

  Burnt flesh. A marking. Images of last night plagued my brain, and waves of nausea tore through me. I felt feverish and ill though my stomach was hollow and empty.

  The screams…the snake…the smell, oh the smell…

  Mary’s punishing was more than enough to plant my feet firmly on the righteous path. If someone discovered what I’d been doing lately, I would take Mary’s place, no doubt receiving the same punishment.

  Or worse.

  I would marry Josiah. I would not see Nate again. I would be the holy daughter Charles and Edna so desperately wanted. There was no other option.

  Somewhere deep inside my soul I wept hot, raging tears for the hazel-eyed boy with the tilted fedora. But I was weak and pathetic. To think I was strong enough to handle a relationship with Nate was foolish.

  The minutes ticked past, the ancient alarm clock loud in the quiet of the room. I didn’t yearn for Nate. Really, I didn’t feel anything at all—not for him, Mary, Polly, myself. I felt deflated, like someone had sucked the life out of me. It was easier this way. Feeling would mean hurting and I was still too stunned to hurt. Or think. Or pray. Or do anything other than lie there and inhale the memory of Mary’s burnt flesh.

  At one point, the sound of a rock hitting my window almost pierced my newfound detachment, but I pulled a pillow over my head and burrowed under the covers until I could no longer hear it. An hour later, as the filtered light of another cloudy day struggled to fill my room, I forced myself out of bed and got dressed in standard fare, choosing the heaviest skirt and sweater I could find.

  I made breakfast for Charles and Edna and put on a fresh pot of coffee. The smells that filled the kitchen made my stomach turn, and when we sat down to eat, I had warm water only.

  No one said anything about the punishing. What was there to say? Marli, I hope you paid close attention because this is what is awaiting you. I shivered.

  “Are you sick?” Edna asked, her voice brimming with impatience.

  “No, ma’am.”

  Charles let his fork fall to the plate with a clang and stood. When he left the kitchen, that was my cue to grab my things and follow. He moved outside on stick-thin legs and slid into the truck without an ounce of acknowledgement that I was even there.

  I stole glances at him while he drove. His expression was held the same way it always was, not even changing last night as he seared a burning hot stick into Mary’s arm, nor when he’d dragged her limp body into the water and dunked her under in the name of God. Even now, lost in his own quiet thoughts, his expression was the same.

  Was he even human?

  Was Edna?

  Who were these people I called my family?

  The ride to school took forever. Every jostle of the truck made my nerves jump until I yearned to throw open the door and hurl myself out of the moving vehicle. My eyes kept cutting to the seat between us, finding some small comfort in the emptiness of that space, of the fact the black snake box was not there.

  After what seemed like a lifetime, he pulled in front of school and didn’t even bother to put the truck into park.

  “I’ll pick you up at the library.”

  “Can you please pick me up after school instead?”

  I didn’t want to go to the library. I didn’t want to go ever again. I needed to be taken back home. I needed to not forget who I was and where I came from.

  But Charles pinned me with his stare. “Six o’clock.”

  I bowed my head. My feet were heavy as I trod toward the building.

  “Hey, church! Lookin’ good today!” Guys standing near the entrance cheered as I approached. One stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You know…” He grabbed my chin and forced my face upward. “You could be really pretty.” He dropped his hand and tumbled into a rough-edged guffaw. “If you weren’t dressed like my grandma.”

  Another guy stepped forward. “What happened to your hair? You look like my little brother.”

  “It’s her stripper wig.”

  Their laughter followed me into the school where I tried not to look for Nate, but couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t hide the disappointment when I didn’t see him. Gone was my fragile detachment and stoic resolve from the morning.

  Maybe he was angry because I didn’t meet him this morning, but I doubted that was the case. He would know if it wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t come. And I knew he wouldn’t want me to.

  Maybe he was sick.

  But what if it w
as something else altogether? What if something happened with his dad or brother and this police business? Why couldn’t he have stayed on with the Stones? At least he seemed safe when he was there.

  Lost in thought, I bit too hard on a cuticle, tearing away a chunk of skin. My eyes watered but I blinked them away and pulled out my textbooks.

  Heather and Janelle walked by. Heather stared ahead while Janelle made a face like she’d sucked on something sour. “Nice hair.”

  I was so numb even the mean comment didn’t register.

  NATE NEVER SHOWED up to school that morning, leaving me caught between relief and deep stabbing pangs of worry. As class after class passed, my conviction to keep away from him morphed into a desperate need to make sure he was okay.

  I stopped by the nurse’s office to get a Band-Aid for my finger, and as she rummaged through a drawer brimming with first aid things, I peeked into the back room where sick students went to recuperate or wait on their parents. The room was empty.

  “Marli, are you okay?” The school nurse, an elderly woman the students called Miss Claire-Anne, ripped open the Band-Aid paper.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem to be feeling well. You look pale. Are you getting enough sleep?” Forgetting the Band-Aid, she pushed her palm against my forehead.

  I stepped away from her touch. “Um, do you know if Nate Porter is sick or why he’s not at school?”

  The shadow that passed over Miss Claire-Anne’s face was the answer her mouth didn’t say. “We can’t give out personal information.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  Miss Claire-Anne watched me for several moments as if she was trying to decide how much to confess. “Yes, he’s been hurt.”

  I clutched the nurse’s arm. “What happened?”

  Miss Claire-Anne pried my fingers off and wrapped the Band-Aid around my finger. “I can’t say, dear.”

  Tremors shot through me. I was unraveling like a rag doll whose seams had been cut loose. The scent of burnt flesh was still alive in my nostrils as were Mary’s cries in my ears. And now Nate. I was committed to breaking it off with him, telling him we could no longer see each other. In this instance, that conviction, as fragile as it was, shattered and flittered away, if it had ever really been a conviction at all.

  Miss Claire-Anne popped out of her chair and folded me into her arms. “There. It’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s in good hands.”

  “Good hands? You don’t mean his father?”

  The shadow passed over her again. “No, dear. He won’t be going back there.” Miss Claire-Anne looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. “He’s in the hospital. He’s fine, but he might have to be there a few days.”

  I doubled over, catching a breath suddenly impossible.

  “My dear, lie down. Come.”

  “Oh, God.”

  As Miss Claire-Anne pushed me toward a chair, I wrenched free. “No, I have to go. He’s at the local hospital?”

  “Honey, you can’t just leave school.”

  My mind was racing. It wasn’t even lunchtime—I could get there and back before the end of the day.

  With as much effort as I could muster, I forced my features to relax even though there were gale-force winds whirling inside me. “I’m sorry. I’m just shocked. I’ll check on him after school. I should get to class.”

  Before Miss Claire-Anne could protest, I bolted out of the room and headed straight to my locker. As classes settled into the beginning of another mundane lecture, I slid out the side entrance.

  Without a backward glance, I ran several blocks until the hospital loomed ahead. It was an aged building, red distressed brick with windows whose frames were cracked and in need of painting. One hundred years before, it was a lunatic asylum and still held the same eerie façade, but I didn’t care. If they could take care of Nate, they were saints.

  But Nate wasn’t inside the hospital. He was sitting on a picnic table underneath a soaring maple tree.

  “Nate?” I sprinted forward. “Are you okay?” I stumbled to a halt in front of him. “Oh my…God…Nate…”

  At the same time I scoured his appearance, he scoured mine and his mouth fell open.

  “What happened?” we demanded of the other at the same time.

  Moments passed in charged silence as if the words that needed to be spoken were pressurized, becoming more and more heavy, weighted, bloated with pain that was too difficult to describe.

  Finally, Nate reached for me. I slid my hand into his and allowed him to pull me forward. Soon, I was pressed against him, feeling the only ounce of peace in what seemed like an eternity.

  “Hey, beautiful.” He pulled away, scouring my hair.

  I fingered the short ends. “I have a new hairstyle. It’s all the rage now a’days.” The attempt at humor fell flat.

  “Edna?”

  I nodded.

  My hair didn’t matter, though, not nearly as much as the bruises on Nate’s face. I was unsure where I could touch him. His lip was busted open with dried blood peppering his chin like a splatter of miniscule paint droplets. He had a deep-black bruise under his left eye and a cut along the right side of his cheek, long and deep.

  When he tried to pull me onto the bench, he winced and grabbed his side.

  “Your ribs too?”

  He answered with a grimace.

  I sat beside him. “Tell me.”

  He was wearing his fedora, and I resisted the urge to shove it off his head, to take away anything that indicated this was a normal day.

  “Same ole song and dance.”

  “I don’t know what that means. Tell me without trying to play it off like it was no big deal.”

  “You know that thing I was going to do for the police?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it didn’t go as planned.”

  “Go on…” I braced myself.

  He watched a car pull into the parking lot across the road. “I was in Jude’s room when he got home.”

  “And he obviously didn’t like finding you there.”

  “Yeah, well, I was elbow-deep in his dresser looking for any information I could find.”

  “And he just…did this to you?” Marli wasn’t sure her heart could break any more.

  “Pretty much.”

  “How could the police put you up to this?”

  “All they wanted was an address, and they kept telling me over and over not to risk anything. If I found something lying around, then bring that to them.”

  “And you…didn’t listen?”

  “Well, kind of yes and kind of no. I was looking for Mom’s address again while keeping my eyes open for any info on that lab.”

  “How’d you get away?”

  “I’m not helpless. I fought back. He’s not looking so good either, ya know. Anyhow, I managed to get out the front door and didn’t go back.”

  “Miss Claire-Anne said that you would be here for a few days. Did they admit you?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see. I told them I wanted to leave, and since I don’t have health insurance, they let me walk out the front door. I left a message for my PO, but I’m not going back to the Stones’. At one point I thought about it, but no. Don’t even suggest it.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I whispered even though I was.

  “Why didn’t you show this morning?” There was no accusation in his tone, just concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “You were hurt and still came up the mountain?”

  He shrugged it off. “I had nowhere else to go so I hiked up overnight and just stayed there. I went to school this morning and ran into the nurse. She was going to call an ambulance, but I talked her into giving me a ride to the hospital instead. She’s supposed to come back after school. She might be a little surprised to find I’m not here.”

  If my heart wasn’t already broken at the sight of him and what he had endured, it would have surely become so at the thought of him waiting for me up on the
mountain. Hurt. Alone.

  “I didn’t want to risk it. Things are falling apart up there. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” I choked on a sob but managed to keep my composure.

  “Did something happen?” He toyed with my fingers.

  I didn’t return his gaze. Instead, I stared at the mountaintop. From this angle, the swirling mist obscured any sign of the little church and its foreboding cross.

  “Yeah. Something happened.”

  “What?”

  “There was a punishing, a ceremony where whoever did something bad is judged, punished, and then cleansed or re-baptized. It was a part of the church’s history but they had stopped years ago. I never dreamed they would start them again.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I was lost in memories, my voice mechanical and emotionless. “You know my friend, Polly?”

  He nodded. “I’ve heard you talk about her.”

  “She has an older sister, Mary. She was caught sneaking around with a guy from school. They had one of these punishing ceremonies for her. At first it was just sort of humiliating for her. The entire Lowe family had to stand at the front of the church. Then…”

  He caressed my arm.

  “Then…the judgment. My father brought out a snake…” I shuddered. “If the snake bit her, she was beyond saving—and I assume it was poisonous—and she would die. It didn’t bite her, thank goodness.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Oh, how I wish I was.

  “Is that even legal?”

  “The mountain has its own set of laws. The police don’t have influence or jurisdiction. They leave the Church on the Mountain alone and vice versa.”

  “I get that, but something like this? I can’t believe they can get away with it.”

  “That’s not all. Then we left the church. At first I thought they were just going to baptize her, wash away her sins. But they didn’t. They marked her.”

  “What do you mean, they marked her?”

  “They took a stick from the fire that had a metal tip on it. Then they pushed it into her arm.” My voice crackled and split.

  “Oh my God,” he whispered as he turned sideways. I knew it hurt his ribs, but I couldn’t protest and allowed him to ease me into his arms.