The Reformation of Marli Meade

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  “Robert?” I whispered.

  He didn’t turn.

  “Um, excuse me?”

  He let the curtain drop. “Is it time?”

  “Yes. I want to make sure I get out of here. Thank you for everything.”

  “I have something for you.” He walked to a small end table that had two open shelves and one small cabinet door. He opened the door and reached deep inside. “Here. Take this.” He lifted an envelope. “It’s money. Should be enough to get you where you need to go.”

  “I can’t.” My refusal was weak.

  “You have to. But you should go. I haven’t seen any sign of a search party in a few hours. Go now before daybreak. That wig will help you blend in.”

  The short strands felt brittle between my fingers. “It’s not a wig. Edna did this.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  I didn’t answer, unable to give voice to the affirmation.

  “Well, be glad of it because it’ll help you stay hidden. It’ll always grow back and the color will fade. You said you know this mountain?”

  I nodded.

  “Well enough to make it down in the dark? You’ll have to go within the forest and stay off the dirt road.”

  “I know. I should be fine.” I would meet Polly and Nate near the river, deep within the dark cover of the trees. I returned to the kitchen and grasped the doorknob. “Thank you.”

  Robert followed. “I can’t come with you.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” I prayed that that were true.

  He nodded, opening and closing his mouth several times as if there was more to say but he wasn’t sure what. He went to a kitchen drawer and took out a piece of paper and pencil. After writing something on it, he held it out.

  “This is my cell number. If you need anything…”

  I clutched the paper to my chest and nodded, not confident in my voice, afraid a thank you would come out in a flood of tears.

  I slipped out the door, the paper already moist from the sweat of my palm.

  THE SKY LOOKED like someone had dumped a vat of tar over it, obliterating any ray of star- or moonlight. I prayed I did know this mountain well because it would be another hour before any stroke of light would help me see. A light rain fell, making the ground wet and slippery.

  It was difficult to hear anything besides my clumsy feet and ragged breathing. I tried to calm my heaving chest, but the effort only made me gulp air like I was drowning.

  I thought I veered toward the cemetery but couldn’t be sure. With fists clenched, I stopped. My chest hurt and sweat turned icy on my back as I looked around, trying to get my bearings.

  After several moments, I started toward the left where I thought the cemetery should be. When one thick cloud parted enough to allow a faint moonbeam through, I caught sight of the curved edge of a tombstone and released a long, silent sigh of relief as I pushed ahead. When I heard the sound of gently moving water, I slowed. There was no hurry now. There was only waiting for Nate and Polly.

  I worried about my friend. Would she have the courage to sneak out? I had gone over every detail I could think of, but Polly wasn’t used to taking risks and had seemed afraid. I didn’t blame her but hoped she wouldn’t let that keep her from coming.

  My watch’s dim blue light read four thirty. They should be here soon. I leaned against a tree, the rough surface digging into my back.

  Feeling too jittery to stay still, though, I started toward the river, ignoring my own advice to stay hidden. Within a few yards the trees cleared and I could just make out the riverbank. The faintest of the moon’s rays glimmered off the gray surface and the muddy brown slopes along the shore. The rain picked up and my face was covered with moisture.

  When there was movement to the left, I froze, my nerves raw and alert. I took a soft step backward, and then another and another.

  The sound of crunching earth and breaking twigs sent me into a tailspin, my mind spinning like a tornado.

  It was probably Nate.

  Or it could be Polly.

  Or it wasn’t the sound of footsteps but of snakes rustling through the overgrowth of the forest, slithering toward me, ready to strike and kill.

  I turned my head to the left and listened. There was no other noise. I turned to the right and did the same thing. There was no sound save for the soft movement of the river and the gentle patter of rain.

  A small beam of light popped up in the distance. Was it Nate? He wouldn’t know that using a flashlight would be dangerous. In fact, he wouldn’t know anything about what had happened last night.

  It was odd, though, that the light came from the other side of the river. Nate was supposed to meet me on this side to better make our escape toward the dirt road. Maybe he had gotten lost on the way. He didn’t know the area like I did, though he should’ve come up the way he always did, which would land him right here.

  Polly would definitely know it. Maybe she had taken the long way around?

  Or maybe it was Charles. Or Edna. Or my doom waiting to capture me in its morbid embrace.

  My nails dug into the tree bark as the light bounced with the holder’s steps.

  “Marli!”

  I whipped around and found myself in Nate’s arms, relief crashing over me. When he pulled back and opened his mouth to speak, I put a finger against his lips.

  “Someone was there, just before you said my name.”

  “Let’s go.” Urgency shaped his words. “We don’t have time to find out who it is.”

  “Wait! Polly is coming.”

  “Polly?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a chance to tell you. She can’t stay here, either. They’ve taken Mary. No one knows where she is.”

  “She’s meeting us here now?”

  “Yes, she said she would. We can’t leave her.”

  “Okay, but we shouldn’t wait too long.”

  “I know.”

  “I have my dad’s truck to help get us out of here faster.”

  “Did you steal it?”

  “Technically, he said I could use it anytime. Now I’ll use it to get us where we need to go. It’s parked at the end of the trail.”

  I nodded as Nate put a finger to his lips. We’d already talked too much.

  The one light remained, hopping around in the distance. When it seemed that it was heading off in the other direction, Nate tugged on my arm. “We should go. Do you think she’s coming?”

  I had given Polly specific instructions. We were to meet on the cemetery’s side of the river. Could she have gotten it wrong and that was her with the flashlight?

  “Marli, I’m sorry. We should go.”

  Black turned to gray in the distance. Soon the sky would turn to pink then blue. The cloudy, rainy sky might hold off the sun’s rise a little longer, but we had to get started.

  “We’ll come back and get her.”

  I nodded and Nate grabbed my face between his hands. His kiss was urgent, full of fear and determination and anticipation, along with a million other feelings I understood so perfectly there was no need to put them into words.

  When he pulled away, he grabbed my hand and we slid off into the forest, toward the darkness that would envelope and enshroud us, providing us with, I hoped, the protection we needed.

  But we weren’t fast enough.

  Rough hands clamped on me from behind.

  Nate’s hand was yanked from mine and he was lost to the darkness. The sound of him scuffling with someone filled the air and I struggled to get loose to help, but my arms were pinned behind my back, a rope twisted around my wrists. A hood was thrown over my head, scratchy and stifling. I was dragged forward so roughly my feet gave way, but the hands clasping my arms were strong, hoisting me off the ground like a rag doll.

  In the distance I could hear Nate still fighting. He released a string of curses before a loud thud reverberated through the forest and he went silent.

  From me there was a whimper. A burst of a sob. A whimper again.


  I could do nothing.

  Through the thin hood, I could just make out lights ahead, little dots of red fluttering in the dark. They had been there the whole time, hidden and discreet.

  Cold water flowed into my shoes. They were dragging me across the river.

  Where was Nate? Maybe he was unconscious and they would forget about him. Maybe he would wake up and walk away. There was nothing for him here now. I no longer had a future to reach for. I prayed he still had one within his grasp.

  And Polly? Maybe she was still in her bed, warm and safe. Maybe she had the good sense not to step toward a future that was too elusive to grasp.

  A sob burst out of my mouth as I saw my future crumble.

  Someone yanked the hood off my head as I was planted on my feet, rough hands like iron clamps around my arms. Charles stood before me with a glowing torch, his black eyes large and round, the flame’s reflection dancing across the opaque surface. Edna stood behind him, a mirror image of her son.

  “Marlina Emmaline Meade,” Charles said with an ugly sneer.

  Male congregants lined the riverbank as they lit the remaining torches. These were people I’d known all my life, people who had shared their hopes and dreams, shared their sorrows, their table. Now they were here not to share, but to judge. To judge me. To punish me.

  “Sinner.” Charles’s voice was low and deep.

  Then I heard it. It sounded like a crack of thunder but it wasn’t an oncoming storm. It was a whip. Charles held a long black whip in his hand. As I stared at the leather, as my mind struggled to comprehend what was about to happen, my eyes were drawn to the fire behind Edna. She was leaning over it with the marking stick in her hand. Off to the side of the fire sat the black box—the black box with the snake.

  I thrashed within the men’s hold even though my wrists were still bound. “Please,” I cried, but there was no one to catch my word.

  In the distance I saw Mr. Lowe. Thank God Polly wasn’t here, and I wept with relief. But Josiah was. He stood beside his father at the river’s edge. He looked like he was crying, the flames reflecting his scrunched-up, distressed face. Or maybe it was just the rain.

  Charles cracked the whip again. “You are accused of heinous sins. Cavorting with a heathen!” The whip bit into the earth. “Disobedience to your father and God.” Another crack. “You will be judged. Marked…if you are still alive.”

  My vision turned black, like lightening had struck behind my eyes, obliterating everything. But I could hear—dead silence from the congregation, soft chanting from Edna, crackles from the fire at Edna’s feet, and every so often, the stinging crack of that whip.

  When I was shoved to my knees, I didn’t feel a thing—not the soft earth cushioning my fall, not the bruising crush of the men’s fingers holding me down, not the frantic beating of my young heart. The only thing I was even remotely aware of was the tears pouring over my cheeks, mixing with the sky’s own downpour, merging together like a cascade of cold, harsh fear.

  When there was another crackle shooting through the night, I closed my eyes, knowing it was the whip. It was coming closer. It was coming for me.

  But…only it wasn’t.

  There was another crack, but it didn’t sound like the whip. It sounded like a gun. I made my eyes open only to find Robert standing nearby with a shotgun pointed at Charles’s heart.

  “Touch her and die.” His voice did not waver.

  “You dare question God’s wrath?” Charles bellowed.

  Robert stepped closer. No one in the congregation moved to stop him. “Put the whip down.”

  “How dare you come here?” Charles’s voice was as sharp as a blade.

  “You killed Sarah.” Robert cocked the gun.

  Laughter burst out of Charles’s mouth. “My wife? You always were a fool for her.”

  “You will not harm her daughter.”

  As Robert moved closer, Edna darted out of the darkness, the glowing point of the marking stick lighting her way. She thrust it at Robert before he had a chance to react, shoving the blistering point into his side.

  The early morning air erupted in screams of pain.

  ROBERT’S RAGE SHOOK the ground as he fell to his knees, clutching his wounded side. Just as I was about to sprint toward him, someone grabbed me, dragging me away.

  It was Nate, appearing out of nowhere like a phantom, or a savior. He untied my hands then yanked me after him, giving me no choice but to follow even as my feet stumbled out from underneath me.

  “Nate, wait!”

  “No!” He yanked harder. I fell to my knees, but he had me up and sprinting again before the sting of the fall made it to my brain.

  When we hit the thick cover of the forest, I jerked him to a halt. “Nate, wait.” I fought to catch my breath. “We can’t leave Robert.”

  “You keep going. I’ll go back.”

  “No, I’m going with you.”

  Behind us I could hear a struggle. Frantic drone of voices. Someone was yelling. Edna was shrieking. I ran out from the tree line, shoved raindrops from my eyes, and stared at the scene unfolding by the river.

  Robert was on his knees, Charles standing over him with the whip. Edna hovered by his side with the fiery stick in hand. Mr. Lowe stood a few yards away with Robert’s rifle firmly in his grasp. He must’ve dropped it when Edna marked his side.

  “We can’t let them do this,” I whispered, my feet ready to break into a sprint.

  Nate held me back. “Let’s think.”

  “We can’t! Nate, they’re going to hurt him! He saved me!”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have time to explain! They were going to make me marry Josiah last night. I ran away and Robert hid me in his cabin. I have to go!”

  I wrenched free.

  Nate grabbed my arm. “We need to get the gun.”

  Mr. Lowe had moved farther away, gun lowered toward the ground as he watched Charles for direction. If we were able to move around behind the group, using the forest as cover, we might be able to sneak up and take him by surprise.

  I turned to Nate and nodded. We clasped hands and slunk off into the dark forest.

  We didn’t make it far before the first crack of the whip sprang through the air, followed by Robert’s deafening scream.

  Nate wouldn’t let my feet stall and kept a steady, quiet pace until Mr. Lowe’s stooped back was just ahead.

  Crack.

  Scream.

  Witch’s cackle.

  Nate eased through the tree line on footsteps that were masked by my uncle’s pain. After a quick look back at me, Nate darted forward, jerking Mr. Lowe around before slamming a fist into his nose. The older man hit the ground in a pool of blood. I grabbed the gun and tossed it to Nate. He bolted forward, pointing it at Charles’s head.

  “Drop the whip!” Nate yelled.

  Charles twisted, rain running into his unblinking eyes.

  “It’s the heathen,” Charles sneered.

  “Yep. It’s the heathen,” Nate mimicked. “The heathen has a gun, asshole, and I’m not afraid to use it. So go ahead, touch him again and see if I’m serious or not.”

  Charles’s brows raised, orbs glassy and black. Robert was hunched over, blood seeping through the back of his rain-soaked shirt. I started a slow trek forward, eyes trained on each member of the congregation in turn.

  “I said to put the whip down.” Nate eased forward. “Edna, you crazy old bag, put the stick down.”

  His words would’ve been funny were it an entirely different situation.

  Mr. Lowe struggled to his feet, blood streaming over his face. He slithered off into the forest like a wounded dog. The other congregants stood immobile.

  “You dare to come here and draw a weapon on God’s warrior?” Charles asked.

  Nate didn’t flinch. Robert was on his feet now, standing to his full height.

  Edna held the stick toward him but did not press forward.

  With a sudden burst of crazed e
nergy, Charles released a deafening screech. The sound was caught by the wind and echoed off the trees, shaking the ground. He charged Nate.

  Just as he dropped his shoulder, ready to run Nate over, I darted forward and yanked the stick out of Edna’s hand. I lunged toward Charles, red-hot end pointed straight at his heart. I missed his chest but hit his cheek, forcing a wail of pain out of his mouth.

  Somewhere nearby a gun went off, and I hit the ground with a thud.

  THE MOUNTAIN PEAKS were painted grayish pink as the sun struggled to rise on this cold April morning. Thick dew covered the ground and a heavy mist hovered over the river like a suspended blanket.

  Someone was shouting but I couldn’t comprehend the words. There was a flurry of movement all around, but I felt detached from it, like I was a hovering spacecraft watching aliens on a foreign planet.

  Charles was on the ground with Robert standing over him, the end of the gun pointed at Charles’s head. His cheek was red and starting to blister where I’d marked him. Edna stood hunched over nearby, hands over her ears, shrieking like a deranged mental patient.

  “Shhh, beautiful. Shhh. Lie still.” Nate’s voice traveled through the void like a small burst of light in an otherwise dark abyss.

  I waited on a crushing pain. I’d gotten shot, hadn’t I? I tried to sit up but couldn’t. I wanted to ask what happened but found no words.

  “Lower the gun, Robert!” Sheriff Wilton stomped out of the shadows, his own gun pointed at Charles. “What’s going on here?”

  Robert planted a steely glare on Charles. “They were about to have another punishing up here.”

  “That true?” he asked, staring at Charles.

  “You have no jurisdiction on this mountain, Wilton,” Edna said. “What the church and its leadership decides is within our rights.”

  “Well, that’s just not true, is it?”

  Edna bared her teeth. “You have no rights here.”

  Sheriff Wilton stalked forward, gun raised, and stopped in front of Charles. “Robert, keep an eye on your mother.”

  Robert pointed his gun at Edna.

  “We had an agreement,” Sheriff Wilton said. “It looks to me like you broke that agreement. In doing so, you have invited the law back up onto this mountain.”