Crayons and Angels

by Rita Kano

  Reverend LeGrande’s raging hour long sermon induced fidgeting and shifting in the seat of a very uncomfortable fold-up chair. The next hour overflowed with tearful, sorrowful sinners filing up to the stage to be saved. Some, for the third and fourth time, Shirley had to muse, maybe more, knowing from her position as social worker, secrets not everyone had the burden of carrying about. Watching bodies taken over by spirit run up and down the aisles as others spun around, waving their hands in the air and speaking in tongues, entertained and amused Shirley’s practical mind. The outrageous, unsubstantiated behavior equaled zero on Shirley’s value scale and brought her a mere inch away from accepting her role of outsider. Ironically, the bare inch away from Nash kept her from dashing out the door.

  With the end of the service and the band’s final song, came a clatter of voices as excited as if the bodies releasing them stood on the Welcome mat of Heaven’s door. Shirley tried questioning Nash about Martha Ann, but couldn’t be heard over the plague of sound. Nash wrapped his arm around her shoulders and started to wedge his way into and through the buzzing mass, when Shirley saw Bessie Redding at the head of the crowd, pushing through toward the exit. Without a single thought to bruising Nash’s feelings, Shirley left his sheltering embrace and barged through the clasped hands of the couple in front of her, as Nash, stalled by her sudden departure, got caught up in a wave moving in the opposite direction.

  Shoving her way through the writhing weave of bodies, Shirley stepped on a few toes and knocked one poor child to the ground. Fortunately for her, the child knocked down happened to be Johnny Bullock, a tough nine-year-old boy, the youngest of ten others. Johnny brushed the dust off his coveralls and mouthed the words fuck off. Shirley had no time to spare for scolding Johnny.

  “Miss Redding,” she called out from about 50 feet away. “Miss Bessie! Miss Bessie! Can you spare a minute?”

  “Why Shirley Foster…” Bessie said as Shirley caught up with her in the field of parked cars, “I haven’t seen you in ages. What in the world are you doing traipsing after me like something’s a chasing you?”

  As Shirley caught her breath and smoothed back her tangled hair, Miss Bessie waved her Bible in the air. “Did you see anyone in that revival tent with a Bible? I tell you, child, God’s true words are a thing of the past. Nobody holds them sacred anymore. Nobody wants to hear the messages of the Almighty.” She cradled the tattered old book close to her bosom. “Nobody cares.”

  Shirley dodged Miss Bessie’s concerns about the Bible’s loss of popularity. “I’m sorry if I startled you, Miss Bessie. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed reading the excerpt from your Great Grandma Sadie’s diary and that I’m really looking forward to reading more.”

  Miss Bessie didn’t acknowledge Shirley’s comment about the diary. Something other than Shirley’s words had caught the old woman’s attention. “When did you stop wearing your hair in a bun, Miss Shirley? And something else is missing too. Ain’t it?” Bessie frowned behind her silver cat-eye glasses as she searched for the missing something. “Oh, my goodness, of course… it’s the spectacles. You ain’t wearing spectacles. That’s it. And if I ain’t mistaken, that blush on your lips came from a drug store tube. Why you look prettier than I’ve ever seen you look.”

  Bessie Redding turned and started walking away.

  “Thank you,” said Shirley, staying close on her heels. “And thanks for sharing the diary with us. I’ll be looking forward to reading more next Monday.”

  Bessie’s black-laced shoes came to a halt near a fire ant hill. “There won’t be no more articles, child.” She spoke within a tone of gravity.

  “May I…” Shirley stepped quickly to her side, took her arm and guided her away from the aggressive fire ants, “if you don’t mind… may I ask why there won’t be any more articles?”

  “My days ain’t full of many regrets,” answered Bessie. “I’ve always led my life according to the Good Book. Mistakes, I’ve made. Yes,” she admitted with a vigorous bob of her head. “But my most troublesome regret is reading my Great Grandma Sadie’s diary. Grandma should never have written such things. And that’s all I’ve got to say.”

  Bessie trudged forward at a very determined pace. Shirley followed.

  “That’s a mighty fine looking purse you’ve got there,” said Shirley. “I’ve always liked patent leather. Is it new?”

  “Child…” Bessie stopped her single-minded trek with a sound huff. “Child, what do you want? Get on past the pleasantries and say it.” Bessie snapped sharper than Shirley had imagined she could. Sweet little old Miss Bessie, that’s what everybody called her.

  “Okay,” said Shirley. “Miss Bessie, would you trust me to read Sadie’s diary? I can’t explain why exactly, except that I think there might be something important in there.”

  “That’s Grandma Sadie to you, young lady. And too late,” replied Bessie. “I already burned that thing. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust,” she mumbled. “Good day to you, young lady.”

  Shirley remained on the spot defeated and stunned, one eyebrow raised higher than the other, as Bessie plowed across the field, dodging patches of briar bearing weeds. As she watched Bessie get into her ’58 Plymouth and drive away, Shirley knew one thing for certain. Miss Bessie Redding, fresh out of a fire and brimstone revival meeting, had told a whopping big lie. There was no way on God’s precious earth Miss Bessie would ever destroy a diary written by the frail hand of her own dear great grandmother. No way on God’s earth.

  “Miss Foster,” Nash called out as he ran toward her. He took Shirley by the shoulders and turned her around. “Didn’t you hear me? Why’d you run off? What’s got into you?”

  “She lied.” Shirley spoke with an open and shut stare into Nash’s eyes.

  “Who? Who lied?”

  “Bessie Redding. Can you believe that? She flat out lied to me. She lied. Bessie Redding lied.” Shirley stared off at the dust trail left by Bessie’s red and white Plymouth Belvedere.

  Nash removed his hat and fanned Shirley’s face. “I think the heat’s got to you. Sweet little old Miss Bessie would rather have a showdown with the devil himself than speak an untruth. I know that if I don’t know nothin’ else.” Nash replaced his hat and reached out for Shirley’s hand. “Come on now. Let’s go ask around about Martha Ann before the rest of these folks scatter.” Nash’s tug on Shirley’s hand met with resistance.

  “You didn’t have any luck before the revival service, what makes you think anything’s going to change after?”

  “How’d you…?” Nash repositioned his hat. “Well, it’s true, I did talk to a few folks here and there, but maybe I just didn’t find the right ones. The two of us could cover a lot more ground. You said yourself…”

  “I know what I said. And we’re going to do just that. We’re going to go back in there and ask if anybody saw Martha Ann here last Wednesday in spite of what I know.”

  “What do you mean? In spite of what you know. What do you know?”

  “That.” Shirley pointed to Bessie Redding’s car disappearing in the distance. “After what just happened with Miss Bessie… Nash, we can ask questions until we’re blue in the face. No one here or anywhere else in Purity is going to tell us anything.”

  “Why? You think Martha Ann wasn’t here last Wednesday after all?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all,” answered Shirley as she and Nash walked back toward the revival tent. “She might have been here. I don’t know. I just don’t think it matters any more. Somebody here may know something, but they aren’t going to talk about it. Not to us or to anyone. There’s a fear in this town. One, I suspect, has roots deeper than any one person can remember. And everyone who feels it has made the same decision about how to deal with it. They’re just going to turn their backs and talk about the weather, their arthritis, or the price of trash tobacco.”

  Nash let loose of Shirley’s hand. “If you’re sure of that, we’ll just be wasting our time.”

&n
bsp; “Do you feel like we’ll be wasting our time?” Shirley slipped her hand back into his.

  “I’d do anything to get Martha Ann back. I love that child almost more than a heart can bear.”

  “That’s all that matters. Let’s get in there and ask some questions. Don’t worry about the answers or the lack of them. It’s asking the questions and people knowing we’re asking question, that’s going to…” Shirley looked up at Nash’s tan, weathered face, “…that’s going to bring Martha Ann home.”

  “I’m not sure how what you just said got us to bringing Martha Ann home, but yeah,” Nash agreed, “that’s all that matters.”

  Together they walked into the crowd. Shirley hoped Nash hadn’t seen what she strongly feared… the pale, lifeless image of Martha Ann reflected in the pause between her words.

  “Miss Shirley!”

  “Miss Shirley!”

  “Miss Shirley!”

  Shirley turned in the direction of the three excited voices. One arm waved frantically in the air. Eunice bounced from her heels to her toes, trying to get Shirley’s attention. Quessie and Agnes stood beside her.

  “Miss Shirley,” they all rang in unison, as Shirley waved back.

  Quessie and Eunice smothered her with hugs as Agnes waited her turn.

  “Lord of mercy…” exclaimed Quessie. She pushed up on her glasses as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “What a pleasant surprise seeing you here.”

  “It ain’t no surprise. I told you so,” said Eunice, grinning from ear to ear. “We watched for you last Wednesday night, too, Miss Shirley. I told them two sisters of mine you’d be here, but they didn’t believe me. Ha,” she said giving Shirley another squeeze. “You’re wearing one of them dresses I gave you. It looks so pretty on you, Miss Shirley. You look so pretty. Do you like mine? It’s new. Got it on sale at Raylesses last Saturday with money I got for gathering feed corn from the fields.”

  “It’s lovely, Eunice. I think light blue is your best color.”

  “Thank you, Miss Shirley. You’re always say sweet things to me. It’s been months since you come to visit us at the farm. When are you…?”

  “For Pete’s sake, Eunice, let somebody else get a word in edgewise,” said Agnes. “Like maybe Miss Shirley herself.”

  Eunice giggled as she stared at Shirley. “I love you, Miss Shirley,” she accompanied the feelings of her heart with another impulsive hug.

  “Eunice,” Agnes took her by the arm. “Stop making a curiosity of yourself. It ain’t like you ain’t never going to see her again, now is it? Miss Shirley, I do apologize for my sisters. It’s obvious they don’t get out much.”

  “No apologies necessary, Agnes,” said Shirley. “I’m so happy to see you all. Wish I’d seen you sooner, we could have sat together.”

  “We were way up in the middle of the front row, where we wouldn’t miss a word,” said Eunice. “We got here early. I sure do enjoy the excitement, the singing and the preaching and people gettin’ saved and…”

  The three sisters’ eyes moved to the same direction.

  Nash stood a respectable distance behind Shirley with hat in hand.

  “Oh. Nash,” Shirley motioned him to her side. “Have you met the Cox sisters?”

  “Not to my recollection,” he said taking giant steps toward them, “and a definite regret on my part. Good evening, ladies.”

  “Agnes, Eunice, Quessie this is Nash Britt.”

  “Evening Mr. Britt,” the Cox sisters smiled demurely, “Very pleased to meet you.”

  “I don’t know the face, but I know the name,” Agnes stepped forward. “You’re Martha Ann’s grandpa.”

  “That’s right,” said Nash.

  “I heard she’s run off again,” said Eunice.

  “Eunie! Mind your manners,” scolded Agnes.

  “But I heard it, Aggie.”

  “I ain’t heard it,” said Quessie. “And since not one of us goes anywhere without the other, I expect if you heard it, I’d of heard it, too.”

  “But, I did. I know I heard it somewhere.”

  “It’s alright, Eunice,” said Shirley. “It’s true. Martha Ann is missing. Mr. Nash and I came to the revival hoping she might have been seen here last Wednesday night. Did you happen to notice?”

  The ladies looked from one to the other. “Do you remember seeing Martha Ann?” They searched their memories with creased foreheads and backward aimed eyes and then shook their heads, no. “Sorry, Miss Shirley. Sorry, Mr. Britt.”

  “We’d surely like to be of help,” said Quessie, pushing up her glasses again.

  “Uh-huh,” said Eunice. “We know what it’s like to have a loved one missing.”

  “And what it’s like to have a loved one come back home,” added Agnes, fiddling with the necklace hanging about her neck.

  “Like Minnie did. Thanks to Miss Shirley.” Eunice’s Ripe Cherry red lips almost jumped off her face.

  “Where is Minnie?” asked Shirley.

  “Minnie’s just a little under the weather today,” said Agnes. “A touch of stomach flu, we think. Papa stayed home to look after her. Quessie made up a pot of hot chicken and rice soup before we left.”

  “Best I ever made,” said Quessie.

  “Best I ever made,” mocked Agnes in a singsong voice. “Look at you puffing up like a rooster too old and tough to eat. Pride is going to be your downfall, sister.”

  “Pride? Weren’t no such thing, Aggie. I was just trying to entice Miss Shirley to come out for another visit. You remember how much she loved my cooking. I only intended a little nudge. That’s all. Now look what you’ve done. Miss Shirley is blushing.”

  “My mistake and my apology,” replied Agnes. Her head tilted with a discreet surmisal of the rosy tint lighting up Shirley’s cheeks.

  “Miss Shirley, Papa’s so happy to have Minnie home again. They’re still making up for lost time,” said Eunice, completely unaware of her excellent timing.

  “We all are,” added Quessie.

  “Happy endings are worth the wait,” said Nash.

  “They sure are,” said Eunice.

  Shirley looked at Nash. He had a solid way of standing. Feet firmly planted. Eyes focused. And with the muscle tone of a much younger man, his overall presence conveyed strength and protection. That’s how Shirley saw Nash and how at least one other person saw Shirley seeing Nash.

  “Happy endings are always worth the wait. Yes, they are,” said Quessie with a wink at Shirley.

  Agnes smiled and winked at Quessie.

  Shirley blushed. Try as she might, it was hard to keep anything sly of the two sisters.

  “Well,” exclaimed Agnes. “We’ve taken up enough of yours and Mr. Britt’s time. We should get ourselves going. Earl’s probably out at the truck fit to be tied, waiting on us for so long.”

  “Earl loves the preachin’ as much as we do,” said Eunice. “He’s always happy to bring us along.”

  “But he ain’t one for socializing,” said Quessie.

  “Unless conversing with hogs and cows counts,” added Eunice.

  “Look who’s talking,” said Agnes. “Leave Earl alone. Is that how you return a kindness? Reverend LeGrande’s preaching ain’t done you a bit of good. Not a bit.”

  “Didn’t mean no harm,” said Eunice.

  “Didn’t do no harm,” said Quessie. “Agnes is just showing off.”

  “Showing off what?” asked Agnes.

  “Don’t go puffing out your own chest. That’s what I’m sayin’,” snapped Quessie.

  “Miss Sister,” Agnes snapped back, “I’m going to keep my mouth shut until Earl gets us home, but then you and I got some reckoning to do.”

  “Humph,” replied Quessie as they all marched off together.

  Eunice threw a kiss and waved goodbye as her two sisters marched along with their bickering.

  An hour later, Nash and Shirley stood outside the revival tent watching the last of the long-winded attendees straggle out.

  “Gues
s you were right, Miss Shirley.” Nash put his hat into place. “Nobody remembered seeing Martha Ann or… like you suspected, weren’t telling.”

  “I didn’t want to be right, Nash.”

  “I know. Don’t go feeling bad that you saw it coming. But that ain’t all. You were right about something else. I got the feeling those folks, friends of mine included; know a lot more than they’re letting on. Even if you hadn’t said what you did, I would’ve picked up on it by now. I saw a look in their eyes. Yes, indeed. I surely did. I think you’re on the right track about them being afraid to speak out. Only, it’s strange. What I saw was the look you see in a child’s eyes when they done something wrong and they’re hoping they got away with it. And the best they can do is act normal until enough time passes they’re sure there ain’t no belt whipping waiting in the back room. I’d sure like to be wrong. I can’t believe my own friends would… I don’t know what to call it. It’s just hard to believe,” Nash abandoned his disjointed thoughts.

  “You’d do well not to take offense. Whatever’s keeping the mouths of this town closed isn’t meant as a personal insult to you. I’m sure of that.”

  “My feelings ain’t what concern me. Not all that much anyway. But, putting that aside, how can a whole town know something you and I don’t?”

  “I wish I knew,” said Shirley. “It doesn’t seem possible. I have to honestly admit that. But, we can’t let the appearance of things make us stumble over doubts.”

  “I’ll try not to, Miss Shirley. But I may have to lean on you in that capacity. Seems to me the only ones that didn’t act strange when we mentioned Martha Ann was the Cox sisters.”

  “Ha. Well… I love those ladies and I can see how you thought that. But, I’m sorry there’s not a doubt in my mind the Cox sisters are taking part in the cover up too. Agnes and Quessie put a quick hush on Eunice when she started talking about Martha Ann. No, Mr. Nash, those kind and dear ladies are keeping quiet about something the same as everybody else. And they were mighty afraid Eunice was going to spill it right out without thinking or even knowing. Eunice is like a child in most ways, like an angel in others. I’ve never met anyone as full of love and generosity and kindness as her.”