Nazareth's Song

by Patricia Hickman

  As Fern arrived, a clap of thunder pealed like someone had torn the clouds from the sky. She ran through the front door with her coat hanging off one shoulder and her handbag gaping open. Oz met her first and offered his help with the coat and purse. Jeb felt about twelve, watching the two of them shoot the breeze and waiting for a way to step in and draw Fern’s attention away from Oz. He turned and realized Winona had appeared with a full cup of punch, no rum. She held it out to him. “Looks as though we’re going to get that rain we’ve been needing,” she said.

  “I don’t want any more punch.” He declined the punch without looking at her, his sights still on Fern, who dripped on the Millses’ doormat and yet looked so Hollywood about it, like the storm had followed her into the room to herald her arrival. She ran her fingers through her hair and with the other free hand was led away and out of sight by Oz.

  It came to Jeb that he might have slighted Winona, but by the time he turned back to thank her for the punch, she had vanished. The sitting room filled up with the couples and the musicians who had stumbled inside to dodge the storm. Mrs. Mills ran around the room handing out towels to the damp guests from a bundle carried by Joyous.

  Winona returned and replaced a platter on the buffet table, but she either averted her eyes or saw straight through Jeb, distracted by a chore that bored her. So he worked his way through the crowd and around two tall Ming vases in the entry to see if Fern might be looking for him. On the other side of the house he came upon a long banquet hall with white painted floors. The musicians had toweled off their instruments to set up in the far alcove and prepare for the next set. Horace gave them a list of song requests and then waved for Jeb to join him. At the first piano chord, he could see Oz Mills move behind a group of women, swaying in a slow dance. He spun Fern slowly around and then back. Her skirt was red and twirled like a parasol in the hands of some Japanese geisha. Jeb joined Horace next to the band and turned his back on Fern and Oz.

  “Reverend, is there a song you’d like to hear? These boys know a little bit of everything,” said Horace. Jeb couldn’t think of anything; he was too busy trying not to watch Fern and Oz.

  When the song finished, Fern saw Jeb. She left Oz but he followed her. “I didn’t see you,” she said to Jeb.

  Jeb couldn’t tell if that mattered to her. “You can dance,” he said, “better than most.”

  Oz greeted his uncle.

  “I haven’t seen the missus or Winona in a while. I’d best go see what they’re up to,” said Horace.

  “Reverend, you going to take a turn on the dance floor?” Oz asked.

  Jeb wanted to take the man’s clammy banker’s hands, peel them off Fern’s delicate arm, and take her for a spin himself. Instead he turned his attention back to Horace.

  “I’d rather sit and visit. I haven’t eaten,” said Fern. “There’s a table. We can sit if you’d like,” she said to Jeb.

  “I’ll get you something,” Jeb said.

  When he returned with the food for her, he saw that Oz had taken the only available seat next to her. “Thanks for warming my chair, Oz.”

  “I’ll pull you up another.” Oz fetched another chair.

  “Your cousin looks lonely, Oz. Maybe you should offer her a dance.” Jeb waved at Winona on the other side of the room with her uncle.

  Fern clasped her hands over her plate. “Or we could invite Winona to our table.”

  Jeb said, “Winona is coming our way.”

  “I’m still dripping wet,” said Fern.

  Jeb stood and gave his chair to Winona. He dragged another to the table and sat closer to Fern, resting his banjo against the window frame. He hadn’t been there long before Horace reappeared.

  “Reverend, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Horace rested his hands on Winona’s shoulders. “If you dear folks can part with our minister for a minute or two.”

  Jeb pushed away from the table and excused himself. He followed Horace into a library. Amy Mills had decorated the room with red-papered walls and red rugs. Several men smoked cigars next to the bookcases in the corner of the room.

  “Boys, I’d like you to meet our minister of Church in the Dell. Reverend, this is Jonathan Steele, Morris Lepinski, and Jefferson Watts. Steele and Lepinski are railroad men. Watts owns several timber operations in Texas, from Houston down to Texarkana.”

  Jeb shook the hand of each man.

  “We’ve put together a few land deals in the past. These boys are interested in buying up some of the land through Nazareth.”

  Jeb said, “I don’t know much about land. I wish to goodness I did.”

  “I told them we had a few bad eggs that was about to lose their places. One being Asa Hopper,” said Horace.

  “I know his wife’s been dealt a bad blow,” said Jeb.

  “I tried to send him the legal papers about his foreclosure to the jailhouse, but he’s gone violent, you know. These boys here would like to help him out—buy him out. But Asa’s boys won’t let anyone on his place, not one foot. He’s gone off and lost his mind entirely. Tried to pull a gun on my clerk the night before the riot, but we let him off on account of his missus. You know what a good man my clerk Finn is. His missus had sent a loaf of bread along as a sign of goodwill. But it didn’t do any good. Hopper boys nearly shot him before he drove out of there.” Horace kept his eyes on Jeb.

  “Finn didn’t deserve that,” said Jeb.

  “We had us an idea,” said Horace. “That wife of Asa’s thinks the world of you. If you’d deliver this offer out to the Hopper place, it could be the very thing that would get him out of at least his money troubles.”

  “Me deliver it?”

  “If you think it’s a bad idea, I’ll drop the whole matter,” said Horace. “When the fellows asked me about hiring the delivery done, I tried to think of a needy family that could use the work. I thought of you. But it’s a job I can pass off to anyone.”

  “Preachers can’t be the bearer of bad news, is the thing, Mr. Mills.” Jeb rubbed his hands together. He could use the work and knew the lumbermill had laid off another man yesterday.

  “Bad news? Oh, no, this is what will get Mrs. Hopper out of her troubles. I heard that as soon as she heard her husband had been locked up she started asking neighbors if they’d like to buy her out. It’s really her land, after all, and right now a noose around her neck.”

  “Then she wouldn’t mind Finn bringing her the offer,” said Jeb. He couldn’t believe he was turning down easy work.

  “Finn can’t deal with those Hopper boys after staring down the barrels of their rifles. We thought you’d have a way with that crazy bunch. You got the peacemaker in you, Reverend. What with you being not just a minister but a regular guy, those boys would let you pass onto their land.”

  Jeb pondered “regular guy.”

  “Then you could ask Mrs. Hopper if she was interested in the offer. If not, she could turn it down and you could be on your way.”

  “Easy in, easy out,” said Lepinski.

  “Make things easy on the woman,” said Steele.

  “Want to give it a shot?” asked Horace.

  “Just ask her if she’d be interested?” asked Jeb. A sigh wheezed out of him.

  Horace slipped an envelope into Jeb’s hands. “Easy as pie.”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, and one more thing. You know how the tithe works. In case you bring us back a signed offer, come next Sunday you’ll see a nice contribution in the offering plate. In one trip you’ve helped the Hoppers and Church in the Dell.”

  Jeb hesitated. He could imagine Gracie’s pale face in the morning light as he patiently waited to see how Jeb might answer.

  “I know you’ve been living hand-to-mouth since you took over this post.” Horace stuck out his hand. “Glad to pass this work on to you.”

  Jeb shook it. “What’s in the envelope?”

  “It’s the deposit on your work for us. Come by the bank Monday morning, and I’ll have the papers ready to
deliver to Mrs. Hopper. When you return, you’ll get the rest of your pay.”

  Jeb squeezed the envelope. It felt bulky.

  “That’s only half now.” Horace grinned.

  Jeb excused himself, wanting to return to the party to see if Fern was still being pestered by Oz. As he exited the library, he shoved it into his pocket, where it lay heavy against the side of his leg. When he looked back up, he saw a flash of blonde hair disappearing around the corner. Blonde like Fern, who was always around to see but not fully understand. He knew she had seen him with the envelope in his hands.

  Winona met him at the end of the hallway. He joined her for the rest of the evening. She was less complicated and laughed easily. He needed that tonight.

  11

  By Sunday, Ida May had caught a cold. Angel fixed a poultice for her chest and bundled her in quilts to help her sweat it out the pores. Ida May dragged herself to the breakfast table but only ate a few bites of stone-ground grits. Willie dressed and went out to bring in the bottle of milk Angel had left on the back porch. The night had chilled it well. He poured milk for Ida May and then a glass for himself.

  Jeb felt Ida May’s forehead. “You’re cool, at least.”

  “Just sniffles. I’m going to church,” she said.

  “You ought to stay home,” said Angel. “I’ll stay with her, Jeb.”

  Ida May noisily ate several bites of grits, talking between swallows. “I want to go to church.”

  “I’ll walk you back to bed, Ida May.” Angel tried to pull out her chair.

  “If she feels like going to church, then let her.” Jeb drank the last cup of coffee. “I hope the church offering is up today. Mortgage is come due on the building, and the church bell is needing some new bolts. Almost came loose last Sunday when I yanked on it.” He pulled his tie off the back of his chair and started knotting it around his neck.

  “Who pays you, Jeb? Reverend Gracie or Banker Mills?” asked Willie.

  Jeb saw the way Willie looked at him, sincere and not like he was pulling his leg.

  “Gracie paid me a little from the offering plate when I preached last Sunday. And I’ve done a bit of work here and there around the church that he’s paid me for. I never feel right about taking the money; I know the church doesn’t have much. If the offering is too low, Gracie pays me in chickens or coffee. Only I haven’t seen coffee in a while. But things will change soon.” He could not mention the land offer to the Hoppers with Angel’s big ears tuned to every word he said. “Why did you ask if Mills paid me?” Unsatisfied with his tie, he looked in the mirror and then yanked out the knot and started over.

  “I heard you was in his back pocket now that you saved his bank,” said Willie.

  “Don’t you ever say anything like that again, Willie Welby! Who said that to you anyway?” Jeb wanted to slap someone.

  “Don’t tell him, Willie! He’ll kill him!” said Ida May.

  “Shut up, Ida May!” Angel smacked her on the back.

  “You don’t have to tell me.” Jeb yanked the knot of his tie loose yet again. “All we’ve had is trouble ever since Beck Hopper started planting his lies in your stubborn head, Angel!”

  “I’m sick of everyone blaming Beck for everything!” Angel stormed out of the kitchen but yelled over her shoulder, “Next you’ll be blaming him for this Depression!”

  “When’s this Depression going to be over anyway?” Willie saved the rest of the milk and put it in the icebox.

  “Willie, I didn’t see you studying for your memory verse,” said Ida May. “Help me study mine.”

  “I studied. It’s easier than anything. Get me the Bible.”

  “All of you go dress yourselves. I need a little quiet.”

  Jeb spent a few moments reading his Bible. When he realized he’d read the same sentence several times, he gave up. All he could think about was Beck Hopper spreading lies about him. If he handled this land offer wrong, Beck would spread more tales, and, it appeared, with Angel’s help.

  From the bedroom, Angel yelled, “I think I’ll stay home. Ida May needs to sleep. I’ll sit with her.”

  “I’m going to church!” Ida called out from the bedroom.

  “Angel, just get dressed and let me worry with Ida May,” said Jeb.

  “I don’t want to go!” Angel appeared again in the kitchen and collected the breakfast bowls from the table.

  “What’s wrong with you, Angel?” asked Jeb.

  “Would the world come to an end if I missed a Sunday of Doris Jolly’s organ playing?”

  “You’re going to church. What would I tell everyone?”

  “I don’t care what you tell them.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with you, Angel. You’re using your sister to get out of your duties.”

  “Since when is church my duty? It’s not mine. It’s yours!” Angel rinsed out the dishes and left them to soak.

  Jeb placed his Bible on the kitchen table. “This is all about Beck Hopper, and you may as well admit it.”

  “That’s what I mean, Jeb. I stay home one Sunday and you blame Beck.”

  “I saw him last night.”

  “So did Angel,” said Willie, appearing in the kitchen.

  “Shut up, Willie!” Angel shoved the chairs under the table.

  “You ought to tell me things like that on your own, Angel. Beck wasn’t alone at the Mills place. He ran with a pack of boys. They came begging at the Millses’ back door.”

  “Don’t talk about him like that, like he’s a lowlife, Jeb.”

  “I tried to talk to him. He ran off after Mrs. Mills’s maid gave him and those other boys some food. Are you telling me a bunch of boys was hanging around here last night with me gone?”

  “I didn’t see anybody else with him. He came alone,” she said. “You’re testy as a badger this morning. Someone must have give you a punch in the jaw, or why else would you be so hard to get along with?”

  “Why don’t you tell him everything, Angel? Jeb, Angel yelled at me and Ida May. Ida May went to the bedroom and stayed the rest of the night. But I wouldn’t let her chase me off.” Willie had grown a foot and now measured eye level to Angel. He would not back down to her.

  “His daddy’s been mean to him, and to all of them boys and his momma. I feel sorry for Beck, is all.” Angel turned away from Willie. “Nobody cares about them. Nobody cares about anyone. Just their own.”

  Jeb did not tell her that it was he who had given his dinner to Beck. “Are you telling me that Beck only comes around here to beg?”

  “Beck’s not asked me for one thing. I just give him food because we have it to give.”

  “We don’t have much to give.” Jeb wondered if after Gracie left he’d be begging from the pulpit. Gracie had a way of telling the church members when extra was needed. He didn’t think he had it in him to do that kind of thing. He looked in the pantry. Angel had left the door standing open. It was more full than it had been all year. With Mills’s contribution after the fire, he had used it to store up food for the winter and fix the truck. And after buying the Welbys winter woolens, a garment each for school, one pair of shoes each, and some stockings, even that money had dwindled. The offer from Mills’s business friends had come along at the perfect moment, just before Jeb imagined he would go begging himself, just like the Hoppers.

  “Come on to church this morning, Angel. I’ll pay a visit out to the Hoppers’ place tomorrow. I’ll see they have food and even some sugar and flour.”

  Angel waited with both hands still gripping the chair back. “You’ll not embarrass them, though, will you?”

  “I’d never do that.” Jeb hoped the offer he took to Asa would help them out of their troubles. He still felt strange about the delivery, especially now that the Welbys figured him for a Horace Mills flunky.

  Youngens never were good about understanding things over their heads.

  Onions left to winter over in the patch behind the church turned at the tops, dried like ropes. Jeb had dug every last
potato and spread them under the cinderblock foundation. Sulfur pollinated the air near the back door, the yellow dusting of fingerprints still stippling the crawl space where he had backed out, sprinkling the red potatoes with preservative, weeks ago. He knelt and estimated a spread of fifty pounds of potatoes. He would take ten pounds to the Hoppers tomorrow.

  Freda Honeysack was admiring a vase of chrysanthemums she had placed on the communion table. “I lost most of my flowers in last night’s freeze.” She shivered and pulled her coat closed. “These mums is all I had left when I got up this morning. Better to share them with the church. Another good freeze and they’ll all be dead anyway.”

  Jeb looked around for her husband, Will, still distracted from wondering what had happened the night before between Beck and Angel. He would ask more questions later.

  “Will’s out front cutting that low limb from the birch tree. Said if he didn’t do away with it, it would whack anyone walking up the church steps,” she said.

  Jeb found Will sawing the last threads of the limb. He bore down on the limb and it cracked and gave way.

  “Watch you don’t mess up your good shirt, Will. Freda will never let you hear the end of it.”

  “I wonder if anyone ever noticed this tree limb blocking the way?” asked Will.

  “I noticed. I’m obliged to you.”

  “Seems like only a few folks notice work that needs to be done around here.”

  “I haven’t done a good job of telling people things to do like Gracie’s asked me to. That’s the hardest thing for me to imagine—me asking others to do work around here.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Reverend. People haven’t had the spare time to donate.”

  “I feel bad enough Gracie has asked me to pass the offering plate. I can’t see myself asking people to give more than they got. Gracie has a way of doing it that seems right. I hope he and the kids are able to hang around a little while longer.”