Broken Branch by John Mantooth Read Free Book Online Page B

but she realized now, the rest of Broken Branch was too busy to notice whether she did or didn’t do them. By the time anyone realized their clothes weren’t washed, she would be gone. She packed a single suitcase with clothes and supplies, knowing it would slow them down, but she figured once they were gone from Broken Branch they could go as slow as they wanted to.
    But where would they go?
    She’d thought about trying to go back to Birmingham, but she’d burned many bridges there after her father’s death. People who might have helped her once would no longer be willing to after she’d refused to speak at her father’s funeral. Everyone had assumed her ungrateful. She didn’t blame them, and she didn’t try to explain how the thought of confronting the memory of her father made her feel helpless and weak. It touched her own doubt, her failure to find something greater, something that existed outside of herself. She hated herself for this weakness and even welcomed the derision of the other family members and friends. She deserved it all.
    She’d wanted a clean break from that time in her life. She’d looked forward to a more authentic life, a more authentic faith, which she felt James possessed, but she’d been wrong. She’d been so stupid then, so young. This time she had her priorities straight. Her children had to survive, and they had to survive intact. There was no telling what the environment of this place might do to them. Trudy had already witnessed its effect on Rodney and shuddered to imagine how much worse it would be if his attacks ever came to light. She owed them a chance to find their own salvation, even if she’d missed her own.
    It made her sad to think like this because her whole life had been shaped by the search for something she couldn’t explain, something that couldn’t be perverted by Otto and James’s selfish interpretation, and she would continue to look for it once she had abandoned this place forever. Yet she understood instinctively that one day she’d remember Broken Branch and wonder. Not about its people or what happened to Otto and James. Sure, those would be minor curiosities, but mostly she’d think about G.L. and the swamp. The storm shelter he’d known about. In two nights she would be leaving with a few regrets. One was obvious: the years she’d wasted with James. But without him she wouldn’t have Rodney or Mary, and without them she might as well have died with her father. They were her life, and nothing could change that. Her only real regret would be leaving without knowing why she’d come here in the first place. Without—she thought, realizing it clearly for the first time—finding God.

21
    On the night before she was to leave, Trudy woke suddenly, sitting upright in bed. This time there was no rain, and silence lay over the house. It felt unnatural, and for a moment she lay there trying to understand why she was awake.
    Then she knew. They needed to leave tonight. Tomorrow might be too late. It was just a feeling, but the feeling was powerful. Suddenly she was filled with despair by her stupidity. Why had she waited so long? What was special about Saturday night, when any night would have been fine?
    She rose, silently, careful not to wake James. The last thing she needed was him waking up. She found the old suitcase and packed it with the supplies she’d shoved into a drawer earlier that day. She took it out to the porch and zipped it up.
    â€œEvening,” a voice said. She nearly jumped out of her skin.
    She turned and saw Ben sitting on his porch, his pale skin illuminated in the moonlight.
    â€œYou frightened me.”
    â€œI thought you didn’t scare.”
    She said nothing. She didn’t want him to be there. She didn’t want to talk. Any sound risked waking James.
    â€œI don’t think you understood me last night, Trudy. About how much I admired