by J. J. Murray
He kisses my neck. "I brought the blanket."
Hot damn! But I am still sore from the other night. "Maybe later. Let's finish this up. I promised Dee I'd let him teach me to climb a tree"
"Nobody around for miles," he whispers.
"Dewey, please. There's still all that wood in the back of the truck. I ain't gettin' any splinters that I can't explain to your mama" Like in my ass. How you tell a doctor about that?
He puts his nose in my ear. "I'll put the blanket on the ground, then"
I turn to him. "You want me now, here, and on the ground?"
He nods. "I do"
"This a country thing, Dewey? I ain't never done it outside. We city folk prefer beds" Although the thought of going buck wild in the wild excites me, it also scares the shit out of me. "What if someone should come by?" Like, when we're coming? Or worse, what if some bull-cow should come sniffing by looking for love in all the wrong places?
"That's the risk we'll just have to take"
I blink at Dewey. "You that hard up, boy?"
He puts my hand on his stuff. Oh, my! "And gettin' harder."
I'm gettin' right moist myself. "But I'm all sweaty, Dewey." And you is a stank, stank man. "Why can't you put a leash on that thing till we get home?"
He shakes his head. "I want you now, Ruth. I want you here, and I want you now."
Daa-em. No man ever wanted me this badly. Then again, no man ever truly wanted me period. "Get the damn blanket"
For the next half hour, I look out for cows and watch clouds drift by while Dewey makes love to me. The wind chills my coochie juices something awful, the ground smells all musty, I get grass all up in my hair, he stinks, I stink, we stink ... And it's the best lovin' I've ever had. We're two people alone in a world of sky and earth and sun and clouds lying on a quilt a hundred years old in a field of brown grass. It ain't quite Eden, but it is paradise enough for me.
"Get that ring yet?" I ask as we ride back to the farmhouse. Just bein' persistent, right?
"Maybe."
"Now, what kind of an answer is that? Either you got the ring or you don't got the ring."
He raises his eyebrows. "Or I've bought it and I'm having it sized, and it ain't back at the jeweler's yet"
Oh, yeah. Wait. He's already picked it out? Without me there to make sure he picked out the right ring? What was he thinkin'? "You bought it already?"
"Maybe."
"What? Either you bought it-"
"I'm paying on it, Ruth," he interrupts.
I blink. "You got my ring on layaway?"
"Somethin' like that"
My ring is on layaway. That ain't romantic. "You better not be payin' a dollar a week on it, boy."
"I ain't payin' a dollar a week, Ruth"
"Good."
"Fifty cents is all I can afford right now."
"What!"
He stops in front of that smelly railroad tie. "I'm kiddin', Ruth"
"You better be °"
"Geez, why can't you just let it be a surprise?"
"I want a sure thing is why. I don't like surprises, Dewey. In fact, I have never liked surprises. I've had too many surprises in my life, and most of them were bad"
He takes my hand. "You love me?"
"Yes"
"Doesn't that surprise you?"
I stop and think. He got me. I never even looked twice at a white man before Dewey. No reason really. I just thought that if black men weren't interested in me, white men wouldn't be interested in me either. "Yeah. I never thought I'd love a funky-smellin', rusty-truck-drivin' country boy who'd have the nerve to put my ring on layaway." He laughs. "Go on and laugh. See if you get a ring anytime soon"
"You buy it yet?" he asks.
Shit. Ain't no room on any of my credit cards, and rent comin' due. "Maybe," I say with attitude, "and don't you be askin' me any questions about it or it won't be a surprise."
"Okay."
I squeeze his hand. "You really went and picked it out?"
"Yes"
"That mean you love me?"
"Yup," he says. He kisses my cheek. "That means I love you, Ruth."
I feel so light! I throw open my door. "I got to go find me a tree to climb," I say as I get out.
"Huh?"
"It's a city thing," I say. Have some sex, listen to a man say he loves you, climb a tree. "Which tree does Dee usually climb?"
"Don't you want to have your first driving lesson?"
"I already did, boy. In fact, I've already had two, and we weren't in the truck either time."
He blushes. "Yeah"
He takes my hand and leads me through a maze of trees to the tree, a massive oak that has to be close to a hundred feet high with branches reaching fifty feet out in all directions. A steep hill rises behind it and shades the tree. I see Dee already way up in the tree, Tee about halfway up.
"You let them climb up there without you bein' around?"
"Yup," Dewey says. "They been climbin' since they could walk." We move toward the lowest branch. "Need a lift?"
"You already given me a lift, boy," I say. "I gotta do this all by myself."
He steps back. "If you fall, I'll catch you"
I kiss his chin. "You already did."
I stand in front of the branch which is about as round as I used to be, the bark dark and hard as an old scab. I try to lock my arms around it, but the branch is too fat. I look back at Dewey, who has settled himself against the trunk. "Gonna have to jump for it, I guess," I say. "And don't you laugh at me if I miss."
"You won't miss, Ruth"
I look up at the branch again and see Tee and Dee peering down at me like two little squirrels. "I'm comin', I'm comin'."
"Be careful, Penny," Dee says.
Be careful. Spent my whole life bein' careful, and it didn't get me anywhere. Bein' careful got me a triflin' husband. Bein' careful got me fat. Bein' careful left me lonely.
I fall a little short on my first jump, my hands sliding off the branch. I examine the scrapes but don't see any cuts. There's got to be a trick to this.
"You're just warmin' up, huh, Penny?" Tee asks.
"Right. Just warmin' up °'
I take a few steps back and run at the branch, jumping and latching on. I work my elbows up to the top and pull myself onto the branch while Dee and Tee cheer. I feel like an opossum, my arms and legs hooked around the branch.
"You gonna stand up?" Dee asks.
One embarrassing moment at a time. "Soon as I catch my breath, Dee," I say. I look down at the top of Dewey's head. "You need another haircut, boy."
He doesn't answer.
"Dewey?"
I see little shoes dancing on the branch in front of me. "Daddy's asleep," Dee says.
Yep, Dewey's chin is bouncing off his chest. Bet he didn't even see my leap. I give him some, and he's worn out. Come to think of it, so am I. "What do I do next, Mr. Dee?"
"Stand up," he says.
Stand up. That's all. Just unhook my legs and arms and stand. I just have to let go of this branch to get vertical, gotta let go to get up. Lord, You never stop teaching us, do You? "Stand back, Mr. Dec." The dancing shoes disappear. I hunch myself up to my knees, my hands never letting go of the branch. Now I'm a cat posing in a tree. Where's my fireman to save me? Oh, he's sound asleep below me cuz I gave him some. I crawl on the branch a few feet until I'm looking at the trunk. I walk my hands from the branch to the trunk, kick out one foot, then the other ... and I'm standing on a branch in a tree six feet off the ground for the first time in my life.
"You did it!" Dee says from somewhere above me.
"Yep" I sure did. With the Lord's help. Lord God, You have some strong hands. The view isn't that much different, but I hug the tree anyway.
"What you doin'?" Tee asks.
"Thanking the tree," I say.
"You think it would break or somethin'?"
I smile at her. A few months ago, it might have. But now, with my man below me and my children-my children
!above me, ain't nothin' gonna let me down again. No matter what happens at Antioch tomorrow, I'm still gonna live my life six feet off the ground. The air's a little thinner, the wind stronger, but it certainly ain't ordinary. I ain't never gonna be plain Ruth again.
"You goin' any higher?" Dee asks.
I smile at him. "This is high enough for now."
Because this is exactly where I want to be.
`twenty-`three
The next morning I walk Tee and Dee to Antioch with Dewey promising to be there in time for the morning worship service. As sleepy as he looks, I doubt I'll see him.
"Please come," I say. "This is a big day for me"
"I'll try," he says with a yawn.
"Be there"
Mrs. Robertson's Sunday school lesson, the parable of the lost talents, hits home with me. A man gives some money (the talents) to some folks. One invests it and makes money while another hides it and eventually loses it all. "You can't be hiding your talent under a bushel," Mrs. Robertson tells them. "You have to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine." "
The children make a list of all the things they're good at, and Tee says that she's good at talking. "Lots of folks talk for a living," Mrs. Robertson says. "You could be a teacher or a lawyer or even the president." So glad she didn't say preacher.
I could be the president?" Tee asks.
"Sure. God gives us talents so we can be anything we want to be"
Dee tells everyone that he's good at climbing trees "and figuring out stuff." Mrs. Robertson tells him he could be a famous mountain climber or a great scientist one day. Then she turns to me. "So, Miss Penny, what are you good at?"
"I'm good at playing the organ"
"Too loud," a little boy says.
"I'll play softer today"
But when I get to my bench, Tee and Dee on either side of me, I don't feel like playing anything soft. You don't play soft music on a battlefield, right? I start off with a soulful version of "Onward Christian Soldiers" and blend it into "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" till the whole congregation is marching and singing "Glory, glory hallelujah!" by the time Jonas enters and kneels in front of his pew. He glares up at me, then pinches his bony fingers on the space between his eyebrows and bows his head. Folks in the sanctuary probably think he's prayin' hard. He ain't. It means he's got a headache. Good. My "cannons" have upset the gen- eral's mind.
I have set the tone for this service.
After that, I wait for the vote. It doesn't happen after the opening song, after the announcements, after the prayer, after the testifying, after two choir numbers, or after the reading from the Bible. And when it doesn't happen before, during, or immediately after the sermon, I think it ain't gonna happen at all. They couldn't have forgotten, but maybe Jonas and the board have decided that it would be more trouble than it's worth-which it is. Maybe they've come to their senses.
Jonas pronounces the benediction, folks start to get up, and then Jonas taps the microphone. My stomach leaps into my throat, then settles back down. They haven't forgotten. Here we go.
"At this time, I have been led of the Lord to hold an important members-only business meeting," Jonas says with a smirk my way. "If you are a nonmember, please leave the sanctuary as quickly and quietly as possible. I'd like the board to join me in the front"
Not too many people leave, and I gather Tee and Dee to me. They may not be members of the church, but they are members of my family. I look to the back of the church and see Dewey thank You, Lord!-wearing that same awful suit but looking like an angel, sitting in the last pew. When did he sneak in? An usher approaches him, and Dewey stands. They're kicking him out! Don't leave me, Deweybut he does.
"Where's Daddy goin'?" Tee asks.
"He'll wait for us outside," I say.
The ushers close and guard the back doors, but I can still see Dewey's face in the little window. At least his eyes are on me. Lord, You got Your eyes on this, too, right? I know You're here, and I hope You don't like what You're seein'. This kind of thing just shouldn't happen in any church.
Jonas takes the microphone from the podium and walks down front to join the board in front of the altar. "Members of Antioch Church, we have a difficult question to put to you today. The board and I would like you to vote on whether a member of our church should or should not remain a member of this church. That member is Ruth Childress." Couldn't say Borum, could you, Jonas? Wouldn't want to associate yourself with me. Nah, that would only confuse folks. "The board has deliberated long and hard on this matter, and I want each of you to pray about this before you decide."
After the shortest moment of silence in the history of Antioch Church, Jonas holds up a sheaf of paper. "This is a list of the members of Antioch Church. There are five hundred and twelve names listed here. Miss Childress needs a majority or two hundred and fifty-seven votes to remain a member here"
Wait just a damn minute! There are only maybe four hundred folks in the sanctuary today! I should only have to get half of these folks to stand! Oh, this is dirty! And my supporters, not my enemies, have to stand up in front of the prune-lipped board and Jonas? Oh, this is about as unholy a thing as I've ever heard of.
"All those in favor of Miss Childress-"
"Hold on, Jonas," I interrupt. "Don't I get to say anything in my defense?"
He smiles with all his skinny little teeth. Oh, he has never been a pretty man. "The church bylaws forbid it."
"Well, then, what are the charges?"
"This isn't court, Miss Childress." He smiles at the congregation. "And I think everyone here knows you very well." A few heads nod here and there. "All those in favor of Miss Childress remaining a member-"
A disturbance at the doors in the back makes nearly every head turn. "What's going on back there?" Jonas asks.
The doors open, and Fred (Praise Jesus!) leads a slew of folks down the aisle, most of them wearing tattered clothes, dirty coats, and untied shoes. Lord, keep me from cryin'! Fred marches right up to me while the others fan out into the pews, and the folks in the congregation make lots of room for them.
Fred takes off his hat and bows a little. "You can kiss me now."
I grab Fred's head and kiss him on his rusty, coarse cheek. "Thank you, Fred"
"Wouldn't have missed this for the world." He winks. "This is gonna be fun" He walks down the steps, nods to Deacon Rutledge, and sits in the first pew.
"Penny, what's that smell?" Dee asks.
White Lightning, I think, but I shush Dec.
"What is the meaning of this?" Jonas demands.
"We heard there was a members' meetin'," Fred says, his voice booming out as loud as thunder. "And we are all members of this church"
"All of you can't be members," Jonas says.
"We are," Fred says. "Every last one of us"
"I have never seen any of you before," Jonas says.
"Sure you have," Fred says, and he winks at me. "You just ain't been lookin' hard enough"
Deacon Rutledge and Jonas exchange a few quick whispers, and Deacon Rutledge approaches Fred. "May I see some form of identification?"
Fred scowls. "My name is Frederick Douglass Carter, Jr., and I've been a member of this church for over fifty years" Dag, that's a lot of names. Frederick Douglass? That's a name I'd be proud to tell folks.
"We'll need to see some identification," Deacon Rutledge insists.
"You ID us, you got to ID everybody here," Fred says. "You gonna do that?" He stands and addresses the congregation. "How many of y'all brought an ID to church?" He turns to Jonas. "Ain't a one in here a number or a picture to the Lord God"
Deacon Rutledge returns to Jonas's side, and I hear Jonas whisper, "Let's just get on with the damn vote" Gettin' testy, are you, Jonas? Things just ain't workin' out for you.
Jonas taps the microphone again. "All those in favor of Miss Ruth Childress retaining her membership in Antioch Church, please stand"
And then ... They rise. They don't leap to their feet, but they ri
se. Fred and his crew stand, a few of them swaying and having to hold on to the pews in front of them or the terrified folks next to them. Mrs. Robertson and a few of the old-timers jump to their feet. The ladies from Diana's all stand together, their hair perfect of course. Tonya (when did she sneak in?) stands and waves. I count roughly a hundred folks, mostly women, and start to get nervous. It never entered my mind that I might lose. Never. Lord, I'm gonna need a miracle here. You still do them, right?
Then Junie Pruett stands, her bony shoulders straight, her jaw set and pointing at Jonas, and everyone in the sanctuary hears her ... growling? Growling! Junie Pruett, that quiet woman, is growling! I have created a monster. When folks who haven't stood yet see and hear Junie, row after row of women and a few men stand ... but not Naomi. She sits in the third pew, her head bowed. That hurts, but I can deal with it. She got a right to her own opinion, wrong as it is. She got as much a right to be stubborn as I do. But, Lord, does this mean that our friendship has just ended? I don't want to think about that, so I look at Jonas. Dag, his hands are trembling, and his lips are moving; but nothing is coming out. Just like one of his sermons. He instructs Deacon Rutledge to make the count. Fred follows behind Deacon Rutledge and does his own count. There they go a-dancin' again. Fred is gettin' to be the booger that Deacon Rutledge just can't flick.
After several tense minutes, Deacon Rutledge announces, "Two hundred and twenty-four." I see Fred nod, so the number must be right. I've fallen short by thirty-three votes.
Jonas is beaming. "Two hundred and twenty-four is not enough for a majority, so I'm afraid, Miss Childress, that your tenure here as organist and member of Antioch Church must-"
"Wait a minute!" I yell, because I have just remembered what Fred warned me about a week ago. "What about the dead people?"
"The what?" Jonas asks.
"Y'all stay here," I say to Dee and Tee. "Mama's gonna go straighten this out" I bust off my pew and go right down to Jonas. "Gimme that list."
He holds it away from me. "Why?"
"Cuz there are dead people on it!" I look at Fred, and he gives me an okay sign. Then he puts that jar up to his ear, right there in the front row! Bet he can hear God real well now. Hope that jar don't break. "Dead people are not active members of this church anymore, Jonas"
