by Doug Worgul
“Well, that Angela of yours is a smart woman,” said Delbert. “I believe she’s right in what she said. You should be thinking of what lies ahead. You’re going to have a good long life, boy. Someday all this sadness and shame will fade. Unless you’re determined that it won’t. Unless, for some reason, you’d rather hang on to it. And as far as your father-in-law is concerned, Angela’s right about that, too. And that starts with forgiveness. And that’s never easy. Sometimes it’s the hardest thing a person will ever do. But it’s also the best thing a person will ever do. By the sounds of it, ol’ Rev. Clarence has some forgivin’ to do. And so do you. You have to start by forgiving yourself. Then you best be forgiving Mr. Charlie Finley. Then Rev. Clarence.
Delbert smiled. “Have I left anyone out?”
LaVerne shrugged. “Maybe Clyde. My old cellmate. He used to embarrass the hell out of me.”
Delbert nodded. “You know, son, I never been up to Kansas City. But I always wanted to. They say they got good barbecue up there. Maybe I should go see if what they say is true. Maybe ol’ Hartholz will want to come along. They say they got some good jazz there, too.”
LaVerne shook his head. “Go if you want to, Uncle. But Rev. Newton is a proud man. Proud and hard. He’s not likely to listen if you’re going up there to change his mind about me.”
Delbert looked LaVerne in the eye. “Is a he good man, son?”
“Yes,” said LaVerne. “He’s a very good man.”
“Then he already wants to forgive you. He just needs help.”
Visiting time was over and Delbert got up to leave. LaVerne stood, too.
“One more thing, Uncle Delbert. There’s not much jazz in Kansas City these days. These days it’s mostly blues.”
Delbert smiled. “That’s even better.”
*
Hartholz was delighted when Delbert asked if he’d like to take a train trip up to Kansas City.
“They have good jazz music I have heard,” he said. “Count Basie.”
“These days it’s mostly blues,” said Delbert, with authority.
“And barbecue,” Hartholz continued.
“So they say,” Delbert nodded. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Delbert had called Angela to arrange the visit, which they agreed would be positioned as merely a social visit attached to a business trip having to do with the butcher shop.
“Daddy knows you’re coming, Uncle Delbert,” Angela said. “But he’s not thrilled. As far as he’s concerned, everyone in LaVerne’s family is guilty by association. He won’t exactly be rude, but don’t expect him to welcome you with open arms.”
“I understand, dear,” he said. “We’ll be staying at the YMCA. Downtown. We’ll see you at church on Sunday.”
*
Hartholz declined the offer to attend church with Delbert at the New Jerusalem Baptist Church.
“I will go for a walk, I think. It has been a long time since I have been in a big city.”
Delbert was secretly relieved. He had worried that the presence of a cranky German butcher at a colored worship service would be a distraction to him and everyone else.
Delbert sat with Angela and Raymond in the front pew on the left side of the sanctuary. He noticed how attentive the child was to the sound of Rev. Newton’s voice. On the other side of Angela, on the center aisle, was Mrs. Alberta Newton. She wore a sky blue dress with a matching wide-brimmed hat that featured white satin ribbon and white feathers, some of which were quite long.
The congregation of New Jerusalem Baptist Church was at least ten times larger than that of Plum Grove Second Baptist Church, and Delbert enjoyed the quality and volume of the music performed by the choir, the organist, and pianist. He had also enjoyed watching the white-gloved parking ushers direct traffic in the church parking lot. They wore identical suits and ties and conducted themselves with the seriousness and precision of a military honor guard. There was no parking lot at Plum Grove Second Baptist Church.
Rev. Newton had chosen for his text the Gospel of Mark chapter 9, verses 17-29, which he read with the flourish of a classical Shakespearian actor.
“‘Master, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit; And wheresoever he taketh him, he teareth him: and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth, and pineth away: and I spake to thy disciples that they should cast him out; and they could not.’ He answereth him, and saith, ‘O faithless generation, how long shall I be with you? How long shall I suffer you? Bring him unto me.’ And they brought him unto him: and when he saw him, straightway the spirit tare him; and he fell on the ground, and wallowed foaming. And he asked his father, ‘How long is it ago since this came unto him?’ And he said, ‘Of a child. And ofttimes it hath cast him into the fire, and into the waters, to destroy him: but if thou canst do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us.’ Jesus said unto him, ‘If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.’”
Here, Rev. Newton paused for dramatic effect. He leaned forward across the pulpit, toward the congregation. He enunciated each word as if it alone carried the meaning of the entire sentence.
“And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, ‘Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.’”
Delbert knew how the father in the story felt. He had prayed prayers a lot like his. Rose was always certain that God was with her and would help her. Delbert was never quite so sure.
*
After church, at the front door, Angela introduced Delbert to her father. Rev. Newton tried to smile, but the result looked like he’d just gotten a whiff of cheese gone bad.
“Welcome, Mr. Merisier,” he said. “Welcome to our church and to our city. Have you ever been to Kansas City before?”
Delbert shook his head. “No, Reverend, I haven’t. But I like what I’ve seen so far. Plus, I’m a barbecue man, and I hear you folks up here make pretty good barbecue. I’m looking forward to trying some.”
Rev. Newton nodded. “Well, sir, you will not have to look long or far for good barbecue in this town.”
Angela looked at her father hard, which he noted but decided to ignore.
“Mr. Merisier, we would love to invite you to dinner, but unfortunately Mrs. Newton and I must visit the wife of the chairman of our board of deacons. She is in the hospital with a serious case of phlebitis. I am sure you understand.”
Rev. Newton returned Angela’s glare. Delbert smiled.
“Of course, Reverend. I understand. Maybe next time I’m in Kansas City. Maybe then we can have a cup of coffee, like family, and we can chat a little bit about that part of your sermon where you talked about neglecting people in prison.”
He turned and walked down the church steps. Angela followed.
*
Angela did not attend evening services at New Jerusalem Baptist Church that night, which alarmed her mother, but not Rev. Newton. He expected that his daughter would be angry with him.
Angela was waiting at her parents’ house for them when they returned home from church. Raymond was asleep on Rev. and Mrs. Newton’s bed.
“Why, Angela,” her mother said, “I’m so glad to see you. I was worried when you weren’t at the service.”
Angela looked past her mother and spoke to her father.
“I’m ashamed to be your daughter,” she said in a low, even voice. “I can understand your being angry at LaVerne. What he did was stupid and dangerous. But the way you treated his uncle Delbert this morning was shameful. It was rude, humiliating, and un-Christian. When LaVerne and I married—a marriage you performed, in case you forget—that kind old gentleman became a part of our family. And he is a gentleman. Unlike you. You’re a pompous hypocrite. You’re an asshole.”
Alberta Newton gasped. “Angela! Don’t you dare talk to your father that way!”
Angela cast a look of contempt
at her mother. “You’re just as bad.”
Rev. Newton raised his hand, his face twisted in hurt and rage. Angela moved toward him—her face inches from her father’s nose.
“Go ahead, Daddy. Hit me,” she hissed. “You can’t hurt me worse than you already have. But I’m telling you this—if you ever want to see me or Raymond again, you find a way to make things right with LaVerne. And you can start with his uncle Delbert. If not, fine. I’ll be moving to Plum Grove, Texas to be with my family.”
*
Next morning, Delbert and Hartholz walked up to the City Market in downtown Kansas City’s north end for breakfast and a newspaper. When they returned to the Y, there was a message at the front desk for Delbert. It was from Rev. Newton, asking Delbert to call him. Delbert used the phone at the front desk.
“Mr. Merisier, I think it would be good for you and me to meet and talk,” said Rev. Newton. “You said you are a barbecue man. Perhaps we could have lunch. Today. Before you leave town. One of our members has a little joint. I think you would like it. Some of the best barbecue anywhere. May I come by and pick you up at, say, 11:30?”
Delbert said that’d be fine, then went back up to his room, lay down on the bed and took a forty-minute nap. Hartholz finished reading the newspaper.
*
Nailed to the side of Betty Lester’s white clapboard house, which was tucked in below a highway overpass in the Quindaro district of Kansas City, Kansas, was a hand-painted plywood sign that advertised Mrs. Betty’s Bar-B-Q Kitchen “Pork barbicue the old South way.”
As they waited for their barbecue, coleslaw, potato chips, and red pop, Delbert and Rev. Newton sat in silence for longer than either man felt comfortable with.
At one point Rev. Newton started to say something about the Royals, who had just finished their first season, but he decided against it. It would have led the discussion in the direction of LaVerne, and he wasn’t quite ready for that.
“Do you follow football at all, Mr. Merisier? Our Kansas City Chiefs are a force to be reckoned with.”
Delbert nodded and smiled. “Oh, yes. I like the Chiefs. Of course, we still think of them as the Texans.”
Rev. Newton hadn’t remembered that the Chiefs had moved to Kansas City from Dallas where they had played as the Texans, and he didn’t like it that Delbert had. It felt to him that Delbert had somehow gained the upper hand in the conversation. He frowned deeply and changed the subject.
“Mrs. Betty Lester has been making barbecue right here in her house for thirty years. Ever since her husband died. Apparently, he was a leader at the church. That was quite a bit before my time. There’s a stained glass window in his honor. Betty is at least 85, 86, years old. She’s not really sure herself how old she is. But she is in good health and her mind is sharp. Her father was an escaped slave from North Carolina and her mother was a Wyandot Indian. She has a daughter and a son. Her daughter lives in Omaha. Her son is a mechanic for Braniff Airlines and was just transferred to Hawaii. His wife—Betty’s daughter-in-law—is who kept the place running. I’m a worried that Betty’s going to have a hard time now that she’s gone.”
Betty Lester herself brought their lunch order to the table. She was barely five feet tall and shy of ninety pounds. Her thinning hair was snow white and her skin was as crinkly as a wadded up brown paper bag. She rested her hand on Rev. Newton’s shoulder and smiled at Delbert.
“I see you brought a guest today, Pastor.”
Clarence Newton grimaced. “Sister Betty, let me introduce you to Mr. Delbert Merisier of Plum Grove, Texas. Mr. Merisier is here in Kansas City on business.”
Betty waited, as if expecting for further information. Delbert obliged.
“I’m so pleased to meet you Mrs. Lester. The pastor’s daughter, Angela, is married to my nephew, LaVerne.”
Delbert stared across the table at Rev. Newton who avoided eye contact.
“Yes, that’s right, Sister Betty. LaVerne always said that his uncle here was like a father to him growing up.”
Betty smiled at Delbert. “Well, LaVerne has himself a fine and handsome uncle. Yes he does.”
She left them alone with their barbecue. The men welcomed the excuse not to talk. They picked up their sandwiches and began eating.
When he had finished his pulled pork—Carolina-style, topped with coleslaw—Delbert sat back in his chair and smiled.
“Rev. Newton, this is real good smoked meat. Texans rarely smoke a pig. In Louisiana, where my people originally come from, they’re fond of pork, but I myself have never before tried barbecue pork ‘the old South way’ until today. I’m glad I did.”
Rev. Newton wiped his mouth with his napkin. “So, Mr. Merisier, what business brought you to Kansas City? Were you able to get done all that you came to do?”
Delbert frowned. “Not yet. But I’m hopeful.”
When they finished their lunch, Rev. Newton waved Betty over to the table.
“Sister Betty, do I remember correctly that you used to keep something in the pantry a little stronger than red pop?”
Betty nodded and smiled. “Yes, Pastor, you remember.”
She went into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of Old Grand-Dad and two glasses, which she put on the table. She winked at Delbert and returned to her work.
Rev. Newton poured whiskey into each glass.
“Let’s talk about LaVerne,” he said.
Delbert sipped his whiskey. “One of my favorite topics.”
Rev. Newton snorted and took a long draw on his drink.
Delbert smiled. “I take it he’s not one of yours.”
“Not lately,” said Rev. Newton.
Delbert shrugged. “He made a big mistake. There’s no doubt about that. Nobody would blame a father-in-law for being mighty angry if his daughter’s husband did something as foolish as that.”
“I’m glad you understand,” said Rev. Newton.
Delbert nodded. “Oh, I do.”
They were silent.
“Mr. Merisier, are you familiar with the Apostle Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians?” asked Rev. Newton. “Specifically chapter six, verse fourteen? It advises Christians to ‘be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers. For what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? And what communion hath light with darkness?’ That’s the situation here, Mr. Merisier. Angela and LaVerne are unequally yoked. They were from the start. This latest disaster just proves it.”
The muscles in Delbert’s jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed.
“Sir, do I understand you to be using the words ‘unbeliever,’ ‘unrighteous,’ and ‘darkness’ to describe my nephew? Your son-in-law?”
Rev. Newton flinched.
“That’s not what I meant by using that passage. Not at all. What I meant is that Angela and LaVerne come from two different worlds. Angela has a strong family. She has an education. She’s working on her master’s degree. She’s studying library science. She and LaVerne are not well matched. It was a mistake right from the start.”
Delbert leaned forward.
“And yet you blessed their marriage. As God’s minister. With the power God gave you as a minister, you blessed it. And you blessed it as Angela’s father. And you asked them to say the words ‘for better or worse’.”
He drank from his whiskey.
“So I guess when young people marry each other they’re supposed to promise ‘for better or worse’ to each other, even though they’re young and probably will do stupid things. Things they’ll be sorry for. But we don’t promise ‘for better or worse’ to them. The grown-ups in their lives, the ones who are supposed to be looking out for them. For us it’s not ‘for better or worse’. It’s just for better. If they mess up, we just cut them loose.”
He shook his head in disgust.
“You misunderstand me, sir,” protested Rev
. Newton. “I’m not condemning the boy. I’m just saying he and Angela need to be with people like themselves. They’ll be happier in the long run if they’re not burdened with a spouse that comes from a different background.”
Delbert laughed. “Reverend, I get the feeling that you’re trying to make things better. But you’re only digging yourself deeper in a hole.”
Rev. Newton wiped his forehead with a napkin. He downed the remaining whiskey in his glass. He leaned toward Delbert, pounding the table with both fists.
“What that boy did was wrong. It ruined his future. And my daughter’s and grandson’s. Now he’s a convicted felon. That’ll never go away. That mark will be on him forever.”
Rev. Newton crossed his arms over his chest and shoved his chair back from the table. Delbert watched Betty wiping the counter. They didn’t speak, or look at one another. Betty, who’d been monitoring the situation, came to refill their glasses. Delbert cleared his throat.
“It might surprise you to know that LaVerne grew up in a loving Christian home, with family that loves the Lord. There’s nobody in this world who loves Jesus more than LaVerne’s grandmother, my sister Rose. She studies her Bible everyday. And she prays. She prays so hard that I worry sometimes her heart is going to break from it. But it only seems to make her stronger.
“LaVerne’s natural mother was no good, I admit. That’s one way that LaVerne and Angela are different. Mrs. Newton is a good mother. I can see that. But Rose more than made up for her daughter’s shortcomings. She gave LaVerne every kind of love a mother would have given him and more. And she worked double shifts at the rice mill to provide for him.
“I always did what I could to help. And I love the boy, too. Like a son. And Rose and me always taught the boy that if he trusts in the Lord things will work out.”
Rev. Newton’s face relaxed a bit. He frowned, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t get the words out. Delbert pushed on.
“Before me and Hartholz got on the bus to come up here for this visit, Rose and me talked about LaVerne and Angela and your family. Rose told me to remind you to read the seventeenth chapter of Luke where the Lord talks about forgiving people even if they sin against you seven times a day.
