Summer of Joy

by Ann H. Gabhart

  Besides, even though Leigh was definitely a softie, she had a way of handling nosy people. She’d had plenty of practice out at Mt. Pleasant. Church people thought whatever their preacher or his family did was their business and they didn’t mind grilling his new girlfriend about anything and everything. Leigh spent the better part of some Sundays blushing, but Jocie had noticed Leigh didn’t answer any questions she didn’t want to answer. So maybe she could handle Zella’s third degree. Jocie went on through the door back into the pressroom.

  Wes looked up from moving some papers off the press. His white hair was sticking up in all directions as usual and he had an ink smudge on the side of his nose. Every time Jocie saw him in the pressroom, a thankful prayer took wing in her heart. For weeks after he’d used his body to shield her in the middle of that tornado last summer and ended up with a tree crushing his leg, she hadn’t been sure he’d ever be back to his old self, helping with the paper, riding his motorcycle, telling zany Jupiter stories. But he’d finally gotten the last cast off his leg the week before. He was still limping. But he could walk. He could climb on his motorcycle. He could ride. He could keep the press running and Jocie laughing.

  “What’s going on up there?” Wes asked. “The Martians invading?”

  “Martians? Where did you come up with that? It was your Jupiterians come after you, but we refused to let them have you.”

  “They wouldn’t have took me now anyhow,” Wes said with a sad shake of his head. “They’d have took one look at me and seen I’ve done been earthed.”

  “Earthed?”

  “That’s right. It’s the number one most dangerous threat to space travelers, especially us guys from Jupiter. Old Mr. Jupiter, he wants to find out all about earth and what makes the gravity so strong down here that folks stick to the ground so good. So he lets some of us come on down here to try to figure things out and send back reports, and by jumping juppie, that gravity sometimes reaches right out and grabs us too. Then we’re earthed. Stuck tight to the ground. Mr. Jupiter can’t transport us up no more.”

  “Good,” Jocie said. “I don’t want you transporting up anywhere.”

  “You don’t have to worry.” Wes leaned over and tapped on the shin of his leg. “This here rod in my leg would set off all the transporting alarms. Earth metals mess up the Jupiter magnets that hold the ship together. Why, once when this guy tried to carry home an Earth penny as a souvenir for his kids, you know, we pretty near fell out of the sky before he owned up to it and threw that penny out a window. Now it could be they’ve come up with better magnets since I fell out of the spaceship all them years ago, so they might be able to transport me up—leg and all. That is, if I hadn’t been earthed.”

  “Do earth people ever get jupitered?” Jocie asked.

  “Sure,” Wes said. “That’s what’s happened to those people down at your space center. The ones trying to figure out how to go to the moon and all. Course they’ve got a long way to go before they get things figured out, so I don’t think Mr. Jupiter has anything to worry about for a while. Or the man in the moon.”

  Wes had been telling Jocie Jupiter stories ever since he’d landed in Hollyhill when she was three. She used to believe them. Now she just loved to hear him tell them. Someday she planned to write them down in one of her notebooks.

  “But where’s your daddy’s editorial?” Wes asked. “Did the Jupiterians steal it for their earth news column or something?”

  “I don’t think he’s written it yet. He’s acting really strange.” Jocie glanced over her shoulder toward the front office and then looked back at Wes. “I knocked on his door and he nearly turned his desk upside down diving under it. Said he’d dropped something.”

  “He has been a mite jumpy lately,” Wes agreed. “Oh, the things love will do to a man.”

  “Do you think he’s really in love with Leigh? I mean really in love.”

  “Could be. But maybe that’s a question you should ask him and not me.” Wes sat down, put his foot up on a box, and peered over at Jocie. “Would it bother you if he was?”

  “I don’t think so.” Jocie frowned a little as she gave his question some thought. “Tabitha says Dad’s not really all that old even if he is a grandfather now. She thinks he should get married again. She said she thinks she should get married too, but that she doesn’t figure there’s much chance of that happening as long as she’s in Hollyhill. What with having Stephen Lee and all.”

  “She thinking about leaving?” Wes asked.

  “Gosh, I hope not. It would kill Aunt Love if she took Stephen Lee off somewhere. You’ve seen how Aunt Love is with him. She sings verses out of Psalms to him when she rocks him to sleep. I don’t think she ever loved me like that.”

  “Well, you weren’t quite so loveable as baby Stephen Lee when she came on the scene. You were already what? Maybe eight. A lot of difference between anitsy sweet baby and a smart-mouthed eight-year-old. And a lot has happened since then.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “And a lot has happened since then.” Wes smiled at her.

  “Is that why you’re earthed now? All that’s happened lately?” Now it was Jocie’s turn to peer over at Wes and wait for his answer.

  “I’ve been giving that very thing a lot of thought ever since the doctors took the last plaster anchor off my foot.” Wes stared down at his foot and worked it back and forth. “A man don’t realize how nice a shoe looks on his foot until he hasn’t worn one for a good long spell.”

  Jocie sat down on the stool in front of the composing table. They had more pages to run, but there was no hurry. The paper didn’t go out until Wednesday and this was only Monday. She’d raced through all her homework earlier in study hall, so she didn’t have to worry about that. Maybe she’d even have time to work on a new idea for the Christmas program at church. They’d probably done the nativity scene bit every year since Mt. Pleasant had been established back in eighteen whatever. That was a lot of shepherds in bathrobes and angels in sheets and garland halos.

  It would have to be something simple. Their first practice was Sunday afternoon. Miss Sally normally had the play organized and well on the way by this time of the year, but this had been a hard year for her what with her house burning down and Mr. Harvey having a heart attack. Miss Sally had tried to get someone else to take over planning the Christmas program, but everybody insisted she had to do it the same as always. Jocie’s dad said Miss Sally needed to keep working with the kids at church so that she’d have a reason to keep smiling because Mt. Pleasant needed Miss Sally to keep smiling.

  Jocie looked over at Wes and asked, “You want to be in the Christmas program at church?”

  “And what would I be?”

  “I don’t know. How about one of the wise men? It might be neat if the adults did the manger scene this year instead of us kids.”

  Wes frowned a little. “I think you’d better find a wiser man than me for that job. I haven’t even gotten officially dunked yet.” Wes had joined the church back in September, but they’d put off his baptismal service until he got his cast off.

  “The wise men came seeking knowledge. That sounds like you. You’re always reading to find out something new. And you look like somebody who might ride a camel across the desert.” Jocie leaned forward and studied Wes as if measuring him for a wise man costume.

  “I don’t know, Jo,” he said with a half shake of his head. “I think I’ll stick to motorcycles. Besides, I’m doubting the folks out at the church would take to a Jupiterian wise man. From what I’ve seen, most church folks don’t like anybody messing with their traditions at Christmastime.”

  “I’m a church folk and I’m wanting to do something new.” Jocie leaned back against the composing table and made a face. “Something different. Anything different.”

  “Fact is, it could be enough different has already hit Mt. Pleasant, what with your daddy being the preacher and you the preacher’s daughter and Tabitha and little Stevie and
me joining up with them to make things interesting.”

  “Everybody’s happy you and Tabitha are coming to church now, and I haven’t heard anybody talking about Stephen Lee.”

  “They’re afraid Lovella might hear them. She’d be quoting them something out of the Bible about flapping tongues causing problems. She wouldn’t stand for anybody talking bad about little Stevie.”

  “None of us would. It’s not his fault his father wasn’t ready to settle down and be a daddy.” Jocie’s hands curled into fists. She knew what it was like to have a parent who didn’t care if you were born or not. She wouldn’t let Stephen Lee be mistreated. “And what difference does it make that his father was black? He’s cuter than the average baby. Tabitha says out in California people don’t pay as much attention to color.”

  “Hollyhill’s a long way from California,” Wes said.

  “You can say that again.” Jocie looked at him and held up her hand. “But please don’t.”

  “Make up your mind. You either want me to say it again or you don’t.”

  “Say what again?” Jocie’s dad asked as he came in the pressroom.

  “That Hollyhill is a long way from California.” Wes grinned over at Jocie.

  “And I hope it stays that way.” Jocie’s father handed Wes his editorial. “Sounds like the press is running okay.”

  “Betsy Lou is doing just fine.” Wes stood up and patted the press. “We were just giving her a little break. Sounds like things were running a little rougher up front in the editor’s office.”

  Jocie’s father looked embarrassed. “I guess you could say that, but everything’s under control now.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you breaking no legs and having to get a cast before Sunday. You have to step out into the water too to dunk me.”

  “Don’t worry. That’s happening this Sunday for sure, God willing and the creek doesn’t rise. And it might be good if the creek did rise. Make things easier. You haven’t changed your mind about going to the river, have you? It’s supposed to be pretty cold Sunday. We can probably still arrange to use the baptistery at First Baptist.”

  “You don’t think the ice on the river will be too thick to break, do you?” Wes asked.

  Jocie’s father laughed. “I don’t think there will be any ice. Just lots of very cold water.”

  “Then we’ll go to the river,” Wes said. “That’s how it was done in the Bible.”

  3

  Wes looked at the group of people on the bank of the river and was amazed. He’d been pretty amazed every Sunday since he’d asked the good people at Mt. Pleasant to accept him into their family of believers. They hadn’t done so grudgingly just because it wouldn’t be Christian to deny anybody entrance into the kingdom of God. Instead, they had invited him right into their hearts, even if a goodly portion of them did think he might really be from Jupiter or, failing that, had surely escaped from some insane asylum before he found his way to Hollyhill. When Wes told David how surprised he was to be so welcomed by the church, David laughed and said every family, even a church family, needed a weird old uncle or two.

  Wes didn’t have any problem fitting the bill on that one. He encouraged his weirdness, even celebrated it. He thought maybe the Lord did too. After all, the Bible had plenty of weird characters. Take old Elijah going up in a whirlwind to jump into that chariot of fire and move on up to heaven. Or John the Baptist eating locusts. Nothing normal or regular about that. Fact was, the more Wes came to really know the folks at Mt. Pleasant Church, the more he was noticing that plenty of them had a few weird quirks of their own.

  And now twenty-five or thirty faithful souls had followed him out to the river to stand in the brisk early December air and watch their weird old uncle get baptized. Wes felt a little guilty for turning down the warm confines of First Baptist Church in Hollyhill when he saw how Tabitha was trying to keep little Stevie’s arms inside the quilt she had wrapped around him, and how Lovella was having to hold on to her hat to keep it from flying into the river. But it was too late to change his mind now. They were at the river. It was almost time to wade into the chilly waters.

  The deacons and their families had shown up in force. Their Christian duty, Wes supposed. The McDermotts, the Jacksons, even the Martins—although Ogden Martin’s face was frozen in its usual scowl.

  Sometimes Wes wanted to sidle up next to the deacon and say, “Smile, brother. Rejoice and be glad in the Lord.” It might not be written exactly like that in the Bible, but close enough. A man should be happy at church. But Wes bit his lip and kept quiet. David and Ogden Martin had prayed down some peace between them, and Wes wasn’t about to do anything to spoil that for David.

  And of course Sally McMurtry was there with the Hearndon children clustered around her. She had hold of the little girl twin while Noah had a vise grip on the boy. Little Cassidy was standing close against Sally same as always since the day she’d claimed Sally for her grandmother. Alex Hearndon stepped up behind Sally to use his big body to shield her and his babies from the wind. Sally’s face was a white smiling circle in among all those dark-skinned faces.

  It was funny how the Lord gave people family if a person let him. Like the Lord had gifted Wes with Jo. Wes looked over at her. She’d normally have hold of one of the babies, either little Elise Hearndon or Murray McDermott, but today she was right down by the river with nothing on her mind but seeing Wes go under the water. She had her camera in hand ready to catch the moment. He was hoping she wasn’t thinking the Banner needed to run that shot.

  Jo was turning into a pretty thing. She didn’t know it. Might never know it, but she had a glow about her that made face shape and eye color inconsequential. Wes had seen that glow the very first time he’d laid eyes on her when she wasn’t but three years old. His heart, shriveled up by years of grief, had come back to life in the warmth of that glow. She’d become his family. And she’d never given up on making him part of her family of God.

  She had to have asked him to go to church with her fifty million times over the years, but he always had an excuse. Too cold, too hot. Too tired, too lazy. Too mean, too crazy. Too scared. He hadn’t ever told her that last one, but it was the truest one. He’d been too scared to turn his face toward the Lord. He’d been afraid he would have to see things about himself he didn’t want to see. Remember things he didn’t want to remember.

  As if he could ever forget Rosa and Lydia nodding off to sleep in the car, trusting him to keep them safe. Some things a man couldn’t live with. Some things a man had to run away from. It was easier to keep his eyes turned away and to become someone else. Someone from Jupiter with no past, no hope of a future.

  But through all the excuses, Jo had kept loving him. The Lord had kept loving him. Had made him run out of gas and money in Hollyhill. Had made a little child take his hand and offer him unconditional love. Had dropped a tree on his leg so he’d have to pick up that Gideon Bible in the hospital room to keep from going bonkers. And let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. Wes had found a lot about forgiveness scattered through the book of Isaiah. Through the whole Bible. Amazing grace. How sweet the sound.

  Myra Hearndon had sung that song in the morning service. She had such a beautiful voice that sometimes the rest of the church just stopped singing and listened to her. That’s how it had been that morning. She’d sung the way the rest of them would surely be able to sing once they reached the golden shores of heaven.

  Now she was leading the little group of shivering Christians in “Shall We Gather at the River.” No country church could have a baptism without singing that song. Especially not when they were gathering at the river, even if the song did deal more with crossing over the Jordan River than getting dunked for Jesus. But then again baptism symbolized death. Death to the old life and being raised up a new man.

  Wes wasn’t all that sure he was going to be a new man, but he’d felt the need to walk the aisle and tu
rn over his life to the Lord. So now he’d just follow along with whatever the Lord laid out there for him. The Lord said be baptized. So that was what he was doing, even though he’d already parted the waters of baptism when he was a boy. His mother had taken great joy in seeing her youngest baptized. She’d already been sick then, and it had seemed the least he could do for a dying mother.

  It had worked well enough in his other life, but it hadn’t been something he took with him when he went on the road after Rosa and Lydia died. So it was only right that this new person he’d become start fresh with the Lord. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe his old life wouldn’t come back to haunt him.

  Myra was winding down the song, and beside Wes, David opened his Bible. The wind ruffled the pages as David tried to hold open his place with hands shaking in the cold. Wes looked at the gray-green river behind them. No ice out on the flowing water, but he could see the frosty beginnings of ice clinging to the frozen mud on the bank. They were both going to freeze. No doubt about it. Maybe the Lord would be kind enough to protect them from catching pneumonia.

  After the services, if his teeth weren’t frozen shut, he’d have to tell Jo to say a no-pneumonia prayer. The girl sometimes seemed to have a direct line up to heaven what with the way her dog prayer and sister prayer and Wes-getting-enough-use-of-his-leg-again-to-climb-on-his-motorcycle prayer had all been answered, just to mention a few. Who knew? She’d never said so, but she’d probably had a “save Wes” prayer.

  Up on the road above the river, a car door slammed and Zell came hustling down the hill. “Wait! Wait!” she shouted down at them. “Don’t start without me.”

  Zell showing up was a real surprise. She’d told Wes in no uncertain terms that a person had to be crazy to be baptized in the river any time, much less in the middle of winter when that person could go up to her church in town and have it done right, in comfort, with proper white robes on and everything. Plus she’d make sure the church didn’t charge anything for heating up their water. She’d stood uneasily just inside the pressroom door to make the offer.