by R.P. Burnham
Charlie arrived home from her first year at the Bible college to shocking news. Her first thought was that she misunderstood her aunt’s words because she was so stiff and tired, having arisen very early in Virginia and traveled all day in a car with the Wilson family from Portland, whose son attended the same college. They were Bible Baptists, doctrinally close to The Church of Salvation Through Jesus, and often during the drive up the eastern seaboard they sang hymns, sometimes to the amusement of people in passing cars. At lunch at a rest stop on the other side of New York City they had also drawn attention to themselves by saying grace before their meal. Otherwise the trip was uneventful and merely tiring. It was after the Wilsons said their good-byes and left that Aunt Cora, who was alone in the house, told her that Martha was engaged to be married to Tom Johnson, Brother Johnson’s elder son.
“Married? How can that be?” Charlie said, unable to hide her shock. She had not received the slightest hint that such an event was in the works, either on Christmas break or in letters and phone calls during the spring semester. Her mind raced through what she knew of the Johnsons. They were the second most powerful family in the church. Together with Uncle Edward, Brother Johnson was the only member of the church who was financially well off. He owned the largest heating, A.C. and plumbing contracting business in the area, lived in a large house and drove an expensive German car. Charlie had long noticed that there was a definite hierarchy in the church that—whether by accident or design—paralleled the economic status of the members. Brother Johnson was the chief among the seven elders; the other six were middle-class men, while the majority of the congregation were working folks just getting by. Was the alliance between the Johnsons and the Harrises like something out of some of those Victorian novels she had read? An alliance of power and wealth? It certainly could not be love. Though she had tried ever since meeting Tom Johnson to overlook his negative qualities, she did not like him. First of all he was arrogant and filled with himself. A doubt had never crossed his mind. He had gone to a private Christian academy for high school and had not attended college. He said that was because it was unnecessary since he was working in his father’s business, but Charlie was quite sure it had just as much to do with his grades. He was a very stupid young man. Unlike most members of the church, he didn’t even know the Bible very well. His personal relationship with Jesus didn’t require book-learning, yet he was extremely opinionated and always cocksure he was right and that he had all the answers. Like his father, and like Uncle Edward, he didn’t like to be contradicted. He’d chastised Charlie a few times, once for speaking too loudly with Martha after church and once for contradicting him when he said Jesus hated idleness. He had been talking about street people, and Charlie, still young in the ways of the church, had cited passages in the Bible where Jesus showed compassion for the poor and distressed. Tom had turned bright red in anger and had told her to hold her tongue. After that she was sure he didn’t like her. But she was also sure that Martha, who was with her when Tom was belittling street people, did not like him either. And he certainly would not make anyone a good husband. He wasn’t even pleasing to look at. He had a big nose, vacant eyes and a protruding jaw. He was heavy-set and would be fat not too far in the future. At church suppers he ate like a pig. He was uncouth. All the Christian charity in the world wouldn’t change her mind. She was horrified that sweet and gentle Martha was being offered to this man like a sacrificial lamb.
Aunt Cora watched her face as these thoughts passed through her mind. She seemed to read it quite accurately, for she smiled grimly and said, “It’s just been arranged. By ‘just’ I mean yesterday. Your uncle and Brother Johnson discussed it, and after having the night to think about it, Martha agreed this morning.”
“But how does she feel about it?”
“Oh,” her aunt said in a way that indicated she was speaking in code, “she’ll do her duty.”
When Charlie, not knowing what to say, remained silent, her aunt said, “I see you’re surprised and know perhaps what you’re thinking, Charlene. Perhaps I have similar thoughts, but there’s nothing we can do. It’s been decided.” Then she took both of Charlie’s hands in hers and looked at her. She was wearing a white blouse that showed her full figure and a long skirt dark gray in color. Last summer before she went off to college some discussion had occurred that led to the decision to allow her to wear more normal clothes. Who suggested it and why, she never knew, but she did find that all the young women at the college dressed in the way she was now attired—modestly, to be sure, but still revealing the womanly figure. The way her aunt said, “Charlene, you’re looking wonderful—pretty and healthy and self-possessed,” hinted that she had had something to do with the prohibition against normal bras being lifted.
“Thank you, Aunt Cora.”
Then her aunt frowned and her face grew serious. She pressed Charlie’s hands almost too tightly as her emotion rose. “Charlene, we women have to carry a burden, but remember everyone has to pay obedience to Jesus.”
The sudden physical contact, for the first time ever conveying physically the feelings her aunt had for her, moved Charlie. She remembered the chocolate-chip cookies her aunt mailed to her every month because she knew they were her favorites. To her surprise she felt tears welling in her eyes.
Their appearance changed the mood instantly. They seemed to embarrass Aunt Cora, and quickly she let go of her hands. “I can tell you’re very tired, Charlene. Why don’t you take a rest. We can put your things away later. The children will be late because they’re doing biblical reenactments in home school today.”
Charlie nodded. She wasn’t really tired anymore—the shocking news had jolted her mind out of its travel weariness—but she was feeling embarrassed to have embarrassed her aunt by her show of tears. It violated some unspoken code, she knew. “Yes, perhaps I should rest for a while,” she said, turning towards the stairs, only to pause when her aunt spoke.
“Oh, by the way, Charlene, your mother wanted to come to see you tonight, but I had to ask her to wait until tomorrow. We’re having a special dinner tonight to celebrate the engagement. The Johnsons are coming.”
The thought of having dinner with the Johnsons was displeasing, but she merely nodded and offered to help prepare the meal after a short rest.
“It’s all ready,” Aunt Cora said. “You get yourself all the rest you need.”
Up in her and Martha’s room she noticed her bed had been freshly made with recently laundered linen and blankets. She could smell the detergent, or was it the fabric softener? She sat on the bed, then instantly arose and went over to Martha’s dresser. To the left of the mirror was a picture of Jesus with long light brown hair and blue eyes, on the right a framed award from Sunday school for memorizing all the books of the Bible when she was six. That was the only personal item Martha had. Her well-thumbed Bible on the table by her bed was only indistinctly hers, and a hair brush with some strands of dark hair and comb were the only other items on display. Unbidden, wayward and dangerous questions formed in her mind: How could Martha say yes to such a monstrous proposition? How could her uncle offer up his only daughter in such a way? What right did two old men have to determine a young girl’s future? How could it be stopped?
The last question brought her back to reality. The only way to stop the marriage was to somehow convince Martha to change her mind, and how likely was that?
She reclined on her bed—not to sleep but to close her eyes and think. That Martha did not like Tom Johnson she was quite sure. The sweet girl had never said anything critical about him, but she never spoke ill of anyone. Charlie remembered an involuntary look of repugnance Martha showed once when Tom was talking to them at one of the church suppers. His mouth was full, making him speak indistinctly, and when he grew excited the word “salvation” was spat out with a stream of food particles. And this man, or this boy, whose grossness had clearly disgusted her, was going to be her husband! She would do her duty, her mother said. Duty. The word had the effec
t of making Charlie see the similarities between her and her cousin’s situations. The same two men who were arranging Martha’s life for her had arranged her life as well. Unlike Martha, though, she had not even been given the chance to make a pro forma assent to their scheme. They had defined her duty as preparing to function as the public face of their church, and she was expected to do it. For a moment the old sense of unfairness she felt when first an inmate in the house and learned she could no longer play sports or watch TV because she was a girl held sway. Her uncle and Brother Johnson had decided her duty. They decided Martha was to marry a cretin. Why was the word always used as a bullet to wound? Why did she feel bullied instead of appreciated? Why was duty so joyless? Why were females treated like children? The questions agitated her and made her toss and turn on the bed before she remembered her aunt’s remark about everyone having a duty to Jesus. Momentarily it softened the sense of injustice and unfairness she was feeling. Life wasn’t supposed to be fun. It was the time you earned eternity.
But these thoughts didn’t exactly allow her to achieve calmness, only the equilibrium to be able to think about her life objectively. A year of college had passed. Others spoke of college as a new and awakening experience. For her, though, the Bible college was exactly—or almost exactly—like home. True, it was slightly more open-minded. Women were allowed to wear more normal clothes, and occasionally she saw examples from the professors of a more scholarly and tolerant attitude towards different ideas than her uncle or any other members of the church displayed. She had even been allowed to do her literature paper on Dickens’ novels. Most of the other students were choosing clearly Christian writers like Tim Lahaye and Jerry Jenkins, the authors of the Left Behind novels, or C.S. Lewis or John Bunyan, so it was only with great trepidation that she asked the professor for permission to write a paper on the Christianity in Dickens. After considering for a moment he said, “Certainly. He’s mostly a good Christian, though far from perfect in doctrine. As long as you realize he belonged to a flawed church, you are safe.” So it was that she was allowed to see a different conception of her religion in Oliver Twist, Nickolas Nickleby and Great Expectation and experience the same moral anger at the unfeeling power structure that allowed poor people to suffer and even starve, as well as see and agree with his idea of a Christian as one who had compassion for suffering. But these examples of open-mindedness were few and far between. Mostly in dealings with students and staff she had to be careful and avoid such topics as sex, biblical inconsistencies, science, her fear rather than love for her uncle, and so forth just as she had to take care with everyone at home, including Martha and Elizabeth. So the college offered her no escape. She confronted the same two realities, one external, one internal, and between them dissonance. She did meet people, especially females, who like Martha and Aunt Cora had good hearts and gentle natures, the kind of people who when they saw suffering wanted to alleviate it. Her three roommates, all from Virginia, were like that. Two were plain, one was pretty, none were particularly intelligent, all spoke with a soft Southern drawl, and all were sweet, polite and decent Christian girls. But there were many, many people at the college, most of them male, whether student or professor, who were like Uncle Edward and Brother Johnson—people absolutely convinced of the rightness of their beliefs, people who never had a shadow of doubt darken their minds. Some of them, she thought, were even worse, filled as they were with hatred instead of Christian love. They hated liberals and progressives and feminists and unmarried women who were sexually active; they hated abortion and contraception; they hated homosexuals and anyone who did not fit the pattern of the “normal” family; they hated the secular world and all nonbelievers; many of them even hated other Christians who were not evangelical. If they knew about her mother’s past and how she refused to become a Christian, they would hate her mother too, just as they would hate Jeremy Lawrence, the only boy she had ever been attracted to, if they knew of his existence.
While these haters were not the majority, again just like the church in Waska, they were the ones who dominated the majority and controlled every aspect of the college. In this atmosphere, to some degree or other everyone had tunnel vision; the gentle ones were afraid to confront doubt perhaps because they would become unhinged like Elizabeth Pogue had that time they cleaned the church; the cocksure and bull-headed ones became angry if doubt was expressed. For a long time Charlie staggered under the burden of her isolation and was deeply unhappy, a condition that compounded her struggles because to be unhappy was to somehow not feel the presence of Jesus in her life. It was to be a bad Christian. She read somewhere that faith implied doubt, for no one has to have faith in facts such as gravity: stepping off a cliff and falling was not an article of faith. But everyone at the college regarded faith as fact. It was black and white, all or nothing. She had to pretend, at some cost in the violence it did to her serenity, that she was free of doubt. Ironically, in her early months at the college the one piece of advice that kept her sane was Mr. Adamson’s remark that as long as you had Jesus in your heart nothing else mattered. When frustration and dissonance crowded any peace from her mind, that was her leap of faith. Often taking comfort from the memory of that day of the biology class field work, she began thinking it was the best Christian advice she had ever received. But of course it too was another thing she could not speak of.
Eventually she understood that what she hungered for was connection; with no one with whom she could she feel entirely herself, she was lonely and isolated; with barriers everywhere there was no one she could really talk to and her burdens went unshared. So she lived a secret life, even still having daydreams and sexual fantasies about Jeremy, which reminded her that she had inherited a harlot’s heart and that her life was an inactive volcano.
Then slowly things began changing. As the year progressed into the second semester she began receiving the occasional hint in the look of an eye, a guarded statement (often instantly retracted), and other verbal and nonverbal signs that others like her lived shadowy, subterranean lives, revealing themselves only momentarily when they were surprised into confrontation with issues that caused doubt. By degree she came to see that not every one was a rigid and blind believer in every last aspect of fundamentalist doctrine and that she was not, perhaps, as alone as she had thought. Then on three separate occasions the suggestions of honest doubt or freer thought and belief came clearly into view. One time it was a boy who must have recognized something in her eyes, for after a class where some of the more bloody and cruel incidents in the Old Testament had been discussed, he walked with her back to the cafeteria and told her that he was thinking of leaving the school. At first he would not be specific, only emphasizing that the college was not what he expected and that he did not like it; but then he did hint that he was troubled by all the times in the Bible plagues were said to be caused by God’s wrath. “Today we know it’s unsanitary conditions and germs,” he said in a voice an equal mixture of scorn and despair that told Charlie the nature of his doubts. Then his face reddened when she asked him if Jesus was still in his heart.
Another time it was her professor of New Testament studies, Rev. Doctor Johnson who revealed subterranean doubts. A kindly, sweet-tempered and soft-spoken man, bald and gray-haired and peering at you above his reading glasses with a benign patience, he was her favorite professor. One day a student came into class in genuine distress. He had stumbled upon an internet site that showed inconsistencies in the Bible. In Luke 3:35-36 Shelah is identified as the grandson of Arphaxed whereby in Genesis he is the father. This was a small error, a human error, but when doctrine said that God was the actual author of the Bible, a small error became gigantic in its implications. Nor was that the only one the student mentioned. The Epistles of Paul and Gospel of Mark did not mention the virgin birth. The internet source showed how the story of Adam and Eve was actually a Babylonian story. It seemed to Charlie that her professor was aware of these inconsistencies and somehow closed his eyes
against their implication. He was not surprised by the information, but he appeared very ill-at-ease while the student spoke and his only explanation was a weak one—he said they were only apparent inconsistencies. Paul and Mark did not mention the virgin birth because other books in the New Testament had already covered it. Scholars disagreed about the other inconsistencies, he said with a nervous smile. Then he changed the subject. But Charlie, adept at reading eyes, saw that he was whistling past the graveyard. Perhaps, she thought charitably, he did not want to distress the students and had a more sophisticated view of the Bible that paralleled her own: that the writers were divinely inspired but still human beings and still explaining God’s mysteries in terms ordinary people could understand. Maybe, though, Professor Johnson had titanic struggles of faith and doubt. If that was the case, she would not be displeased. It would mean her favorite professor was someone she might talk to in the future.
Along with the professor and the reluctant student, a third person showed a different kind of doubt about the Christian life on the last day of finals last week. She had thought about what happened frequently since then. With Kasey Lapham, a male student in two of her classes, she was on an innocent mission to gather flowers to be presented to the receptionist of the dormitory as a thank-you for all her help through the year. In a field near the college filled with fragrant wild flowers of every color, shape and size, they were alone and without witnesses when suddenly Kasey had tried to kiss her as he incoherently declared his love. She had seen him eying her figure before and was not unaware of his interest. Now that her breasts were not crushed and hidden away, she was used to roving male eyes. Christian or not, males were males. But she had no idea his interest was personal. Luckily he was a small boy, short and thin, and she had no trouble fending off his advances. “Stop it, Kasey. You know this isn’t right.”
“Isn’t love right?” he countered, still trying to reach her mouth.
“Not this way. You’ll just get us into trouble.”
“I don’t care. It’s you I want. I don’t care about the college. Compared to you, I don’t even care for Jesus.”
That blasphemous remark was what most surprised her. It was totally unexpected, very probably an honest, uncensored statement of feeling, and—she could not deny—quite flattering to her. She had been thinking of it constantly for the past week. Since she was not attracted to Kasey, nothing had happened, but she didn’t know what would have followed if it had been Jeremy Lawrence who had played the bold lover. She suspected her harlot’s heart would have responded in kind. Was it true that love and sex were so strong a force that one could forget Jesus? Instead of troubling her as the thought of sex had in the past, she knew and could feel within her a strange new confidence in herself. She knew Jeremy was attracted to her in high school, and the many roving male eyes she had caught magnetically locked onto her now that she wore more normal clothes confirmed that she was not unattractive to the opposite sex. So she was glad that the incident had occurred, and the changed attitude it gave rise to was one of the things she was going to think through during the summer along with what the first year of Bible college meant to her. Those glimpses of doubt behind the rigid armor of fundamentalist thinking had emboldened her to seek honest communion. That was why, she now realized, the news of Martha’s engagement came as such a shock to her. Of all the people in the world she could talk to about her doubts and conflicting emotions, only Martha was close enough to her to listen sympathetically. Of course her mother would too, but her mother was not a Christian. She realized that a large part of the shock at hearing of the engagement was selfish. She was prepared to talk openly to Martha about her doubts about biblical inerrancy and other doctrines even though she knew it might distress Martha. That in itself showed a selfish desire, but her excuse was her desperation. Sometimes she felt as if she was trapped in a locked box and unable to breathe; the feeling was so oppressive it was no wonder she feared exploding like a volcano. But her selfish needs would have to be put on hold by this shocking news. Now it was Martha who would needed a sympathetic ear. Somehow she was going to have to try to talk that sweet girl out of throwing her life away. She went over arguments she could use, but knowing that any suggestion that Martha should think about herself and her own happiness would be met with counter-arguments about obedience to elders and Christian duty, she finally decided that the only argument that might work was suggesting that Martha was too young to be married. She had turned eighteen in December. If she could be convinced that she should wait until she was twenty-one, a lot might happen in those two and a half years.
She tried, not too successfully, to think of things to make a convincing argument for delaying the wedding until she heard voices downstairs. It was time to meet the family.
Coming down the stairs, she saw Martha looking up expectantly. Her brown hair was still in a bun but it look fuller as if she was letting it grow. She too wore more normal clothes now, though her breast were smaller and the change wasn’t so glaring. Her eyes betrayed her nervousness. She didn’t look like a girl who just got engaged. She had no glow about her, no aura of excitement. Quite the contrary, she looked more subdued than usual. Charlie took that as a sign of her reluctant affirmation of the proxied proposal. She knew Martha would never speak any such thoughts without help and much prodding. But now it was time to be conventional.
“Hello, Martha. Congratulations on your engagement.”
She didn’t smile at first. “Thank you,” she said in a deadened tone. “And congratulations to you for getting straight A’s again.” That she said with a warm smile.
“The grades haven’t been announced yet. How do you know what I got?”
“Father spoke on the phone last night to Rev. Sharpe,” Aunt Cora said from behind the kitchen counter.
“And he told him your grades. He also said you’re one of the best students the college has ever had.”
Aunt Cora put some dishes on the counter and said, “We’re all very proud of you, Charlene.”
“So you all knew before I did.”
Martha smiled again, a sweet loving smile. “It wasn’t really a surprise to you, was it?”
She returned the smile while modestly murmuring, “No, I guess not. So how did your teaching go?”
Now eighteen, Martha was helping Mrs. Pogue with the home schooling. Four more younger children from the church had joined Elizabeth, Mark and Matthew. Mrs. Pogue concentrated on the two Harris boys and Martha was teaching the young children.
“Fine. Little Luke and Tobias can read now, and Sarah has finally mastered the multiplication tables. Only Lewis is a bit slow. He takes a lot of my time and effort.”
All three turned at the sound of the boys at the door. While she was talking to Martha, Charlene could hear them taking the trash cans into the garage. Already socialized to be Harris males, they greeted their cousin without even a show of emotion. Matthew, taller now and gawky, managed to kick over the coat rack when he turned from the door upon seeing her and was self-consciously embarrassed. Like his father, he liked to be in control and show no weakness. So his greeting was a frowned, “Hello, Charlene.” Mark, instead of saying hello, launched into a description of what he learned in home school today, that three presidents—Carter, Reagan and Bush—had been born again and saved. “Soon,” he said, speaking by rote, “no one will be president unless he has accepted Jesus as his personal savior. Did you know that?”
The question reminded Charlie of a question in history class at the college. A girl had asked the professor how Lincoln could have been a great president when he didn’t belong to any church. Charlie had waited in careful anticipation for the professor’s answer. She had recently read the Gettysburg Address and found it filled with Christian love and forgiveness. But the professor hardly answered the question at all. “What do you expect,” he said. “The man was a Yankee.” Thinking of that now, she felt the incongruity of her life. But feeling it and showing it were opposite poles, for a con
ventional answer was called for. “Yes, Mark, I have heard others say that.”
Perhaps she gave too much away about her true opinion. Mark grinned foolishly, but Matthew gave her a hard look and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He held his tongue, though, probably because now that she was no longer a girl, he didn’t dare to chastise her as he used to.
Both boys were not really interested in Charlie. They wanted something to eat and were allowed a cookie and a glass of milk. After that they disappeared upstairs and the women talked about the recipes for dinner. The topic of marriage was carefully avoided.
The father of the two boys was also distant when he arrived soon after. Whenever something was not coming out right in his financial books, which was rather frequently, he would be in a black mood. Charlie recalled the time a few years ago when her uncle was in that mood and Aunt Cora had suggested he hire a C.P.A. For a moment she thought he would explode as he frowned and his face darkened in fury. But he held his temper—and his pride, for no one was ever hired. With money, as with God, the Rev. Edward Harris would take advice from no man. Everyone understood that when he was in one of his moods the best thing to do was simply stay out of his way. He loosened his tie and put on his slippers while gruffly saying, “Hello, Charlene,” and then he and his briefcase went down into the basement office, where he remained while the boys returned to the family room floor to play a game of chess, Martha and Aunt Cora made a salad, put the roast and potatoes in the oven and simmered some green beans, and Charlie unpacked and called her mother. She returned to the kitchen to find little needed to be done except set the table. She had no opportunity to speak to Martha alone.
At six o’clock sharp the doorbell rang announcing the arrival of their guests. The women waited for Uncle Edward to open the door. He came up the stairs still looking rather put-out, but was composing his face even as he walked across the space between the basement door and the hall. By the time he opened the door, he wore a smile. “Welcome,” he said in a big, booming voice.
Brother Johnson shook his hand. He was bald, wore thick black glasses resting on a prominent nose, had a thin, severe face but was puffy around the eyes as if he habitually slept poorly. He was often irritable, so perhaps appearances were reality in his case. Tonight, however, there was an air of triumph about him. His puffy eyes, instead of looking sleepy, were shining, and he seemed very pleased with himself.
He was even avuncular with the boys, patting Matthew on the shoulder and asking, “How is the future minister today?” and turning to Mark and calling him a young scholar before even hearing Matthew’s answer.
“Fine, sir,” was the older boy’s words, said with a respectfulness bound to please Brother Johnson.
It certainly had the desired effect. Brother Johnson beamed with pleasure and bestowed another pat on the shoulder to the future servant of the Lord.
Meanwhile, Sarah Johnson was delivering the dessert of apple pie and ice-cream to Aunt Cora. She was a plump, matronly woman of around fifty, phlegmatic in mixed company, talkative and gossipy and opinionated among women. Today she would be holding her tongue in the presence of the minister.
Brother Johnson glanced at the two women going into the kitchen to put the dessert away, then turned. “The future of our church is bright indeed. Jesus has blessed us all this day. Praise the Lord!”
“Praise the Lord,” everyone repeated, Charlie coming in late because her attention was centered on Tom and Martha. No one noticed.
Shyly Martha stood behind her father. This was the first meeting of the newly-engaged couple, and yet so far they had not exchanged a word.
Brother Johnson, observing the situation, took the matter in hand. “Greet your bride, Tom, my boy. Be thankful to the Lord for this auspicious day.”
Tom took after his father in his features, but had inherited his mother’s tendency towards stoutness. He looked much the same since last Charlie had seen him except that his girth had expanded. Charlie had heard a big belly called a beer belly, but in his case it was a a pie belly. The Johnsons, like the Harrises, like most members of the church, had a rather pronounced sweet tooth. It was a wonder the whole congregation wasn’t overweight.
Dutifully, Tom went over to Martha, first pausing to shake his future father-in-law’s hand and receive his blessing. Then, facing Martha, he appeared unsure of what to do.
Martha appeared very ill-at-ease as well. Both simply stared at each other for a few moments before brother Johnson moved things along.
“Kiss her!” Brother Johnson said. “Kiss the bride to be.”
A perfunctory kiss, the merest brushing of lips, followed the parental directive. Charlie thought she saw Martha recoil instinctively before presenting her pursed lips. She stood back embarrassed to be the center of attention.
With the kiss of possession, Tom got over his awkwardness. He sniffed the air and said to Aunt Cora, watching from the other side of the counter, “Sure smells good, Mrs. Harris.”
“Call me Cora now that—”
“You’re a fine cook, Cora. I hope you’ve taught Martha the art.”
“Oh, yes. She’s a very accomplished cook.”
Tom looked at Martha. His eyes narrowed as he assessed her. “Last time I saw you you were wearing a blue blouse. Blue becomes you.”
She wore a yellow one tonight. Was his first words to her as fiancé actually a criticism? Was he already asserting his power? Or was he still awkward and nervous and trying to hide it?
Martha blushed and didn’t know what to say. Everyone seemed perplexed or embarrassed. Then Brother Johnson laughed. “There’ll be plenty of time to get her just right after the wedding, Tom. She looks pretty enough in yellow.”
“I’m delivering up to you a treasure,” Uncle Edward said in his pompous, ministerial voice. “I hope you realize that.” He was still in a black mood, Charlie could tell. He was looking at Tom rather sternly, making her hope that somehow he would lose his temper and call the wedding off.
Tom seemed to sense the danger. “I do, sir. I do indeed,” he said so deferentially that he was almost craven.
From the kitchen Aunt Cora announced that the dinner was ready. Charlie went into the kitchen to help her aunt bring the food to the table while everyone else sat down. Martha and Tom were placed on one side with Matthew; the Johnsons, man and wife, and Charlie were crowded on the other side with Mark; and her uncle and aunt had their usual seats at the ends of the table.
The grace was longer than usual as Uncle Edward expatiated on Christian marriage and the duty to be fruitful and multiple as well as spread the word of Jesus among the heathen. Charlie noticed Tom exhibited some signs of impatience as the grace went on and on. Food was an important part of his life as a Christian. But soon enough the sounds of silverware clacking against plate superseded the human voice as the Christians gathered together separately attacked the mountain of food before them. Some conventional compliments were paid to Aunt Cora for her cooking, and a question or two was directed to Tom and Martha about their plans. Having none except the vague date for the wedding a year from now, those questions were as quickly dispatched as the food. Charlie had pretty much been ignored by all on this special night for the newly engaged couple, but quite unexpectedly Brother Johnson asked her how the college year went.
She answered that it went well, and as he beamed, obviously because he regarded her as his discovery, Martha said, “She’s being way too modest. She got straight A’s.”
“Excellent,” he said as he cut into his beef, holding his fork in a fist and sawing at the meat with his knife. “Our beloved church is going to benefit from those straight A’s.”
As everyone murmured in assent, Charlie noticed Tom was frowning sullenly. It disconcerted her so much she could only mumble a “Thank you” with her head bent down.
But Martha smiled sweetly and said, “She’s a good Christian too.”
Tom’s frown darkened further and he flashed a look of anger at his fiancé, who didn’t n
otice because she was still looking at Charlie. Nor did anyone else notice his hostile behavior since like Martha their attention was fixed on Charlie.
Uncle Edward seconded Martha’s compliment. “Yes, we’re all very proud of you, Charlene.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I had to fire one of the guys in one of our crews today,” Tom said. “He wasn’t a good Christian.”
“Was he a good plumber,” Uncle Edward asked as everyone exchanged puzzled glances at this sudden change of topic.
“Well, yes he was. But he was insubordinate. I told him to skip the furnace inspection because we were late for the job at our next site. He had the insolence to ask me if I was going to adjust the bill to reflect we didn’t do the work requested.”
“Well, but did the furnace require servicing?” Uncle Edward asked.
“It wasn’t bad, but that’s not the issue. The man was surly and insolent one time too many.”
“Young Tom here sometimes has a temper,” Brother Johnson said. “The man in question was one of our better repairmen, actually. He may not be much of a Christian, but in business that’s not always an issue. I’m going to talk to him this weekend and if he apologizes reinstate him.”
Tom didn’t like this information. He was frowning darkly as he listened, but recomposed his face the moment his father turned to him. “You understand business has different rules, Tom. An apology should settle the matter.”
“Okay, but he better start showing me more respect too.”
Brother Johnson gave his son a sharp look as if he suspected Tom of lacking the proper respect for him, then turned his gaze to Charlie. Helping himself to more mashed potatoes, he said, “So what sort of things have you been learning at the college?”
Noticing that most of the plates were clear of their treasure, Aunt Cora interrupted to ask who was ready for a second helping of beef. Uncle Edward, all three Johnsons and Matthew were; the rest gave a polite no thank-you. Once the plates were replenished, brother Johnson looked at Charlie expectantly.
“You mean about the Christian life, sir?”
He nodded gravely. “Specifically in defense of the Christian life against the heathen world we live in. Salvation, for instance. We see your role as that of a public defender, you understand. You’ll need to come up with good arguments.”
Charlie tried to think of something that would please him. “Well, we students would often talk among ourselves just as much as we did in classes. Salvation through faith is the first step. But I remember a lot of the kids at Courtney Academy had no sense of direction in their lives. That is something that Jesus offers. You see, a lot of those students didn’t really have the faintest idea what they were going to do with their lives. They were just drifting. But I was impressed with how the students at the college knew exactly what they were going to do. They were filled with a sense of righteousness and purpose to spread the word of the Lord.”
Brother Johnson seemed pleased with that remark. She saw, too, her uncle nodding in approval. “How about that Catholic family, James?” he said.
“Yes, they are a case in point,” he said to her uncle, then turned to her. “We have, you see, a Catholic family interested in joining our church. The trouble is, the young woman seems most interested in works.”
“Yes, yes,” her uncle interrupted, “but it’s plain. Salvation only comes through accepting Jesus.”
“I know that,” Brother Johnson said with considerable irritation. “But the question is, what arguments can we bring forth to convince them.”
For a moment Uncle Edward glowered.
Matthew took occasion here to display his biblical knowledge. He cited Romans 1:17, “Sinners receive through faith in Christ alone the gift of righteousness,” and Acts 4:12, where Peter announced that “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved.”
“We also talked about the importance of charity, sir,” Charlie said to her uncle while noticing that Matthew looked sullen that no one congratulated him.
“If one has Jesus in one’s heart, that is charity,” he said with finality, then regarded in turn his two sons. “Matthew and Mark,” he said in a voice to command attention, causing everyone, not just the boys, to look at him, “I want you to be perfectly clear on that word ‘charity.’ It hasn’t got anything to do with nonsense like giving to starving people in Africa or whatnot. The word translated into English as ‘charity’ is from the Greek word agape. It refers to the love we feel when Jesus is in our hearts. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Mark said.
“Corinthians,” said Matthew.
“You see that’s the problem, James,” Uncle Edward said to the elder. That DeClercq woman is all atwitter about works. She seems to think the Christian life is sitting on committees and whatnot. She’s got to understand that only by accepting Jesus in her heart is she delivered from the stain of Adam and Eve’s sin.”
“And that a woman’s place is the home,” Tom Johnson said. “She said she didn’t like the Catholic priest because he wouldn’t let her do some things she wanted to do in the charity line.”
Uncle Edward frowned. “She seems willful. I don’t know.”
Brother Johnson shook his head. “It would be good to ween her from popery, though. For that it’s worth going the extra mile. That’s why I said we needed good arguments.”
“Tom,” Uncle Edward said, “it was you she first approached, I take it?”
Tom, busy cutting and devouring an enormous piece of beef, didn’t answer right off. “She’s a neighbor—lives down the street from us,” he said with his mouth full.
“Maybe we should get the Maguire family to speak to her,” Brother Johnson said. “They’ve been with us three or four years now after leaving popery and are very happy. They’d be a good argument just in themselves.”
Uncle Edward ignored that remark and spoke to Tom. “But does this woman’s heart thirst for Jesus? I ask because it sounds as if she’s in profound error. Am I right?”
Tom, smacking his lips loudly as he chewed and swallowed the beef, finally managed to say, “What do you mean?”
“I mean what we said before. She doesn’t seem to realize that works do not contribute to merit. Doing good does not redeem one. Only accepting Jesus does.”
“I think she can be made to understand that, sir. Father’s suggestion that the Maguires talk to ’em might be effective. Most effective would be your personal attention, but I understand the interview with you comes late in the process.’
The compliment pleased Uncle Edward and seemed to have the effect of putting him in a better mood. With everyone’s plate empty, he stood and said, “Well, enough of that. Shall we go into the family room for coffee and dessert?”
While the males settled into comfortable chairs in the family room, the females cleared the table and cleaned up. Sarah took advantage of the men’s absence to gossip nonstop about some members of the congregation and neighbors, giving Charlie no chance to talk with Martha.
By the time the dishes were washed and coffee and dessert of apple pie and ice cream brought into the family room, the men appeared to be in the kind of pleasant mood that a good meal and a satisfactorily arranged marriage can bring about. Uncle Edward now seemed contented. Tom Johnson looked as if he had successfully won his bride through his own intrinsic merits. Brother Johnson was looking very pleased with himself as he patted his belly and complimented Aunt Cora once again and pretended he didn’t know where he was going to find room for the pie and ice cream.
The tail end of a conversation that Charlie heard seemed to have been on the faulty financial records and some sort of suggestion about getting professional help, but now the thought did not bother Uncle Edward. He was brushing aside the suggestion as the tray with the dessert was brought around. “Again, James, I’m the one responsible for the finances. It’s dangerous to let something like that fall into the hands of sh
arpers.”
Brother Johnson, busy eating his pie and ice cream, bided his time. “Professionals have their place, I’m saying. Take the ad for my business, for instance. I spent all day in Portland just so I could deliver one line after the model we hired did her part.” He jabbed the air with his spoon. “I’ll tell you what. Those hours of waiting were worth it. We made a good ad. And I’ll tell you something else. That model was expensive, but she’ll more than earn her money. A pretty woman helps to sell things. The difference in ads with no pretty women and ones with one is about thirty percent more.”
Uncle Edward nodded. Perhaps he too noticed the boastful tone and thought it was too worldly. Dealing with contractors in his business, he didn’t have to advertise. “I suspect we’re going to need the church painted this summer,” he said, pointedly changing the subject. “There’s peeling, and those places where we painted over the hooligans’ graffiti stand out like a sore thumb.”
“The paint’s faded is why,” Tom said with a full mouth.
“Charlene, did Reverend Doctor Achibald Sharpe get you students to paint the college this year. He spoke about it in a letter.”
For a moment she panicked. Her mind had been elsewhere thinking about what Brother Johnson’s remarks about pretty women selling things had implied about how he saw her. He was the one who had suggested her for the chosen role of spokesman. Now she felt cheapened, hurt, angry, uncertain. During the interview to determine her suitability as a national spokesman by five ministers after Easter in April she was mostly asked questions about the Bible and church doctrine, which were all answered to their great satisfaction, but now she recalled how all the ministers were taking note of her physical appearance and one of them had even said, “You’re a handsome girl, Charlene.” Were they too thinking that a pretty woman helped to sell things? The idea made her wonder if Brother Johnson had anything to do with her uncle allowing her to wear a normal bra that showed her figure. And she had noticed both Johnsons observing her chest on more than one occasion this evening.
Luckily she had heard enough of her uncle’s question to have an answer ready. “Yes, the boys painted it except for the steeple of the church and the girls provided lunches and drinks.”
Her uncle beamed. “There’s another example of the fellowship of Christians in action. There’s nothing we can’t do if we stand together.”
Tom didn’t volunteer to help do the work, but he did say, “I’ll start asking around for volunteers.” He was just finishing the last of his pie and spoke with his mouth full. Looking at his now empty plate, he said, “Martha, get me some more ice cream, would ya.”
“Yes, more for me too,” Mark said. “Can I, Momma?”
Aunt Cora nodded indulgently as Martha obediently sprang up and went to the kitchen.
“Where’s that photo of the church when we first built it?” Uncle Edward asked Cora. “I remember the doors were dark blue then instead of black. I think I might like blue again.”
Charlie remembered that the album containing photos of the church used to be on the bottom shelf behind her. “I think it’s here, Uncle Edward,” she said as she leaned back and twisted her body to reach for the album. The action caused her left breast to jut out, and as she sat up she saw Tom eying it lewdly. When he didn’t drop his eyes but instead brazenly kept looking at her, she felt herself blushing.
This was not the first time she felt his eyes upon her, but it was the first time he impudently did not cast them away. She didn’t know what to make of that. Was he asserting dominance? If so, was he even aware that was what he was doing? Or was it contempt for women that he was telegraphing? Or even jealousy? She, a woman, was destined to be prominent in the church. The highest honor he who thought women’s place was in the home could achieve was to succeed his father as a church elder, where his duties would not be much more than rubber-stamping what the minister wanted. Or was it mere sensual lewdness? Whatever it was, it did not bode well for Martha’s future, and that was Charlie’s first thought after she got over her embarrassment.
Self-consciously she walked across the floor to give the album to her uncle. Back at her seat she observed when Martha returned that Tom was more interested in the ice cream than her. The question in her mind for the rest of the evening was how she could use this information to persuade Martha against the marriage. Because it involved a hint of sex, she could not see her way clear.
In the meantime, the photo of the church when it was brand-new had induced a nostalgic mood in the parental Johnsons and her aunt and uncle. For more than an hour they talked about the early beginnings of the church, first preaching in the home, then in a hall rented from a fish and game club (they would “purify” the hall before each Sunday’s services using special prayers), and finally as the congregation grew in their own church, now twelve years old.
After a while she didn’t attend very closely to the conversation. The long journey north from Virginia was taking its toll, and she was very tired. Seeing the Johnsons off and getting ready for bed was effected while half-asleep, and Martha’s arrival from the bathroom wearing her nightgown went unobserved, which meant she must have fallen asleep. But something brought her to the awareness of Martha brushing her now loosened hair and standing before the mirror attached to the dresser. Charlie could tell she was being as quiet as possible so as to not wake her. But seeing her reminded Charlie of her plan.
“Martha, are you happy about the engagement? I mean really happy?
She seemed surprised that Charlie was awake. She turned quickly and uttered a little cry before saying, “Oh, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I wasn’t fully asleep yet. But are you?”
She turned from brushing her hair and said in a tone that was meant to discourage further conversation, “About the engagement? Don’t worry, Charlene. I’m fine with it, really.”
“But they act as if it’s your duty to marry him. What about your wishes?”
Martha thoughtfully brushed at her long hair before once again turning towards Charlie’s bed. “I know what you’re thinking. Even a Christian should marry for love. But what is human love compared to the love for Jesus?”
Charlie momentarily debated telling her about Tom’s lewd eyes and what they implied, but this didn’t seem to be the time. Weakly she said, “Nothing, of course, but still we have to live our human life even as we direct our thoughts to the divine.”
She put the brush down and came over and sat on her bed, where she faced Charlie. “I’m very tired, Charlene, so I haven’t got much to say right now—or really ever. But I do understand you are thinking of my welfare and for that I’m very grateful. I know you don’t like Tom. I could tell the news distressed you. But he is a dedicated Christian, and I always knew he was the kind of man I would marry.”
“But don’t you think it would be wise to wait until you’re twenty-one?”
“No, I don’t think that will change anything.” She stood to turn her bedspread and sheet open, then crawled under the covers. “Here’s how I look at it. My true groom is Jesus. My life is dedicated to Him. So I’m going to do my duty. I’m going to marry Tom. I thought about it for a long time last night, and that’s what I decided.”
“And you won’t change your mind?”
“No. I decided. That’s it.”
“Well, I hope you will be happy, Martha. I won’t distress you any further. Tomorrow I’m going to visit my mother in the morning. After that maybe I could help you and Mrs. Pogue with the home schooling. Is that all right?”
“Yes, that would be nice. Good night, Charlene,” she said, reaching over and turning off the light.
“Good night, Martha. Sleep well,” she said, her voice tremulous in the sudden darkness.
The Best Christmas Ever
I
Steps Along the Way
