by M. Mabie
“Good morning,” I announced.
Also in the front, but on the other side, my mother’s eyes shot to me as if I’d startled her. I gave her a smile. Today wouldn’t be easy for her.
Then I continued, “Most of you know who I am. I’m Abe Hathaway. I left Lancaster when I was sixteen and moved to Fairview. I got out of this town because I didn’t agree with the church, the Legacies, or my father. I left because Lancaster is a cult.”
The crowd began to buzz, and the men leaned over the pews to speak to one another. The women and children kept their mouths shut, just as they’d been trained.
In the back, I saw Ted and Dori who were there to support us, and maybe their family if they needed it. Near the middle, I found Robbie and his two older girls, but didn’t see Jenny or the baby. I scanned row after row as the crowd chattered.
Then I spoke directly into the microphone, louder so I could get their attention. “Excuse me. I hope you’ll listen to what I have to say this morning because I come here today to offer hope and help and a new way.”
Myra, chin high, winked at me from her seat on the pew in front of me. Damn anyone who ever though she was weak. She was a warrior.
“After I left, the Grier family gave me a place to live, a job, and their friendship. They’d been, for the most part, banished from Lancaster because they wouldn’t break the vows they’d made to each other and God. See, the legacies told them they had to, but they disobeyed. They weren’t getting pregnant. Surely, others in this room can relate. But they fought back. They fought for their love and their marriage when the Legacies tried to re-band them to others. Now they have a daughter who was born in God’s time, not the church’s. They raised her to be a free-thinking woman. They loved her. Educated her. Provided her with modern healthcare and culture and a good life outside of this town’s gates.”
I swallowed; my mouth had never felt so dry. Public speaking wasn’t something I’d likely take up after that day, but I went on.
“And they cared for me. I’ve worked for them since I left. They sold me the cabin they first lived in after they’d moved and opened their own lumber yard and mill. Earlier this summer, when I came back to attend my brother Jacob’s funeral, I faced everything I’d turned my back on. When I left Lancaster, I never wanted to return. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to even acknowledge this place existed.”
I fixed my gaze on a knot in the wood grain of the oak podium before me. “Since leaving, I’ve learned to have an open mind. How to think for myself. How to earn my way on a path I chose. While I was gone, I made a new relationship with God.” I glanced at the gorgeous woman staring at me from the front. “When I learned about what was happening to my brother’s widow after he passed, something brought me back. Was it the Lord? Was it my past and all the things I’d been taught as a child still festering inside me? Was it fate? Or was it my morality? In some ways I think it was all of those things.” Myra smiled, and it gave me what I needed to keep going, even as sweat collected on the back of my neck.
“I just couldn’t let the men in this town decide her future. But I went back to Fairview and tried to ignore it. I tried to push the situation out of my mind, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t forget her gorgeous blue eyes. Romantics believe that’s called love at first sight.”
She bit her lip and her pretty blonde head fell to one side. I smiled at her hoping she could feel my love from where I was.
“I guess that makes me a romantic. That week, the more I read the Bible the more I realized I had to help her. I couldn’t leave her behind. Not when I had the means and power to do something. So I came back and went through a banding ceremony I didn’t believe in. Although, at the time, she did. Then I took her to my cabin. I tried to help her see that, to me, she was more than just a woman to tend to the house and bare my children. I even told her she was free to go. I wanted her for myself even then—loved her then—but I couldn’t keep her if she wasn’t mine, if she didn’t want me, and if she didn’t love me.
“Myra even left, and you know what? I’m glad she did. Because when she came back, it was her decision.” I pounded the wood in front of me with my index finger. “And I’ll be forever grateful, regardless of how we met, that God put her in my life. She’s taught me so much about living and loving and forgiveness. She’s the most thoughtful and hardworking person I’ve ever met. She smart—so damn smart—and she deserves whatever the hell she wants out of her life. And so do you.”
Throughout the room, all eyes were on me. Some men looked angry. Some worried. What I noticed most were the women. Most stared at me wide-eyed, save for some of the older ones, but honestly some of them too. They were listening.
For the first time since I’d decided to speak out, I realized this was going to be a new beginning for some of them. It wouldn’t be easy, but they’d have resources now. Allies. Support. Options.
“Nobody can tell you how to worship God. That’s between you and your faith, but this is a time for change in Lancaster. It is a new day inside the gates because they can no longer hold you in. After services, there are people here who you can talk to, including myself. If you need help or have any questions about what your rights are, they’re here to listen and find you answers. That doesn’t mean you have to leave town or do anything at all, but if you want a change, I’m here to stand with you. I’m here to offer you a choice.”
I straightened my back, walked in front of the wooden pulpit and away from the microphone. I let my voice rise to that everyone could hear. “You can sit there and pretend like everything is fine and that you believe in your heart what’s going on here is Holy, or you can stand up and walk out with me.”
It was silent for a minute, and I held my breath.
Then, Myra stood.
I heard a sob off to the side and turned my head. My mother was on her feet. In that moment, my chest swelled and even standing there as a grown man, as hardened as I’d felt so many times in my life, something healed on the inside.
I hadn’t been able to save Jacob, not that I’d ever tried to, but I never expected in my life to see my mother save herself.
It was only the beginning, but a blessing none the less.
Robbie stood with his two daughters at both his sides, holding his hands.
Then one by one, women and their daughters, and even some whole families rose out of their seats.
It was over.
Epilogue
Myra
Three Months Later
I watched the congregation around and behind me. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before.
Few remained seated, but many if not most, were standing.
Including some of my family.
Including Abe’s mother.
Including Leah Bridgewater.
Including my sobbing sister-in-law Denise.
I was in awe of what was happening.
Looking back, that might have been the easiest part though because they didn’t have an Abe of their very own to guide them through their new worlds. But they weren’t alone either.
The FBI brought counselors, social workers, psychologists, spiritual leaders, and other people who were knowledgeable about how to handle life after what the people in Lancaster had been through.
Nothing would be a quick fix, and their lives weren’t going to transform magically overnight.
However, that Sunday had been a turning point, a new leaf for many.
For others, a lot happened in a short time. Some Legacy members were arrested for some of the crimes Abe had mentioned to his father before the service, including Pastor Hathaway himself. Many of them made bail, some didn’t. Bill Hathaway remained in jail, having been charged and arrested the same day Mrs. Hathaway stood up and asked for help. He believed his father only gave us the money to keep it away from Matthew. Because if my brother had that kind of money, he’d likely oust the pastor and take control of everything.
But that was all speculation though since they
were both behind bars, and we had no plans to visit.
It was shocking to me how Bill Hathaway didn’t even put up much of a fight when they cuffed him in the sanctuary and took him away. It was almost like he knew he couldn’t escape. I hope he finally understood what that felt like.
Regardless, I continued to pray for him.
In fact, Lancaster was in my prayers every night. They had a long road ahead of them, but I was certain this new path would be infinitely better for the ones who’d been oppressed the most.
Ms. Bridgewater was doing a lot of good work at the school. The Academy had been shut down initially, but with help, she was building a new staff and they were determined to have it reopened for the next school year. In the meantime, students—all boys and girls of school age—were being bussed to Brashear to attend classes.
For the most part, Abe and I continued to attend our church in Fairview on Wednesdays, but on Sundays, we returned to Lancaster where Abe spoke to the congregation. Sometimes it was more spiritual, but usually, he explained how he found his way back to God and how everyone had to go on a journey to find their personal faith themselves.
As I watched him speak, just after the New Year, I knew in my heart God had put us together for a reason. Maybe it was to love each other, but maybe it was because we were the right team to help these people.
That’s what we were doing.
After services, I held a group for women interested in getting their GEDs. When the school got rolling again, they assured me there would be resources for undereducated adults who wanted to further their education like I had in Fairview. Until then, I’d purchased enough copies of the books and guides Abe had bought me for anyone who wanted them. I’d gifted them to over one hundred women and a few dozen young men.
Which was a little nuts because, although I finally passed the math portion, I’d once again failed science. That was okay though. I’d get there again because there wasn’t anything on Earth that would keep me from getting my GED.
Cassie passed all four on her first try, but she still tutored me.
Since the rest of my money came through at the bank without any worries, I set up a program to help pay for GEDs for the people in Lancaster when they were ready too. That money didn’t really feel like mine.
This way, it gave everyone a fair shot.
With pride, I listened to Abe finish his speech for the day. He claimed he hated talking to crowds, but he was good at it. When he spoke, they listened.
He was breaking their convoluted faith by sharing his own and encouraging them to find answers and spirituality that felt right for them.
“I don’t know how long I’ll come here every Sunday and talk to you. Surely, there is someone more qualified. This building didn’t feel holy to me, maybe all my life, but this building can be a place for God. We can do anything. Make anything happen if we want it. But God isn’t going to just hand anything over. He gave us free will so we would work for what we wanted. So we could earn and take pride in ourselves, our home, our place of worship, and our families. There is no band, no amount of tithing, and no population of children that will get any of us into Heaven. It’s our hearts. Our minds. Our intentions. Our souls. That’s what God wants from us. He wants us to be good.”
Abe grinned at me and then ran his fingers through his even longer hair. I chuckled thinking about how many men in Lancaster were now sporting new beards and less than tidy cuts. In fact, even the women had already began dressing more worldly and with more style. But most were taking baby steps.
It would take time, for all of us, but that was all right too.
“I’ll leave you with Ecclesiastes 3:1 through 8.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
But mainly, I want you to hear that there is time.”
Abe Hathaway was no preacher, and I was no philanthropist, but we knew how to do the right things when they came along.
I rubbed my thumb against the underside of my engagement ring and thanked God for the ruggedly handsome man I’d be spending the rest of my life with. He saved me and then showed me how to save myself, and I’d love him all the days of my life.
Abe
Eighteen Months Later
FOR ALL THE WORDS WE said to each other at the banding ceremony when Myra and I first met, our real vows were much, much shorter. We’d agreed to write our own, feeling like it would be more personal and exactly what we wanted. Just a few sentences we needed to say to each other.
However, if she’d recited vows as long as the Iliad, I would have committed each word to memory. Lucky for me and my memory, there’d only been a few brief lines.
Joyful tears filled her eyes, making the blue in them shine like jewels, but they didn’t spill over as she spoke that day in the pasture beside our shop. It was empty except for the standard garage items since all our machines and materials were now at the building in town.
“Abe, my truest friend, my partner, my lover, my husband. Thank you for coloring my world with possibilities and dreams and then seeing to it that together we make them all come true. I will not promise to obey you, but to respect you. I will not promise to submit to you, but I am yours. Now and forever.”
Her hair blew in the summer breeze, golden waves over her shoulders, and I could smell the delicate perfume she’d dabbed on her neck. Her skin was sun kissed from our summer trip to the Gulf, and her lips were prime for kissing.
“Myra, my girl, my woman, my love. You are everything good in this world, and I will take my last breaths loving you. There is no end to how badly I want you. There is no cure for my addiction to your laugh, your body, your heart. Marrying you will not get me closer to God but being with you has made me a better man than I ever thought I was capable of. And since you’re surely Heaven bound, then I’ll make certain so am I. I love you.”
We kissed in front of our dear friends, Samantha from our church who married us, my mother, a few of Myra’s brothers—two of whom worked for us now in Fairview—and the Carters, their three healthy daughters, and the one on the way. I supposed some couples just love having children and there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with that. I prayed we would have one or more of our own in the years to come, but we were in no hurry.
Ashley and Cassie were Myra’s bridesmaids, and Ted and Chris had stood up with me.
It was a perfect wedding, as far as I was concerned. Full of laughter, music, and dancing. We ate and drank and enjoyed every single second. And although Myra and I had been together countless times, that night when we undressed, it was different.
Somehow it was more.
As I fell asleep with her, naked in my arms, there was only one thing to do.
Dear God,
Thank you.
Amen.
The End
A Preview of ROOTS AND WINGS
Suddenly, I was a bachelor in an unfamiliar town with a money pit of a house, a truck that wouldn’t run, and a new job. Yet, all could think about was Mutt, or at least that’s what they called her.
To me, she was gorgeous and witty...and perfect. She knew more duty than desire, more perseverance than passion, and more acquaintance than affection, but here was no way I’d ever want to change her. In fact, I was dying to show her the life she’d been missing, but first she’d have to
trust me enough to tell me her real name.
I wanted to plant roots, but I refused to clip her wings. Not when she was everything I’d been looking for and all the home I’d ever need.
Roots and Wings is a standalone contemporary romance. If you’re looking for a good time, then you’re come to the right place. Welcome to Wynne.
Chapter One
MUTT
Few things were certain around O’Fallon’s Service and Tire. Kenny didn’t really work there, but he was there enough. Be careful what you eat in the break room. The week before I’d found some leftover cake, and, sure enough, it was harder than a wedding night dick. And last, when we did the fifteen-minute oil changes for fifteen bucks, that garage would be asshole to elbow all day.
Dad had done that promotion once a year for twenty years, which happened to be every year he’d owned the place.
It was our family business. That was, if two people could make up a whole family. I guessed families were all different shapes and sizes, and since Grandpa passed away, it had only been Dad and me.
Oh, and Dean.
He wasn’t really family, but he’d worked there since we were in high school. And, honestly, who the hell wasn’t family somewhere down the line around Wynne?
Dad and Dean worked the shop, and I ran the desk—unless they needed the help, but most of the time it was pretty slow and easy to manage.
Not that day.
There was a line out the door and cars parked along the road, waiting. All there to get their oil changed for fifteen bucks.
I wadded my thick, long brown hair up into a knot on the top of my head as I heard my dad exclaim from the garage.
“Twenty, Mutt! We’re on a roll today, kid. Make sure they all keep pulling in.”
Oh, yeah. My name’s Mutt. Not my given name, but, ask anyone who Darrell O’Fallon’s daughter is—ten to one—they’ll say Mutt. My grandpa—God rest his bastard soul—called me that from the day I was born.