Rising Above Shepherdsville

by Ann Schoenbohm

  The lace curtains in one of the upstairs rooms parted.

  Loretta’s face appeared.

  Ever so slowly she unraveled her middle finger and flipped us the bird, pressing it against the glass.

  Aunt Bernie blew air out of her mouth so hard, she could have filled a party balloon in one go. She put the car in reverse and backed out onto the main road.

  We drove along for a few minutes before she spoke. “I put the salt bin back into the cupboard for you,” she said. “An innocent mistake. Definitely unfortunate, but understandable. Baking takes practice.”

  10

  s-a-l-v-a-t-i-o-n

  salvation (n.)

  a saving from danger or difficulty; rescue

  On Thursday evening Aunt Bernie dropped me off at Bible study with a warning. “Keep your Bible in your lap and your hands in prayer, Dulcie. The good Lord is watching you. Don’t disappoint him.”

  I seriously doubted the big man had his binoculars out, interested in the goings-on in the basement of Redeemer Baptist Church. I figured he must have better things to do with his time—wars, floods, famine, and such—but I gave her a thumbs-up anyway.

  Loretta and the usual crowd hung around outside the church, waiting for Reverend Love to arrive and open the door. They congregated on the front steps, a pack of wild wolves, hungry for a meal.

  Before I’d thumped Loretta on the head with my Bible, my penance had been limited to whispers and looks, but now the entire Bible study group was united in their efforts to get a reaction out of me.

  Lerman Henckle cried out “Meow” when he saw me. The others wailed along with him, making tortured cat noises.

  “Meow.”

  “Meeee-owwww.”

  “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  I turned away and looked at the sky. It was a wispy gray, not the bright blue it had been when I’d seen the swan two days before. I refused to cry, Mama, come the devil on stilts or mighty high water.

  Darlene, a girl with squinty eyes and a mean streak of a mouth, yelled, “Dulcie, why don’t you say something? Cat got your tongue?”

  Everybody howled in unison, like it was even funnier now that they’d said it a few hundred times.

  Reverend Love pulled his car into the lot. The field grew quiet and my tormentors became interested in their feet suddenly, intent on taking advantage of Reverend Love’s trusting nature. They knew they could get away with heckling me when he wasn’t around.

  They knew I’d never tell.

  Reverend Love got out of his dusty blue station wagon, then walked over to the passenger door and opened it. A murmur of curiosity swept through the group.

  A girl emerged wearing a ripped T-shirt, black cutoffs, and army boots. Her long, dark hair was parted down the middle. Her eyes were rimmed round with black eyeliner.

  It was the same girl that Aunt Bernie and I had seen walking out on the road the day before. She was a mere hummingbird of a person, slight and wiry, her face wounded and tough in its expression. Her hands were in her pockets, and her head was down as she followed Reverend Love to the doors of the church. When the girl got a look at the scraggly bunch waiting there, she shot them a long look of pure disgust. I wondered what in the world she was doing there at the church of all places.

  A clean evening breeze sprang up, lifting our dresses and ruffling our hair as Reverend Love struggled with the lock and keys to the front doors. The girl slunk against the side of the building, bringing with her a small portent of change on the wind.

  We filed into the basement meeting room and sat down in the corralled metal chairs waiting for us. Reverend Love pulled out a chair for the new girl, and she plopped into it with a thud. He handed her a Bible, then wheeled the portable blackboard toward us. The fan turned back and forth, blowing hair into his eyes, making him look more disheveled than usual.

  Reverend Love erased the words from the last Bible study. He fished a piece of chalk out of his pocket. Scripture flowed from its squeaky tip. The room was unnaturally quiet, save for the sound of cracking gum and the chalk grating on the board.

  The girl with the dark hair blew enormous purple gum balloons and snapped them into oblivion with zeal. All eyes were on her, fascinated by her every move. I was deeply relieved, Mama. Her presence was an unexpected gift of sorts. I was no longer the most unusual thing to have come down the pike.

  Reverend Love said, “Before we start, I’d like you to welcome Faith.” He motioned toward the girl with his chalk.

  Jason Burdine guffawed like a doofus. “Oh, no way. Who names their kid ‘Faith,’ anyway?”

  Faith stopped him cold. “My parents, you butt-wipe.”

  Jason shriveled up like a roly-poly bug. He wasn’t used to people fighting back.

  I liked this girl already, Mama.

  Reverend Love ignored them. “Faith will be staying with Mrs. Love and me for a while. Let’s go round and introduce ourselves, please. Starting with you, Loretta.”

  Following Loretta, names were tossed into the circle—Missy, Lerman, Leann, Matt, Jason, and the rest. Of course, they skipped over me.

  “Hey, what about that girl?” Faith pointed a finger at me. I couldn’t tell whether or not she remembered me from the road. “She didn’t say who she was.”

  Lerman spoke up, “Oh, she don’t talk. She’s a mute. Dumb as they come.”

  Reverend Love spoke sharply, “Enough. Sorry, Faith. This is Dulcie. She is having some trouble with her voice. We expect it will return with the good Lord’s help.”

  Leann made a tiny kitten sound. “Meow.”

  Jason Burdine leaned close to Faith and put his mouth right up to her ear. “Cat’s got her tongue.”

  Everyone except Faith laughed. She rolled her eyes and sneered, “Jesus, what a bunch of freaks.” After looking around the room in disgust, she curled her lip at Reverend Love, and challenged him outright. “What kind of rodeo you rope me into, huh? You’re holding me against my will, ya know.”

  A deep silence followed, while we waited for the earth to open up and swallow her whole. Reverend Love sucked in air like a drowning man.

  “Well, the alternative isn’t much better, Faith. You can choose your path. You are free to go if you like. But I like to think it is God’s will that you’re here.”

  Faith leaned back in her chair. “Whatever you say, Preacher-man.” She pulled a long tendril of purple gum out of her mouth, stretched it taut, and then whipped it round and round until the gum wrapped into a tight little wad on her index finger. Then she shoved the wad back between her teeth.

  Reverend Love turned to the board and said nothing further to her. While he droned on, citing scripture and verse, having us follow along with the words of those guys Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, we all watched Faith’s antics.

  For some time, she drew an elaborate design on her arm with an ink pen, then moved on to destruction of church property. She neatly ripped a page out of the Bible and folded it into a paper airplane with expert precision. We watched in awe as it whizzed past Reverend Love while he was writing on the board. He continued droning and pretended not to notice.

  At the end of the meeting, I retrieved Faith’s paper airplane from under the radiator. Smoothing it free of wrinkles, I examined the wings for damage, and tucked it into my Bible.

  Reverend Love noticed me. “Dulcie, I’d like to talk to you before you leave.”

  The others shuffled out, except for Faith. She leaned against the doorframe, waiting for Reverend Love, arms crossed.

  I sat back down and stared at the floor, studying a cracked piece of linoleum, careful not to look in Faith’s direction. Reverend Love sat next to me, the gold letters on his Bible glinting in the bright lights.

  “Dulcie, I’ve been praying and thinking about you—about what happened on Tuesday, and I think I have a solution to our problem.” I waited, knowing I had little to say about whatever punishment he had in mind.

  Faith continued to lean against the doorframe, chewing gum,
watching us.

  Reverend Love went on. “Bernice and I had hoped this group might be good for you, but I don’t think it’s the best place for you right now.”

  My heart rose. A small window of hope opened. I clutched the Bible in my lap, the tip of Faith’s paper airplane peeking out.

  I wanted to jump and shout hallelujah, to sing and dance around the room. No more taunting or whispers. No more stares or catcalls.

  I was free, Mama. No more Bible study.

  I smiled, giving him my full approval of the plan. He cleared his throat. “I have an idea of something you might like to do instead of Bible study.” He nodded toward Faith. “And, I think Faith might be happier as well.”

  He called out to her as if he hadn’t known all along that she’d been eavesdropping on our conversation.

  “Faith, I don’t think you’d mind not coming to Bible study. Am I right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re not just whistling Dixie, Preach.”

  “Dulcie, I’d like to invite you over to supper tomorrow night with Mrs. Love and me. Faith will be there. I’m sure she’ll enjoy some company.” The look on Faith’s face showed that nothing could be further from the truth. “I’d like you girls to meet someone. I’ve already talked to your aunt. She’ll bring you by my house at five. All right?”

  Faith appeared irritated, but then I didn’t think she would like anything Reverend Love had to offer.

  I nodded. Yes, I would come to dinner and see what he had in mind.

  This proposal might be punishment or reward, but some light crept into my darkness. I stood up and floated toward the door. If Reverend Love had wanted me to ride to Jerusalem on a camel, I would have done it to get out of Bible study.

  Faith hunched near the basement steps, giving me the stink-eye. For the first time since I’d come to this place, I wasn’t the unhappiest person in the room. As I scooched past, I handed her the Bible airplane.

  She glared at me, crumpled the plane into a tiny ball, and threw it to the ground.

  “We’re not friends, okay. So don’t go thinking we are.”

  11

  c-o-m-m-u-n-i-o-n

  communion (n.)

  the act of sharing one’s thoughts and emotions; an intimate relationship with deep understanding

  Aunt Bernie’s favorite pastime, besides cooking, is back-fence talk. She sure does love her some gossip, Mama. I doubt Jesus approves of her habit of hanging everybody’s dirty laundry on the Shepherdsville clothesline—airing the scuttlebutt she hears, as free as you please—but that Friday evening as she drove me out to Reverend Love’s house for dinner, I got an earful. Head-high corn glided past the car windows as she revealed the events surrounding the sudden and mysterious appearance of Faith.

  “Apparently she’s a runaway.” Aunt Bernie lowered her voice as if somebody might overhear her. “The sheriff’s department turned her over to the county. They couldn’t locate her people down in Kentucky.” She shook her head in disapproval, the silver strands in her brown hair glinting as she sprinkled tsk-tsks into the air.

  “Imagine. That girl broke into the church and was sleeping down in the basement.”

  As we drove closer to town, we passed the church, standing alone out in the field. I thought of that finger game we used to do, Mama. Here is the church. Here is the steeple. Open the door, and see all the people. I loved that special trick you used to do to make the people disappear. Redeemer looked forlorn without cars out front, without people milling in groups fixing to go inside and do their spiritual business.

  I searched the sky over the church, hoping to see one of the swans flying over the wooded area beyond the fence. Only a few feathery clouds floated over the trees. Now that I’d been cut loose from Bible study, I didn’t know if I might get another chance to visit the swan’s nest.

  We took a left onto an asphalt road. The wind whistled through our cracked-open windows, ruffling papers and Aunt Bernie’s account books in the backseat.

  “Of all things, I tell you.” Aunt Bernie gripped the steering wheel, leaned forward, and peered through the windshield, looking for her next turn. “Instead of handing her over to the authorities, Reverend Love and his wife took her in.” She raised her eyebrows, the scandal of it pulling them into hard arches.

  “Imagine that.” Aunt Bernie clucked her tongue. “Seems dangerous to me, letting an unknown girl, a total stranger, in your house like that.” She looked at me, then caught herself. “Well, it isn’t as if the girl is a relative or anything of that nature.”

  Aunt Bernie drove slower than a turtle in a hurry, the story consuming her attention. “That girl would have ended up in the juvenile detention home otherwise. Only the good Lord knows what would have come of her there.” She blew out a heavy breath, the thought of it weighing on her. Aunt Bernie sure is afraid of the devil snatching souls, Mama.

  “Well, Reverend Love is a decent man, is all I can say—what with his wife expecting a baby and his church obligations—to help that girl in her time of need.”

  I tried to imagine sleeping in that creepy old basement, with no light. No wonder Faith was irritable.

  Reverend Love’s wife greeted me at the door. She waved to Aunt Bernie from the porch. Aunt Bernie fluttered her fingers good-bye and drove away, the dust flying from the Oldsmobile’s wheels like it was pure relief to drop me off at a preacher’s house and have a night off from seeing to my eternal salvation all by herself.

  I knew Mrs. Love from church. She was always free with her deep-dimpled smiles, shaking hands, and greeting folks on Sundays. She appeared to have a big ole watermelon under her billowy blouse, fixing to burst.

  “So happy you could come tonight, Dulcie. My husband will be right back.” She took my hand and led me into the house. “He’s gone off to pick up our other supper guest. You’ll find Faith out on the back porch.”

  I figured I’d find out soon enough who it was that Reverend Love wanted me to meet, so I looked around, curious. I’d never been in a preacher’s house before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought it would have lots of Jesus pictures and crosses, but the Loves’ house looked like any regular folks’ house, with a dining table set for a meal. I could see through an open door down the hall that a baby crib was set up.

  “You go on back and visit Faith. I’ll bring out some lemonade.” Mrs. Love opened up a door past the kitchen and pointed the way.

  Faith sat on the edge of the porch, a blade of grass between her thumbs, making a fluttery whistling sound by blowing into her cupped hands.

  She looked me up and down. “Look what the cat dragged in.” She went back to what she was doing, pretending I wasn’t there.

  I sat down, but not too close. The Loves’ tiny backyard bordered on a cornfield with buttery tassels waving hello in the late afternoon air. A fly dive-bombed past my ear. I brushed it away, but it kept coming at me. The sounds of Mrs. Love clinking things in the kitchen floated out the window to us. Next to the house a monarch butterfly landed here and there among the flowers, slowly beating his wings.

  I avoided looking in Faith’s direction, like you’d do if you came upon a wild animal in the woods. The only safe way to be near was to act unconcerned, else you’d be attacked.

  Without warning Faith scooted closer. “I’m not staying long, you know. Soon as I get me some money, I’m gone. That’s why I said what I said—about us not being friends.” She inspected me more closely to see if I followed her gist, perhaps thinking I had a mental defect as well as no voice. “I’m going to make my way to Nashville. I can sing pretty good. I know a bunch of songs.”

  That explained the beat-up guitar I’d seen her carrying. But it didn’t explain how she planned on financing her trip. I hadn’t seen any money trees dripping with dollar bills in Shepherdsville.

  “I’ll stay here until the county forgets about me. Sleep on a soft bed for a while, eat some decent food. Let the reverend do his trying-to-save-my-soul thing.” She talked like she was co
nvincing herself, all tough on the outside, but her eyes betrayed her. A heap of sorrow shone out from inside her, as strong as a flashlight beam.

  I pointed to her skirt—a cotton floral print with daisies and green swirly vines. Definitely not something Faith might have picked out for herself. Same as me. I pointed at my dress with the blue polka dots and yellow stripes.

  “Preacher’s wife went through the church donations and brought me what she called ‘more appropriate’ clothing. Pretty ugly, huh?”

  I gave her a thumbs-down, and she laughed. “Guess you didn’t choose that git-up either?” She pinched her nose together. “Pee-yew.” I pointed my finger down my open mouth like I wanted to upchuck.

  A door opened between us—things said and unsaid passed through. I wanted to ask her a million questions but had to settle for what she offered freely. Since I’d lost my voice, I’d learned something, Mama. When you are quiet, people tell you more about themselves than they do if you’re chattering away.

  Mrs. Love brought out two tall glasses of pale lemonade with a bit of green floating on the top. “I hope you don’t mind the mint. That’s the way we do it in Kentucky, isn’t it?” She winked at Faith, as if being from Kentucky was a special club that only they understood.

  After she left, we sat swinging our legs off the porch, holding our cool glasses. Faith turned toward me and brought her voice down low, not wanting Mrs. Love to overhear.

  “Can you really not talk?”

  I nodded.

  “Really? You’re not trying to psych them out or anything?”

  I shook my head.

  “Promise?”

  I crossed-my-heart-hoped-to-die promised her that I couldn’t.

  “Weird.”

  Reverend Love pushed open the screen door and came out onto the porch, wearing light pants and a short-sleeved shirt. He didn’t look the same without his church garb. He looked downright ordinary.

  “Glad you two are getting acquainted. Come on inside. I want y’all to meet someone.”

  We followed Reverend Love to the small living room tucked into the front part of the house. Mrs. Love was just setting out some lemonade on the coffee table by their guest—the woman with the halo of silver-gray hair that I’d seen singing at the front of the choir, on the same day I saw the swan.