Tides of Truth [02] Higher Hope

by Robert Whitlow

  Daddy took a sip of coffee. “We’ve placed your future in God’s hands. His grace is sufficient. I think you’re the greatest daughter in the world.”

  I was still confused, but Daddy was so sweet. I wished I could meet a man just like him.

  Mama leaned forward and smiled. “And put last night behind you. I don’t condone sin, but I was young once, and the fire in you isn’t much different from the one that burned in me.”

  Daddy put his arm around Mama’s shoulders. “You know, your mama could have been a lawyer.”

  “A better one than I’ll ever be.”

  “No,” she replied sharply. “You’re the sum of our parts, and a jewel in the Lord’s crown. You stand on our shoulders through your influence in the places God sends you. We believe there are great things ahead for you.”

  “That’s right.” Daddy kissed Mama on the cheek. “Very great things.”

  UPSTAIRS, I WENT through the steps of getting ready for church with-out conscious awareness of my actions. Even though my actual future was cloudy, my parents’ permission to court Zach Mays transported me to a place of fantasy. By the time I finished rubbing my head with a towel after a long shower, my mind had raced through the possibilities of long walks on the beach in the moonlight, a beautiful house in Savannah, and cute, chubby babies who always smiled and never cried.

  When I opened the door, Emma was waiting outside.

  “You take longer than you used to,” she said. “I’ve been standing here for at least five minutes.”

  “You could have used that time to pray,” I replied, putting my hands together in front of me.

  “I did. That you would hurry up. Ellie and I have to do our hair, too.”

  Fixing our hair on Sunday was different. Mama always kept her long hair in a bun, but younger, unmarried women and girls only had to pin up their hair on Sundays. It wasn’t necessary to wind it as tight as a tennis ball, and I usually caught mine up loosely with a few wisps hanging out the back. I selected a light blue skirt and white blouse that Mama had ironed and hung in the closet while I’d been away for the summer. Some people said our clothes looked like the 1950s; others believed the 1940s were our era. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that my clothes didn’t go out of style because they’d never been in style in the first place.

  I took my Bible downstairs. Kyle and Bobby were in the kitchen eating cereal. They were wearing dark pants, white shirts, and dark ties.

  “Have you seen Zach?” I asked.

  “He’s on the front porch in jeans and a T-shirt,” Bobby said. “Didn’t you tell him to bring church clothes?”

  “He’s not going.”

  “Why not?” both boys asked at once.

  Wondering why it usually fell to me to do all the explaining, I went through a brief version of the previous night’s conversation. When I finished, Kyle turned to Bobby.

  “Do you know what this means for us?”

  “Yeah, we don’t have to pick a girl from the church,” Bobby replied.

  “You’re in good shape,” I said to Bobby. “There’s Marie, Sarah, Nancy Kate, and Sylvia.”

  “Sylvia? Are you kidding?”

  “Sylvia Bremen is a wonderful person. She helped me last year in vacation Bible school. She’s great with children.”

  “Have you ever heard her sing?” Bobby replied. “She sounds like a dying cat stuck in a tree.”

  I’d found something else for Sylvia to do during music time with the kids.

  “But you shouldn’t make fun of her,” I said, trying to keep from laughing.

  “And I don’t have to court her either.”

  Kyle put down his spoon. “Tammy Lynn, I like Zach, but I’m not sure he’ll ever fit in with our family.”

  I LEFT THE KITCHEN. Zach was sitting in the porch swing with a cup of coffee in his hand. I rested my hand against one of the porch posts.

  “Mama and Daddy talked to me this morning,” I said with what I hoped wasn’t a silly smile on my face. “They’ve given permission for us to court.”

  Zach stopped rocking the swing. “Really?”

  “Yes, what do you think?”

  Zach rocked the swing once more before answering.

  “That God answers prayer and works miracles.”

  The porch swing rocked back and forth several times.

  “What are you thinking?” Zach asked.

  “That what you just said was one of the nicest things anyone has ever told me. It’s hard to believe.”

  “Tammy Lynn!” Mama called out. “Come here, please.”

  “Don’t go away,” I said hurriedly.

  “That won’t happen until we leave for Savannah.”

  “I know, but—” I stopped, not sure what to say. “I’ll be right back.”

  I rushed inside. Mama was in the hallway near the sewing room.

  “Sister Belmont called. She has the gout and wondered if you could teach her Sunday school class.”

  “What age?”

  “Fourth and fifth grades.”

  “Sure,” I said, turning back toward the porch.

  “Hold on,” Mama said, holding out a sheet of paper. “I took notes about her lesson for the day. The twins aren’t in that class any-more and won’t be there to help you.”

  I grabbed the sheet and quickly read it. The class was studying the miracles of Jesus.

  “This will be easy,” I said.

  “If you spend time seeking the Lord’s blessing,” Mama answered firmly. “Zach will be here when we get home, and you have a long ride to Savannah later this afternoon.”

  I glanced at the front door with longing.

  “Yes, ma’am. May I tell him?”

  “I’ll wait here.”

  I opened the screen door and told Zach about my responsibilities for the morning.

  “Maybe you could tell them about our miracle,” he said.

  I felt my face flush. Trying to look normal, I walked quickly past Mama on my way upstairs. The twins were in the bedroom getting ready. I grabbed a chair and took it to the end of the hallway where I positioned it in front of the window the girls had used to spy on Zach and me. I could see the tree where Zach placed his hand beneath my chin and whispered that he wanted to encourage me. I melted in the memory.

  “What are you doing?” Ellie asked, sneaking up on me.

  I grabbed the paper with the lesson outline on it and flipped open my Bible.

  “Getting ready to teach Sister Belmont’s class. She’s not feeling well.”

  “We need to leave in a few minutes.”

  “It won’t take long to study these verses.”

  I made my eyes focus on the red and black letters on the page. Jesus’ first miracle in the Gospel of John involved turning water into wine. It was a tricky subject, but it connected to a wedding, the celebration of the love of a man for a woman. That part sounded good.

  “Please, come with us,” Ellie pleaded with Zach as we left the house. “We can tell people you’ve taken a vow like Samson not to cut your hair.”

  “Which wouldn’t be true. I’m not a Nazirite.”

  I didn’t look back as we crossed the yard, but when I heard the screen door slam shut, I glanced over my shoulder. Zach had gone inside. The conversation in the van during the ten-minute drive to the church didn’t penetrate my consciousness. My mind stayed home with Zach. It was strange thinking about him alone in our house. The notion of being there with him sent shivers down my spine as I followed him through the empty rooms. I opened my lesson outline and quickly read it again.

  Sister Belmont’s class was filled with faces of children I’d known since they were babies. Not many newcomers joined our church—the demands of holiness raised the cost of discipleship beyond most people’s spiritual budget. But the staying power of families like ours was strong. Annual revival meetings attracted a few new converts; however, there was concern in the congregation why the holy fire of the past now did little more than smolder. Daddy said Pastor
Vick and the elders spent a lot of time praying for a return of the Lord’s favor.

  The Sunday school class was much like one I’d attended at their age. The children treated teachers, even a substitute like me, with respect. They quickly mastered the memory verse for the morning and by the end of the class could list in order the first eight miracles of Jesus recorded in John. No one asked why Jesus turned water into wine. When the bell rang at the end of the class, several of the girls politely thanked me for teaching them. I erased the chalkboard and joined my family in the sanctuary.

  We were surrounded by more familiar faces. The large sanctuary could seat many more people than currently came. I’d been told that during the rising tide of our movement, the sounds of singing and shouting echoed off the brick walls of a crowded sanctuary with such vibrancy that it seemed heaven’s chorus had joined those on earth. As we settled in for the start of the service, there was a buzz toward the rear of the room. I turned and saw a crowd of people gathered around someone who had entered. I couldn’t tell who it was. Mama, who was sitting between Daddy and me, leaned close to Daddy, then turned to me.

  “Praise the Lord,” she said. “It’s Oscar Callahan.”

  I alone knew why he’d come.

  The small crowd reached our pew. Mr. Callahan glanced in my direction and waved. Mrs. Callahan wasn’t with him. The old lawyer continued to the front of the sanctuary. The ushers placed him in a seat of honor. Pastor Vick came down from the platform to person-ally greet him.

  As the service began, I positioned myself so I could watch Mr. Callahan. He was able to stand during the long period of singing. The Lord’s gift of new strength hadn’t dissipated. After the offering, Pastor Vick approached the pulpit.

  “Brother Callahan, would you like to say a few words to the congregation?”

  Mr. Callahan walked with steady strides onto the platform. He was wearing a dark suit. From a distance, he looked more like the old photograph of his father on the wall of his office than ever before. He faced the congregation. His eyes moved across the crowd until they met mine. There was no mistaking his questioning look. He was asking my permission. I felt my face flush.

  I panicked. I could sense Mama eyeing me. I nodded my head, then wished I hadn’t. It was too late. Mr. Callahan spoke.

  “Thank you, Pastor. I’ll be brief. Yesterday Tammy Lynn Taylor and a young lawyer friend of hers from Savannah named Zach Mays came by the house to pick up a couple of steers. While sitting in my kitchen, Zach asked the Lord to touch me, and he did.” Mr. Callahan raised his right hand in the air. “I’m a lawyer who gets other people to testify. But today I want to testify that Jesus Christ is the healer of my body and the restorer of my soul. Praise his name!”

  He left the platform and returned to his seat. The congregation applauded. Two people shouted. My whole body felt flushed. I stared straight ahead, aware that many eyes in the congregation had turned to look at me. I didn’t take a full breath until Pastor Vick approached the pulpit and opened his Bible. The rest of the service was a blur. Emma managed to slip me a note when Mama wasn’t looking.

  What happened? Zach?

  I shook my head but knew the question would be repeated many times before I escaped the church property. At the end of the service, Pastor Vick invited anyone who needed to repent to come to the front of the sanctuary and pray. I needed to go but didn’t want to attract even more attention. I bowed my head and closed my eyes until Mama touched me on the shoulder.

  “Do you want to go to the front?” she whispered.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Zach told me not to say anything,” I replied.

  “You didn’t.”

  “But I gave Mr. Callahan permission. I could see the question in his eyes and nodded my head.”

  “He gave glory to God,” Mama answered. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  I didn’t answer. Something inside told me Zach Mays might not agree.

  11

  I STAYED CLOSE TO MAMA AS I NAVIGATED THE GAUNTLET OF people asking questions at the end of the meeting. Mr. Callahan was surrounded by a larger group and our paths didn’t cross. Everyone wanted to know about Zach.

  “Is he an evangelist?”

  “Does he have a healing ministry?”

  “Where does he go to church?”

  And from several women, “Are you courting him?”

  I avoided answering by shrugging noncommittally. As to courting, several women would not be put off. Mama came to my rescue.

  “Yes, we’ve given permission for Tammy Lynn to court Zach. He’s a fine young man.”

  That led to the inevitable follow-up question.

  “Where is he this morning?”

  “I’m sure you’ll get to meet him if they continue to spend time together,” she responded.

  We reached the van. My customary place was on the rear seat between the twins. I let out a sigh of relief when the doors closed.

  “What did you do at Oscar Callahan’s place?” Daddy asked after he started the motor.

  “You need to ask Zach. He told me not to talk about it.”

  “Why not?” Emma asked. “We’ve been praying for Mr. Callahan in Sunday school ever since he had his heart attack. I think it’s a miracle. Ellie talked about holding Zach’s hand when we have the blessing, but I think it’s a lot more important that he has a healing gift.”

  “I’ll put my hand on you,” Ellie said, reaching across me to grab Emma.

  I firmly returned Ellie’s hand to her side of the seat.

  “Let Tammy Lynn talk to him first,” Mama said. “Don’t run into the house and repeat what Mr. Callahan said in the meeting. Zach has his reasons, and I think we should respect that.”

  “Jesus tried to keep some of his miracles secret,” I said. “We studied examples of that in Mrs. Belmont’s class this morning.”

  “But everyone talked about it anyway,” Ellie said.

  She was right. I glanced out the window and watched the trees alongside the road flash by. Daddy turned into the driveway and parked in front of the house. There was no sign of Zach on the front porch.

  “Where is Zach’s car?” Bobby asked.

  I hadn’t noticed that it was gone.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He didn’t mention going anywhere while we were gone.”

  “I hope he didn’t go shopping,” Emma said.

  We didn’t buy or sell on Sunday. America had abandoned Sunday closing laws but not our corner of Powell Station. None of the members of the church who owned businesses operated them on Sundays.

  The only exceptions to a strict day of rest were plumbers, doctors, and nurses. No doctors belonged to the church, but there were several nurses who worked at the local hospital. They tried to avoid Sunday shifts, but sometimes it wasn’t possible. Plumbers answered emergency calls.

  “We didn’t talk about it,” I said. “Maybe he went sightseeing.”

  “Sightseeing?” Bobby asked. “You can’t make it to Rock City and back in a couple of hours.”

  Inside the house I looked for a note but didn’t find one. I changed into casual clothes. I’d packed my suitcases before going to sleep on Saturday. Keeping the Sabbath required preplanning.

  After an awkward wait of fifteen minutes, we began lunch with-out Zach. Halfway through the meal, I heard the dogs barking. I left the table and ran to the front door. Zach was getting out of his car with a couple of plastic bags in his hands. I met him on the porch.

  “Hey,” he said. “How was church? Am I late for lunch?”

  “Fine, and yes,” I answered. It wasn’t the right time to bring up Oscar Callahan. “Where did you go?”

  Zach held up the bags with the store’s name clearly printed on them.

  “I’d forgotten my manners and didn’t bring a gift for your parents,” he said. “And while I was going down the aisles, I saw something for the twins.” He came closer and whispered, “I hope your mother likes
expensive chocolates.”

  I stepped back in surprise. “Did you really buy her a box of chocolates?”

  “No.” He held up one of the bags. “I thought she could use some new dish towels. The ones in the kitchen looked past their prime, and these seemed pretty.”

  He pulled out a set of towels that perfectly matched our kitchen. On any other day, Mama would have appreciated such a practical gift.

  “They’re great, but, Zach, we don’t shop on Sunday.”

  His smile evaporated. “I should have figured.”

  “No, I should have told you. I’ll explain that it was my fault.”

  “Don’t do that. Should I take everything back to the car?”

  I shook my head. “Avoidance is my usual way of dodging problems, but it won’t work on this one. And after what happened at church, I think they won’t be too critical of you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I took a deep breath and told him about Oscar Callahan. Zach remained silent. His face didn’t reveal his thoughts. I finished by describing the scene at the end of the meeting.

  “Afterward the whole church was praising God for the healing and that Mr. Callahan was there for the first time in years. It would have come out eventually. I hope you’re not mad.”

  “Mad? The whole situation was out of my control when we left Mr. Callahan’s house.” He stopped. “And maybe it never was mine to control in the first place. Let’s go inside.”

  I followed him into the kitchen.

  “Sorry I’m late for lunch,” he said with a smile that looked forced on his face.

  Everyone stared at the bags in his hands. Zach pulled out the kitchen towels and handed them to Mama.

  “These are for you, Mrs. Taylor. I know you don’t shop on Sunday, but you can use these any day of the week you like.” He handed two bags to me. “This one is for Emma; the other is for Ellie.”

  I gave them to the girls. Each pulled out a beautiful sweater.

  Emma’s was a pale yellow and Ellie’s a light blue.

  “It’s still hot outside, but the fall clothes are on the racks,” Zach said.

  Emma checked the tag. “How did you know the right size?”