The Devil in Canaan Parish

by Jackie Shemwell

  “Coast is clear,” he winked at me, and then pulled me up on my feet.

  We were parked in front of a tiny wood framed house. It was painted a bright robin’s egg blue and had white columns holding up a front porch. Seated in a rocking chair was an old woman. She smiled up at us and waved.

  “Grandma!” shouted Gabriel, bounding towards the woman. He bent over and hugged her and then she grinned a toothless smile and patted his cheek.

  “Grandma, there’s someone I’d like for you to meet,” he gestured toward me. I walked to him, shyly, wondering what his grandmother would think of me. She held out two wrinkled and gnarled hands toward me, and I placed my hands in hers.

  “Grandma, this is Melee,” said Gabriel.

  She peered at me through narrowed eyes. I could see the cataracts in them and knew that she must be nearly blind.

  “Hello, child,” she whispered. “Lay your troubles at the door, Sugar, you safe enough here.” And she gave my hand a squeeze and then released me. Gabriel grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. Izzy was standing there, hopping from one foot to the other.

  “Miss Melee!” he shouted, overjoyed. I smiled and gave him a hug.

  “Izzy I ain’t seen you in so long, where you been?” I asked. He was about to answer when a woman’s voice called from the other room.

  “ISRAEL JOHNSON! You get back in this kitchen this instant! I done told you I need you to take out this trash!”

  “OK MOMMA!” Izzy hollered back. He rolled his eyes, and then gave a me a wink and ran off toward the back of the house.

  Gabriel ushered me inside where I was greeted by heavenly smells: baked ham, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, collared greens, black-eyed peas and homemade biscuits. I recognized each distinct smell. It reminded me of Marraine’s house so many years ago.

  “Momma she’s here, she’s here, she’s here!” I could hear Izzy shouting excitedly.

  “Hush child, yes, I know, now get this trash on out of here!”

  The next moment, Gabe’s mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Annie Johnson was a beautiful woman. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun, and wisps of it floated around her head like a halo. She was sweating a little, giving her dark skin a polished glow. She was petite and her features were small and delicate, but her arms were quite muscular and she seemed incredibly strong. She held her arms out and took my hand in hers, staring directly into my eyes.

  “Miss Melee, my son has told me so much about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I blushed, unused to such genuine kindness.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I replied, “thank you for having me.”

  “I hope that you’re hungry!” she smiled.

  Gabriel slipped his arm around me and led me to the kitchen. The room was hot and the windows were steamy from all of the cooking that Annie must have been doing since early in the morning. I realized that Gabe’s family was going out of their way for me. I was sure that they must have skipped church that morning, and I felt a pang of guilt when I realized that Annie, who worked so hard every day of the week, was spending her only day off cooking for me. We kept going through the back door, where a picnic table was waiting, a blue checked table cloth covering it. The dishes and silverware were already set. Gabriel led me to the table and helped me get seated.

  “I’ll be right back!” he promised.

  For the next few minutes, he, Izzy and Annie scurried back and forth between the kitchen and the picnic table, bringing food bowls, bread baskets, lemonade and iced tea. When all was nearly ready, Gabe went around the front of the house and returned a few minutes later, pushing his grandmother in a rickety old wheel chair.

  When everyone was seated, Annie took Gabe and Izzy’s hands, seated one on either side of her and bowed her head. Gabe grabbed my hand, and his grandmother took the other. We all bowed our heads and waited for Annie.

  “Dear God, we thank you today for family and for the joy that family brings.”

  “Yes, Lord,” whispered Gabe’s grandma.

  “God, we just lift up those seated here at this table, that you might wrap your loving arms around them, Lord.”

  “Praise you Jesus!” the old woman mumbled.

  “And God, I want to thank you for our guest, Miss Melee, bless her, dear Lord, protect her and bring her not into temptation but deliver her from evil.”

  “Praise God!” Gabe’s grandmother was getting louder.

  “And God we just ask all these things in your son’s precious name, Amen.”

  All around the table echoed Annie’s “amen” and then Izzy’s hand darted toward the basket of biscuits. Without looking up, Annie reached over and slapped it.

  “Mind your manners, boy!” she snapped. “We are going to serve our guests, first.”

  Izzy slunk back in his chair, ducking his head in disappointment.

  Immediately, Annie’s frown was transformed into a dazzling smile, and she passed me bowl after bowl of delicious food. It wasn’t long before we were all talking and laughing. Izzy’s antics and Gabriel’s wild stories had their mother in fits from time to time. As she wiped her eyes with a corner of her napkin, I could tell that she was brimming with pride. Her boys were her life, and they fulfilled her. She lived for these Sundays and time with her family, and I felt blessed to be a witness to so much love and joy.

  After the meal, I helped Gabe and Izzy do the dishes, against Annie’s protests. She finally agreed to go and rest on the front porch swing with her mother and left the three of us alone in the kitchen. Gabe and Izzy teased and wrestled with each other. I washed, Izzy dried, and Gabe put the dishes away. I felt young again. Younger than I had in years. I wished that I could stay here always. I felt so warm and protected every time I was with Gabriel, and it was never suffocating. I knew that he loved me only for myself and not for what I could do for him.

  When the afternoon finally drew to a close I was saddened to hear the approaching roar of Gabe’s cousin in the old truck. He honked the horn a couple of times to let us know he was out front waiting. I gave Izzy a long hug goodbye and another to Gabe’s grandmother. Finally I embraced Annie.

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Annie,” I said.

  She held me close to her and kissed my head.

  “You are just so welcome!” she said, “Any time.” I could see tears welling up in her eyes and suddenly I felt the urge to cry too.

  “The Lord is with thee,” she whispered in my ear. I pulled away and stared at her, surprised to see the knowing glint in her eyes. The next moment, Gabe had circled his arm around me, and was pulling me toward the door.

  All the way back to the Palmers’ house I thought about what Annie had said. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Gabriel, knowing that it would be a long time before I could be with him again. He leaned over and kissed my cheek softly.

  It had been one of the best days of my life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was Good Friday, and I was alone, cleaning up the store. Bordelon had closed up at three o’clock as he did every year. After doing the receipts in his office, he locked the door and came out to put on his coat and hat. It was raining outside, a heavy April shower that soaked the streets and ran in tiny rivers down the windows.

  “I’m gonna head out now,” he said. “I gotta go home and change and then go pick up Sally.”

  Sally’s parents were driving her to church that evening. It would be a long service. The priest would lead the faithful through the Stations of the Cross. I dreaded it and wished that I could somehow excuse myself, but I knew that I would be expected to join them.

  “Sounds good, sir,” I answered. “I’ll see you at the church in a little while.”

  Bordelon grunted in reply. “Lock up and turn out the lights when you leave,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Always do.” I answered.

  I took my time sweeping the floor, restock
ing some of the shelves and wiping down the lunch counter. I could hear the church bell clanging mournfully and knew that the entire town would be deserted soon, everyone taking their places in their respective pews.

  I was closing the blinds in the front window when I heard a loud pounding at the back door.I couldn’t imagine who it would be. Bordelon had a key, of course, and any customers would have come to the front. I marched quickly to the back and swung the door open.

  It was Izzy Johnson. I had not seen him in weeks, and I was surprised at his sudden appearance.

  “Izzy!” I shouted. “What brings you here?”

  The little boy stared at me with wide eyes. Tears streaked his face and his clothes and hair were soaked with rain. I realized from the way that he was panting that he must have been riding his bicycle fast. His pants and shoes were covered with mud.

  “Mr. Bram, please,” he begged, “you gotta help us!”

  “Sure, sure,” I answered. “Come inside a minute and I’ll get my things.”

  I held the door open and he came inside, shivering from the wet and peering anxiously around.

  “Hurry, please, Mr. Bram,” he urged.

  I ran to the front of the store and made sure the door was locked, then returned to the back to grab my coat, hat and car keys. I flipped off the lights and then hurried back to Izzy.

  “What’s this about, Izzy?” I asked.

  “It’s my momma, Mr. Bram. She’s in trouble. Please, you gotta come quick.”

  I opened the door and ushered him out, turned and locked the door behind me, and then grabbed his bicycle that was parked against the wall.

  “Get in my car.” I ordered. He quickly obeyed, and I threw open the trunk and tossed his bike inside.

  I slid in behind the steering wheel, started up the car, and then pulled out of the parking lot, the car tires kicking up gravel and mud as I jerked the car into drive.

  I glanced at Izzy who was sitting small and frightened in the passenger seat. His little face puckered and tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “It’s my fault!” he cried. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Izzy don’t say that!” I pleaded. “How can you say that? You can’t help what your daddy’s done.”

  “No, Mr. Bram, you don’t understand,” he mumbled. “It is my fault. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.”

  He was right, I did not understand.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He paused for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to tell me.

  “Izzy, if you expect me to help you and your momma, you’re gonna have to tell me the truth, now. What is going on?”

  Izzy sighed and stared out the window.

  “Do you remember back when someone took that necklace from Meyer’s store?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, yeah, I remember, why?”

  “Well, I took it.”

  I sat silently for a moment. Izzy was still staring out the window, his hands clenched together in his lap.

  “You took it? The Saint Anne necklace? How could you have taken it, Izzy? I heard what Warren Blanchard said about it. He said someone went through the side window. That’s way up higher than you could reach, Izzy. Don’t you mean your daddy took it?”

  Izzy glared at me defiantly, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

  “No sir, I mean I took it! I used my bike, and I stood up on the seat and I crawled my way inside.”

  I did not know how to respond to this.

  “Why, Izzy? Why did you take that necklace?”

  Izzy started crying again, putting his heads in his hands.

  “I know it was wrong, Mr. Bram, but it was so pretty. It was so pretty and it had my momma’s name on it, and I saw it in the window and I just wanted to give it to her for her birthday.” His words spilled out between sobs.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, “so you took it. That was wrong, Izzy, but you can give it back. We can make this right, can’t we boy?”

  “No, Mr. Bram,” he sniffed, shaking his head at me, “it’s too late, and now he’s hurting my momma.”

  “Who’s hurting your momma?” I asked, bewildered.

  Izzy searched my face for a long moment, and then collapsed into sobs.

  “Sheriff Boyle!” he wailed. I was stunned. This was not at all the answer I expected. I waited a few moments for Izzy to recover himself and continue.

  “He found out about it. He found out that I took that necklace and that my momma had it. He came to my house and he said he was gonna take me and put me in jail and that my momma was never gonna see me again. So she begged and begged him not to, and that she’d do anything.”

  A growing feeling of dread began to gnaw the pit of my stomach. I pushed my foot down on the gas pedal, urging my car forward. How could I not have seen this?

  “The Sheriff started coming over to my house every night. He would pick up my momma from work and bring her home and then he wouldn’t leave. She would send me to my room and tell me not to come out. He would lock Gabriel out of the house. Sometimes he’d be drinking, and when he was drinking, he’d beat on her, and if I didn’t go away fast enough he’d beat on me too.”

  I nodded and my mind raced back to the months before this: the time I had seen Annie in the store, and then Izzy. The strange way Gabe had acted when I asked him about his father. Vernon Johnson hadn’t been the devil all along. It had been Sheriff Boyle!

  “He’s there right now, Mr. Bram,” Izzy continued. “Miss Peg let my momma go home early today, on account of the holiday and the Sheriff came over this afternoon. He’s been drinking and he’s been beating up on my momma! I ran out the back door to find Gabe, but I can’t find him anywhere! So I came to the store to get you. Oh please, hurry, Mr. Bram. I think he’s gonna kill her this time!”

  I was getting closer to Izzy’s house and was driving as fast as I could on the sloppy, muddy road. A few times my tires got stuck in a pot hole and spun out, and I had to throw my car into reverse, and then drive around the hole. Izzy was getting more and more frantic as time dragged on.

  Finally we reached Annie Johnson’s tiny house. The Sheriff’s cruiser was not there and so I guessed that he had left. As soon as we pulled up, Izzy leaped out of the car and ran inside. I followed close behind, my heart pounding in my ears. I had no idea what I would find in that house.

  “Momma, momma!” I heard Izzy screaming. I followed his voice and found myself in a tiny kitchen.

  There was blood on the walls and smashed glasses and plates everywhere. Curled up in a heap in the corner of the room was Annie, her dress pulled up around her waist and the buttons open, revealing her brassiere. I barely recognized her, her face was so swollen and bloodied. Izzy was kneeling next to her, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, sobbing.

  “Annie?” I whispered. “Oh my God, Annie. What happened? Did the Sheriff do this?”

  I already knew the answer.

  Annie gazed up at me as if in a dream. Her eyes were almost swollen shut, but she slowly reached a hand up toward me.

  I kneeled down beside her, pulling out my handkerchief and trying to gently wipe some of the blood from her lips. Her mouth was full of it, and she choked a bit as she tried to speak.

  “Gabriel,” she whispered.

  “What’s that, Annie? Was Gabriel here too?”

  She nodded. “You have to find Gabe. You have to find my boy! He came home and he found the Sheriff on me, then he hit him! Hit him so hard he knocked him down. Then they fought, and Gabe hit him some more and knocked him out! I got scared. I told Gabe to run away, to run away and not come back! I told him to go to his cousin’s house, and get him to take him to Baton Rouge to my sister’s. So he left, and then after he left the Sheriff woke up and said he was going after him. I tried to stop him, Mr. Bram. I tried to stop him, but he just hit me again. He said he was going to find my boy and when he found him he was gonna kill him!” at this she be
gan to wail.

  “You have to stop him, Mr. Bram!” she cried, clinging to my shirt and pulling my face close to hers. “You have to stop him! I can’t lose my boy, Mr. Bram, I just can’t!”

  She pressed her face against my chest and sobbed, soaking my shirt with blood.

  “It’s alright Annie,” I tried to reassure her. “It’s alright. I’m gonna find the Sheriff. I won’t let him hurt your boy, I promise.”

  Izzy followed me out to the car. I pulled his bike out of the trunk and handed it to him.

  “Go get some help, Izzy. Go get somebody to help your mother, and then stay here at the house, you here? I’m going to go try to find that son of a bitch Sheriff and stop him.”

  Izzy nodded, jumped on his bike and pedaled away.

  For the second time that day, I was pushing my car as fast as possible down the muddy gravel road that led from the Bottoms to town. The rain was pounding down harder now, making it even more difficult to drive. The slow pace was maddening to me, and as I drove I tried to come up with a plan for how I would handle a drunk and angry Boyle if it came to that. I decided that I should prepare myself for the worst, and so I turned the car toward my house to get my gun.

  It had been years since I fired the revolver. I had bought it when I lived in New Orleans as protection on the streets. I kept it after I married Sally, although I never used it except for the occasional target practice. The truth was that the sound of a gunshot still unnerved me, even thirteen years after the war.

  As I drove through the middle of town, I was struck by how deserted it was and then remembered that everyone was at church. It was now after six o’clock, and the sun was going down, although the rain clouds made the sky seem even darker. I knew that the service would be in full swing and would most likely not end until nearly eight.

  I pulled into the driveway and drove around the house, slammed the car into park and then jogged across the yard to the back porch. As I entered the kitchen, I noticed all the lights were out. The bedroom door was open and yet all was still and empty. I walked to the bedroom and peered inside. Dresser drawers were open and clothes were spilling out on the floor. There was a general disarray and silence, as though something terrible had happened.