The Reformation of Marli Meade

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  “Did you find Polly?” I clutched Nate’s free hand.

  “What happened?” Ambrose asked.

  “Why is that boy cuffed?” the sheriff asked, ignoring the questions.

  Ambrose sniffed. “There was a warrant out for his arrest for stealing.”

  Sheriff Wilton fixed his gaze on Nate. “Did you steal something?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Uncuff him.”

  “Sir?” Ambrose asked.

  “I need to get all the details, but he’s not a flight risk, are you, son?”

  “I’m a flight risk if you send Marli back up to the mountain. Then, yes sir, I’m a flight risk because I won’t let her go. I’ll take her and we’ll leave.”

  “He’s admitting he’s a flight risk!” Ambrose rested a slender hand on the gun hanging from her hip.

  “Hold on, Ambrose. Don’t get too carried away with yourself. You don’t have all the details. A good cop gets all the details. He…” He narrowed his eyes. “Or she doesn’t fire first. Now uncuff him.”

  Ambrose pursed her pink lips and did as she was told, though the expression on her face said she was none too happy about it.

  Nate gave his wrists a quick rub. Then he eased an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side. Robert watched without a word.

  “You and I need to talk,” Sheriff Wilton said to Robert.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.” Sheriff waved for Robert to follow him into his office, but before they passed out of sight, I slid away from Nate.

  “Wait.” I laid a hand on the sheriff’s arm. “I have a right to know what happened up there and what is going to happen.”

  “Robert?” the sheriff asked.

  Robert rubbed his beard and released a long, slow exhale. “She’s right. She’s old enough to know the truth. The full truth.”

  Sheriff shook his head. “This is turning into a hell of a day.”

  The two men disappeared into a back room.

  “Coming?” I asked Nate.

  He stayed on the bench, elbows resting on his knees. “Nah. You go and give me the CliffsNotes version later. I’m gonna hang out with my new friend here.”

  Ambrose glowered.

  “Okay.” I went into the sheriff’s office and closed the door. Sheriff Wilton sat behind his desk, his feet propped up on the edge. Robert stood by the window, staring outside. I took a seat and folded my hands in my lap, crossing my feet at the ankles in the exact same way I sat at church. It was an automatic reaction that brought a sharp pang to my stomach. I unwound myself, letting my knees part, though just an inch, and rested my hands on the armrests.

  “Let me give you a little backstory.” The sheriff and Robert exchanged glances. Robert gave a tense nod, encouraging him to continue.

  “I used to belong to the church. Was born and raised in it like you. My family and the Lowe family were the two oldest in the church, next to yours. Back then…” He laughed but there was no humor in his eyes. “Back then things still operated by the same archaic rule, but it was out in the open. There were punishings and markings once a month. There were few people on that mountain who didn’t have some sort of scar on their arm.”

  At that he hiked up his shirt sleeve and showed three ugly snake tongue-like burn marks on his wrist.

  “When your father took over after your grandfather died, nothing changed. Punishings were still as frequent and as harsh, probably even more so, actually.”

  “And my grandmother?” Edna was always the one I thought was mentally unstable, thinking Charles was just a strange lanky puppet for my poisonous grandmother.

  “Your grandmother was as guilty as Charles. Hell, they’re all guilty as far back as the first settlers.”

  Comprehending this information was not only imperative, it was impossible, so I scrambled to file it into mental drawers because there was no way I was going to be able to absorb everything he was saying. Even though he’d just started talking, I could already tell this was going to be an overload and I didn’t want to miss anything. This was my history, after all.

  “There was an agreement with the local police that dates back to the beginning of the church. The Church on the Mountain ruled the mountain. The police ruled the town and they did not mix. Not ever. It wasn’t that big a deal. When I was younger, we didn’t go to school like y’all do now. We were educated on the mountain and that education consisted of God’s teachings and God’s punishments. There was zero mixing with townsfolk.”

  Sheriff Wilton cleared his throat and glanced at Robert who hadn’t moved.

  “Once your father had been in charge for a few years, the punishings started to grow more frequent and more severe. He was only twenty-something and already the congregation was frightened and, believe me, we’d already come from pretty strict rule.

  “When he went to Tennessee and came back with your mama, we thought things might soften up. It would never be a bed of roses, mind you, and no one wanted it to be. We believed in God’s rules and didn’t want to veer from them. We just wanted a little more understanding and compassion that God also teaches, and we got none of that.

  “Things were better for a few months. Your father actually started to speak outside of the pulpit, exchange a smile here and there, and the number of punishings lessened.

  “But then…” His voice dropped off and he stood, turning toward Robert. “You wanna take over from here?”

  Robert didn’t budge. His head didn’t turn. His shoulders didn’t rise and fall. It didn’t seem like he was breathing.

  I watched, confused and apprehensive.

  Just when I thought he was not going to say anything, he did.

  “Some of this I’ve already told you. We’d fallen in love. We were going to escape. She found out she was pregnant and was sick so we waited. By the time she felt ready, it was too late. I told you there was a punishing and that she died. But what I didn’t say was that he killed her. Her death wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate.

  “They made her drink something that sent her into labor. They wanted the baby and didn’t want it harmed. After you were safely delivered, they started the judgment. The judgment was what killed her. The snake.” His voice cracked. “It bit her. They used one that was agitated and half-starved because they wanted rid of her. She’d been nothing but trouble. They used that snake for the purpose of killing Sarah.”

  Robert’s shoulders shook with silent sobs. I didn’t think my heart could break again after Polly, but I was wrong. It could break all over again and again and again.

  I STUMBLED OUT of the sheriff’s office an hour later, stunned and numb, not even remotely able to process. Images, thoughts, incidents I witnessed over the past years floated around in my mind like pieces of paper caught in a breeze. I wasn’t sure I would ever understand or comprehend it all.

  And the worst part? I was pretty sure there was even more to the story.

  I went in search of Nate, desperate for solace and his easy company, but he wasn’t on the bench.

  “Nate?”

  When there was no answer, I walked outside.

  Where was he?

  I looked around the periphery of the building, feet crunching twigs and dried leaves. “Nate?”

  It was so quiet that I could hear the different birds singing high in the surrounding trees. Their songs were melodic and beautiful yet haunting and sad at the same time. I envied those birds, though. They would never have to come to terms with the things I was now faced with. There was such a thing as knowing too much and now I knew too much.

  And there was no way to un-know it.

  Ambrose appeared from a side door of the building.

  “Where is Nate?” I demanded.

  Her green eyes narrowed. At first I didn’t think she was going to answer me but that wouldn’t do. I was running low on patience, that was for sure, and she would be the first to witness that impatience if she didn’t speak up. Now.
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  Just as my fists clenched, she opened her mouth. “He’s meeting with his lawyer. They’re going to submit an emergency petition for emancipation.”

  “Where are they meeting?”

  “Over at the courthouse. He asked me to tell you to wait for him, that he’d come back here when he’s finished.”

  I nodded, fingers unfurling. The courthouse sat beside the police station, giving easy access for law enforcement, lawyers, and the two county judges.

  “You’re lucky. You know that?” Ambrose picked up a stick and twirled it between her fingers.

  “Me?” I snorted. “After everything that’s happened, you think I’m lucky? You should’ve been in that office and heard what I just heard.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t easy.” Ambrose peeled off a piece of bark. “But you are lucky.”

  “How so?”

  “Nate clearly loves you.”

  My body warmed in an instant and there was no stopping the smile that spread across my face. He loved me?

  Me. Nate. In love?

  If I were to look deep into my heart, I would have to admit I had no true hope for our future, for our relationship moving on to a point of love. But now…with the changing of everything around me, the rearranging of life as I knew it, maybe it could become a possibility. Maybe.

  “I’ve not seen a boy so young act so mature. I hope he gets that emancipation. His dad seems like a real piece of work, and I’ve never even met him.”

  At mention of Nate’s dad, my mood darkened. “I hope so too. I worry they’ll kill him if he goes back there.”

  “You really think so?”

  I’d seen the bruises, the limping. Heard the stories. But kill him? “I think the brother would. I think he uses Nate as a target when he gets angry. He might not do it intentionally, but I think it could happen.”

  “But he didn’t deny stealing the money, and the truck situation has to be investigated, whether he had permission to take it or not.”

  I stayed silent. I believed him about the truck, but had he taken money without permission? That, I wouldn’t doubt. Knowing him, he would “borrow” it to help get us out of town, to help save me.

  “Do you think he’ll get in trouble?” I asked.

  “He’s already in trouble.”

  “Oh.” I kicked a mound of dirt. “Can you give me a ride somewhere?”

  “Where?”

  “To the library. I left something there I’d like to pick up.”

  Ambrose looked around, checked her watch, stared long and hard at the building as if trying to find a reason not to do what I asked.

  “You did try to arrest Nate,” I chided. “You owe me.”

  “Right.” She started toward her squad car.

  “What’s your first name?” I eased into the passenger seat.

  “Natalie.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “I moved here from Cherrydale, a small town an hour away.”

  “Did you come here for the job?”

  Ambrose started the car and sighed. “Yes, I came for the job. There is a lot in this small town to investigate, thus the reason for bringing on a detective. Unfortunately, they don’t let me do my job.”

  “Do you mean with the church? There’s a lot to investigate there?”

  “I doubt you have any idea.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “These churches are pariahs. They’re evil and deadly and need to be strictly monitored. That was supposed to be my job.”

  “How were you supposed to monitor the church?”

  But Ambrose didn’t open her mouth again and I chose not to press it. Fifteen minutes later she pulled up in front of the library.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes.” I slid out of the car.

  Ambrose didn’t respond.

  “Hi, Miss Nelson,” I said as I walked past her desk.

  “Hi, dear.” Miss Nelson was nestled in her usual spot, nose pressed into the crease of a paperback.

  I made my way to the unused trash can in the back room, lifted the plastic bag and was thrilled to see the duffel bag, stuffed full, still lying in the bottom. I pulled it out by the straps and set it on the table.

  Several minutes passed as I laid out the items and then it was ten minutes more before I could narrow down my options. Finally, I settled on a pair of jeans, one of the blouses that was a beautiful soft pink, and a pair of flats. There was no one else in the library so I did a quick change right there, under the distant watchful eye of the little Church on the Mountain.

  After dumping out the makeup and organizing it into piles depending on each item’s purpose, I opened the compact and looked at myself, long and hard. The face staring back at me was the same as it had always been except for the oily black hair, falling in misshapen strands below my chin.

  The color was too harsh against the paleness of my skin but there was no help for it now. I made a deliberate decision not to dwell on what I couldn’t control and applied a light coat of mascara. I was stunned how huge my eyes looked and at what a thrill it gave me to see them like that.

  I stuffed the old church clothes into the trash, relishing the feel of shoving the pieces, along with the heavy shoes, deep inside the can, burying them like I wanted to bury my past. Then as I gazed at the clothes sprawled across the table, a swell of gratitude washed over me. “I’m not sure how I can thank you, Heather,” I said into the empty room. “But I am so grateful.”

  “I’m glad you like everything.”

  I turned. “Oh! I didn’t know you were there.”

  Heather shrugged. “My mom needed me to return a book to my aunt. Is that hair dye permanent?”

  Shame colored my cheeks. “Um…I don’t know. I hope it’s temporary.”

  “Good. I like it better its original color.”

  “Thank you.” I waved at the clothes. “I really appreciate this.”

  “You look really pretty.”

  I smiled.

  “I heard something else happened on the mountain.”

  My happiness faded with the memory. “Yeah. You could say that.”

  “Are you going back up there?”

  Tears prickled the back of my eyes but I blinked them away. “I don’t know. I’m only sixteen. I’m not sure what they’ll make me do. We’re still trying to figure that out.”

  Heather glanced down and that was when I saw another bag at her feet. “I brought a few more things. I was just going to leave them since I didn’t think I’d run into you again.”

  “Heather, you really don’t have to. I mean, you’ve been overly generous as it is. I can’t accept anymore.”

  Heather watched me. “You have to. These things are going to you or Goodwill.”

  I couldn’t imagine those pretty clothes dumped into a Goodwill bin. “Ok. But this is the last time. I can’t keep taking from you.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be graduating soon then I’m leaving.”

  “Oh.” I was surprised to feel a stab of disappointment; to think we might have actually been friends…in another place and another time.

  “Listen. I gotta go. I might not see you again but I wanted to wish you good luck.”

  I swallowed. “Good luck to you too. I really do wish you the best. Maybe one day we can catch up over coffee or something.”

  Heather gave a brisk, noncommittal nod and walked out of the library.

  I stared after her long after she left. Then I grabbed the new bag from the floor and started pulling out the contents. Item after item fell out, all with tags still on them, all my size, all incredibly beautiful.

  When had I died and gone to Heaven?

  Heather had just given me a bag full of brand-new clothes.

  I hurried through the library and burst out the front door, eager to find her and either give the clothes back or fall on my knees in gratitude. But she was nowhere to be found along the nearly deserted sidewalk. After several minutes, I returned to the back room of the libra
ry and started reorganizing my new garments, feeling like I could float right out of the room.

  I put the things into the two bags and went outside where Ambrose was waiting in the squad car.

  “Wow. You look different.”

  “Thank you.” I smiled.

  BACK AT THE station, an ancient maroon pickup truck was parked out front, large patches of rust eating away the metal along the sides.

  Ambrose shoved the car into park. “Looks like we have company.”

  “Wonder who it is?” At least it wasn’t a truck I recognized from the mountain, but I still had a bad feeling. A foul odor oozed from the opened windows, and the seams of the seats had popped open in several spots, revealing yellowing stuffing. There was a picture of a dead deer emblazoned across the wide back window.

  Ambrose placed her hand on her gun. “Stay close to me.”

  We went inside and all too soon I wished I hadn’t.

  To the left of the room was a man with weathered, wrinkled skin sucking on an unlit cigarette. He leaned against the wall and his bloodshot eyes flitted in an agitated tic. He must be Nate’s father.

  “That’s my boy. He’s mine by right.” His hand shook as he pulled at the end of the cigarette.

  Sheriff Wilton’s chest expanded. “That boy has bruises all over him. He has a limp from where someone kicked him in the knee. Just weeks ago he had to be removed from your house because of alleged abuse. Now you mean to tell me that you think he should be returned to your care?”

  “Damn right. That boy belongs home with his brother and father.”

  “Where is his mother?”

  “Gone. She took off.”

  With his broken, brown teeth and the stench that filled the room from his direction, I couldn’t believe he and Nate were in any way related.

  Then Jude emerged from a back room, buttoning his pants as he did so, further pleading the case that it was impossible Nate was part of this family. “Did you arrest the little shit?”

  “You never did state your name, son, before you disappeared into the bathroom.” Sheriff Wilton folded his arms over his barrel chest. “Who are you?”

  “That little shit’s brother. The one he stole the money from and I want it back. And that truck was mine too. Did you arrest him or not?”