Jeb had not asked Mills enough about the deal, he realized. “If Mrs. Hopper accepts the offer, or can talk Asa into accepting it, I figure it will help them out of some of their trouble. He’s not doing his family any good in jail, that’s for certain.”
“Mills is shrewd, Jeb. I just don’t want you mixed up in any scheme. Not that I’m accusing Ace Timber of scheming.”
“I’ve had my doubts. But at this point it seems I’m nothing more than a bona fide delivery boy. No harm in that, is there, Reverend?” asked Jeb.
“That may have once been true when you were employed to pick cotton. But you’ll soon be this woman’s minister. You can’t be anything else to her, or else when she sees you coming from now on, that’s all she’ll see—Jeb, the bank flunky. Others have tried to draw me into all kinds of schemes, only because I have a trust with my flock. I can’t tell you how often opportunists try to gain access like that. When the people of Nazareth see me come through their door, I only want them to see Jesus coming—not the Bible salesman or the snake oil hawker.”
Jeb heard the faint jingle of money from the delivery ebbing away. He had already spent five dollars of it on food from Honeysack’s. “I don’t know what else to do, Philemon. That old Long house is cold as ice and we’ve run completely out of coal. The lumbermill turned me down for a job and it looks like they’re going to have more layoffs. The church is barely paying you, let alone paying me anything. I thought that if Mills felt like he could trust me, it would go better for the church. I’ve given him plenty of reason in the past to have his doubts about me.”
“Jeb, I’ll never make your decisions for you. I like Horace Mills too, and I appreciate your wanting to build a bridge of trust to him and his circle of influence. But he is, after all, a businessman. I’m sure he’s told you that he’s given a lot to Church in the Dell. But I’ve turned down anything from him that had strings attached. I want him to learn to give freely to God. Not with controversy tied to it. Nor with a promise of return on his giving. God wants the kind of giving that’s attached only to a desire to obey him.”
“You’ve turned down his money in the past?”
“It’s a private matter, Jeb. But trust me when I tell you that Mills is in need of a heart change. He can’t buy his way into heaven, but heaven knows he tries. I’m not telling you delivering the offer for pay is wrong, but it doesn’t hurt to ask Mr. Mills how it will benefit the Hoppers. As for the church benefiting from the delivery, I’ll have a lot of questions for Mills before I accept that kind of donation. I want to know if he expects the church to profit off the heads of its suffering people, namely the Hoppers.”
Jeb knelt next to Gracie at the old altar built by the sweat of some forgotten set of hands. They stayed and prayed until the candles were all but extinguished.
Gracie had taken two dollars from the week’s offering and given it to Jeb before he left. “The church needs to get used to paying you something. And you should grow used to what the church pays you.” He did not ask Jeb any more questions about what he had decided to do about the land offer delivery.
Driving home, Jeb saw Ivey Long stacking wood onto his wagon just beyond Marvelous Crossing Bridge. Long looked weary, and Jeb had paid him for the month’s rent already, so he stopped and asked him if he needed a hand. Ivey was grateful for the help. Jeb told the aging farmer to take a seat up front on the wagon while he finished stacking the cord of wood—all that would fit anyway. Ivey paid him two dollars for his help and offered the remaining wood to him.
Jeb loaded up the wood, enough to give them warmth for two nights. It felt good to have a little money in his pocket for once, and firewood to boot. Whatever Gracie had meant by getting used to what the church paid him, he was thankful for the extra. In the end, it was all from God.
At the Nazareth Bank and Trust, all broken glass had been restored with new and every window and door given a fresh coat of paint. All signs of damage from the riot were gone, as though all traces of the farmers’ dissension had been erased and forgotten. Even the sign over the bank had been cleaned and restored so that no trace of the hurled rotten fruit and tomatoes remained.
Jeb had visited almost every storekeeper in town looking for work. He finally found his way to the bank and paced back and forth out front until a clerk returning from lunch saw him and said, “You looking for Mr. Mills, Reverend?”
Jeb nodded and followed the clerk into the bank. Mills’s secretary immediately left her desk and returned to tell Jeb, “Mr. Mills has been expecting you all day, Reverend Nubey. He’ll see you right now.”
Mills was not at his desk. He had moved to one of the two chairs facing his desk and he now offered Jeb the other chair.
“I’m sorry for the delay, Mr. Mills,” said Jeb. “But I’ve been thinking about Mrs. Hopper, and I think I’d like to know how your offer will benefit this family.”
“You’re aware I can’t divulge the details of the offer to an outside party. It wouldn’t be ethical.” Mills kept his answers short.
“I told Reverend Gracie about delivering these papers to the Hoppers and he cautioned me about being sure that I knew what I was doing.” Jeb waited for Mills to react in anger, but the banker remained cool.
“Did you also tell my good friend the Reverend that Church in the Dell will benefit from your assistance?”
“He knows. But he wants to be sure that the church doesn’t benefit from the suffering of its people.”
“This town has suffered, Reverend Nubey, from this intolerable man’s rage and violent behavior. The Hoppers have cost not just the bank, but the town of Nazareth, hundreds of dollars in repairs. This offer to the Hoppers will not only help them out of their bankruptcy, but will send them on their way to another town. They can start over. The Hopper name is ruined here in Nazareth. You know how hard it is to rebuild a good name, Reverend.”
“Mr. Mills, I have a lot of respect for you.” Jeb hesitated, knowing how Mills occasionally interjected his convict past. “But you should know that I have changed not just on the outside, but inside. That is more important than a reputation.”
“Ministers are reliant on reputations, Reverend. I don’t know if your dear mentor has gotten that across to you, but you can’t run a church without the respect of the people—or without resources.”
“Jesus told us we’d lose our reputations for him. He gave up his reputation for the sake of spreading his truth. He placed charity above reputation, Mr. Mills. I have to do likewise.”
“So you’re turning down my offer for the sake of protecting a criminal? That doesn’t sound like good Christian reasoning. Your own charge, Angel, is being drawn into this family’s circle and most likely will fall into their troubles as well. You’re risking everything for the sake of a family that will not appreciate your protection of them.”
Mills stood and offered his hand to Jeb. “No hard feelings, Reverend. But my investors are not going to extend this offer for long. I’ll find another to deliver it, if these men decide it’s worth the bother. You came to return the pay I gave you, I suppose?”
Jeb pulled out the cash that he had stuffed into his pocket. “It’s only a dollar short. I’ll have that back to you in a day or two.”
“Call it square, Reverend.” Horace checked his watch.
“What about the money you asked me to give to the Hoppers?”
Mills straightened. “You still have it?”
Jeb pulled it out of his other pocket.
Horace took it. “I’ll take care of that. I have another meeting, if you’ll excuse me.” He walked Jeb to the door but did not follow him out.
Jeb stood outside on the walk, feeling like a wretch with not a penny left to his name.
13
Angel sat next to Beck in his daddy’s truck. He had driven them to Hot Springs and stopped outside a diner just short of running out of gas.
“Let’s stop here and get us a Coke, girl,” he said.
Angel liked the way he called
her “girl,” like she was his. “Beck, you got money, don’t you? For gas, I mean.”
“I got twenty dollars. Let’s go.” He climbed out and walked inside like he expected Angel to follow him.
Angel knew school was now out, and Jeb would realize that she was gone. She tried to imagine the look on his face when Willie told him she had not walked them home from school.
By the time she sat next to Beck on a stool, he had already ordered a soda and a side of peach pie. “You mind if I ask where you got twenty dollars, Beck?”
“Worked for it—most of it, anyway. The rest I got selling my old man’s shotgun.”
“Your daddy will kill you for that.”
“By the time he gets out of jail, I’ll be long gone and living my own life. He’d use it for no good anyway. I’m tired of him living any way he wants and telling me to do differently. ‘Get out of bed, Beck. Don’t get in trouble. Do your chores and don’t be a taker.’ That’s all he’s ever been—a taker. He ain’t nothin’ but a big ol’ hypocrite. Everyone in Nazareth hates us because of him.”
“They don’t hate you, Beck,” said Angel. She picked up the fork and shared his pie.
“Sure they hate me. I’m Asa Hopper’s boy. That’s like saying I’m the son of the devil in Nazareth.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You and me, we’re going to have us a good life together. I’ll work to buy my own filling station and fix cars. You’ll be home raising our kids. Everyone knows you’re the best cook.”
“Beck, we haven’t talked about any of that. You shouldn’t say things like that without asking me.”
“What else do girls do? Raise babies and take care of their man.” He paid the waitress for a second Coke.
“I’d like to be a momma some day. After I make my first million.”
“Women don’t make millions, Angel. Not too many men, either. How you going to get rich on making babies?”
Beck had not made Angel mad until now. “I’m not a babymaker, Beck! I’m going to learn something about business. Maybe I could own my own diner like this place. Then I’d own a few more and have diners all up and down the highway. I’d never want for food again with a deal like that.”
“You got to have money to make money.”
“It’s the same as owning your own filling station, Beck.”
“I work to make my way, save up every dime I make, and then buy out some old boy that’s ready to give up pumping gas. They’s no one that can work on engines good as me. I’ll take some dusty old filling station and grow my own gold mine. You know how to cook. I guess you can run your own diner some day. But you got to have a plan.”
“Did you plan to take off today with me?”
“’Course I did. I been saving my money so you and me could get out of that hellhole and make us a life.”
“Twenty dollars won’t last long.”
“I’m getting a job, Angel. I told you I’m a good mechanic.”
“Down the road I saw a motel.”
“We got to save money. I brought stuff we can bed down with. We can sleep under the stars, girl.”
His fast solutions were making Angel agitated. “Beck, it’s too cold to sleep outdoors. You telling me you think I’m going to sleep in this truck?”
“I’ll keep you warm, girl.”
“Beck, this ain’t what I had in mind. I want to go home.”
“Trust me, Angel. You said you love me. You going to quit on me now?”
“Here’s your Coke, son. That’ll be a nickel.” The waitress held out her hand.
Beck paid her the nickel and said, “Where’s the closest filling station, ma’am?”
She directed him up the road.
“Let’s go, Angel. I’ll show you I can take care of you.”
Twilight was falling across town, graying the old buildings like blue ash. Jeb had dropped hungry Ida May off with Willie to eat and wait for him while he searched for Angel. He drove twice down Stanton Lane and circled back into town and out to the Hopper place, where he found Telulah seated on the porch steps, red eyed. She answered almost entirely in nods. Her oldest son, Clark, paced on the porch mumbling about finding Beck and stringing him up like a fish. An old Model-T parked next to the house was their only other transportation. It sat out of gas and in need of an engine part.
Jeb promised to return the next day with groceries. He did not know how he would pay for the gas to return. He would have to share from his own pantry, but he was certain that Gracie would offer food to the Hoppers if he asked. He left Telulah sitting in a stupor. She laid her head against her knees and cried.
When Jeb passed Marvelous Crossing, he saw Fern’s Chevy coupe slow and then stop in the middle of the bridge. Her face suggested her anxiety. She rolled down her window to say to Jeb, “The Ketcherside boys said they heard that Beck and Angel had run off to marry. I don’t know if you can count on the Ketchersides telling the truth. Arnell Ketcherside and Angel don’t get along.”
“Any idea where they may have run off to?”
“Roe Ketcherside says that one of the Lundy girls heard Angel talking about living in Hot Springs. That doesn’t mean they’ve gone to Hot Springs.”
“I should have taken her to Little Rock. She’s not going to listen to me. I’m not her daddy and she knows it.”
“Angel respects you, Jeb. Don’t blame yourself for her running away. She’s confused is all. So many of the boys pick fights with Angel. I don’t know what it is about her that makes them treat her like another boy. She doesn’t flirt like other girls her age, and she misreads the boys when one of them is trying to get her attention. She takes that kind of attention all wrong, like they’re against her when they’re really just trying to get her to talk to them. I understand; I was never a flirt. It makes sense that she would become so enamored with the first boy to pay attention to her.”
“I don’t see any other choice. I’ll have to drive to Hot Springs. I’ll see if Josie will take in the kids for a night and get them to school in the morning.”
“You got gas money?” she asked.
Jeb checked his gauge. What with driving all over town and out to the Hoppers, the truck tank sat near to empty. He let out a breath and slumped back against the seat.
“Take this,” she said, leaning out the window.
Jeb could not look her in the eye to take the money.
“You don’t have time to argue.” She tossed it through his window and the bills scattered across his lap. “I’ll take Willie and Ida May to Josie’s if you want. If she can’t take them in, I’ll take them home with me. Maybe I’ll do that anyway. You can head for Hot Springs right now. Those two’ll have to stop somewhere for the night. I doubt they have much money.”
“Beck sold his daddy’s shotgun. What money they do have they’ll not want to spend on gas. I don’t know how to thank you, Fern.”
“Find Angel, is all.”
The drought had turned the road to Hot Springs into a winding ribbon of dust. Jeb stopped at a roadside store and filling station to buy a cold drink, gas up, and ask around about Angel and Beck. The store owner considered Jeb’s description of the Hopper truck but then shook his head. “Not many folks has passed by h’yere today. Seems like I’d remember a truck like that.”
For a quarter, the store owner’s wife bagged up a ham sandwich for Jeb to take on the road.
Jeb could not beat the night to Hot Springs. Dark fell before he reached the city limits road sign. He pulled into the lot of a diner called Sam-Anne’s. The lights inside made the place look green, as though filled with pond water. Every bar stool was taken, and the noisy clientele made Jeb’s head pound. He saw nothing of the Hopper truck. A waitress with a slight limp yelled at the cook like she was married to him. Then she saw Jeb on the last stool at the counter’s end. “Help you, mister?”
“Cup of coffee. I could use some help too.” Jeb accepted a small pitcher of cream from her.
“Not too good at help.
My husband’s more helpful than me, he says.” She filled Jeb’s cup perfectly—to the rim, but stopping short of spilling over.
“I’m looking for . . .” He thought of how he should describe Angel. “. . . my daughter. She’s run off with a boy her age. Both too young to be out on their own.”
“Girl about yay tall?” She held up her hand and made a knifing motion next to her cheek. “Boy, skinny, with close-set eyes, dark haired and needs a haircut? Smokes like a chimney.”
Her words nearly took Jeb’s breath away. “You saw them? That sounds like Angel and Beck.”
“I heard her call him Beck. Sounded like they was getting into a fight. I don’t think she was happy with the evening accommodations. They’s spendin’ the night in that old truck, from what I overheard. Your daughter’s a mite spoiled to better sleeping quarters, I gathered.” She sliced a piece of pie—rhubarb—and gave it to Jeb. “You got plenty of worry on your hands with your girl run off. Pie’s on the house.”
Jeb said, “How long ago were they here?”
“Mel, you remember that couple of kids that came through. Split a piece of pie?” she asked her husband.
He checked the rusting clock above the grill. “I’d say they been gone a good half hour. ’Peared not to have had much scratch between the two of them, if you want to know the truth.”
“Did they drive into Hot Springs?” Jeb pushed aside his coffee.
“Only one way in. That way.” The waitress pointed east. “But the girl did say she didn’t want to drive much farther. If I were to take a guess, I’d say they took a side road about a quarter mile up the road and turned in for the night. Up around Carpenter Dam. Kids use that road for parking. Let me box up that pie for you. No need to let it go to waste.”
Jeb took the Sam-Anne’s box with him and headed east. The night was as black as a cave.
Beck had more on his mind than sleeping. He parked off the road just short of the main road leading to an enormous dam project. They had passed only one other parked car—two teens sparking near Lake Catherine. Beck sat staring at the lake, one arm stretched along the top of the truck seat. He wound a strand of Angel’s hair around a stubby finger. “We’re finally on our own, girl.”
Nazareth's Song Page 13
