Break the Faith

by M. Mabie

  I’d figure it out later, on the road, when we were on our way back to our real lives.

  Leaning close to her ear, I gently coaxed, “Let’s go home.”

  Two cornflower blue eyes bore into mine, confused.

  What had he done?

  9

  Myra

  If I’d had any hunch that Pastor was good somewhere deep down, a real man of God, all of that disappeared. Wiped away and replaced with certain dread. He was bad all the way through.

  I had introduced myself to the girl in the hall after I sat beside her. After asking what was going on and listening to Leah Bridgewater’s brief story, I’d been angry. Disgusted.

  But now he’d brought me into it, and I didn’t know what to do.

  “I’m not supposed to be speaking to anyone. It’s part of my service and testimony,” she’d whispered after I asked her why she was being punished, what she was atoning for. “I work at the school and there are books that we need, and I asked the legacies for money to buy them. There are hardly any supplies or texts for us to use as curriculum.”

  Leah had come from Selina, a town like ours but according to her not nearly as strict. Her parents had moved to Lancaster after reading the Pastor’s latest book, The Time to Build His Army is Now.

  “When the board said no, I pleaded with them to reconsider. They’d said that amount would need more prayer. I knew better, but I argued.”

  The voices in the room behind us escalated, and she jumped.

  When they fell silent again, I encouraged her, wanting to know more. “Go on.”

  “I was told I was being insubordinate. That it was a rare occasion when a woman had ever been to a meeting and that I should be thankful they even gave me their time. The Pastor said that if I really wanted it, I’d have to learn more patience and obedience. So now, I have service and testimony every day for a year, and pledged silence and acceptance with their decision. I shouldn’t be talking to you now. I’m not supposed complain or tell anyone. If I can do it, they’ll give me the money in a year. If I can’t obey, not only do I not get the money, but I’ll be let go and sent to New Mecula with Melvin Williams, my soon-to-be band holder, away from my mother and father.”

  I didn’t know how much schoolbooks cost in bulk, but I wanted to help. I’d do whatever I could if it meant she wouldn’t have to do service and testimony. It made me anxious and queasy thinking about her grim choices and what she was willing to do for her students’ education. And I was all too aware of how it felt to be alone.

  Well, until Abe.

  “How much are the books?” I’d asked.

  “Eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty dollars.”

  The exact amount I had in my hand.

  Why was the Pastor doing it? What was I to do?

  My brain felt locked up. Stuck.

  I didn’t want to get Leah in trouble, but I was terrified I already had. I hadn’t been prepared for him to do it, and I knew the shock of it was all over my face.

  He knew I knew without me saying a word. He knew she told me.

  My heart raced. Think, Myra.

  “Pastor, before we leave, may I pray with you and my band holder? I need to speak to God.” I hit my knees and paired my hands together. I hadn’t prayed like that in weeks—maybe more. It felt unnatural to me now, but I couldn’t see any other way. I wasn’t cunning or coy like other people. I wasn’t cut out to be conniving or manipulative, but there was only one way.

  As children, we were taught to pray with our Pastor, father, or band holder when we had burden on our heart. That between them and God, we’d be given absolution from our sins or missteps and find guidance. I’d never been one to apply this practice much, I’d been groomed too well to sin outright. I’d been taught too well to not wait for instructions, and then follow them to a T.

  But I knew how to do it. I knew how to speak the truth to God.

  I placed Abe’s banded hand on my shoulder and when Pastor Hathaway stopped at my other side, I put his banded hand on my other shoulder.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, I come to you for guidance and mercy. Humbled on my knees, I praise you and thank you for everything you’ve given me, especially my band holder and husband. Please forgive me, I’m not myself today. I hope father is there, living in your beautiful kingdom with mother and Maureen. I pray they are together with you. So please forgive me for being nosy today. It was wrong, and I apologize. I think I just needed a distraction. I spoke to Leah to be polite. She looked so sad, and I wanted to help. She hesitated, Lord. She wanted to obey the Pastor, but I didn’t know about her promise of silence and urged her to talk to me. Please, God. Please do not punish her for my mistakes. She only wants to help your children. Through your love I feel overcome with charity, you’ve given me so much. May I offer this money, this exact amount, that you’ve seen fit to put in my humble hands at this exact moment. It would be selfish to keep it when others are in need.”

  Which was true. Education in Lancaster was already pathetic. I wasn’t sure about the Academy’s motives or educational goals, but I wasn’t about to split hairs. When it came to kids learning or at least having a chance to, I wanted to support that.

  When I paused to choose my words, Abe said, “You don't have to do this Myra.”

  But I did.

  I wasn’t letting the Pastor make choices for me anymore. If I had to corner him into bending my way, even if it served his purpose in some small way too, so be it. Hopefully, the poor woman would be freed from her service and testimony and the money would go to a good cause.

  Pastor’s fingers tightened and kneaded my flesh under his hands. My stomach rolled.

  “Abe, it breaks my heart seeing someone do service and testimony. If I can help, I have to.” And then, just like I was taught, I repeated a line I’d heard many times throughout my life. “If I want God to bless me, I need to be a blessing unto others.”

  I felt the difference in their energies at my sides. Abe’s frustration was intense, and I felt it pulse through his touch. Pastor’s touch made my skin crawl, so I made the last of my prayer short.

  “Please hear my words and my heart. In your Heavenly name, Amen.”

  Most of the prayer was genuine, but my faith was watered down. I hadn't prayed to God expecting him to fix my problems. I prayed to God out loud that day to fix it my-damn-self.

  I was a different person from the last time I’d been there. Since the last time I’d been dressed that way. And although my voice had been louder—braver—for a time now, the rest of me had just caught up.

  Maybe it had to do with my new independence or my recent thirst for knowledge, but it could have been that for the first time in my life, I wasn’t alone.

  Beside me was a person I could lean on. Whom I trusted.

  Patiently, I waited in silence, not averting my eyes, but not looking up either. As time passed it was like they were each waiting for the other man to make a move.

  I paced my breathing and did my best to stay calm. It wasn’t only me, or even Abe and me, with something to lose. Leah was in the hallway waiting, and therefore I didn’t want to cause her any more struggle or grief.

  The Pastor cleared his throat. “Abe, your helpmeet is special. Isn’t she?”

  “More than you know,” he answered, but his words were tight as if he were speaking through clenched teeth.

  “I mean it’s so very clear. The way you look at her, and she at you. You have a God-favored bond.” He patted me before removing his hand and stepping away.

  Abe didn’t move, so neither did I.

  “Do you thank Him for her?”

  “Yes.” Again, he was curt.

  “Do you thank me, son?” His tone was indulgent and proud. “If it weren’t for me, seeing God’s true vision for your life...” A loud cracking sound echoed through the room and my eyes darted to Pastor Hathaway who’d slapped the top of his desk. “...it never would have happened. None of it.”

  Their eyes were the same
color, except the Pastor’s had no warmth. Abe’s eyes had depth, full of heart and kindness. Loving desire and intense passion shown in them.

  His father’s eyes were disingenuous and dull.

  Very slowly he added, “And if God asked me to, I could just take it all away.”

  Abe stepped between us and growled, “I’d like to see you try.”

  I felt his security and protection deep in my bones, but at the same time, I was flooded with worry. Who was protecting Leah?

  Abe squared up with his father. Taller. Broader. Stronger. But it wasn’t the right time.

  “Abe, I’d like to go home, please.” Gently, I clutched onto his arm and pulled myself up. “I don’t feel well.”

  The town was toxic and the longer we were there, the worse off we’d be.

  “I’ll call you in a few days to check on that paperwork,” Abe said. “It better be ready.”

  “Or what, son?” His voice was unbothered, but if he had any intelligence at all somewhere inside him, he must have been nervous. At very least warned. Abe wasn’t bluffing.

  Leah, the frightened teacher, and leaving were the only two thoughts in my mind.

  Sensing their argument would escalate, I interrupted them, “Thank you, Pastor. We’ll see you soon.” I squeezed my husband’s bicep. “Abe, please.”

  That was all it took, and we were walking out. As we rounded the door, I paused.

  “Here’s the money.” I put my arms around her and whispered into her hair. “Go home. Right now.”

  Her lip quivered, and she coughed a breath before reclaiming her composure. She was almost as good at it as I had been.

  “Thank you,” she quickly got out and then rushed off without a word to the Pastor.

  The ride home was as quiet as the last time we left Lancaster together, after we’d been banded. My thoughts were no less jumbled.

  Would Pastor take the check away from her? It wouldn’t take more than a call to her father or Mr. Williams. Surely, she didn’t have her own account or even a way to purchase the books she wanted. She’d still need help to get them.

  And what did I want?

  Honestly, I wanted it to all go away. I wanted to pretend Lancaster didn’t exist, and that Abe and I were a normal young couple.

  Was I supposed to keep the ring on like he did? Would it hurt him if I took it off?

  Were we dating? Married? Engaged?

  Everything was messy. Hard to understand.

  Yet, for hours as we rode home, he held my hand in his. Every time I sighed or huffed, every time I rolled my neck or shifted in the bucket seat, his thumb would caress my knuckles. As I climbed the stairs at the cabin, sluggish and weary, he kneaded my shoulders as he walked behind me, and then kissed my neck as he unlocked the door.

  After a rotten few days, after dealing with his father and driving nearly round trip, he was still affectionate. Still tending to me. Most importantly, still there.

  10

  Abe

  I’d all but quashed the fantasies I’d first had of Myra. The ones I’d tended to, privately in the dark corner of the shop, all those months ago. I’d been guilty of them, ashamed even.

  I’d been alone a long time. It hadn’t been the garb or her unpainted skin, I’d told myself.

  But as those things faded from her style, so had the fantasies of her in them. They were replaced by new daydreams and images of her coming in from class or wearing my old t-shirts after a bath. How her curves sometimes caught me pleasantly off-guard when she wore jeans.

  When wasn’t she stunning?

  Now I was back at square one, but two things differed from when I’d first brought the woman in a prairie dress into the cabin. Myra was even braver than she’d been back then, and she grew stronger every day. Secondly, even if I was abashed by how I reacted to her looking the way she once did daily, I didn’t have to hide it anymore. Didn’t have to pretend I didn’t want her.

  I could tell her. I could touch her. I could share my fantasies with her by living them.

  So after we got inside, and our bags were at the end of the island, I leaned against the countertop and watched her in the other room. She slipped off her shoes, rolled the hosiery down her ivory leg and then tipped her head to the side and caught the end of her braid to free it.

  “What?” she asked with a weak grin.

  God, she was breathtaking sometimes. Beautiful always, but there were these flashes of awe that crashed into me now and then when I looked at her. It was one of those times.

  “I want to rip that dress off you,” I confessed.

  Her smile grew, and peach bloomed on her cheeks as she licked her lips. “I have extra buttons.”

  She stood to her full height and set her shoulders back, confident and challenging.

  “Being attracted to you in that dress makes me uncomfortable.”

  Her blue eyes blinked slowly, and she replied, “Another good reason to take it off.”

  There was a laundry list of things we needed to talk about. Internal things that wouldn’t do either of us well to leave packed away for long. But like our clothes in the luggage I passed as I marched toward her in our bedroom, they would keep until the morning.

  Homing in on her mouth, I needed to taste her. But before I could capture her lips with mine, her hand met my chest with gentle resistance.

  “I’m sorry you had to go back there again for me.” Her chin skyward, she matched my gaze head on, a skill she was mastering in conversation. “You hate it there. Still, you went back for me and again returned because I needed you to. Thank you for never abandoning me.”

  “Don’t you know? I’ll do anything for you.”

  Making her cry wasn’t my intention, yet her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes glassed over. She’d been through hell the past few days, and to the best of my knowledge hadn’t shed many tears. Now there, in our bedroom, her emotions, unbidden, seeped out.

  “Abe, I know the choice wasn’t completely mine before, when we were banded or married or whatever. It was a means to an end, but if given the choice now, I’d choose you.” Her soft fingers slid up my jaw. “You’re the only man I’ll ever want.”

  Her words unleashed something wild inside me and her dress ripped easily enough with us both yanking at it. We even ripped my shirt in the frenzy for our nakedness. And when we were stripped, she scaled my chest and wrapped her legs around my hips.

  I was inside her before her back met the mattress.

  She was wild too, nibbling at my neck and lips between moans.

  Our coupling wasn’t tender, it was heated and desperate and aggressive.

  Petting had been replaced with pawing. Our previous, slow and steady rhythms were exchanged with grinding hips and depths we hadn’t tapped into. Our sounds were guttural, loud and throaty.

  It was raw. Punishing. Greedy and divine.

  Before I lost all control, I snuck my hand between us. I worked her swollen center in circles, and she tossed her head to the side and stretched her neck. My mouth pressed against her skin feeling her pulse at my lips.

  We’d needed each other. Needed an almost violent release. We were nearly bursting with tension, and together we let it out.

  She tightened around me which was a new sensation. Feeling her climax build stoked my own. I could have emptied myself that very second, but I strained to wait longer for her.

  Myra clung to my ribs, and her legs hugged my hips as her eyes squeezed shut.

  With short pants, she inhaled rapidly over and over surrendering to her body.

  “Ah,” she cried. “Abe, ah.”

  I buried my face beside her neck, groaned into the pillow, and my hips shoved into her as my release throbbed. My heart hammered, and I was out of breath.

  Holding some of my weight off her, I turned my head and kissed her hot cheek.

  “Whoa,” she said.

  In my limited experience, I had to agree. What we’d done was most certainly whoa. “That was...”

 
; Explosive.

  Visceral.

  Intense.

  Before I found the right word, she answered, “Yeah.”

  If left up to me, I could have stayed like that the rest of the night. However, it probably wouldn’t have been nearly as comfortable for her. So when the fog lifted in my head, I slowly pulled away from her and walked barefoot into the bathroom.

  The elastic that had held my hair back was now over on one side, and half of my mane was wild and matted to my head. As I ran a pair of wash cloths under the water, waiting for it to warm up, I studied my ring.

  What she’d said about choosing me now made me feel differently toward the jewelry we wore. Like somehow, we’d outgrown the superficial metal on our hands. As I cleaned myself off, my thumb played with the band.

  She deserved more, a better memory than the one that had been forced upon her. I walked back into our room adding that notion to the list of things we had ahead of us.

  When she didn’t reach for the warm cloth, I took the liberty of tending to her myself. Her face slack and calm, she watched me. I was pleased she didn’t seem too tender or bruised, but that may have just been due to the endorphins still rampant in our veins.

  “Did I hurt you?” I asked.

  “No. But I think I bit you. Did I hurt you?”

  I laughed. “No.”

  She rolled to her side of the bed and pulled the sheet up to her shoulders. “Is it always so different every time?”

  I tossed the cloth onto the top of the hamper. “I don’t know.” She held the linens open for me to climb inside with her. “Maybe.”

  She stayed where she was, but her foot snuck over to mine.

  “Before you, before coming here, I didn’t let myself think about sex very much, and when I did it was nothing like how it is in real life.” She cleared her throat and gathered her hair to one side and out of her face. “I never expected to like it the way I do.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I replied, relieved.

  “Do you...” she began and then hesitated.