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I flipped through the handout with Mr. Fox’s photo on the front, noticing memorials were to be made directly to the church.
Figures.
“So ten a.m. across the street?” I asked to make small talk with Andrew in the lobby as we waited for Myra. It was all I could do to stay away and give her the space she asked for. My instincts were to stay and support her, but as she requested, I’d left her alone.
Straightening the stack of memorial handouts and putting them into a box, he answered, “Yes.” Lifting the cardboard into his arms, he stood tall. “You know, your brother and I were great friends.”
“I wish I would have known him better,” I admitted. I often wondered if he’d hated me for leaving.
He looked at me and then cleared his throat. “He was a good man, and I—”
“Abe, I’m ready,” Myra said a few feet away, her eyes and cheeks red.
I glanced back at Andrew, apologetic for breaking off our conversation, and strode toward the back door where Myra was headed. “Thank you,” I called to him as I trailed her.
When I caught up, just as she reached the door, I extended my arm over her shoulder to open it. Her pace was clipped as she marched to the car, and I unlocked her side and let her in before I went around to the driver’s side.
“Are we going home?” I asked, unsure were to point the Festiva. “The funeral is in the morning. We could stay somewhere tonight, and then leave tomorrow.”
She pulled her phone from her purse on the floorboard. “I need to be there.”
That was all she had to say, and I put the little blue car in drive. A few blocks down the road toward the Good Shepard Inn, she spoke again still looking at her cell. “I don’t want to stay in Lancaster though. There’s a place back in Brashear where we can spend the night. It costs about a hundred dollars, but I’ll pay. I’ll drive back there too, if you don’t want to.”
I had no objection. In fact, I was relieved and made a left-hand turn to change directions.
Myra had changed so damn much. I couldn't believe the woman telling me what she needed in the seat beside me was the same person who had blindly left the only home she’d ever known because some men told her to.
She held her phone up for me to see the Holiday Inn she’d found one town over. Her eyes were puffy but held a bounty of determination.
“Then that’s where we’ll go.”
After we passed the gates, she sighed and relaxed in her seat. Then she placed her hand over mine on my lap. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you don’t tell me what to do.”
In a normal world, there’d be few reasons for a woman to ever speak such words, but ours was different. Having her acknowledge the difference was validation.
I wasn’t like them, and neither was she.
However huge the moment, I wanted to put a smile on her face. Wanted to wipe away the turmoil in her brow, and as basic as it sounded, cheer her up.
“Well, thank you for telling me what to do. Sometimes a man needs direction.” I hoped my sarcasm came through.
“I’m beginning to see that,” she replied and kissed my fingers. “It’s nice being understood.”
She didn’t laugh like I wished she had, but I’d try again later. Sometimes you have to swing two or three times before hitting it out of the park. Honestly that evening, I would have settled for a solid grounder.
I’d offered to let her sit in the car while I got the room sorted, but she didn’t want to, so we took our bags with us and walked inside together. In minutes, I was heaving our luggage onto the extra queen bed in our room. It was a newer hotel and a massive contrast to the Sheppard Inn motel in Lancaster.
She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders, again tense.
“A shower sounds good,” I said as I unzipped our bags and tossed the lids open.
Myra sat on the bed and kicked her shoes off without neatly setting them together like I’d seen her do almost every time before.
“Go ahead,” she answered.
I picked our toiletry bags from our luggage, and as I walked by her, I nodded toward the large bathroom we’d passed on the way in. “You’re welcome to join me,” I said as I walked by.
Before the shower’s water ran hot over my fingers, she was embracing me from behind in the bright room. I turned in her arms.
Her eyes weren’t as bloodshot as they had been earlier, but the pinkness that remained made her blue eyes even bluer.
Her fingers tugged at the hem of my shirt, and I let her pull it over my head. She stripped me, and I waited, unsure if I should undress her too, until she began at her neck and slipped the buttons of her shirt through their holes.
I helped by holding her sleeves as she pulled her arms through them, and after she let her skirt fall from her hips, I removed her bra and underwear.
Barefoot, we walked into the glass shower. I yielded the water to her first, and as it streamed down her back, I gathered her long hair in my hands and placed a kiss on her neck.
She let me wash her body, watched how I touched her, and then did the same for me. With suds at our feet, our two clean bodies held onto each other under the warm spray. Her cheek to my chest, she played with the ring around my neck and said, “They may never leave us alone, and we may never have a normal relationship or marriage like Chris and Ashley, but you’re all I have.”
I lifted her chin and her wet lashes blinked up at me.
“We can have whatever the hell we want.”
“Will you tell me more about the money?” she asked. “In the letter you wrote me, you said the check was just some of my money. Is there a lot more?” She took a deep breath and continued. “I don’t want to sound greedy at a time like this, but I’ve been thinking, and it might make a difference. The money you gave me is more than I’ve ever imagined having—and of course I’ll share it with you—but if there’s a lot more, then I don’t want them to have it.”
Myra was smart, brighter than most gave her credit for.
“I don’t have a number to give you. I only know that Jacob probably had some savings, a life insurance policy, and his home was worth money and therefore another asset that would legally be left to you. I also believe my father is holding onto most of the money that came along with you from your family when you married Jacob—and then me.”
She looked at me, again with determination in her eyes. “An estimate?” She was transforming into a stronger version of herself every day. Like water breaking rocks, stress had caused changes in Myra. She was lovely and cracked, but far from broken.
I answered as best I could. “I’d guess well over a hundred thousand, probably more. My father only gave me that twenty grand as a bribe to fall in line. To tempt me into coming back to the flock.” He was a stupid man if he thought he could buy my freedom. I’d rather die penniless.
“If he thought you came back to the flock—even just a little—would he give you more?”
I wasn’t sure where she was going with that and smoothed the wet hair out of her face.
“He might, but I won’t ever go back to that life, Myra.” I sounded defensive, but no amount of money would be enough to change my mind.
“We don’t have to. I can’t go back either.” She cocked her head to the side, and added, “But what if we let them think we were. We are married—banded—that’s no lie. If we lived in Lancaster, we would have moved our bands, just as they’d want us to. Have a reception even. We’ve been together, biblically. They don’t need to know when it happened, how, or what our love is like—what our life is like. It’s none of their business.” She looked up into the steam above my head. “But that money could help people, Abe. Others who might want to leave. It would mean you can finally have your store. We don’t have to lie to them. They’ll just see what they want to. They always do anyway.”
Before my eyes, Myra had become a fierce woman. Someone they couldn’t manipulate or take advantage of anymore—or ever again.
She was clever.
She was beautiful.
She was all mine.
There, naked in a hotel bathroom, she unhooked the chain around my neck where it had been since Ted gave it back to me for her and slid the band off it. Before putting it on she brought my right hand up and tugged the ring from my finger.
“It’s not a lie,” she said like she was reading my thoughts. I fundamentally didn’t believe in the changing of the bands, but there it was.
I gave her my left hand and she pushed the metal over my knuckles.
It felt wrong. It felt right.
I took her ring from her palm and put it on her left hand too.
It was real, but too pretend for my liking. She deserved more... and she’d get it.
I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the bed with her legs wrapped around me. I pulled the sheets down and then sat on top with her on my lap.
She kissed my mouth, my neck, and rocked against me until I couldn’t take anymore, and I guided myself to her entrance. Slowly, she sank onto me and then lifted. As she became familiar with the sensation and as she grew slicker against my flesh, she found a pace.
Her damp hair clung to my arms around her back, and my hair stuck to her lips as she pulled back and looked into my eyes.
“I love you, Abe.”
My hips bucked into her. “God how I love you. Tell me it’s real.”
She shivered in my embrace. “It’s the only thing that’s real.”
I fell back against the mattress and she toppled with me. My hands at her hips, she found a new, even deeper position and although her rhythm slowed, it took me over the edge.
#
THE NEXT MORNING, MYRA put on her old prairie dress, stockings, and fixed her hair the way she used to. She wore no makeup, but I saw the real her. Not just the her without makeup and accessories, the her she was breaking free from. The her they’d forced her to be. No matter what disguise she put on for them, I’d always be able to see her through it.
I brought my new suit, the one I’d wore when I attended the Legacy Board on Myra’s behalf, and wore it. Again that morning, I trimmed my beard even closer to my face, and pulled my hair back, wishing I would have asked Ashley for a trim before we left.
Unlike Jacob’s funeral, they were having a small visitation before the service and then it was off to the gravesite. It didn’t matter to me how much Myra wanted to participate or not, I’d be by her side and follow her lead.
If she wanted to keep appearances to help others, kind of like how I’d wanted to help her all those months ago, I’d do whatever it took.
However, I had no doubt I’d have at least one run-in with my father.
So be it.
He couldn’t take anything away from me or Myra. We were there to take what was ours back.
#
FRANKLY, IT WAS SURPRISING how many heads didn’t turn as we entered the sanctuary at the church. Close to my side, Myra found a spot near the center of the large room and took a seat in an aisle that wasn’t completely empty.
Did she want people to see her? Oh, she was clever.
Like she’d never left, Myra kept her eyes down and her mouth shut. I hated it but respected the hell out of her willingness to do it for the chance to make things better for someone else.
Before long, the music changed, and the rest of the congregation took their seats. Her brothers sat along the front and their families in the pews behind them.
“Good brothers and sisters,” my father said from the pulpit. His eyes landed on me and his brow rose as he continued, “He has brought us together again. God is good.”
The audience repeated, “God is good.”
He droned on and on about how the Lord had blessed Brother Fox because he was such a faithful and loyal servant. He’d answered his call to take a wife and rear children for the kingdom. He’d been a staple parishioner, tithing and giving to his community. He’d raised men for the Father and was a model band holder and an honorable Legacy man of Lancaster.
All the while, we sat there. Side by side, our hands touching between us, but not holding each other’s like we would—like I wanted to. We waited for it to be over.
I wondered what Myra thought of it all. If she saw through his grandstanding like I did or if she had a different perspective since it was her father who he spoke about. All the things being said about her dad were true, in the eyes of the community. Were they true to her too?
Did she look at the alter and see a funeral or a campaign the way I did?
Again, I refused to donate to the church and passed the basket when Myra handed it to me.
There wasn’t anything wrong with donating, in fact I had in the past weeks when I’d attended the church in Fairview, but a funeral wasn’t the time nor the place to push an agenda. And I’d be damned if they got a cent of my money in Lancaster.
When it was over, her brothers carried the box past our aisle, and I wrapped my arm around my girl when I heard her sob.
To hell with what it looked like. To hell if it was too much public affection for their judging eyes.
I wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever let someone I loved suffer alone. There were half-truths everywhere, but I loved Myra, and her father had died.
Those were facts.
Losing parents was a natural part of life, but little felt natural to me in that place.
We filed out with everyone else and walked through the courtyard to her car for the processional ride to the cemetery.
As we marched through the lots to the gravesite, Myra waved at a few young girls who I assumed were her nieces, but it was brief, and their mother was quick to lead them back into formation beside their family.
We stood in the back, and she grabbed my hand to leave before they lowered his body into the ground. “They didn’t even include me,” she said as we were fastening our seatbelts in the car.
The Festiva was blocked in on the narrow lane, but at least we were out of the wind which had turned frigid despite the clear sunny skies. We would have to wait until at least one of the cars around us pulled away because there wasn’t enough room to maneuver a path out.
“I’m sorry they did that to you.”
“I don’t understand it.” Her voice was both frustrated and pained. “He was my father too.”
Either they really didn’t care about their sister or their pastor had something to do with it. Disgustingly, probably both.
There was a tap on the back of the old car. In the rearview mirror, I watched my father run a finger down the side to my window before he knocked on it.
I cranked down the glass.
“Hello, Abraham. Myra.”
I wished then we would have brought the truck so I didn’t have to sit so low with him at the window. I bet he loved it.
Myra didn’t answer, but she nodded when he leaned over to look inside.
“Hello,” I replied.
I’d agreed to do what I could. Agreed to look the part to the best of my ability. I prayed I wouldn’t let her down.
“I didn’t think you two would be able to make it, but I’m glad you did. It’ll let us catch up while you’re in town. Get a few more things settled.”
“A call would have been nice,” I said, edging my tone as much as I could. “My wife would have appreciated hearing the news from family.”
I glanced up but couldn’t take how it felt having him looking down at me, so I pressed my shoulder into the door and opened it to stand up outside.
He stepped back, giving me room, and the few inches I had on him made all the difference to me.
“I’m sorry. It’s a shame no one called, but I suppose they just assumed—since you don’t really like to take calls—that you wouldn’t answer anyway.”
He was punishing Myra for me not answering his calls. A new low.
“We’ve been busy.”
His face split into a loathsome smirk after glancing at my right hand, noting the change of where my ring had been.
“I bet you have, son.” He rubbed his palms together. “Block by block, he builds the kingdom, and both He and I have blessed you with a truly Godly helpmeet. I think you owe me some gratitude.”
My breath held, and my jaw tensed. “You’re right about that. I thank God for Myra every day. Sometimes all day long.”
It was true, but I could only imagine what he thought I meant. A wickedness flared in his eyes, and I suddenly considered what Myra proposed might not be so hard to accomplish. More than anything, he wanted me to be like him. Wanted an heir, a predecessor to follow through with his tyranny. Wanted his name to go on. It was twisted and evil, and it made me hate him even more. But as I stood there, my distain for him was diminished by my need to beat him.
I’d done it before, and I could do it again.
“Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection,” he quoted the Bible. It made me sick, and I liked the book of Timothy even less.
“He who loves his wife loves himself,” I countered. When would he learn he couldn’t best me with Bible verses and out of context lines?
“Indeed. Are you joining us at the church for food and fellowship in Brother Fox’s honor? Your mother would like to see you.” Just then I saw her walking to the car, her eyes trained on me as she gave a tiny wave.
I returned it with the warmest smile I could manage.
He wasn’t above using God, faith, or my own flesh in blood to get under my skin, but I wouldn’t let him shake me so easily.
“Myra, would you like to go?” I asked loud enough to be sure my question was clear.
He added, “And I’m sure Mother Hathaway would love nothing more than to talk about a banding reception and pray with you for your conception. I know she’s heartsick for a grandchild.”
“Thank you, Pastor,” was all she said. It was eerie how easily she’d fallen back into that old way, false as I knew it was.
She wasn’t to be underestimated, and I was so damn proud.
My father didn’t bother with pleasantries or goodbyes and marched off to shake a hand and lead the line of cars through the town.
“Do you think we’ll be able to leave today?” Myra asked. “I’m uncomfortable here. It’s not my home anymore.”
Funerals were rarely comfortable, but it wasn’t just that. After your eyes were opened, everything looked corrupted and soiled. Even fond memories seemed tainted.
She’d pushed Lancaster aside in her mind at the cabin and Fairview, but it wasn’t as easy to do when you were here—in the heart of the monster.
“We don’t even have to go to this lunch thing if you don’t want to.” All she had to do was say the word, she’d been through enough, and I only wanted to get her home. Make her happy. Cheer her on.
My phone buzzed, but it was probably another text from someone back home. They’d all been checking on us since we’d left. I’d also seen Myra typing replies on hers as we drove.
“We should go to the church, but I’d like to sleep in our bed tonight. Plus, I don’t want to miss too many classes. Two is enough.”
I respected how high she was putting herself on her priorities.
“You’re not going to get an argument from me. I hate this damned place,” I contended as we pulled in across the street from the church in one of the last spots around the town square. “We’ll eat. I’ll deal with my father, and then we’re out of here. With any luck, we won’t be back for a long time—if ever.”
“I can’t help but think of all those other women now. Before, I was just part of it. You know? Like I was just as sucked up into everything as they are.” She turned her cell off and slipped it back into her purse. “Now I’m different, and I can’t come back to this. I can’t even imagine how I’d live like this again.” Her head rocked side to side and her hands fidgeted on her lap before she shook them out. “It’s too much. It’s too wrong. And all these children being lied to and forced to fall in line...” She was about to lose it, I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. It was something close to panic.
“Hey, our kids will never—ever—know what this is like. They’ll never have to go through this.” I moved her hair behind her ear, and she stared deep into my eyes. “I will never let anyone force you to do anything again. Do you understand me? Not my dad. Not some Legacy Board. No one. Never again, Myra. We can just pull out of here and never come back. To hell with that money. To hell with it all.”
God knows that had been my plan when I’d left all those years ago, but I’d never regret coming back for her.
“I can’t just look away, knowing that others are suffering, Abe. I won’t be able to sleep knowing I could have helped them if I was just braver.”
She was what it meant to be Godly. Her heart was so big and filled with such compassion for others that it was inspiring. She was becoming an activist, like the women she’d told me about when she learned about suffrage, even if she didn’t notice it in herself yet.
“Then let’s do this.” I reached for her hand and I squeezed. “I’m not worried about my father, and I’m hungry anyway.”
Finally—finally—a smile. That beautiful peachy blush bloomed on her cheeks.
“Well, I can’t let my husband starve.” She inhaled and let it out. “Don’t leave me alone in there.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
And I didn’t.
We went through the receiving line where many people came up to her and offered their condolences, they didn’t say much to me, but I was glad they acknowledged her. We found a place around the edge to sit and I was half-way through my first plate when Robbie’s familiar voice behind me asked, “Mind if we sit with you?”
Myra offered a friendly grin to Robbie’s wife, holding their newest baby in her arms as her husband set down both of their plates across from us. Their two older daughters climbed onto the bench beside their mother with paper plates with sandwiches and fruit in their hands.
“I’m so sorry about your father, Myra. He was our family’s banker for years and was always there to help us out when times were rough. He was a good man,” Robbie said.
My girl wiped her mouth and replied in her new, more confident voice, “Thank you.”