No Tomorrow

by Jake Hinkson

  “I don’t understand. You knew he was dead, or you thought he was asleep?”

  “I … both. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I was in a daze. I suppose I knew he was dead, but I wanted him to be alive. I tried to wake him up. When I did … his leg fell out of his pants. I took off his belt.” I looked at her. “I took off his belt to tie around his leg to stop the bleeding, but it was too late.”

  “I wondered about the belt. You say you tied it around his leg?”

  “I – Didn’t I? I think I did. I know I had the thought to do it. Maybe I started to do it, and then I stopped.”

  “Maybe you started to do it and then you stopped,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I saw that he was dead. I didn’t know what to do. I was bleeding and confused and simply horrified at what had happened. I thought maybe someone was at the church so I ran there. I found no one there, so I started to go back to town. That’s when I came upon your brother. And you and Amberly … Mrs. Henshaw.”

  Lucy looked at the rain spitting at the window and twisted her mouth.

  The doctor finished with my arm. He patted my hand like I was a child. Then he stood up and walked out of the room. He had not spoken a word to me.

  “What happens now, Lucy?” I asked.

  She turned to me and crossed her knees. She said, “The folks at the church will bury the preacher. Not sure what Amberly will do. I can’t see her staying in town.”

  “What about … me?”

  “There will be an inquest.”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “An inquest is routine in circumstances like these.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “That’s what needs to be established for the inquest. When one human being kills another human being, it’s only proper that the community establish exactly what happened.”

  “Yes. Of course. Do things like this happen often?”

  “No.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Not often.”

  “When will the inquest take place? I need … I have to work. Other customers in other towns are expecting me.”

  “Well, I need you to stay in town a few days. Inquest will take place tomorrow or the day after. Besides, that car of yours isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Is it still out … there?”

  “I had the boys over at the service station haul it in.”

  “Which service station?”

  “There’s only one.”

  “Owens.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve gotten gas there.”

  “Only place around here to get gas.”

  “Right.”

  She moved her lips up into something like a polite smile that said alright, I suppose that’s all.

  “May I leave?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  We both stood up. Lucy was a little taller than me, and even though I was freshly washed and dressed in clean clothes, while she was muddied and slightly disheveled from the wind and rain, she still managed to look more put together than me.

  I extended my hand to her and said, “I am so sorry about what happened.”

  She gave me a firm handshake. “I’m sure that’s true.”

  Chapter Ten

  The day they buried the preacher, the clouds rolled away and the sky beamed cornflower blue. Despite the clear skies, however, the temperature had dropped. Overnight, the earth had turned to iron.

  Everyone in town went to the funeral. There had been some talk about waiting until military rites could be arranged, but apparently Obadiah had been explicit in not wanting a military funeral. He didn’t want his military honors to take away from the religious meaning of the service – so that put the matter to bed. The service would be held at the church, without any mention of the fact that the man had won the nation’s highest military honor.

  I rode with Claude. I’d considered not going, but he showed up at my door with his whiskers slicked down and told me to get dressed.

  “I don’t think anyone would want me to go,” I said.

  “Naw, you got to go. It’s only proper. Especially since – if you’ll kindly excuse my language – you kilt the man.”

  I dressed in the darkest clothes I had and got into Claude’s old International. The truck didn’t look a day under twenty years old. It had cigar burns in the seat cushions and dusty chicken feathers on the floorboards.

  The truck coughed and spat as we climbed the hill. The ground where I’d crashed had frozen solid – as if nature had made a cast of a crime scene. One carload of funeral-goers had stopped to peek at the spot where the preacher had died.

  As we passed by, the people stopped and stared.

  “People are going to talk about us, Claude.”

  Claude’s whiskers moved upward. Maybe it was a smile, but he didn’t say anything.

  By the time we arrived, most of the town had crammed into the church. There were so many people there that the wooden casket was pushed against the far wall. Claude and I stood in the back, and word spread that I had arrived. Eventually everyone had turned to take a look at me. Voices fluttered. Some of those voices grumbled.

  What can you do with that kind of scrutiny? I tried to look sad, which wasn’t difficult.

  A pastor stood up to deliver the sermon. He was handsome and young and moved like he owned the place. I was soon to find out that he was Brother Nathan Pickett from the Baptist Church, but that day Brother Nathan seemed to be the only person in the church who didn’t have any interest in me.

  He cleared his throat and everyone turned back around.

  “Obadiah Henshaw and I didn’t read scripture in exactly the same way,” he said by way of introduction. “We had our differences, as everyone here knows. But we knew where we stood with one another. Obadiah always shot you straight. He loved the Lord, and he trusted in the blood and forgiveness of almighty Jesus. And I know he loved and adored his Amberly as much as I love and adore my Rachel.” Brother Nathan gestured at Amberly, somewhere on the front row, hidden by the crowd of bodies. “Sister Amberly, everyone here wants to tell you how much they love you. How much they value you. You have the prayers of us all, and you will have the support of us all in the coming days.”

  Around the church different people said, “Amen. Amen.”

  “You can rest assured – and we can all rest assured – that Brother Obadiah is safe in the bosom of his Lord this morning. And I know that he would not have this moment pass without me telling you this morning that Jesus Christ is the risen savior, the forgiver of all sins, the only way to the eternal life that Brother Obadiah began yesterday. We’re going to sing Brother Obadiah’s favorite hymn, ‘Just As I Am’ in just a moment. Think on these words this morning, won’t you? Ask yourself, if I were to die today, where would I go? What would become of me? We live in an increasingly Godless age, brothers and sisters, but look at what happened to Obadiah Henshaw yesterday. Just like that he was taken from us. So you see, we still need God.”

  “Amen. Amen.”

  “We all die. That is the one and only fact we have. At some point, all our todays turn to yesterdays and all our tomorrows get used up. And then, my friends, we’re face to face with the Lord of all creation. If you haven’t accepted Christ as your personal Lord and savior, what will you say to him this morning? I can tell you what this good man laying here would want you to say. He’d want you to say, ‘Yes Lord. Here I come.’”

  “Amen. Amen.”

  “Yes Lord! Here I come!”

  “Amen!”

  “Let us sing ‘Just As I Am’ and during this invitation time, if anyone here would like to come up and accept Christ as their savior, let them come up. Please don’t put it off, friend. I beg you, don’t put it off one more minute.”

  Together, as one, everyone began to sing. Even Claude knew the words. I was the only one in Stock’s Settlement who didn’t know the song. It was as if everyone else had been taught the song at birth.<
br />
  Just as I am, without one plea,

  But that thy blood was shed for me,

  And that thou bidst me come to thee,

  O lamb of God, I come.

  Were people looking at me? Was I expected to come to the front, to ask forgiveness for what I’d done? My grandmother hadn’t been a regular churchgoer, but I’d been to a few services at the Assembly of God in my youth. I’d seen the people crying up at the front.

  The air around me seemed hotter and thicker. As the town sang the song, everyone seemed to be waiting. I couldn’t tell if that was normal for the invitation time. Were they waiting on me?

  Just as I am and waiting not

  To rid my soul of one dark blot,

  To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,

  O lamb of God, I come.

  I stepped out. Sweat broke out on my face, and my hands were clammy. I walked down the crowded aisle. The people kept singing as Brother Nathan stepped toward me.

  “What’s your name, sister?” he said in my ear.

  “Uh, Billie.”

  “What?”

  “Billie.”

  “Would you like to accept Christ, Billie?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes sir.”

  “Do you know that you are a sinner?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you know that Jesus has died for your sins?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you want to accept Christ into your heart and follow him in baptism?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes sir.”

  “Do you know that if you accept Christ into your heart, you will have to turn from your sinful ways and walk in his truth?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s pray. Repeat after me.”

  He led me through a prayer that basically repeated everything he’d just said. Every so often he’d pause and I’d repeat what he said.

  When we were done he turned me around and the song stopped and the whole town stared at me.

  With a smile, Brother Nathan said, “Well, brothers and sisters, what we got here is what the papers call an amazing turn of events. I know that Brother Obadiah is dancing in heaven today. Sister Billie has accepted Christ into her heart.”

  People clapped. People said Amen Amen. Some women came to the front and led me to the back room. I was given a white robe. People I didn’t know helped me change out of my clothes.

  When we came back out some of the men carried in a six-foot horse trough full of water. The preacher told me to stand in it. I did, and the frigid water burned my feet. The preacher asked me to repeat everything about accepting Christ and being forgiven of my sins. I did, and then he plunged me backward into the frigid water.

  The cold water scalded me. It shot up my nose. It singed my eyes. It burned every inch of my body.

  Then he yanked me out and I yelped and everyone laughed and cried and clapped and said Amen Amen.

  My skin still aflame, I cried. Through my tears, I saw Amberly for the first time, astonished, on the front row. She wore a dark dress and a black veil, but her eyes were so wide I could clearly see the white around her irises.

  I also saw Lucy Harington, staring at me quietly, a few rows back.

  And just like that, I was forgiven.

  ~ ~ ~

  Claude lit up a cigar as we drove down the hill from the church.

  “Well … congratulations, I reckon.”

  My teeth knocked together like dice. I was back in my regular clothes, but my skin and hair were still damp.

  “Th-thanks.”

  “You plan on that?”

  “Of course not. I didn’t know the man was going to try to convert people at a funeral.”

  “As good a place as any, I reckon.”

  My body shook. I had no control over it.

  “I have never been as cold as I am at this moment.”

  We passed by the spot where I had killed the preacher. For a moment, I stopped shivering. I thought about that block of wood I’d thrown down the crevice.

  Claude didn’t say much until we got back to the motor lodge. Then he parked and puffed his cigar. “Well,” he said. “That was one hell of a funeral. Gotta give it that. Preacher Pickett was right, too. Ole Obadiah would have loved it.”

  I sat there hugging myself, my damp hair plastered to my scalp. “I’m not so sure about that,” I said.

  “Well, at any rate, it can’t hurt you in court tomorrow that you got saved today.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Can’t hurt that you got saved by a Pickett, either,” he said.

  “Why would that matter?”

  “His older brother Josiah is the prosecuting attorney.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Sure. The Picketts are pretty important around here. The oldest boy is Lionel. He just come back from the war. He runs Pickett Dry Goods. Took it over from old man Pickett.”

  “Think the prosecuting attorney will go hard on me tomorrow?”

  “I ain’t no lawyer,” Claude said. “Just tell them the truth of the matter. That ought to get the job done.”

  I thanked him for the ride and got out of the truck. Without saying any more, he gave me a wave and backed out.

  I went into my room and wrapped my hair in a towel. I changed into some red pajamas and climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over my head and balled up as tightly as I could. I lay there a long time, letting my body warm the sheets. Gradually, I uncurled and lay there, considering things.

  Getting baptized at the man’s funeral couldn’t hurt my chances at the inquest. Still, I wondered what Amberly thought.

  I hadn’t heard from Hollywood yet. I’d wired the man at Eagle-Lion right after the accident, but the response had been complete silence. In the meantime, I didn’t know if I still had a job. The car would be running in a day or so, but it was banged up. I’d lost a couple of pictures in the wreck. They’d spilled outside the car and had been ruined. And I was days behind schedule getting to other towns.

  All in all, it was a pretty bad situation.

  And yet, at that moment, the thing that I still kept thinking about was Amberly. Not the man I’d killed. Not the job I might be in danger of losing. Amberly.

  “Amberly …” I said aloud.

  Then, as if I’d summoned her, the door opened and Amberly Henshaw walked into the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  She wasn’t alone. Not by a damn sight.

  At least ten women – though in the bustle I couldn’t take a head count, so there might well have been over a dozen – crowded into my room behind her. No one had knocked. No one had introduced themselves. All of them were still dressed in their church clothes from the funeral. I saw several Bibles.

  Amberly said, “Sister Billie, I’ve come to talk to you.”

  I sat up in bed, pulling the covers up to my clavicle. “I … okay.”

  “I’ve been talking with the ladies of my church, and when I told them that the Lord has filled my heart with the desire to face you, they convinced me that we should come over here.”

  “Wh-why?”

  She took a labored breath. “I saw what you did this morning, and I want to join everyone else in rejoicing in your salvation. I do. But first, I have to forgive you. I want to truly forgive you. But that, however, will be difficult. You killed my husband. I know it was an accident, but that doesn’t change the fact that you took away my husband.”

  “What … happens now?”

  “I’d like to pray with you. These ladies have agreed to bear witness to this healing. They’ve agreed to stand in prayerful vigil outside this door as you and I get right with God.”

  I looked around the room at the horn-rimmed glasses and beehive hairdos of the church ladies. Some of the women looked at me with thinly-veiled disgust. Others looked as warm and welcoming as a spring day. All waited for me to answer.

  “I would like to do that,” I said. “To get forgiveness, not just from the Lord but from you.”

  The la
dies nodded soberly, and Amberly showed them outside. After just a moment, I heard them begin to sing.

  Alas, and did my savior bleed

  And did my sovereign die.

  Would he devote that sacred head

  For such a worm as I?

  At the cross, at the cross

  Where I first saw the light

  And the burden of my heart rolled away.

  It was there by faith I received my sight

  And now I am happy all the day.

  Amberly stepped back inside and closed the door, checked that the heavy curtains allowed in no light from outside, and crossed over to the bed. She sat down beside me and kissed me.

  She slipped her hand under the sheet.

  “Amberly …” I said.

  She shook her head. “No talking. Not yet.”

  She pulled the top of my pajamas down.

  “Amberly don’t,” I whispered. She touched me. “Don’t stop.”

  She didn’t.

  ~ ~ ~

  As the church ladies sang another hymn, Amberly told me, “I know you hit him on purpose.”

  “I …”

  The word just hung there. She was staring at me, waiting for me to admit it. Not because she had any doubt that she might be wrong, but because she wanted to get past the meaningless denials.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I can’t believe you did that for me,” she said.

  “No … I can’t either.”

  “We can be together now.”

  This time her eyes betrayed doubt. It was a question she was trying to ask me.

  “Yes,” I said. “We can be together.”

  “I’ll testify for you tomorrow.”

  I warmed to that idea immediately. “Yes. You can tell them – ”

  “That you’re well and truly repentant for the accident. The whole town will know that the ladies and I came over here to see you after you got baptized. It’s all perfect.”

  “Will anyone … suspect?”

  “Suspect what?”

  “About this. About us.”