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“No way,” Kate said with a toss of her long blonde hair. “I’m opening a salon in town this year. The goddess knows I’m the best hairdresser in town. Even Tina Murry can’t compete. I’m not going to lose that opportunity.”
I hugged her arm tight to my side. Kate was the most beautiful girl in town and a certifiable bronzed bombshell. Although most of the girls in Hanna had similar blonde hair, brown eyes, and petite statures, there was just something about Kate.
I was constantly amazed at her ability to sooth and sweet talk the grumpiest women in our town. Even Granny liked Kate - and Granny didn’t like people.
My own looks were opposite of Kate’s in almost every single way. I had long brown hair and pale skin that didn’t absorb the sun like Kate’s. My eyes were a pale blue that Granny would often complain about, saying they were unnatural.
Even my height made me a freak in Hanna. While most of the women around here stood just above five feet, I had the audacity to grow to an entire five feet and nine inches. If Granny hadn’t scolded me so much growing up, I would’ve developed a hunched back from trying to blend in. I didn’t like being different from all my friends.
“Come along, girls,” Granny called from the stoop of the church. She waved an aged and wrinkled hand in our direction. ?
?Service waits for no one.”
Kate rolled her eyes at me and we hustled into church, sliding into a wooden pew at the back. Most of Hanna’s two hundred female residents were packed into the church, leaving few open spots for stragglers. No men lived in town. Our residents were made up of widows, single mothers, and women who’d never married. It’d been that way for over two hundred years, maybe even longer.
At the front of the church was a plain wooden altar and a small corral made of chicken wire. A tiny pink piglet roamed in the corral, sticking its flat nose into the few pieces of hay scattered across the floor. It snorted and grunted, digging for scraps of food.
Above the altar hung a gilded bronze frame with our founding member’s portrait. Margaret Thatcher looked down on us all, her blonde hair pulled tightly back into a bun that accentuated her high cheekbones and warm smile. There were some moments, like today, when it felt like her brown eyes followed me wherever I went, always watching and waiting for Lizzy Redding to screw up again.
I shook off the ridiculous feeling and sighed into my hand. By all accounts, Margaret had been a saint. When she made these woods her home, she’d opened it to defenseless women so that they could have a home of their own.
The legend was that Margaret’s abusive husband had died on the trek across the country, leaving her with two tiny mouths to feed. Her family told her to remarry. They said her children would starve if she didn’t find a man, but she refused. She turned down several offers of marriage and instead staked her claim in the Black Hills forest, earning a substantial living through timber and mining.
“I think Ruth Baker is making the sacrifice again,” Kate whispered in my ear. “Prepare for another three hour sermon.”
Inwardly, I groaned. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck on this wooden pew for half the day while Ruth Baker droned on about family and sacrifice and duty to self. Even Granny tended to nod off during her sermons, and Granny was the head elder of Hanna.
When the doors of the church closed, Ruth got off her pew and grabbed the piglet from its pen. I hated this part of the service. Worse than the sermon, worse than the hard wooden pews, and worse than the stuffy heat. The piglet squealed as if it knew what was coming. Ruth laid the squirming animal on the wooden altar, holding it down by its neck and pressing her red painted nails into its skin.
The noise in the room died until every woman and child watched the altar with anticipation. Beside the piglet’s head was a simple butcher’s knife. I closed my eyes as Ruth picked up the knife with her free hand and raised it above her head.
The piglet screamed and grunted, but it was no use. After a sick thudding sound, its cries stopped and I risked peering through my eyelashes. A fresh spray of bright red blood marred Ruth’s baby pink blouse. She smiled at us, a droplet of blood falling from her double chin.
“Welcome, my sisters. We make this sacrifice in the name of our goddess, who has kept us safe for another week. In her name, we worship.”
There was a shuffling noise as everyone around us pulled out their worship pamphlets and turned the pages, following along while Ruth led the service. I held out my own pamphlet, although I knew the service by heart. First came the declaration of faith. Then, a song that praised the goddess and her bountiful blessings. Then, Ruth’s message.
My eyes trailed over the room as Ruth delved into her sermon. Kate caught my gaze and grinned knowingly, her eyes heavy with boredom. I wanted nothing more than to tell her about my trip into the forest yesterday and the demon battle I’d witnessed. Kate knew I liked to push the boundaries of my adventures into the woods, but even she didn’t know how far I explored. It was best not to make her worry.
Kate was a rule follower and would never break a town law. It might have been one of the reasons Granny liked her so much. She was dependable and righteous. She was the kind of woman that would live out her days in Hanna, content with the family and friends that surrounded her. It was another reason we were opposites.
But I was bursting with my story about the battle and the green eyed demon. If I told Kate, maybe she could help me make sense of this feeling of nervousness that came over me every time I thought about him. She’d help me understand that his good looks were nothing but a trick from the devil, meant to lure vulnerable young women like myself into trusting him.
And she’d help me hate him, like I was supposed to – not dream of him like I did last night. Dreams of his arms around me and his lips pressed against mine. Dreams that made me feel dirty and hot and nervous all at the same time.
"I think she's going for a record long sermon," Kate whispered in my ear. "I’m sure the goddess has better things to do than to listen about the evils of the outside world."
I smiled and nodded my head, forcing my attention back on Ruth’s sermon. Sure enough, two and a half hours later, we were finally released from church. We spilled out the front doors with the rest of the blurry eyed and dazed members, allowing the warm rays of the afternoon sun to wash away the haze.
Church service for Granny was usually followed by a pot of coffee and cold sandwiches on the back porch, so I followed her home. Kate was right. It was now or never. I had to ask Granny to sponsor my time at school or give up on my one chance for freedom.
I was already older than most of the kids graduating from college, but that didn’t matter. All I needed was a yes and I’d be gone this fall, whisked away to a campus with fifty times the number of students than there were people in my town. The idea scared and thrilled me.
"Put the pot on," Granny called when we walked into our tiny two bedroom house across the street from the gas station. "Make it good and strong. Ruth Baker's sermons always leave me with a bear of a headache."
I prepared the coffee and put it in the coffee maker, grabbing Granny's favorite green mug. My stomach was beginning to squirm like a sinner in church. This was the moment I'd been waiting for - the moment that could change my life. Granny had the ultimate say on whether I could leave town. Her rule was law. She would be my salvation.
"Next weekend's Memorial day, so I'll need you to pull a long shift for the tourists that'll be flocking through," Granny said as she entered the tiny kitchen and planted herself at the seventies deco kitchen table with the cracked yellow plastic-covered chairs.
