Broken Branch Read Free

lamb.
    She left the university the next week and traveled with them, town to town, revival to revival. Now she saw her foolishness, but then she was too blind, too hopeful that what they sang about was real.
    She switched from Otto to James because Otto didn’t seem interested in anything but the Lord. James, though, was kind to her and sometimes she caught him staring at her when he should have been praying or focusing on worship. She figured this meant he fancied her, although she couldn’t really make out how she felt about him. But since she wasn’t really looking for a man as much as she was looking for God, she didn’t think on it too much and just let herself be swept up in the majesty of giving her life to God completely. The only way that seemed possible was to give herself to James completely as well.
    The rest had happened quickly, like nightfall at the end of a winter’s day. She’d used the money left from her father to purchase the land for Broken Branch. All of it. She could tell herself that at the time she’d believed the land would be blessed by God and they would isolate themselves in purity from the rest of the world, a world that Otto had explained to them was ate up with war and hatred and perverted sexual desire.
    â€œHere,” he had said, standing under the big oak tree in the clearing, “We will make a life for ourselves and our children. A godly life, untouched by the outside world.” He’d looked around then, as if really seeing the place for the first time. He looked up at the outstretched branches of the oak. One branch was broken, hanging down, supported by other limbs. Otto stood on the tips of his toes and clutched a part of it, pulling it toward him. Once he got his hands around the thick part of the branch, he twisted it hard and pulled it free. “Like this branch, we were once a part of the world, but now we are broken free and will become our own tree, watered and tended in the spilled blood of the Lamb.”
    He smiled broadly. “Here in Broken Branch, we will find refuge from the storm.”
    But he’d been wrong, Trudy realized, as James struck up the next hymn. Sooner or later, the storm always finds you.

4
    That evening after she’d seen the children to bed, Trudy sat thinking about those old notebooks. She’d put them somewhere in the cellar, far out of sight, in a place she hoped James would never look. But even if he did, he was unlikely to read them. They weren’t the Word, and James had long ago established that he felt reading anything besides the Bible was a worthless endeavor, a waste of the time God had given you. Maybe she’d go down and pull them out sometime. Maybe, she thought, feeling just the tiniest ripple of excitement, she’d even start writing again.
    It was a nice thought, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Not with Rodney and Mary to take care of. Not with what was happening in Broken Branch. Still . . . the urge was strong.
    She shook her head, dismissing the thought. She needed to talk with James. He was outside, smoking on the porch. This was his ritual, and he always sat out there no matter the weather. Sometimes, if she was feeling lonely, Trudy joined him. Lately, she chose to stay inside, lonely or not. She’d become honest enough to admit to herself that she didn’t love him, that she had in fact never loved him. Still, she’d made a commitment before God that had to be honored so she carried on as best she could.
    For James’s part, he didn’t seem to mind the coldness that had come into their bed. After the children had been born, he seemed to grow less enthusiastic about those things, claiming he felt awkward doing such in front of the Lord.
    Trudy had gained weight, but she was still pretty. She kept her hair shorter now than she had when she’d met James, but it was still dark and thick, and when she found time to wash it in the