Son of a Preacher Man

by Karen M Cox

  I had always wondered why Doc was okay in Lizzie’s book, given how horrid Marlene acted toward her. And why, in turn, she accepted Charlie being with Jeannie. I’m sure some people thought Lizzie liked them just because they were men, but now I knew the real reason. And it wasn’t only because Mrs. Gardener had a high opinion of Doc. Lizzie formed her own judgment, from her own experience, and that was why Doc and Charlie got real smiles from her while other men only got taunting, provocative stares.

  Afterward, Mrs. Gardener took me to her house and made me hot tea while I cried it all out and got enough control of myself to go home. That day, we had the first of what would be many long talks. She told me exactly what happens when babies grow and what happens to the mama when they’re born. She said she was sorry that I had been taken advantage of, and she helped me see that I had to make my own decisions—not based on flattery, pride, or spite, but on what would be right for me in the long run. It seemed like she told me a million things about love and about life, and she helped me see a glimmer of hope on the other side of my humiliation. I needed to see that too because Seth’s buddies were the fuse that lit up the Orchard Hill gossip ring, and I had to be stronger than I ever imagined in order to beat back the flames.

  A shower of gratitude rained over me for Mrs. Gardener, giving me a moment’s respite from my temper. Mrs. G was a virtuous woman, and as the Bible said in Proverbs 31:10, her price was far above rubies.

  When all the tests came back, I was fine—fit as a fiddle. You know, it was odd; in everyone else’s eyes I was ruined, but I didn’t feel any different—maybe sadder or wiser.

  After that, I spent a lot of afternoons helping Mrs. Gardener, to learn from her and to thank her for everything. That’s when I started thinking about being a midwife and studying about plants and herbs as medicines. I knew no decent man around here would have me, so I had to figure out another means of making my way in the world. Mrs. Gardener was doing just fine without a man around, so I figured I could too.

  That leads me to the other thing I said today, the thing I let slip. I beg you, please don’t ever say a word to anyone about it. It’s what I saw, and while I think it was accurate, to the people in this town, it wouldn’t matter if it were true or not. And that kind of gossip would hurt some good people. You and I know how gossip hurts.

  Yes, now we both knew how gossip hurt.

  If Mrs. G knows how he feels, she doesn’t let on. She would never violate marriage vows, no matter what, and I’m sure he feels the same. But you know, the person I feel sorry for is his wife. She’s put her whole life into doing all a wife is supposed to do, and still, even a good man like him wants something more, someone else.

  And my parents aren’t much better. All Daddy wants is a son to replace the ones he lost, so he keeps giving Mama baby after baby. When will it stop? When he finally kills her? And what about the children he already has? Don’t we mean anything to him?

  That’s my opinion of the holy estate of matrimony. So, it’s like I told you; you’ll be disappointed if you put me on a pedestal. I’m not an innocent, and I can’t give you my chastity. I can’t ever be a good wife, not the way you expect. Furthermore, your father would never accept me. And because you’re his son, he formed your mind as surely as my parents formed mine. Eventually, you’d grow to despise me for my past, no matter how you feel right now. Once the new shine is off the penny, you’d go back to thinking of me as the town slut. I can’t change that, and there are no fresh starts, regardless of what you’d like to believe. I barely survived Seth Corbett with my soul intact, and I’ll never survive the abandonment of another man.

  I can’t choose a life where I’m only tolerated, living with the constant oppression of shame for what happened before I met you. As the years go past, the urge to change me or wish that I was someone I’m not will be too great a temptation, even for a man like you. I can’t marry you, Billy Ray, and that’s that.

  My anger surged back with a vengeance. That’s that, huh? She wasn’t even going to give me a chance. I wanted to rail at the unfairness of it all, but there was no one to hear me. My only comfort was that the torture was almost over; I’d reached the letter’s final lines.

  I do wish you every happiness though and hope someday you find a woman who will be a good wife. I know that woman can’t be me.

  I will only add, God bless you.

  Lizzie

  I lay on my bed until dusk, steaming and fuming as anger and hatred boiled up inside me—hatred for the monster who hurt Lizzie and anger at her for never even giving me an opportunity to prove myself.

  A knock startled me out of my red haze, and I heard Charlie’s voice on the other side of the door.

  “Hey, Billy Ray! I brought you some supper. Mom was fit to be tied when you weren’t there so she could feed you.”

  I lumbered up to the door and opened it.

  He stuck the plate in my chest, and I took it while he barged into my room.

  “I’m supposed to sit here and make sure you eat it, too, so you might as well get started.” He pulled out an apple and sat down at my desk, smiling and chomping, seemingly oblivious to my fit of temper.

  I sighed in resignation and sat down on the bed, using my nightstand as a table. It did make me feel better to eat, I realized, as I worked my way through ham, scalloped potatoes, and greens—good enough that, after a while, I started to talk a bit about Lily and the storm. He teased me about being a town hero, and I said he should tell Doc I was coming in to work the next day.

  I looked up and caught him watching me carefully.

  “Hey buddy,” he said, “you seem down for someone who just became the man of the hour.”

  I set my fork on my now-empty plate. “Can I ask you something in confidence, Charlie?”

  “Sure.”

  “You know where I might find a guy by the name of Seth Corbett?”

  Charlie looked surprised, but after a second, he answered, “You mean that hoodlum that used to date my sister a couple years back?”

  “Yeah.”

  He paused, and realization dawned. “And the guy who messed around with Lizzie. Oh no, Billy Ray, that’s a no-good, no-win situation for you.”

  “I just want to know where to find him.”

  “What for?”

  In my mind, I envisioned beating Corbett to a pulp, but outwardly, I just shrugged.

  Charlie looked at me with pity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but you’re never going to get any satisfaction out of beatin’ the tar out of Seth Corbett.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause he died—knifed in a bar fight about a year ago.”

  I felt a savage kind of satisfaction that made me ashamed of myself. “Who did it?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Some other hoodlum.”

  “Was it one of those cavemen that dated Lizzie after he did? Was it a fight over her?”

  “No, it was some ex-con, over a lost game of pool, or cards, or some such. And I told you before—I’m not so sure there actually were any guys who dated Lizzie after him. I never saw ’em anyway—heard lots o’ stuff, but you know how that goes.”

  “Yeah, I know how that goes,” I said in a voice as cold and hard as steel.

  Charles sat in silence, brows knitted, the chomp-chomp of his apple the only noise in the room. Finally, he spoke. “’Vengeance is mine; I will repay, sayeth the Lord.’”

  My expression must have shown my surprise, because he chuckled.

  “Romans twelve—” he began.

  “Nineteen,” I finished along with him.

  “I guess I learned a little something in Sunday school.” Then he grew serious. “If I remember right, the first part of the verse says, ‘Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath…’”

  “Is this your way of telling me it would be wrong to tear Corbett limb from limb, even if I could?”

  Charlie pitched his apple core in the trash and leaned his chair back on two legs. “You wa
nna know why I think vengeance is the Lord’s?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, it’s not to make us feel all vindicated, like the Lord is on our side, and it’s not because scumbags don’t deserve a reckoning. It’s because of what revenge does to the avenger. The burden of doing violence is heavy on the soul, even for the best of men. I’ve seen it myself—in the World War II vets up at the VA hospital. I go up there sometimes with my dad.”

  I turned my eyes to him and said in a cool voice, “Easy for you to say since you’ve had it easy all your life. You’ve never suffered under anyone’s cruelty.”

  I thought that would make him angry or defensive, but he just nodded his head. “Or had to go to war. You’re right. I think maybe that’s why it’s possible for me to imagine a world without so much violence. Victims can’t imagine that. It’s a luxury, and it was taken from them. No, I don’t blame people for wanting revenge or condemn them when they seek revenge. I just don’t think it’s necessarily good for them to take it. And that’s the reason the Bible says so in Romans. How can the cycle of cruelty ever be broken otherwise?”

  It was a good question—and sounded very much like something my father might say. At the moment, however, I was all wound up inside my feelings of anger and loss, and it was hard to think straight.

  “It burns me up that I don’t get a chance to make him suffer for what he did to her.”

  “I know, but in a way, you’re better off because revenge on him is impossible. You’ve been saved from hate—maybe saved so you can do better things,” Charlie said, his voice quiet and sure.

  “That low-life—he hurt Lizzie. Maybe he messed up your sister too, even if it was just hurting her feelings. Maybe that made her the way she is. He was cruel to other women too, Lizzie says, and he’ll never have to pay for it.”

  “He’s dead, Billy Ray. How much more do you want him to pay?”

  “Well, all I know is Lizzie’s still alive, and she thinks she’ll never get past what he did to her.”

  “I thought maybe you two had a fight. Did you break up?”

  I barked out a humorless laugh. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”

  “Maybe she’ll come around.”

  “She won’t. She thinks he ruined her life forever and believes he ruined her for me.”

  Charlie looked at me earnestly. “Did he? Ruin her in your eyes, I mean.”

  The question stopped me short and made me think a minute. “Good grief, Charlie, I don’t know. This isn’t what I expected for my first love, that’s for sure.”

  “You love her then.” He rubbed his chin, considering. Charlie thought it was a reasonable conclusion. Most likely, everyone could see inside my heart—except the girl who needed to see it, of course.

  “Love her? Well, I thought I did. But I don’t seem to know anything anymore. I’ve got some ‘strange notions’ about women, according to Miss Quinlan.” I hated the sarcasm in my voice.

  Charles grinned. “That sounds like something Lizzie would say.”

  “If I have ‘strange notions’ about women, then the whole world has ’em.”

  “You know, that’s a statement that could actually be a truth. I suppose everybody has to get rid of their strange notions along the way. Maybe that’s what living is, in the long run—getting rid of all our strange notions.”

  “I don’t know how I’m going to do that.”

  “Me neither.”

  After a minute, Charlie stood up. “Guess I’ll head home. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” He paused, his hand on the doorknob and then turned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “Has Lizzie forgiven him, do you think?”

  I stopped, surprised. “Who? Corbett? I don’t know.”

  “You might ask her about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Forgiving him might be the only way she can get herself some peace, now that he’s dead. And it might be the start of you getting past it too. ’Night, Billy Ray.”

  “’Night. Thanks for bringing me supper.”

  “Not a problem.” He smiled, and then he was gone, leaving me to my thoughts.

  Chapter 16

  I was mighty lonely those last days I spent in Orchard Hill. Lizzie had pulled her vanishing act again; she was nowhere to be found, but then I didn’t go looking for her either. I buried myself in work and tried to bask in the hero’s glow that surrounded me after the news of Lily’s rescue got around town. Inside, I carried my broken heart, a weight that made me look a bit more somber and move a bit more slowly. I’m sure people noticed I wasn’t with Lizzie. After all, people in Orchard Hill noticed everything, but no one said a word. Behind my back, they probably talked about how it was just like her to be ungrateful for what I did. It didn’t matter if they said things behind my back or to my face. I couldn’t forget her anyway.

  In a way, I wished I could. I was almost desperate to forget Lizzie. That morning after the rainstorm, I had offered her the rest of my life, and she had thrown it back in my face. Every time I thought about it, I was mad all over again—furious and humiliated.

  A few days after my disastrous marriage proposal, I helped Charles pack his things into the back of Doc’s car. He was heading back to the state university for his senior year, and after finishing the hot work of carrying trunks and boxes, we sat on the porch, enjoying a glass of Mrs. Miller’s lemonade.

  We looked out over Cavanaugh Street, taking in the quiet Sunday afternoon. A couple of stalwart souls braved the heat and strolled by, calling out greetings as they passed us. A gentle wind stirred the fern baskets hanging from the beams overhead. Charlie was often a pensive guy, but he’d added a tinge of wistfulness to his expression.

  “You know, I’m going to miss this place.”

  That wasn’t what I expected him to say. After all, he wasn’t leaving home for the first time. “You’ll be back at Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “And next summer after you graduate.”

  He was silent. Then he took another sip of lemonade. I watched Mr. Hopkins next door step around the corner of his house with a water hose in hand. He looked up at the window, listening to the thin, nagging voice coming at him from inside. The old man nodded, the window closed, and then he shook his head. I could almost hear him grumbling.

  Charlie looked around, then leaned forward. “I haven’t told Mom and Dad this yet,” he said in a low voice. “But I’m planning to ask Jeannie to marry me at Christmas.”

  “So, you think she will say yes?”

  “Yeah, I do. Why?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes things don’t work out like you plan.”

  He looked at me curiously, but then he shrugged.

  “We’ve talked about it a little. I won’t be able to get a job until I graduate, so we’ll wait to tie the knot until then.”

  “Where are you going to work?” I asked, running through the various banks and stores in Orchard Hill and the surrounding towns in my head.

  “Don’t know yet. But not here. Jeannie and me, we’ve talked about it. After Christmas, I’m going to start looking: New York, Chicago, maybe even California. We want to move far away to some big city somewhere.”

  “Really? I can’t imagine Jeannie leaving her family.” What a blow that would be for Lizzie, to be left behind by one of the few people she could count on. I was angry all over again that she wouldn’t go with me, wouldn’t let me take her away from Orchard Hill.

  “It will be sad, of course, and she’ll miss them. But honestly, Billy Ray? There’s nothing for us here—no opportunities. Orchard Hill expects me to be like Dad and will always see her as the poor girl I took pity on. We wanna be ourselves, and I just don’t think we can do that here.”

  I was beginning to see the wisdom in that.

  “So, this time next year, I’ll be heading off to some big city with a new job and a new wife. Wish me luck?”

  “Sure, I will. Good luck, Charlie.” I tried not to think about how, if I
’d had my way, I would have been taking a new wife with me to med school in just a few days.

  As the final days of summer passed, though, I got used to the idea of going on alone. I adapted to the mind-numbing world that now surrounded me—a world that just a few weeks ago had hummed and sparkled all around. I couldn’t believe I had defied my dad to stay in the hot, stifling town of Orchard Hill. Now, I couldn’t wait to leave it behind.

  On Labor Day weekend, Dad came into town to drive me back to Aunt Catherine’s. I’d be there for a couple of days before orientation at Sumner University. It was going to be a rigorous first year of classes, but it was a beginning that would lead me to my profession—to my mission, my life’s work—so I was ready to go.

  On the Sunday I left Orchard Hill, telling myself I at least owed her a civil goodbye no matter what had transpired between us, I went to Linden Road in search of Lizzie. What I found instead was Mrs. Quinlan sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch, Baby Susie sleeping in her arms.

  “Hello, Billy Ray. Surprised to see you here.”

  Embarrassed that I had stopped calling on her daughter without a word and having no idea what Lizzie told her about that, I shuffled my feet a bit and rubbed the back of my neck. “Yes ma’am, um…well…I’ve been busy at the doctor’s office and—” I stopped and shrugged.

  “I s’pose you come to see how Lily fares.”

  “Yes, of course. How is she?”

  “On the mend. Tom took her up to that doctor today, the one that stitched her head and set her arm. They’ll be home before sundown, but I guess you’ll be gone by then.”