Ribbon in the Sky

by Dorothy Garlock

  She saw Cora staring at her from across the dinner table, her color high, a smirk on her face, chanting in her shrill voice, Letty has a bastard growing in her belly. Letty has a bastard growing in her belly. Letty has a bastard! Did you catch Hadley Wells between fits, or was it one of those wild Dolan boys? Dolan boys, Dolan boys—

  Letty closed her eyes hoping to blot out the image of her sister’s hateful face and accusing voice only to have it replaced by another—her father’s. Hatred blazed in his eyes. Bitch! Slut! Whore! Damn you to hell and damn your bastard. From this day on you are dead! You are dead, you are dead—

  What on earth was the matter with her? She thought she had blocked that terrible day from her mind. Why now? Why did she have to see her father’s face and hear his hateful words? You are possessed of the devil—

  Once again feeling the fear, the hurt, the despair, Letty wanted desperately to climb over the seat of Doctor Hakes’s car to nestle in Mike’s lap, and feel the security of his arms.

  Was it one of those damn Catholics? Damn Catholics, damn Catholics, damn Catholics—

  Letty sat up straighter in the seat, her arms crossed under her breasts, her hands gripping her elbows.

  On the night breeze, floating over the treetops. Letty could hear the sound of several hundred voices raised in song:

  “I am bound for the promised land,

  I am bound for the promised land.

  O who will come and go with me—

  I am bound for the promised land.”

  The music and words were etched in her memory. It was the song the congregation had been singing the night she passed the church on her way out of Dunlap to catch the train in Huxley. It seemed a lifetime ago.

  Her eyes were drawn to Mike, who sat in the back seat of the automobile. Fellon sat between him and Doctor Hakes. Roberta Knight was driving the car. It was the first time Letty had ridden in an automobile with a woman driver. Had she not been so nervous about the confrontation ahead, she would have been impressed by the way Roberta handled the machine.

  What she was hearing now was the rousing spiritual “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Letty knew the routine well. The service was well-planned to stimulate the audience.

  The next song had a rapid beat that made the people clap their hands and lift their voices:

  “Give me that old time religion,

  give me that old time religion—

  It’s good enough for me!”

  The congregation was being primed for Cora’s appearance. If the song leader and the musicians worked hard enough, they would have the people shouting and speaking in tongues by the time Cora came on the stage.

  The car stopped alongside the road near the entrance to the parking area, well back from the pavilion. Letty got out and waited while Mike pulled the reluctant Fellon out and backed him up against the side of the car.

  “Listen good, Mister. You do what Doc tells you to do. Give him any trouble and you’ll be saying goodbye to your teeth.”

  “I want a drink. Doc, you promised—”

  “I said I’d give you five dollars to get back to Briskin. If you want to drink it up and walk home that’s up to you.”

  One of Mike’s hands was clamped to Fellon’s arm, the other reached for Letty. “Honey, are you all right?”

  She didn’t speak for a minute, pressed herself against him, drinking in the closeness of his body, feeling his comforting strength, grateful, oh, so grateful, that he was with her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “If we should get separated, go back to the hotel,” Wallace said.

  “And miss out on the fun?” Roberta looped her purse over her arm. “If we get separated, head for the car. I’ll have the motor running.”

  They walked up the road to the crowded pavilion. The large shutters on the sides and back of the building had been pulled up and fastened giving an open-air effect. The ground inside the structure was covered with sawdust. A string of lightbulbs lighted the area. Row after row of benches, placed in two sections, were filled with people. Those not lucky enough to find a seat stood along the back and the sides.

  Letty led the party to stand at the end of the center aisle. On the stage a man in a white suit stood with arms lifted.

  “Hallelujah!” he shouted. “Stand up, folks. Stand up for the Lord. Don’t hold back. Stand and praise Him!” The crowd surged to its feet. “All together now—hallelujah!”

  “Hallelujah!”

  “Praise the Lord!”

  “Praise the Lord!” the crowd echoed.

  “Jesus loves me!”

  “Jesus loves me!”

  The chant went on for several minutes, the response from the congregation getting louder each time. Finally, the crowd was told to be seated. Some of the more fervent had moved out into the aisles and were jigging up and down as if in a trance and clicking their tongues. Others continued to shout, “Amen. Glory hallelujah.”

  The man on the platform ignored the people still standing, and spread his arms wide.

  “O God, we thank Thee for our Sister Cora, who has been on her knees this entire day praying to Thee for the forgiveness of our sins. She is weak in body, O Lord, but strong in spirit. We ask You to hold her in Your hand, keep her safe from harm. We need her, O God.”

  Letty’s hand tightened on Mike’s. The hypocrisy was making her sick to her stomach. Cora weak in body? She was as strong as a mule and as poisonous as a viper!

  Some of the people covered their faces with their hands, others moaned and sobbed. The speaker’s voice rose above the murmur of voices.

  “Brethren, hear me! You will remember this night for as long as you live. You will tell your children about it. They will tell their children because tonight, here in Boley, Nebraska, you will look upon the face of an angel.”

  “For crying out loud—” Letty turned her face to Mike’s arm.

  He grinned down at her. “Sickening, isn’t it?”

  “Worse than that!”

  “Here she is! Sister Cora! Sister Cora! Sister Cora!”

  The overhead lights suddenly went off, plunging the pavilion in darkness. A few tense seconds passed. Then a spotlight shone on the white curtains at the back of the stage.

  The crowd was on its feet. Necks were stretched and all eyes were on the curtain. They took up the chant. “Sister Cora, Sister Cora, Sister Cora—”

  Awe was visible on the faces of the people when a vision in a long white robe came floating down. Her arms were outstretched, her head bowed. Around her neck a large gold cross hung from a heavy gold chain. She was lowered gently to the floor where she dropped to her knees. Her associate went to her and lifted her to her feet.

  “He’s taking off the harness,” Mike whispered.

  “This is so awful! Look at the people staring at her as if she were something . . . holy.”

  When Cora began to speak, an awed silence fell over the crowd.

  “I thank Thee, Lord, for this opportunity to bring the word to the good brothers and sisters in Boley county. I pray that Thou will bless each and every one of them and Thou will show me the way to lead them to the arms of their Heavenly Father. Amen.”

  Her voice was rich and full as she began her sermon.

  “The last days are upon us, my dear, dear friends. The book of Revelations tells us of the terrible things that will come to pass during these last days. You only have to look around you to see that these predictions are taking place in every corner of the world. There are wars and rumors of wars. Sickness and starvation are spreading over the land like a plague. Brothers are slaying brothers. Women are leaving their children to peddle their flesh on the streets. Husbands and fathers are deserting their families. Hearts are hardened against aging parents and they are left to fend for themselves, no longer having the strong arm of son or daughter to lean on—

  “Soon our Lord will descend from the heavens and only the pure will follow Him back to His heavenly home. The rest of you will be cast in the fie
ry furnace, doomed to torment for all eternity.”

  “Can you believe that charlatan has the nerve to stand up there looking so pious?” Wallace said in a voice that carried. A man turned to glare at him threateningly.

  When Cora sank down on her knees in a position for prayer, the man in the white suit spoke of the need for funds to carry on Sister Cora’s work. He called on everyone to “dig deep,” for with each dollar given a soul could be saved.

  Young town girls, chosen for their light hair color and dressed in long pink robes, passed collection plates. During this time soft music was played on the piano and Cora stayed on her knees.

  “Do you reckon she’s praying for a full collection plate?” Mike whispered.

  “Probably. Oh, Mike, I’m embarrassed.”

  “Sweetheart! You needn’t be. In another thirty minutes we’ll be out of here and you’ll never have to see or think of her again.”

  When the sermon resumed, Cora’s voice never ceased its entreating pleas.

  “Jesus is calling. O sinner come home. Come and be saved. Kneel at the altar of God. He will forgive your sins. All things are possible if only you believe.”

  Well-trained men and women moved into the crowd, stopping to talk with a member of the congregation who appeared to be tempted to go be “saved.” People began to move into the aisle and go forward to fall on their knees in front of the long platform. Cora went among them, placed her hand on each head, and prayed.

  Suddenly, she lifted her arms and began to chant in an unknown tongue. The crowd shifted uneasily as if they expected disaster. Was she being given a message from God about the end of the world? The thought ran through the minds of those who watched.

  “If there be any among you who are sick, come to me,” she called in her pleading voice. “God is merciful. The power comes from Him. I am only the messenger. Come . . . come—”

  “Go, Doctor Hakes,” Letty said. “Go before one of the fakers can get up there.”

  “I ain’t goin’—” Fellon tried to break free of Mike’s grasp.

  “Yes, you are. Get moving, or I’ll break both your legs and ask Sister Cora to heal them.”

  Wallace Hakes led the way down the aisle. Mike, pushing Fellon ahead of him, followed. They reached the front and stepped up onto the stage.

  “Attention! Attention!” Wallace shouted.

  “What’s this? What’s this? You can’t get up here.” The man in the white suit tried to push Wallace off the stage.

  Mike’s free hand lashed out and fastened in the front of the man’s coat.

  “Back off, Bud, or you’ll find yourself on your butt. The doc will have his say.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Doctor Hakes from Piedmont. A week ago at a service in Piedmont, Sister Cora claimed to have healed this man. She said he hadn’t walked for years. The truth is—”

  “Forgive them, Father!” Cora shouted. “Forgive them for they know not what they do!”

  “The truth is,” Wallace yelled, “is that he has never been a cripple. I’ll read you a telegram from Doctor Perkins of Briskin where this man lives—”

  “O mighty God, the devil has sent these men to try to undo our good work. Don’t let him have his way, God! We are here to save souls—” Cora knew how to throw her voice so that it reached into each corner of the pavilion. She did that now.

  Shouting at the top of his lungs, Wallace read the telegram.

  “Now, tell them you were paid, Fellon. Tell them who paid you to put on that little act down at Piedmont.”

  “Well . . . I—”

  “Tell them, damn you,” Mike hissed.

  “Uh . . . she did. Uh . . . her man there—”

  “My dear, dear friends, the devil is here. I can feel his evil presence. Can’t you feel it? We must cast him out. Help me, O Lord—” Cora began to sob, holding out her arms as if to embrace the crowd. “This is just one more tribulation,” she entreated in a sobbing, trembling voice. “God is testing me, but I’ll be strong. I will not bow to the devil.”

  Suddenly, a group of men rushed the stage. Mike let go of Fellon to dive in and help Wallace as he struggled with two burly farmers in overalls. Fellon broke free and ran.

  “Heathens!”

  “Unbelievers!”

  “Sinners!”

  People surged toward the platform shouting, “Sister Cora, Sister Cora—”

  At the back of the pavilion, Letty stood as if transfixed, then she galvanized into action and started shoving her way down the aisle.

  “Letty! No!” Roberta grabbed her arm.

  “I’ve got to help Mike!”

  “No! We’ll get the car started. They’ll break away and that’s where they’ll head. Come on.”

  Once out of the pavilion, Roberta held up her skirt and ran. Letty had a hard time keeping up with her because she kept looking over her shoulder for Mike.

  They reached the car. Roberta started the engine, turned on the headlights, and drove to a spot where she could turn around. She was as cool as if fighting her way out of a mob was an everyday affair.

  Letty was a bundle of nerves. She felt a wave of sickness rise in her throat and struggled to swallow it. What if one of Cora’s men struck Mike down? Oh, Lord, what if he never came back? She couldn’t lose him again. Her chin trembled. Thoughts swirled around and around in her brain. Would she have to tell Patrick his daddy wasn’t coming home? Would she lose Mike so soon after finding him?

  “Buck up, girl,” Roberta said firmly. “That man of yours can take care of himself.”

  “Wallace can’t . . .”

  “That little man may surprise you. I’m thinking he has plenty of grit. Holy Moses! Here they come—” Roberta honked the horn, then shouted, “Here! Wallace, here!”

  Mike and Wallace had no more than stepped on the running boards when the car shot off down the road leaving a dozen men standing in the road shaking their fists. As soon as they were away from the fairgrounds, Roberta slowed the car and Mike and Wallace climbed inside.

  “Whee!” Wallace said when he could catch his breath. “Roberta, you’re a regular Barney Oldfield.”

  In the back seat of the car, Mike gathered Letty in his arms. Her control broke and she began to cry.

  “Honey . . . sweetheart, what’s the matter?” His arms tightened.

  “I w-was afraid-d—”

  “Afraid of what, love?”

  She pressed herself against him and put her arms around him.

  “I was afraid-d you’d not come b-back.”

  “That was a strain on you being there and seeing Cora put on her act. You’ve worried yourself into a state of nerves.”

  She looked up, eyes sparkling with tears. “I’m silly.”

  “Ah . . . darlin’ ” His mouth closed over hers. The kiss was long and sweet and conveyed a meaning far too poignant for mere words. “I’ll always come back, darlin’. Always.”

  “I couldn’t bear it if . . . if you didn’t.”

  Roberta stopped in front of the hotel. Mike and Letty got out. Letty reached in and touched the doctor’s arm.

  “Wallace, I’m sorry they wouldn’t believe you. I was afraid they wouldn’t. Cora has been at this many years and she has a knack for swaying the audience.”

  “I tried. At least my conscience is clear.”

  “Goodbye.” Letty held out her hand and clasped Roberta’s warmly. “Will we see you again?”

  “You certainly will if I have anything to say about it.” Wallace spoke quickly, then looked as if he had surprised himself.

  “Of course we’ll see each other again,” Roberta spoke to Letty, but her eyes were on Wallace and his on her. “Goodbye.”

  Letty held tightly to Mike’s arm as they entered the hotel.

  “Wasn’t Mrs. Knight nice? She wasn’t at all what I expected. Bless Wallace’s heart. He paved the way for us to keep Helen. Mike!” she stopped walking. “I think he likes her.”

  Mike chuckled as they started up the
steps to their room.

  “I noticed. She likes him too. That’s fine with me. I was afraid he had eyes for my wife.”

  “Oh, pooh! Wouldn’t it be nice if they got together?”

  “Matchmaking, Mrs. Dolan?”

  “I’m so happy, I want everybody to be happy too.”

  In the hotel room, Mike raised the window and turned on the ceiling fan. He sat down on the bed, pulled Letty into his arms, and settled her on his lap. He lifted her arms to encircle his neck and cuddled her against him.

  “Tell me what brought on that crying spell? Has it been a long night?”

  “The longest of my life. I’ve been thinking about that day, that Sunday after church when Cora told Papa I’d missed two months of having my monthly and . . . and I had a bastard growing in my belly.”

  “Damn her to hell,” Mike gritted.

  “That’s what Papa said. He said, ‘Damn you to hell and damn your bastard.’ ” Letty burrowed deeper into Mike’s arms. “I knew my baby wasn’t a bastard. He was conceived in love.”

  “Yes, he was, sweetheart. Oh, God, what a fool I was to leave you to face that alone.”

  “No. You had no way of knowing. You were doing what you thought was—” She leaned back to look at him and forgot what she was saying. A cut on his cheekbone was filled with dried blood. “Oh! Oh!” Now she saw that his shirt was torn and bloody. Her fingers moved around to his cheek.

  “A little scuffle is all,” he said before she could question.

  “Mike Dolan, don’t treat me like a child. You had to fight, didn’t you?”

  She jumped off his lap, went to the lavatory for a wet cloth, and returned to stand between his spread legs and dab at his face. He held her buttocks in his hands.

  “Just a good handful,” he murmured.

  “Don’t change the subject. It was more than a scuffle. Your new shirt is torn, but I can fix it. I’ll have to soak it in cold water to get out the bloodstain. Start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened. Roberta wouldn’t let me go to the front. She thought we should get the car started.”

  “She was right. Get into bed.” He gently moved her aside and stood. “I’ll wash the blood off my knuckles. Two or three of Cora’s followers are nursing broken noses tonight.” He grinned. “I’m glad I went with Doc. He may know doctoring, but he knows nothing about fighting. That’s my specialty. I’ve not been in such a good brawl since the days I worked in the coal mines. Those Pennsylvania miners really know how to fight.”