by Joyce Magnin
“Uh-huh. Is she okay?”
“Yes. Yes, sir, as far as I know your mama’s just fine. Leastways she looked fine when she took off with Pearl and Snake on that motorcycle. She was wearing a helmet and all.”
Henry swallowed. “Motorcycle? My mother does not know how to drive a motorcycle. Wait a minute — did you say Snake?”
“Yes sir, Snake — he’s a nice fella, and, well, now she wasn’t exactly driving it. She was riding in Snake’s sidecar.”
“Snake’s sidecar? What in the heck are you talking about? What is Snake’s sidecar? Some kind of traveling show?”
“No, no, Snake … now, that ain’t his real name.”
“Really?”
“No, his name is Louis DuPree. He’s a preacher fella, has a little church just outside of Slaughters. Nicest guy you’d ever — but he does like to ride his Harley.”
Henry felt a little better until Officer Valquez continued talking.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Dupree and his wife, Pearl, they got quite a following in these parts, especially when they do all the rattlesnake handling during their services, woo hee, but it’s quite a show. That’s why they call him Snake. If it don’t make a believer out of you, nothin’ will.”
“Oh, good grief, my mother is traveling with a band of snake handlers.”
“Kind of, but I thought you’d want to know. They’ll take good care of her.”
“Yes, of course. Did they say where they were headed?”
“I believe it’s Collinsville, Illinois, or nearby there anyway. About a four-hour drive from here. They’ll be there a little after suppertime I imagine, even if they stop for a bite. But you never know with the DuPrees. They can get sidetracked.”
“Thank you,” Henry said. And he closed the phone.
“I don’t believe this, Humphrey. Your mother is gallivanting across Kentucky on a motorcycle with a snake-handling minister. Maybe I should have stayed in Dad’s business. Least then she’d be safe at home.”
Humphrey lay at Henry’s feet. He rolled onto his side, giving Henry an invitation to scratch.
“She’s gonna be okay,” Henry said, trying to convince himself also. Henry took a breath. “But what if something happens? What if she falls out of that thing? You know she used to fall off the merry-go-round at Playtown Park.”
By the time Snake, Harriet, and Pearl pulled onto the main highway, Route 64 headed toward Saint Louis, according to the sign she saw, Harriet had already decided that this would be the last time she rode in a sidecar. Her tote bag took up most of her feet space. She felt a bit dizzy as they whizzed past trees and houses. She also had a little trouble keeping her furs on. The wind was stronger than she thought it would be. And watching the telephone poles go past one … after … the … other — the wires somehow following the terrain of the road with all its ups and downs — made her stomach churn. She thought this was all very strange considering she was not one prone to carsickness.
Pearl rode next to her at some points but hung behind Snake for most of the time. Harriet’s sidecar had a little sideview mirror, and she could see the other motorcyclists following closely. Her knees started to ache on account of being kind of bunched up toward her chest. And to top it off, she had to use the ladies room. Unlike the local bus, where she could get off at the next stop and find a restaurant, or the train, where she could use the train toilet, she wasn’t even sure if she could get Snake’s attention to ask him to please pull into a rest stop.
She liked Snake and couldn’t help but wonder why he had such a dreadful name. She liked Pearl’s name well enough. It made her think of the ocean. Now there was a positive about moving to California. She’d be near the ocean — or would she? That was when it occurred to her that she really had no idea where exactly Grass Valley was in relation to … to anything.
Soon enough Snake pulled off the main road and stopped at a red light. He leaned over toward Harriet. “Figure we can use a pit stop,” he said very loudly. “We’re about halfway to Collinsville.”
Harriet smiled and nodded even though she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what he said. She looked in her mirror just to make sure Pearl was still there, but unfortunately one of her foxtails flew across her face, nearly whipped her glasses off and momentarily blinded her.
She regained her composure in time to see the light change, and Snake sped off until they reached a little diner that flashed the name RED’s in bright blue, which made Harriet wonder for a second. But no matter, she was just glad to get to a bathroom. And from the looks of Pearl, she was happy too.
Red’s was nice. It was cozy, not very big, with a line of booths on one side and a counter on the next. Signs hung above the kitchen window with the diner’s not-so-expansive menu.
“Excuse me,” Harriet said, “but I need —”
“Right over there,” Snake said, pointing toward a sign shaped like a finger pointing to the left with the words LADIES and GENTS burned into it.
“Thank you,” Harriet said.
Snake smiled and headed toward a booth. The others took booths also. Harriet met up with Pearl in the bathroom.
“Snake ain’t his real name,” Pearl said. “He’s Pastor Louis DuPree.”
Harriet looked at Pearl in the mirror as she washed her hands. The rust stains had painted themselves in the resemblance of two hearts. “What? Snake is a pastor? You mean a bona fide pastor?”
“Sure ‘nuff. A good one too.”
“Then why does he call himself Snake of all things?”
“That will take a little explaining. But mostly it’s because the nickname puts folks at ease. Says he can nab folks by the heart quicker when they don’t know his true identity. He’s kind of like a superhero in that respect.”
Harriet and Pearl slid into the booth across from Snake.
“Now listen, Snake,” Harriet said. “I want this to be on me — for everyone. Even those guys. Whatever you want.”
Snake smiled, his eyes softening into two light blue gems. “Why thank you, Harriet. Much obliged.”
Harriet said all she wanted was toast and coffee.
“Oh, my, my, my,” Snake said. “Is that all you’re having? Red’s is famous for their meat loaf. Have more than pie. We still have a couple hours on the road.”
“Well, okay,” Harriet said, “but my stomach was feeling a little queasy.”
“Then you probably need to eat,” Pearl said. “I’ll have the meat loaf too.”
“That makes three,” Snake said.
Harriet laughed. “It must be good. I just hope it settles okay.”
“'Course it will,” Pearl said. “And besides, you need your strength, traveling all over the countryside by yourself.”
Snake and Pearl locked eyes for a second. It made Harriet just a trifle nervous given her encounter in Maggie Valley. It was the same kind of look shared by Pamela and Hank.
A waitress wearing a white dress and a red apron approached the table. “You all ready?”
“Meat loaf all around,” Snake said.
The waitress wrote on her order book. “Drinks?”
“Coffee, I do believe,” Snake said.
“And water,” Harriet added.
“Thank you, I’ll be right back with your drinks,” the waitress said after she scribbled their order.
“She’s not the usual waitress,” Pearl whispered. “Donna must be out today.” She turned toward the kitchen. “Don’t see her anywhere.”
“I hope she’s okay,” Snake said.
“Me too,” Pearl said. “She was looking a little pale when we were in before.”
“Let’s just eat and get back on the road. I need to be at the church by 7:30 tonight.”
“Church?” Harriet asked. “Is that where you’re headed? Church?”
“That’s right,” Snake said. “We have a meeting tonight.”
Harriet peered into his eyes. “Well, that brings me to a question. How come you’re called Snake — if you don’t mind my
asking? And why would any self-respecting church have a pastor named Snake?”
Snake laughed so hard he shot water out his nose. “That’s just my street name.”
“Ah, fiddlesticks,” Harriet said. “I’m getting duped again. Are you gonna do something, because just so you know, I bought a canister of mace in Maggie Valley, and I am NOT afraid to use it.” She lied.
Pearl grabbed Harriet’s hand. “No, no, it’s true. We have a church in Slaughters. The Apostolic Church of Moses in the Wilderness.”
“Really? Well, that’s just wonderful. I knew I had a feeling about you. So you all believe in Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit and getting saved and —”
“Yep,” Louis said. “We sure do. They call me Snake because I often preach while handling snakes.”
Harriet choked on her water. “What? I don’t get it. Like in a zoo show? You know when the snake people hold snakes while they teach about them?”
“No, no. Rattlers,” Pearl said. “Poisonous rattlers. They dance with them.”
Harriet gasped until an image of two snakes entwined in a waltz made her smile. “But … but why on earth would you do such a thing?”
“Mark 16,” Snake said. “ ‘They will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.’ ”
Harriet sat spellbound, so much so that when her meat loaf came she grew very quiet and had to ponder all of what she just heard. She knocked the tiny bits of onion floating around the gravy onto the side of her plate. Pearl attempted to lighten things up.
“We didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. “It’s not like he carries snakes in his saddlebags.”
“That’s good,” Harriet said. “I … I mean you folks can do what you want, but I am not holding a snake. I hate them.”
“And you should, darlin',” Snake said. “Snakes are the devil’s disguise.”
“That’s why we’re heading to Collinsville in Missouri,” Pearl said. “We’re attending a revival service.”
“Oh, okay,” Harriet said, still stirring her gravy. “Will there be snakes?”
Snake smiled. And then patted Harriet’s hand. “Yep.”
On the outside she was smiling and calm. But inside she experienced a little bit of trepidation and gas.
Chapter 23
HARRIET, SNAKE, AND PEARL PULLED INTO COLLINSVILLE, Illinois, just a little past 5:00 p.m. — just like they said. Although grateful to be out of the sidecar, she was going to miss Snake and Pearl. They stopped right out front of a small white clapboard church. The only way Harriet could tell it was a church was by the pointy steeple and the rundown sign out front that read: HAPPY TIMES GOSPEL PREACHING CHURCH.
“This is where the revival is?” Harriet said. “In that little bitty church?”
“It might be small in stature, but it’s mighty powerful and big in the Holy Spirit,” Snake said. “Want to join us?”
Harriet felt her eyebrows arch like a gothic cathedral. She had been intrigued by the snake-handling preacher, but to actually join a service … well she wasn’t too sure.
“Oh, I … I don’t know. I’ve never —”
“Come on,” Pearl said. “You’ll be blessed.”
Harriet nodded, and the next thing she knew she was sitting in a wooden folding chair inside. It was warm, with air as thick as wool. Dozens of people filed in as three men, including Snake, stood at the front. A large woman wearing a large brimmed hat banged on the piano as a man in a white shirt plucked a banjo. Harriet saw another woman, younger than most, shaking a tambourine as folks started singing without even being told which hymn. They stood and joined hands and sang and swayed back and forth. Some danced in circles with their heads thrust back like they were in a trance of some sort. Harriet could not understand how any of this had anything to do with Jesus even though folks were shouting his name and saying praises.
Harriet noticed a particularly fat woman near the front go out into the aisle. She tossed her head back and swirled around, uttering words Harriet couldn’t understand. She swayed and sang in the strange language until all of sudden, as though she had been shot from behind, she dropped to the floor. She was quickly ministered to by two men in white shirts and dark pants. They dabbed her forehead and helped her to her seat as she called, “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.”
Harriet swallowed and looked at Pearl who was singing and swaying with the others. Harriet couldn’t help but feel a touch nervous, but at the same time she felt a wash of peace, a peace that passed her understanding. She didn’t want to leave, but at the same time she didn’t know how to act. Her heart raced and then slowed as she closed her eyes and tried to move while what she could only believe was the Holy Spirit led.
But when Snake and the other two men reached into a box and pulled out rattlesnakes Harriet wanted to cry and run from that place. But she couldn’t. She watched as Snake raised the rattler above his head. “They shall pick up vipers,” he shouted. “And not be hurt.” He danced and shouted, danced in circles as the music swelled. Snake then took a second snake from the cardboard box and draped it around his neck. Harriet was beginning to feel a bit dizzy from the heat and the excitement. Then a young woman reached into the box. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen. She held the snake and kept saying, “Praise Jesus. Praise Jesus.” She danced also until she lowered the snake back into the box. She shouted something Harriet couldn’t make out, and then she started to writhe and jerk on the floor.
“Is she all right?” Harriet asked Pearl. “It looks like a fit of epilepsy.”
Pearl laughed as she continued clapping. “No, no, she’s fine. She’s been slain.”
“Slain? But —” Harriet didn’t know what to say except, “My little old Presbyterian heart can’t take this. I better leave.”
Pearl nodded. Harriet made her way into the aisle as Snake approached. He held both her hands and prayed in the midst of the seeming chaos, asking God to give her extreme traveling grace. At least that’s what Harriet thought he said. It was so loud.
Pearl walked out with Harriet where the air was cool and misty.
She sat on a small green bench on the church lawn and took a deep breath. What she really wanted to do was cry. What she just experienced was strange and overwhelming. “That was … was something.” Harriet didn’t know exactly what to say. “I never saw anything like it.” She fanned herself with a bus schedule she pulled from her tote.
Pearl patted her shoulder. “Guess we should have told you, but it’s a little tough to explain. We leave it up to the Holy Spirit.”
“No, no. I’m glad I went. But I hope you don’t mind if I don’t stay for the whole service.” She puffed and fanned. “And for right now I need to check with Amelia to figure out where to go next.”
“I would imagine,” Pearl said, “that the best thing would be to get to a big city like Saint Louis and go from there.”
“Yes, I am heading there but —”
“But it’s been a long day. Maybe you should spend the night in Collinsville and then catch the express into Saint Louis in the morning — and from there? Well, you’ll figure it out, but I’m thinking it might be a good idea to train right into Kansas City, Missouri, it’s right on the border. I know the Amtrak goes there, not sure about the locals.”
Harriet yawned as she looked around at the street. Other than music and the rattle of the tambourines drifting through the windows of the small church, Harriet figured no one really knew what was happening inside. Not that it was a bad thing — just different.
“That sounds like a plan. I need a rest. No offense but riding in a sidecar is not the most gentle ride. I think my rump felt every bump. I got knocked around like a teacup in a UPS truck. I’m looking forward to a comfortable bed.”
“Now, I’m sure that fancy phone of yours will help you find a hotel and then maybe a taxi to get you to a motel. Doubtful that the buses are still runni
ng,” Pearl said. “May God bless you and make his face shine upon you.”
Harriet pulled out her Moleskine and read David Prancing Elk’s Indian blessing aloud: “And may the warm winds of heaven blow softly upon your house. May the Great Spirit bless all who enter there. May your moccasins make happy tracks in many snows, and may the rainbow always touch your shoulder.”
“That was so sweet,” Pearl said.
“I learned it from a Cherokee Indian in North Carolina. I haven’t got it memorized yet.”
“God has his hand on you, Harriet,” Pearl said. “He didn’t set you on this journey without a purpose.”
And right at that moment Harriet felt a wave of peace and relief wash over her like a warm summer shower. It was like daisies had bloomed in her heart and she had a brand-new reason to keep going. For the first time since she started the whole thing, she knew beyond a doubt that someone out there, along the bus routes, needed her — or she needed them. Or at least that’s what she decided to believe.
Humphrey was not feeling well, not well at all, according to Henry. It had been a week and a half since he’d come to California, so it seemed natural that he would miss Harriet terribly. That afternoon, while Henry typed feverishly on his manuscript, Humphrey lay at his feet letting go an occasional whimper or whine.
“I know, old man,” Henry said, leaning back in his black office chair. “But she’s okay. She’ll get here. God is watching over her.” Then he leaned down and patted Humphrey’s head. “But do you really understand?”
Humphrey looked up, rolled onto his side, and let his tongue loll out.
“I think she’ll be here before the week is out.” Henry yawned and stretched and then went back to his work. But that only lasted a few seconds.
“Hey, whaddaya say we call her?”
Humphrey scrambled to his feet, danced a jig, and barked twice. Two loud, happy barks.
“Okay, okay.” Henry opened his phone and tapped Harriet’s picture. He waited. And waited, and then the phone went to voicemail. He sighed. “Mom, it’s me. I’m just calling to see how you’re doing and where you are. Call me back.”
