Broken Branch (3 page)

Two days later, Otto called an emergency meeting and everyone gathered at the oak tree. It was like church except James wasn't holding his guitar and instead of beaming at them all as they gathered, Otto frowned deeply. He seemed disturbed by whatever he was about to tell them.

Trudy clenched her fists and hoped for the best.

He'd spoken for less than a minute when she realized they were getting the worst.

“It's come to my attention that many of you are thinking of leaving.” He paused, wincing, shaking his head. It seemed this knowledge hurt him deeply. The congregation murmured, feigning surprise, pretending that they hadn't just hours before spoken in whispers of the very thing he was describing.

“God came to me last night, brothers and sisters. He came to me and reminded me of something. Maybe some of you have heard this story before, but even if you have, it bears repeating because it's a great reminder that God keeps his promises, but he expects us to do the same.”

He turned and looked at James. James nodded at him and joined him, so that the two men were standing side by side.

“Most of you know James and me met in the south of France, fighting Germans. Some of you know that we were stuck in a trench with some of our fellow soldiers for nearly four weeks. We had minimal supplies and nothing to do but pray and worry and pray some more. See, we were surrounded. Germans on all sides, and they decided to just wait us out.” He dropped his head. James did the same, and Trudy knew it was because the memories were painful. Once, she'd tried to ask James about this time, but he'd shrugged her off.

“So while they waited, we starved. Some of the men took to cursing God. Day and night, they screamed at Him because He wouldn't protect them, because they were hungry and He wouldn't feed them. I prayed, brothers and sisters. That's all I knew to do.” He looked at James. “James here can tell you that.”

James nodded solemnly.

“My prayer was simple. I asked God to save me. If He saved me, I'd promise Him I'd speak His word the rest of the days of my life.” He stepped closer, leaving James standing behind him. He leaned in, like he was telling each individual person a great secret. “I fell asleep. I suppose it was from hunger or maybe God just chose to protect me like that. I don't know, brothers and sisters, but what I do know is that when I woke up, every one of my fellow soldiers were dead. The Germans had come into the trench and shot every last one of them dead. Somehow, they'd passed right over me, and it was because I'd trusted in the Lord. I checked each body for signs of life, but didn't find any. Just as I was about to climb out of the trench, I heard a man's voice. He was on the far side of the trench, hiding in the waste and filth. He was praying.”

Otto reached back for James and pulled him up beside him again. “He was praying, brothers and sisters. Praying.”

He dropped his head and James did the same. If Trudy had not heard this so many times in the past, if her heart was not already hardened against this story and against the two men, she might have felt the urge to drop her head as well, but instead, she only stared straight ahead. Something shifted inside her, and Trudy knew it was the demon. She felt afraid and exhilarated when it moved, reminding her that she didn't have to stand idly by forever.

“So,” Otto continued, “we stand before you today, but humble soldiers in the Lord's army. We stand before you not as owners of our own lives, but as men bought and sold by the blood of the Lamb. I made a promise to God if He'd give me a second chance, and He did. So I have to honor that promise. It's not optional, brothers and sisters. It's required. So when I say to you that these rumors of people leaving Broken Branch are an affront to me, what I really mean is that they are an affront to God above, for my eyes have become His eyes, and I see with His love and His justice.”

He patted James on the back. James nodded and stepped back near the base of the oak.

Otto stood alone, his thin frame wavering with an inward passion, the same wavering that she'd once thought was proof of something real, but she wondered now if looking for proof of God was an exercise in futility.

“God told me that anyone who leaves this place will suffer.” He frowned, and Trudy thought the pronouncement honestly pained him. “He made it clear, brothers and sisters, that anyone who leaves is leaving because they are afraid, and fear is the great bane to our Father. He won't tolerate it. Hear this prophecy from the Lord our God!”

“Amen!” someone shouted. Franklin. He was a loudmouth, a reactionary. People like him were the reason Trudy had begun thinking about leaving in the first place. People like him were the reason she felt compelled to keep Rodney hidden away as much as possible. She could only shudder, when she imagined the way Franklin might react to one of Rodney's attacks. A demon, he'd no doubt say. And that would be all that was needed to start a mob in Broken Branch.

Otto grinned and pointed in Franklin's general direction. “I knew the faith of this place was strong. Satan may attack us, but we will cast him out!”

“Cast out the sinners!” Franklin replied. Some other folks cheered, and Trudy found herself stepping away from the circle of followers, more sure than ever that she needed to leave.

But Otto wasn't finished yet. Trudy had to stop short of leaving the circle because that would call unwanted attention. More than that, leaving a meeting would be viewed as deeply suspicious. So she stayed, praying it would end soon.

“I'm going to ask for some honesty now,” Otto said. “I already know who has been talking about leaving. But I need those people to confess in front of the community. Only then can we forgive you and move on with our lives.”

A deep silence passed over the clearing. The breeze died, and no one moved.

Trudy knew Rachel would have told Otto everything. She knew it would probably be easier on her to go ahead and confess, to beg for forgiveness, but she couldn't bring herself to give Otto the satisfaction.

After the silence grew almost unbearable, Otto turned to face Trudy directly. “Nothing is hidden from God. No deed or thought,” he said.

Trudy met his gaze defiantly.

He smiled at her, but did not look away.

This might have gone on forever if another voice hadn't called out.

“I confess it. I have thought of leaving. I've even packed my things and planned the night. I'm sorry.”

All eyes turned to Simpson Ward, a teenager whom Otto had found on one of his trips into town. The boy was an orphan and Otto had brought him back to raise as his own son. He was also mentoring him for the ministry and Simpson had already begun speaking to the children on Sunday mornings and by all indications was ill suited to the vocation, though Trudy found his disposition sweet and did not mind when he watched her children.

Trudy turned back to Otto. He seemed perplexed. Simpson had obviously not been one of the people Otto expected to confess. He was only thrown off for a moment, though, before shifting back smoothly to his normal unflappable demeanor.

“Child, we will discuss this later. You are likely confused.” He turned back to the others. “He's young in the faith, this one. A babe.”

“He's unclean!” someone shouted.

“Who said that?” Otto said. His reaction was swift, uncalculated, and Trudy believed she saw real anger flashing in his eyes.

No one took credit for saying it, though Trudy would have bet almost any amount that it was Franklin Meyers or Earl Talbot.

“I'll speak to Simpson,” Otto said. “The rest of you take heed of the message I gave to you today. Go and do the work of the Lord.”

It was their traditional dismissal, but in his flustered state, Otto had neglected the closing prayer. People stayed put, unsure of whether to leave or not without the prayer. Otto had preached many times about the importance of opening and closing everything with prayer.

“Go on,” he said. “There's work to be done on the church. Don't delay or your slothfulness will be a blight unto the Lord.”

This got them moving, and Trudy followed the other women to the shed for the cart. It was their day to gather firewood.

Trudy brought Rodney and let him help. Usually Simpson pushed the cart for the women as he'd been deemed unfit to help the men with building the church because of his youth. Simpson was late, so Rachel and Eugenia, Ben Turner's wife, took turns pushing the cart from deadfall to deadfall.

They'd worked a few hours before anyone said anything about the meeting. It was Rachel—not surprisingly, Trudy thought—who brought it up. “It seems like the boy should be punished,” she said.

“Simpson?” Eugenia said.

“Who else? Wanting to leave is like admitting your sin.”

Trudy bit her lip. She knew it would be foolish to get involved.

“What sin do you think it is?” Eugenia asked.

“He's queer.”

“No,” Eugenia said. “Not that one.”

Rachel shook her head knowingly. “I've seen him. I know.”

“You're a liar,” Trudy said. Her hand flew to her mouth, as she tried to block the words from coming out, but it was too late.

Rachel turned to her casually. “You think you know so much, Trudy Sykes. You think you have everything figured out, but the only thing you've truly figured out is how to be displeasing to God.”

Trudy was about to reply when Simpson showed up. He looked embarrassed, his face red with shame.

“Afternoon,” he said. “I'm sorry for my lateness, and I'm sorry for the foolishness this morning.” He spoke as if reciting lines he'd rehearsed, and Trudy was sure that he had rehearsed them, probably just minutes before with Otto.

Rachel shook her head dismissively. “It's about time. This cart is heavy.”

The day was perfect, the kind of day that made it hard to believe the weather could ever turn bad. The tops of the trees swayed in a high breeze, and between their leaves Trudy could see the sky as blue as a bird's egg. She tried to imagine the dust bowl that Otto told them about, the people who starved looking for work, for food, and found that it was difficult. All she could think about was that sky, and how she wanted to see all of it.

She glanced at Rodney. He was working hard, picking up small sticks and taking them over to the cart where Simpson stood offering encouragement. She watched her son, feeling her heart swell with love for the boy. No one knew his sweetness like she did. He clung to her like a lifeline, afraid sometimes to leave her side, and while this could be frustrating at times, he often surprised her with a kiss or hug or a flower picked from the woods, some little gesture that always seemed to lift her when she needed lifting the most.

They were wrapping up the morning's work, getting ready to head back to the clearing to prepare lunch for their husbands, when the man stumbled out of the trees. He almost ran over Rodney, who dropped the wood he was carrying and quickly moved out of the man's way.

It was always a shock when an outsider discovered their little community. Sometimes they went so long without seeing another person that Trudy felt like the outside world ceased to exist, and seeing someone new was a jolt of lightning, a wake-up call that reminded her there was more to her life, a whole possible world with a sky that didn't just reveal itself as piecemeal but rather as a vast canvas stretching from one horizon to the next.

Yet this particular man wasn't an ordinary visitor. Usually families came or hunters or occasionally that sheriff from town, the one who leered at the women and talked tough with the men. This man was old. Older, Trudy believed, than any other person she'd ever known. He was thin and wore a pair of loose overalls whose straps he'd cinched up tight in an apparent effort to keep them from falling off his almost nonexistent frame. His face was wrinkled leather, but in several places, the leather seemed to have cracked and great sores oozed blood down the sides of his cheeks and into the thick white mat of his long beard. All of this, and still none of these things were the most striking aspect of the man. What struck Trudy the most were the old scars on his chest. He wore no undershirt under the loose overalls, and the marks were visible from far away. Trudy couldn't imagine what had done such a thing to him, except that whatever it was must have been seeking to tear out his very heart.

“Howdy,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat. “I come a long way.”

That was clearly an understatement. Here was a man that looked like he'd been walking his entire life.

Eugenia, Ben's wife, spoke first. “You don't look well. Come with us for some lunch and we'll take care of your wounds.”

He grinned the most ghastly grin Trudy had ever seen. All of his teeth were gone except for two on the top. One of those had turned a deep shade of purple and the other seemed covered in a film of translucent yellow grime. But the smile was a happy one, full of genuine pleasure and delight. Trudy found herself smiling back.

“That's kind of you, ma'am, but I've got to get to the swamp directly.”

“The swamp?” Trudy said.

“Yes, ma'am. There's a gator there that I owe a good licking to.” He grinned and pulled back a gnarled thumb into his scarred chest.

“An alligator did that to you?” Trudy said.

“I reckon I wasn't born this ugly,” he said. “It got at me when I was just a boy, right here in this swamp. I fought for everything I was worth, but a boy ain't no match for an alligator.” He pointed up to a patch of blue sky. “I reckon the Lord pulled me out of there before it took my heart. A gator, you know, will go for the heart. They like to eat them while they're still beating. Once a man or boy is dead, the gator don't like to eat them half as much. That's what I've heard anyway.”

“Excuse me,” Rachel said. “Did you say the alligator attacked you here?” Rachel belonged to Otto—and normally Trudy didn't like such phrases, saying that women “belonged” to their men—but in Rachel's case, she thought it was the truth. He owned her like an object, and for Rachel's part, that seemed to be exactly what she wanted.

“Sure did. I wasn't more than a boy, though. This was way back.” He grinned. “I'm older than I look. Born in 1833, the night the stars fell.”

Trudy had heard her mother speak of this night as a child. It was just a story, Trudy knew, but it had held a powerful fascination for her. In many ways, Trudy had spent her whole life hoping to experience something like that, something that went beyond the ordinary, something that proved there was more to this world than flesh and bone, rock and wood.

It was a great story, but Trudy couldn't help but think he was lying about his birthday. Either that or he was just too far gone to know better. He was clearly very old, but being born in 1833 would make him one hundred. As much as she might want to, she couldn't believe that.

“But there are no gators here,” Rachel said. “There's no swamp here either. You've come to the wrong place.”

The man looked hurt. “Well, I don't reckon I have. I'd remember this place in my sleep.” He leaned forward, as if telling them a secret. “You folks don't know about the change?”

“What change?” Trudy said.

The man grinned. “Oh, this place has got two personalities. One of them is just the normal world, and there ain't nothing wrong with that, at least for most people. But there's some who need more. Some who need to touch a piece of God. That's what the swamp's for.”

Rachel looked worried. “Maybe you should come with us. Meet my husband. He's our minister. He'd love to speak of God with you, Mr. . . .”

“I don't hold with no misters. Call me G.L.”

“G.L.?”

“That's my name,” he shot back, grinning.

“You look tired. Come with us.”

G.L. nodded. “I don't mind a little rest, but I don't put much stock in ministers.”

This stopped Rachel. “I think you'll find my husband well versed in the Word. I'm sure he will be unlike the shysters and charlatans you may have encountered.”

“I ain't never met none of those,” G.L. said. “But if they're anything like ministers, I'll pass.” He grinned. “No offense intended.”

Trudy laughed. She couldn't help it. She knew it would anger Rachel, but it was too funny.

Rachel's mouth pinched shut. “Simpson? Oh, where did he run off to? The dumb child. Trudy, would you find him and get him to bring the cart? And find your son. They both seem to have wandered off.”

Trudy turned around in a circle, looking for Rodney. He did appear to be gone, which was completely unlike him. Trudy felt a surge of panic grip her.

“Rodney?”

“He was over there, last I saw,” Eugenia said, pointing toward a slight opening in a large mass of kudzu and underbrush.

“Thank you,” Trudy said.

“He might have slipped off to the swamp,” G.L. said, but Trudy hardly heard him. She was moving fast, almost running, the panic so real it made her heart jump in her chest. She had just gathered her skirts to run when she saw his arm. It was poking out of the thick kudzu and shaking violently, like a tree limb being pulverized by the wind. Except there was no wind. Whatever made Rodney different seemed to emanate from inside him.

Trudy nearly ran into Simpson, who was standing over her son. His face was tight with anguish. She ignored him and knelt beside Rodney, who had stopped convulsing and was now lying motionless and unresponsive.

“I didn't do nothing, Ms. Trudy. I promise.”

Trudy turned and saw that the boy was crying. “I promise,” he said again.

“No, of course not, Simpson.” She stood and held him for a moment, such a fragile boy, maybe not physically but in spirit. “This has to be our secret, but this happens to him often. He's going to be okay. I know it's scary at first, but it'll pass.”

He nodded. “That's what Otto tells me. He says that right now it's tough, but I'll be glad I stayed when the hard times end.”

“I've been thinking about leaving too,” Trudy said. She knew it wasn't wise to talk about it, but she couldn't help herself. Simpson didn't seem like the other men. He seemed like he would understand.

“I'm afraid,” he said. At first she thought he was talking about Rodney, but when she looked down, she saw that he'd stopped shaking. He was asleep now and would stay that way for several hours unless Trudy woke him up.

“Afraid of what?”

“Leaving. Otto says that God will be angry.”

Trudy shook her head. “God isn't so angry, Simpson. All the talk about him punishing people is just to keep us in line. That's what I think.”

“Otto said you weren't a believer.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You seem like a nice lady to me, but . . . I don't know, sometimes Otto talks about folks. He says God told him you weren't a real believer. He says God still has work to do with you.” He shrugged. “I wouldn't take it personal. Otto says the same thing about me. I try to pray, I really do. I try to keep my thoughts pure.” He looked away, suddenly embarrassed, and Trudy knew that he had thought of her before. Surprisingly, she found this pleasing.

She took his hand in hers. He flushed red.

“Listen to me,” she said. “I think you need to go. You're strong and able-bodied. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can find work. I know it's hard out there, but this place isn't good for a boy. Otto isn't good for you.” She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him that she and the kids would join him, that they'd go together, help each other out, but she wasn't ready yet. She had to think, she had to plan more. Rodney and Mary would have to be prepared, and there was still James to think about too. She wasn't sure if what she felt for him could still be called love, but it was something like it. A loyalty, a commitment. She wanted a little more time to figure all of that out.

“I don't know . . .” he said. “Otto says I'd be a fool to leave. He says it's like poking my finger in God's eye after all he's done for me, but . . . can I tell you a secret? Just between the two of us?”

She nodded, resisting the urge she felt suddenly to kiss his mouth. How old was the boy? No more than twenty, surely. And here was Trudy nearly thirty and married. It was wrong, the kinds of thoughts she would be punished for.

“Otto scares me. He . . .”

“Go on.”

Just then Rodney woke up. “Momma?”

She turned and gathered him in her arms. When she turned back to face Simpson again, he'd already started back to the clearing.

“Leave,” she said, but she wasn't sure if he heard her.