Let Me Go (Owned Book 2)

by Gebhard, Mary Catherine

  “Why aren’t you in school, Eli?” I asked the question that had been plaguing me since his arrival.

  “I got a letter,” Eli answered cryptically.

  “A letter?” I asked, intrigued. “What did this letter say?”

  “I’m not going to tell you what it said.” Eli smiled, turning around so he was walking backward and facing me directly. My knees buckled at his smile and I cursed my traitorous muscles. “But after reading it I felt I needed to see you.”

  I frowned, hating this riddle game we were playing. “Cut it out, Eli. Who’s sending you letters?”

  “No one any more,” Eli said, still vague as ever.

  “Was it Mrs. Nelson?” I guessed.

  “Can we stop talking about why I’m here, and focus on the fact that I’m here?” Eli grabbed my hand. I jumped at the contact, nearly tripping over a pile of sand. “And talk about the fact that I’m here. You’re here. We’re together.”

  I took my hand back. “For how long? A day? A week?” My heart had broken apart when I lost our baby. My body had crumbled to ash when he left for college. I simply would not survive if we kept up like this, acting like we were a regular couple.

  We weren’t a regular couple. We were soul mates, like two halves of an Oreo cookie. The longer he stayed, the more I became aware that without him I was a letter with no words, a blank page without the ink.

  “Come home with me, Grace,” Eli murmured, his voice like a lullaby.

  “To where, Georgia?” Of all the places I wanted to be, Georgia was the absolute last. Having said that, of all the people I wanted to be with, Eli was, and always would be, first.

  Eli shook his head. “No, back to my place. Here in Santa Barbara.”

  “Like your hotel?”

  “It’s gettin’ late out here. I can see the goose bumps forming on your skin.” Eli rubbed his palms up and down my forearms to rid me of goose bumps. Of course, he only succeeded in giving me more goose bumps. “Lets keep talking back at my place.”

  I knew that if I said okay I was only throwing myself further down the rabbit hole. I knew that if I went with him I’d sealed my fate as effectively as if I’d given fate the gun herself.

  I looked to Eli and said, “Okay.”

  TWO MONTHS BEFORE

  “What is that?”

  “A backpack.”

  “I know what it is. Why do you have it?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Could you not cuss at me please?”

  “Sorry…” Eli ran a hand over his head, obviously irritated. “It’s just, I got word that you were leaving, but I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe you would just leave like this.”

  “What did you think was going to happen?” I responded, shoving a shirt into my backpack. I refused to look at Eli, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t memorized everything about him the moment he’d walked in my door. His hair was shorter now and the faint outline of a beard was growing on his jaw. It had been just a few short months since Eli had left, but in those months he’d changed drastically. My heart felt battered when he walked in my door. He was changing without me.

  “You can’t just come back after being away for months and act like we’re fine, Eli,” I continued. What I said wasn’t fair. I knew it wasn’t fair, but Eli was doing well. He was in school and on his way to becoming something. In my mind, every time he came back to this godforsaken town—to me—was a deadly distraction.

  Eli kicked my bed with such force I felt it in my bones. I stepped back, afraid of what he was going to do.

  “God dammit Grace. I left because you had already left—left me! What is going on with you?” He stepped toward me and I stepped back. A look of pain crossed his features. “Where have you gone?”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere. Not yet.” I had to be strong. I had to stay committed to this distance, for Eli. The sooner Eli forgot about this town and me, the sooner he could become something.

  “That’s a lie and you know it!” Eli yelled. “Something happened to you the day your daddy died but you won’t tell me.” I flinched at his words, remembering the day.

  “Will you at least tell me where you’re goin’?” Sorrow etched Eli’s features and for an instant I reached for him, but just as quickly I pulled back.

  I shook my head. “I think it’s best you don’t know. Shouldn’t you be gettin’ back to school anyway, Eli?”

  Silence filled the room like poisoned gas. I refused to look up at Eli, even though I knew he was staring at me. I let the minutes tick by like hours, keeping my hands in my backpack like it was a patient bleeding out and my hands were the only thing keeping it alive.

  “Fine Gracie,” Eli said, breaking the silence. “If this is how you want it to be. Fine.” Eli stormed out of my room, his fading footsteps telling me when it was safe to breathe again.

  Sometime later I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out into the living room. Mama was sitting in the chair staring at nothing like she did every day now. Her daily routine consisted of getting out of bed and moving to the recliner in the living room where she sat and stared out the window. It was as if she was dead but her soul had yet to move on.

  “Mama?” I asked, even though I knew it was futile. She wouldn’t acknowledge me. “Mama, I’m leavin’.” Mama’s face didn’t register my voice. I didn’t want to just up and leave, but I knew it was time go. I walked over to the chair and placed my hand on her shoulder. She flinched as if I’d hit her, so I quickly jerked my hand back.

  “Mama, I’m going to California. I’m going to see Vic. I love you Mama.” I felt like I should kiss her goodbye or something, but the way she’d reacted to my hand made me think otherwise. I gave Mama one last look before I shut and locked the door behind me. She didn’t say goodbye, but then I didn’t expect her to.

  I’d been on the road for a few weeks, but it only took a few days to realize how naive I was. I’d thought my few hundred dollars would be enough to get me from Georgia to California, but that wasn’t the case. First I had to get out of my small town, which meant hitching a ride with some farmers to the next town over. I’d thought that would be the hardest part.

  I was wrong.

  When looking at the prices in the station, I realized one ticket from Georgia to California was going to eat up the entire savings of four hundred dollars I’d accumulated by working with that flea Zero. So, I bought a bus ticket that got me to Oklahoma.

  From Oklahoma I hitchhiked to Colorado. By the time I reached Colorado I smelled like the devil himself, having not showered in two weeks. The biggest meal I’d had was a kid’s meal a nice family in Kansas bought me. My hair was a tangled mess. My fingers were grey with dirt.

  I’d nearly given up, thinking I was going to live on the streets for the rest of my life. I stumbled down the cold Colorado streets, hoping for some kind of sign. People ignored me mostly, because to them I was just another listless vagrant.

  I’d lost track of time, seeing as I couldn’t afford a watch, but I grew to understand the day by the people. When people were out and going about their business, that was the busy time; when it was dark and only people like me were out, that was the haunted hour. Right then, it was the haunted hour.

  Slinking down the street, I began to resign myself to the fact that I would have to sleep another night on the streets. I resigned myself to the idea that California was only a dream and I would never see it come to fruition.

  The shelter was packed, meaning there was no space for me. I could sleep outside the shelter, against the walls, like most did. Even if you didn’t score a coveted cot, the walls seemed to offer some kind of safety and heat. That night, though, I didn’t feel like doing that. I just couldn’t bear to acknowledge that I’d given up my house in Georgia for this.

  Even if the house was a terrible one, it was still a roof.

  Ambling along the road, I contemplated my limited options. All I had was my backpac
k, and that didn’t keep me warm during the cold Colorado nights. I’d gotten lucky the first few nights there and was able to score a cot at the homeless shelter. Recently, I hadn’t been so lucky. I hadn’t been able to find a place to sleep, so I hadn’t slept.

  Sleep deprivation was starting to get to me. I was seeing things in the shadows and hearing things as I walked.

  I saw him. I saw Eli everywhere I went.

  I turned a corner and saw a giant stone structure: a church. In the windows, a face appeared to me and I jumped back, a silent scream escaping my mouth. I saw Daddy’s hardened jaw glaring at me. I knew it was probably the sleep deprivation, but I had to know if he was in there. Maybe his soul couldn’t rest. I took the steps two by two and tried at the door.

  It was open.

  “Daddy?” I called into the darkness. “Daddy are you there?” My voice echoed against the tall ceilings. I followed the echo into other rooms, eventually landing in the biggest, most vaulted of rooms. Rows and rows of seats—I remembered reading they’re called pews—lead up to the altar.

  I called for Daddy one last time before moving slowly up the aisle. Despite all the religion in my house, I’d never once been in a church. It was magnificent and very awe-inspiring. I took my seat in a pew, pretending to be a church goer. I imagined Daddy up there teaching about hellfire and sins.

  I shivered.

  Despite Daddy’s ghost, the pews were comfortable. Almost bed-like. Kind of like a cot. I leaned to one side, my head colliding with the scratchy fabric, and let my eyes close.

  The lights turned on just as I was drifting to sleep. Busted.

  “Who’s there?” A voice called out into the dim room. I knew the voice wanted me to answer, but I was terrified. If I answered I would get in trouble. All I wanted was a warm place to sleep. Slowly I sat up straight, revealing myself to the authority. It was just me among rows and rows of empty pews.

  A woman approached me, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail and her face was kind.

  “I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I got turned around and then I just fell asleep.” It sounded like a lie. I was sure the woman was used to people like me, vagrants, coming in there and trying to sleep. Before she could kick me out, I stood up and walked toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  I turned around, surprised. “I was leaving.”

  “If you want to stay the night, you can. I would love to talk to you tomorrow.”

  I nearly declined, too proud for my own good. Ready to eschew the offer and run out, my mouth was forming around the word “no”, but the pew had been so comfortable. It almost felt like a bed, and the place was warm, and the walls offered protection from the wind.

  I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t say no either. The woman walked out of the room of worship, not giving me time to answer, and turned off the lights, leaving me alone. It wasn’t long before I returned to the pew and fell asleep.

  “You’re a pastor?” I asked in disbelief. The woman from the night before had returned to talk to me and, very surprisingly, she was the church’s pastor. A woman. Women weren’t allowed to be in positions of authority within a church, at least that’s what Daddy had led me to believe. He’d told me that because of what Eve had done to Adam, women were forever mistrusted in the eyes of God.

  He constantly reminded me how he was risking his soul to save mine, how it was bad for him to teach me the ways of God, as God viewed women as vile, dirty things. Since I was his little girl, though, he would risk himself.

  When I was young, only about five, I felt constant guilt over Daddy risking himself for my soul. I felt fear. One day I ran crying into his prayer room, begging him to stop teaching me and just let me go to Hell if that meant it would save himself.

  If it hadn’t been for Eli, I would have lived and died under Daddy’s spell. I truly believed his words. I believed I was an evil, vile thing and that the only good in me came from Daddy’s teachings. Looking at the female pastor across from me, I was again slapped with the realization of how deep Daddy had dug himself. He was dead, I was across the country, and yet his beliefs were like the thick roots of a Redwood.

  “I’ve been pastor of this church for only a little while,” the woman explained. “Two years about. Before then I was pastor of a small church down in Lake City.”

  I nodded, even though I had no idea where she was talking about. Truth was, I’d stranded myself in Colorado on my quest toward California. I’d run out of bus money and was barely scraping by on food.

  Colorado wasn’t the worst place to be stranded. They really took care of their homeless people. After talking with a few people at the shelter, I’d learned that many homeless people actually traveled to Colorado for that very reason.

  I was working hard to not get complacent. It would be so easy to become the person people saw me as: a young, aimless vagrant. I could disappear as Grace Wall forever and be this nameless person that people occasionally gave money to to make themselves feel better.

  I wouldn’t have to deal with Grace's past or Grace's family. I would just…be.

  “What brings you to Colorado, Grace?” The pastor’s voice warmed me out of my bleak thoughts. She sat next to me in the pew, less than a foot away, and I was very aware that I hadn’t showered. I must have been disgusting to her.

  “I was on my way to California,” I answered, trying to end the conversation. Sitting with the pastor just reminded me how unworthy I was.

  “Was?” the pastor asked. “Have you changed your path?”

  I shrugged, standing up. “I suppose not. Thank you for not kicking me out, but I really should be going. If I’m not back at the shelter all the beds will be gone.”

  “Why don’t you stay the night here?” she offered. I eyed the woman warily. She seemed genuine enough, but then most people seemed genuine at first.

  “What do you want?” I asked skeptically.

  She laughed, a sound like grinding cans and very at odds with her petite frame. “Nothing, of course!”

  “Will I have to attend church?” I wondered if this woman was sincere. It all seemed too good to be true.

  She shook her head. “No, of course not. If, however, you decide you want to come to a service, you are always welcome.” She smiled warmly at me.

  After a few moments, wherein I considered her offer, I finally answered, “No, no thank you.” No one offered anything for free. I wasn’t sure what the pastor wanted from me, but I was sure she wanted something. I didn’t have much to give and what I had left, I wanted to keep.

  She raised her hands in defeat. “The door is always open.” I gave the pastor one last look, still unsure, and left to go secure my spot at the shelter.

  I hung back and watched the service from the last row. It was so different from the Sunday services Daddy had forced on me. In those services Daddy preached hellfire and told me if I didn’t change my ways I’d burn forever. He was never very clear on what I needed to change, so I would run up to my room after his Sunday service and pray for forgiveness for hours. I wanted God to forgive me for everything since I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong.

  I remembered praying that God would forgive me simply for being me.

  This service was the complete opposite of that. The pastor read verses that I didn’t even know existed in the Bible. At first I thought she was making them up, because they sounded so…nice, so I snuck the Bible out of its holder in front of me.

  It felt like sneaking because Daddy never let me read the Bible. He said that women weren’t allowed to touch such a sacred thing, lest we dirty it with our whorish hands.

  I opened the Bible, feeling like I was doing something wrong, but when I looked around I saw that everyone was doing the same thing. They were all following along as the pastor read from it. Their voices echoed as they repeated the verses, one after another.

  “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kind
ness, goodness, faithfulness.” I stared at the verse, echoing around me, in awe. Love? Joy? Kindness? All of these had been absent from my household. The church continued.

  “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Once the church finished reciting, I read the verse again. I couldn’t believe it was actually in the Bible. I felt my heart clench in my chest. I flipped the page and prepared for another verse, my grip tightening on the book until my fingers were white.

  “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” I stared in disbelief. Emotions swirled in my chest, the sensation like heartburn. I turned the page again, preparing for the last verse.

  “Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.” I felt hot tears form in my eyes, tears of betrayal and tears for the years I’d lost to my daddy's religion. He’d taught me that God was vengeful and unforgiving, and he’d read from this very Bible. Now these people read from the same Bible, but they read verses of love and forgiveness.

  I realized in that moment how very little I knew about anything. How easily I had been manipulated by one who claimed to be my family. Who claimed to love me. I’d known that my daddy had anger, I’d known that he had his problems, but I hadn’t known that he’d been betraying me with every word he spoke.