Break the Faith

by M. Mabie

  It was then I remembered he’d sent me a text a while back and I’d left it unanswered. Hopefully, that hadn’t been related.

  Myra didn’t eat much. Or, rather, what she had eaten was considerably less than normal. Then again, maybe I was reading into it too much because I was looking for clues anywhere they might be.

  After breakfast, she looked through her phone and sat on the couch with one of her study guides.

  I hung around the cabin, poking at this and that, aimlessly. Working in the shop didn’t feel right. Going to church and running errands didn’t either. I wanted to be there if she wanted to talk and support her when her family called. But all of it made me somewhat stir-crazy.

  Hours went by, in silence. Our phones didn’t ring.

  IT WAS A COOL NIGHT, and the air was crisp, telling me summer was really gone and autumn was settling into the hills. Soon the leaves would change, and frost would replace dew in the valley each morning.

  I leaned against the wooden rail off the bedroom side of the porch as I looked out into the darkness and lit my pipe. I couldn’t claim to be a huge fan of smoking all that much, but I loved the ritual and scent of the burning tobacco.

  Before long, the door behind me opened and Myra joined me on the deck. After taking another sip of bourbon, I placed the glass on the rail hoping she might be ready to talk about things. Tell me what she was thinking. Feeling. Guide me to the best way to help her.

  “I don’t know why no one has called me. Or called you. I mean, aside from Robbie.”

  My arm wrapped around her shoulder, and I pulled her into my side.

  I didn’t want to make excuses for her selfish family. A family that she’d been completely devoted to until a few months ago. They were all she’d ever known, and the sting she felt inside must have been painful.

  Most of them hadn’t even called to check on her since she’d left Lancaster earlier that summer. Now, with their only surviving parent gone, you’d think they’d cling to one another. Maybe they were, but they had forgotten to include Myra.

  It wasn’t for their benefit that I answered, “They’re probably busy with arrangements.” It was for her.

  I saw no point in adding insult to her injury.

  “I should be sadder.” Her dry eyes looked up at me and I placed a kiss between them on her warm skin.

  “Whatever you feel is how you should feel. What do you want to do?”

  She lifted the glass in front of us, examined it in the porch light, gave it a smell, and then sampled it. Wincing from the bite of the whiskey, she answered, “We have to go back. I just don’t want to.”

  Although I was sure of it before, that she realized how Lancaster really was and saw the people there differently after being away, it was a relief to hear her say it out loud.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Ever.”

  She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to mine. “Thank you, Abe. But I need to see my father. Tell him goodbye. I loved him.” Her voice quivered as she said the last few words and my heart went out to her.

  “Of course you did.”

  Myra was smart, brighter than anyone ever gave her credit for. She’d been thinking all day, sorting through things, and I had no doubt that she’d cautiously weighed her options.

  My thumb rubbed her arm.

  “I’m dreading it,” she said.

  She took another sip from my glass, which surprised me. She didn’t much like coffee—up until that morning—and now she was slugging back aged liquor like she’d been doing it for years.

  “Listen to me. You don’t have to be like them. Dress like them. Act like them. You are finding your identity, and that doesn’t have to stop just because we have to go back there.” I tapped the end of the pipe against the rail to empty the extinguished tobacco. Then I turned and leaned against the wood to face her head on, meeting her eye to eye in the dim light filtering through the windows on the back of the cabin. “It doesn’t have to change anything.”

  Her voice was soft, but her tone was sure. “I don’t want to pretend.”

  I’d do my best to make sure no one hurt her, but I wasn’t naïve enough to deny that they’d try. They were the worst when it came to accepting others, differences, or inclusion.

  3

  Myra

  His massive hand reached out to me, slipping behind my neck and under my hair. He pulled me to his chest and kissed the top of my head.

  I welcomed his warm touch, his earthy scent, the rich timbre of his manly voice.

  “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy, we’ll do it.”

  Taking a deep breath, my cheek flat against his cotton t-shirt, I’d never felt such affection. Without hesitation, I slipped my arms around him and clung to the man who loved me.

  The man I loved with my whole heart.

  After a peaceful few seconds, Abe broke the silence. “I’m worried about you. Are you okay?”

  There, in his arms, yes. But I wasn’t sure what the week would hold. How I’d feel returning to Lancaster. How it would be to say goodbye to my father. I wasn’t even sure I’d be allowed to. My family still hadn’t reached out to me with the news of his passing.

  Only a few months ago I would have completely relied on others, on my faith, to ensure my happiness, my peace of mind. That responsibility was now in my own hands, and it wasn’t always going to be easy, but having Abe beside me made it worth it.

  “I’ll be fine. Better when all this is behind us.”

  “We don’t have to go, you know?” His voice was as soothing as the pace of his heart against my ear at his chest.

  I tipped my head back, and said, “I’m not afraid.”

  Abe’s hazel eyes blazed into mine. “That’s my girl.” His arms tightened around me. “Why don’t you soak in the tub. I’ll see what I can find out about the arrangements and call Ted to let him know what’s going on.”

  The bathtub sounded wonderful. I may not have been as emotional as I should have, but I felt the tension and stress tightening my body. Maybe it was just the idea of going back that had my shoulders stiff, my neck rigid, and my muscles tight. Or maybe it was grief—for a lot of things.

  Other parts of my body were also tender, but for much different reasons. Wonderful reasons. I had no way of knowing if the tenderness was simply because it had been our first time or if it would always be that way. Regardless, I didn’t mind. It wasn’t too painful. More so, a bittersweet reminder for our night together.

  Honestly, if he wanted me again that night, I wouldn’t hesitate. I was eager to be with him. There was something singular about the connection, and I craved more. The night before was now a blur of sensations and sounds, but mostly just a beautiful jumble of snapshots throughout the experience.

  I’d felt like parts of me were there, parts were floating around the room, and others that seemed to combine with parts of him.

  The next time I’d try to be more mindful. I wanted to have notes of what he’d liked and what I might get better at. I wanted to please him and give him everything he wanted because that’s what he did for me with all things.

  “A bath would be nice.” I put weight on my heels again, having been up on my toes, and his hold around me relaxed. “Guess I’ll be absent from class this week.” I wasn’t excited about missing courses, but it was a math week. So the selfish half of me was relieved I wouldn’t have to drudge through that work for another month. The wiser half knew it would only set me back.

  Maybe I’d take the study guides with me. Not only would they be a welcomed distraction, but it would help me not fall as far behind.

  “A few days at least.” He squeezed my hand as I pulled away. “No longer than necessary.”

  I liked how that sounded and hoped for a quick trip.

  LATER, SOAKING IN A hot bath, I spoke to God—something I hadn’t done as frequently as I’d used to. The nape of my neck against the porcelain edge, I closed my eyes and silently spoke what
was in my heart.

  Dear God,

  Things have changed, but mostly for the better. I can’t say for sure anymore if you had a hand in bringing Abe into my life or if it was fate or luck or something completely random. Once, I’d had no doubt that you were the engine that ran my life. The center my whole world revolved around. I guess I still haven’t sorted the truth from the lies, what is real and what was used against me.

  Only time will tell.

  I have an unshakeable feeling you don’t mind how I’m finding my own way. And regardless of whether you brought me to Abe or the other way around, I’m thankful for him. Thankful for this new life and all the things I’m learning. All the experiences I’m having—both good and bad.

  Because until Abe I didn’t know joy. I hadn’t even been living. I’d just been.

  If you’re up there, listening, know that I still want to believe. I still need you. I’m still committed to living a life that shows my morals and values. Only now, I’m deciding what they are. I’m choosing.

  I pray that pleases you, because I’ve never felt more like myself.

  My foot played with the cool faucet and the chrome knob slipped between my toes as I took a breath and thought words I never dreamed I’d ever confess to the Lord.

  I will not let anyone use my faith against me again. I am not weak, and I do not need anyone but myself to get me into Heaven. And no matter how much I love Abe, he is not my master here on Earth.

  I am.

  I won’t just be a victim who survived Lancaster. If I can find a way, I will burn it down.

  Amen

  I CLIMBED INTO WARM sheets beside Abe and glanced at my phone one last time for the night. Apparently, he had spoken to the Griers because each one of them had called my phone and sent me thoughtful text messages, letting me know they cared, and that they were here for me no matter how big or small a way I needed.

  That felt like family.

  The man next to me slid a bookmark between the pages of whatever he’d been reading and set the book on his nightstand. I plugged in my phone and placed my cell beside a cold bottle of water he must have left there for me. I smiled to myself at his thoughtfulness.

  At the same time, we switched off the two unmatching lamps and rolled to face one another in the dim moonlight.

  My fingers slipped between his ribs and arm, and I burrowed closer.

  “Feel better, baby?” His beard tickled my forehead as he spoke.

  Still not close enough, my leg squeezed between his and I tipped my chin up to answer. “I always feel better when you’re this close.”

  He hummed, and my body vibrated with his. “I meant the bath, but I’ll take it.”

  “Oh. It was good too.”

  I stretched, pairing our mouths, and lost myself for a few minutes as his tongue swept against mine, as his lips tenderly kissed me without wandering.

  Abe had never pressured me into anything. He’d been patient and practiced more restraint that I could at times. But since we’d journeyed further than ever the night before, I couldn’t be certain what he expected of me now. He never failed to meet my needs, and I wanted to do the same for him.

  If anything, pleasing him made me feel powerful. Strong. And I’d need as much of those feelings as I could gather.

  Still, it had been a long, stressful day. He’d been watching me like a pot about to boil since that morning, and he’d been restless until that evening when we spoke.

  As he kissed me, I wondered if he needed more.

  “Abe, do you want me?”

  His large hand sneaked under my short night gown and palmed my backside. “Always.”

  It was sweet and good to know, but I’d been too vague.

  “Abe?” I asked again.

  “MMMM-hmmm,” he answered taking my bottom lip between his.

  There was no doubt he was aroused, and I felt him growing firmer against my hip. That didn’t mean anything though. Once he’d told me men get that way multiple times a day, and just because it happened so easily it didn’t mean either of us had to cater to it.

  The memory almost made me laugh, but I was caught in the moment and my body had begun to relax in his arms.

  “Would you like to ...” I began, but he pulled away, got his hair out of his face, and gazed into my eyes.

  “No, Myra.” His warm thumb smoothed across my forehead as he propped himself up on his elbow. “We don’t have to tonight. I just wanted to love on you for a while. I’ve felt helpless all day, like there was nothing I could do, but that’s all.”

  “But if you—” I was silenced with a quick kiss.

  “There is no rush,” he whispered and nuzzled my jaw with his nose.

  4

  Abe

  “What if I need you?”

  Were there words more persuasive that those? Doubtful.

  I’d vowed to myself that I’d always take care of her. But there’d been no mistaking sex had left her with discomfort and I didn’t have it in me that night to add to it.

  There were other ways—ways she’d been hesitant to try before—so I’d have to do my fair share of persuading. Her consent in all things was important to me, not only because it was right and moral, but it had a high value to me.

  I’d never hurt or humiliate her, and if my alternative to sex wasn’t for her, then I’d lean on more tried-and-true methods.

  I could read her body.

  Then again, occasionally bodies lied, so I’d be extra careful. I also had to focus on not letting myself lose control, which I expected to be nearly impossible.

  I had to do my best. Blue eyes were waiting for me.

  Ever so slowly, I closed the distance between our lips and before they touched, I slipped my tongue out and with a faint—almost not-even-there touch—I stroked across her pink top lip.

  Myra’s lids fluttered shut and her mouth parted.

  My words were near soundless. “Do you want more?”

  Her weight seemed to come off her bones and she sank into the top of the mattress on her side in my arms. She nodded, but it wouldn’t do me any good if I couldn’t see her agreeance later.

  “Say it, please.” Her eyes remained shut and her face was all but slack. I repeated, “Do you want more?”

  “Yes.” A lovely green light.

  “Hold still for me.”

  She was languid already, not to mention perfect.

  I’d need her trust, so I began to earn it and ran my tongue from the corner of her mouth, across the ridge of her cupids bow to the other side with delicate accuracy.

  This is how I’ll kiss you there, I thought.

  Her shuddering breath was a good sign. So was the way her neck seemed to further weaken. I spent time kissing her that way, opening her like a piece of candy. One bit at a time.

  Her cheek. Her ear. A gentle suck on her lobe.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yes.”

  Her shoulder. The warm crook at her collar that smelled like a cherry blossom. Then one long swipe up her neck with a blow across her tempered skin.

  “Do you want more, baby?”

  “Yes,” she said, and the word faded like a hiss as she released a lungful of air.

  Before her gown landed on the floor beside the bed where I dropped it, a breast was in my mouth. The pair liked different things. She’d moan and squirm when one was gently bitten, and giggle with the other.

  I avoided the funny one but didn’t rush the job.

  A lick. The roll of her nipple between my lips.

  “More?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  As I sank down the bed, between her legs, I held her sides in my hands and kissed from the northeastern summit, where I’d earned a wanton sigh, to her scorching southwest. My thumbs pressed lightly into the dimples where her hips met her waist.

  I was intoxicated. That had to be why my brain was working against me. Cataloging every texture. Every taste. Every scent. If I didn’t find some composure, I’d surely
lose my way.

  I knew what was ahead of me, it was already slick and pressed against my chest.

  Breathe. Tame yourself.

  Adjusting myself lower, I kissed her open thigh and moved my arms from above to underneath her body. One hand roved across her hip, and she surprised me when her fingers found mine. Maybe she knew I’d need to hold on, because then she begged, “Please, I can’t wait. Kiss me there.”

  I was obedient.

  A hunger like I’d never known possessed me, fueled me with each taste, each breath. I’d touched her many times, but she had never felt like that. That wet. That succulent.

  It only took seconds or maybe hours, I wasn’t sure, but all too soon she pulsed in the most exquisite way. I throbbed, aching to be inside her again, but my focus was on her.

  One hand in mine, the other fisted my hair clutching me to her center. The quietest cries I’d ever almost heard hung in the air, and I savored everything about it.

  Then, like a fleeting summer she cooled, and her rolling hips slowed.

  Although I had best view in the house looking up at her, I was careful not to wear out my welcome, and with one last kiss to the patch of hair just above Eden, I climbed my way back to the headboard.

  Her smile was facetious and coy, like she had a secret she’d never tell. Her chest rose and fell, slower each time.

  “I can’t move,” she confessed.

  I laughed despite my manners. “You don’t have to.” As I got situated, burying my arm behind the pillow under her wild hair, she scooted back against my chest and pulled my free hand to her front.

  Myra whispered, “I didn’t know what I was missing.”

  Neither had I.

  She yawned and shimmied against my wasted erection.

  Believe me, I would survive. And if I didn’t that would have been okay too. I regretted nothing.

  “My girl liked it.”

  “Loved it. Loves you.”

  The next few days were up in the air. Anything could happen, and I doubted there was much left to surprise me back in Lancaster. And going back for another funeral was about as far away as you could get from a vacation. There’d be little to nothing pleasant awaiting us.