Pray for Us Sinners

by Marilyn L. R. Hall

  That was the spring of 1928, and the world had never looked brighter.

  1929

  But as Rose soon learned, nothing ever stays the same and neither had those good times. In the fall of 1929 came “Black Friday” and although it didn’t bother them much at first, eventually the lumberyard stopped selling lumber. After a while, nobody could afford to build anymore. Ray kept Jack on as long as he could; Jack even worked a while at half wages, but finally the day came when Raymond Delaney had to shut it down and sadly bid the young folks goodbye and good luck.

  Jack tucked his tail between his legs and kissing his pride goodbye along with his house and furniture, drove Rose and a few personal belonging back to his Daddy’s farm in Dobbin.

  And sadly, Art Sailor hadn’t been the only disgruntled father in the wake of Jack and Rose’s elopement.

  Tobias Nash had reeled in disbelief at the news. Surely his son, coming from an educated, well-to-do family with a long and noble history, could do better than a sharecropper’s daughter, never mind how pretty she might be. Surely there was some town girl—maybe the banker’s daughter, Beatrice, wasn’t it? Or Jasper Philpot’s girl. Jasper owned the whole west side of town. Or even the Reverend England’s daughter. At least there was some prestige attached to the clergy. Anybody but an unschooled, coarse-mannered, sunburned, share-cropper’s daughter. How would she ever fit in with Abigail and the girls? Especially, the daughter of that self-righteous son-of-a-bitch who humiliated the whole Nash family with the lashing he gave Jack. If Jack hadn’t been so set on keeping that incident quiet, Art Saylor and his brood would have been dumped across the county line in the clothes on their backs and penniless that very night—and then this disaster could never have happened. There had been talk of disinheriting and disowning and other more or less drastic retaliative measures, but in the end it had come down to “Just keep her in Maysfield and out of your Mother’s house.”

  Jack figured that would be easy enough. If they didn’t want Rosy, they didn’t need him either. And he was willing to spend the rest of his life sans Daddy and Daddy’s money.

  But then, who could foresee such a terrible Depression. There was suddenly no place to go except home. And although he wasn’t welcomed back like the prodigal son, at least the door wasn’t slammed in his face. Or in Rose’s either. So for a time they settled into his old room and Rose busied herself alongside his Mama and his sisters in the house and learned to keep her opinions and her notions to herself. It didn’t take her long to get used to a household run by housekeepers and cooks, though—nor to miss the luxury of leisure when they were let go, which happened very soon.

  On one occasion she got up the nerve to walk down the back road to visit her own Mama. She had stood for a long time by the creek in the seclusion of a stand of willow trees a little ways behind the barn while she prayed for courage. After several false starts up the lane toward the house, she was about to give up altogether and go home to the Nash’s when somebody called her name from the direction of the barn.

  “Rose Sharon! Is that really you?”

  Rose stared into the dusty-dark and finally made out a form standing on the half-wall that divided the horse stalls. The girl had her hands on a beam in the ceiling to keep her balance and had been looking into a swallow’s nest that was mudded against the rafter. It was her sister Flora. Flora was seven years older than Rose, but there was something wrong with her mind and she was slow. She still acted like she was 5 or 6 years old and sometimes she would throw fits and act like she was crazy. Most of the time, though, she treated Rose like her big sister.

  She was smiling now. “Come up here Rose Sharon and see the bird nest.”

  Rose crossed the barn quickly to pause in the passageway in front of the stalls and contemplate whether she wanted to take a chance on soiling her dress by climbing the wall. “Come on, Rose Sharon.” And Flora’s voice was already sounding stressed. Rose figured any minute she’d start screaming at her and then all hell would break loose up at the house.

  “I’m comin’!” she assured her and grabbed onto the top of the wall, swinging herself up to straddle it. Quickly she shimmied to where she could grab hold of a post and pull herself up on her feet. Once she was standing on the wall she reached for the beam and worked her way to Flora’s side.

  “Look in the nest,” Flora instructed with a grin, her good nature restored.

  And Rose looked into an empty nest.

  “The baby birds are all gone” Flora said with a shake of her head and a wistful smile. Rose patted her arm and nodded.

  Then Flora sat down and slid off the rail, and Rose followed her.

  “I really been missin’ you, Rose Sharon. Where you been keepin’ yourself?”

  Rose hugged her and kissed her cheek. “I’m a married woman now, Flora,” she said proudly. “I’m livin’ with my husband.”

  But Flora shook her head and laughed at that notion and then, without warning, she was aggressively pulling her toward the house. Rose resisted. “Let’s stay here and just talk awhile, Flora.” She tried to keep her voice gentle and reassuring while she struggled against her sister’s single-minded determination, knowing it would be impossible to make the girl understand her reluctance to see the rest of the family.

  “How is Mama?”

  “Mama’s up yonder in the house. She wants to see you.”

  “Is Papa here?”

  “Oh Rose Sharon! Papa’s up yonder in the house.” And then she gave up pulling on her and got behind her instead and tried pushing her up the lane. She had dug in her heels and was butting Rose with her head and it was all Rose could do to stay on her feet. Flora was bigger than her and outweighed her by more than 30 pounds and she had the tenacity of a bull-headed child.

  “Silly Rose. You silly Rose!” She was shouting it over and over, making a game of it. And her giggling was catching. Despite her concern about being discovered, Rose started giggling too while she struggled and wrestled against her sister.

  Then, all of a sudden Flora stopped everything and stared seriously into Rose’s eyes. “Mama misses Rose. Mama cries for Rose Sharon.”

  “Did Mama say that? Flora, did she say she misses Rose Sharon?”

  The girl’s lips formed a contentious pout and she shrugged, “I don’t remember.” Then the seriousness passed and she started to giggle again. “I know Mama wants you to come see her. Let’s go home, now! Pleeeeese, Rose Sharon?”

  But Rose was full of dread and in spite of her eagerness to see her family again, the dread was winning out. “I think I better not right now, Flora. I think I better go away again.” And she tried to disengage Flora’s hands from hers. She was not having much luck, though, until Papa’s angry bellow snatched Flora away from her as neatly as if he had reached out and plucked her up.

  “Stand away from that harlot, Flora, and get yourself up to the house!”

  Rose watched as Flora raced up the lane, passing her father who was bearing down upon her and a frenzied panic exploded within her. She saw herself flying apart into a million little bits and pieces, and what was left of her mind was telling her she’d better gather everything up and put herself back together before she could turn away and run from him—back to the safety of Jack Nash’s arms.

  “Sweet Jesus! Sweet Jesus! Sweet Jesus!’ She prayed as Art Saylor narrowed the distance between them.

  When he faced her at last, she had a moment to look into his eyes and she saw anger there so menacing she couldn’t even comprehend it.

  “You’re my Papa!” she cried incredulously. “How can you hate me so bad?”

  “You’re no daughter of mine, you Jezebel! You are a curse on the family name!” And he reached out and grabbed hold of her arm with one hand while the other slashed through the air and smashed against the side of her head. Rose felt her brain slam against the other side of her skull, and she thought she was going to pass out, but he struck her again before she had time to do that and then with murderous rapidity, tw
ice more.

  Rose had begun to slide downward and except for his hold on her would have fallen into the dust at his feet. The sunny afternoon darkened and Rose wished for a quick and merciful death.

  Flora had created a storm of curiosity with her agitated state when she climbed onto the porch, and when Olly realized it was Rose’s name she was screaming over and over amid the tears, a terrifying black cloud of fear descended upon her and she darted off the porch past her daughter and down the lane that disappeared behind the barn. She didn’t believe her eyes when she saw her husband hunched over and clutching the child’s limp body with one hand while he punched her again and again with the other.

  Olly screamed out his name but he seemed not to hear her. “No! No! Don’t hit her anymore! Stop! Stop! Stop!” She was already breathless from the running and screaming but her husband took no notice of her. When she reached the place where her daughter sagged against his legs she swung out her arm and hit him with all her strength—a tigress protecting her cub, and he withered before her like a piece of severed grass in the August sun, dropping Rose on the ground at his feet.

  Olly fell to her knees to embrace and examine the girl. She was bleeding from her nose and her mouth and Olly feared she was already dead. Tenderly and with a desperate and terrified prayer on her lips, she cradled Rose and rocked her while she pleaded with God not to let her die. When she was sure that Rose was still breathing she looked up at Art Saylor and warned him with her eyes to keep away. Time was moving in slow motion for her. Maybe it would never move normal again. If Art had hurt Rose in any permanent way, time might just cease altogether.

  An agonized moan slipped past Rose Sharon’s broken lips and her eyes flew open. They were so full of fear that Olly’s anger exploded and she cursed her husband but her focus returned instantly to her daughter who was calling Jack’s name. “Jack, Jack,” the girl whispered in a voice weak with pain. “He’s gonna kill me!” And then Olly started to fear the girl had been struck blind because she seemed not to see her even though she was looking directly into her face. “Rose Baby. My little Rose Sharon. Can’t you see me?”

  Then Rose looked right into her eyes and the tears started pouring. “Mama, Papa tried to kill me!” Olly drew her close to her breast and rocked her some more. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Rose. You’re safe now.” And then unconsciously, she began humming the lullaby she had sung to quiet all her babies across the years.

  After a while she looked up and saw her husband was still standing in the same spot staring blankly at nothing and her face twisted with scorn. “You’d best find somewhere to hide, Old Man. When Jack Nash sees what you done to his wife, like as not he’ll come to kill you!”

  The rest of the family had made their way down the lane and Mama sent Grace to fetch a basin of water and a towel and they tried to wash the blood off Rose’s face without causing her any more pain. Then they put some pillows and a blanket in the wagon and with Mama stroking her hair and Brother driving the mule, they made their way down the back road to the Nash farm.

  Brother suffered real dread at the notion of bringing Jack Nash’s woman back to him all bloodied and broken, and it took all his Mama’s bullying just to keep him in the wagon. She wasn’t too joyous about meeting up with Jack under those conditions either, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to get Rose back home.

  When Rose got calm and quiet, she started to ask questions of her Mama in a shaky voice. “I know Papa hated Jack after he caught us in the hayshed, but why cain’t he forgive him now that we’re married?”

  Mama shook her head. “Ain’t no tellin’ why a man thinks the way he does. Their reasonin’ tends to be a mystery most times.”

  But after Rose had asked the same question three or four different ways and Mama had evaded a direct answer the same number of times, Brother spoke up from his seat at the front of the wagon. “Fer cryin’ out loud, Ma, just tell her the truth. All the rest of us know why he’s so mad at her.”

  Rose saw Olly lay a displeased look on her eldest son and then sit in silence for a while, staring down into Rose’s eyes.

  The Nash house was in sight down the long lane when she finally spoke again. “Your Pa had four little girl babies that grew up lovin’ and honorin’ him like a man’s daughters ought. They gave him all their respect and treated him like a man feels he ought to be treated. Like the Bible says, a man has the right to be honored and obeyed. And nary a one of them ever put another man ahead of him!” She paused for a moment and looked down at the bruised and swollen face of her daughter and then she sighed and started talking again.

  “But his baby girl, the one he loved better than all the rest put together,” she paused to take a deep breath, “better even than me—” and then she paused again, “ before she was even done playin’ with her dolls, she had turned all her love and respect toward another man, though he was still just a boy back then. But in such a brazen way, your Pa couldn’t even purtend it was just some little-child crush. Rose Sharon, you spent so much of your attention and love on that boy, you just broke your Papa’s heart because he couldn’t find any place for him in yours. And then when Jack started down the road to perdition at such a young age floutin’ all of God’s commandments that your Papa reverenced, you being so attached to that boy just stuck in your Daddy’s craw with him being so helpless to change your mind. So there was nothin’ he could do but stand by and watch you both go down into hell. It nearly killed him, Rose Sharon.”

  Rose heard Brother snort and mutter something and saw her Mama glare at his back.

  “What did you say, Brother?” Rose sobbed.

  He didn’t answer her, but Mama sighed and said, “Brother thinks your Daddy had an unnatural affection toward you.”

  “I ain’t the only one. Gracie and Ida Belle and Claire Louise think it just as much as I do!”

  Mama’s sigh sounded so weary. “They just resent how he always favored you, Rose Sharon. It is true he loved you most. But there weren’t no sin in that. Jacob loved Joseph most of all his sons.”

  “And look at all the trouble that cost his family.” Brother’s voice was bitterly sarcastic.

  When Olly spoke again, her voice revealed a profound sadness. “Your heart always belonged to somebody else, Rose, and your Pa was just disappointed—disappointed and heartbroke jealous like any man might be for the one he holds closest to his heart.”

  Brother snorted again and went on with his grumbling, but Rose stopped listening. The notion that it was too much love that made her Daddy beat her almost into the next world didn’t make a bit of sense to her and struck her as outlandish! She figured it was just another case of Mama trying to come up with excuses for her husband’s meanness.

  Lucky for Brother and Mama, Jack was gone when the wagon pulled up to the Nash front porch and Olly didn’t have to make too detailed an explanation to Abigail, who felt that anything was liable to occur when a couple of ignorant sharecroppers got together. “Best to let sleeping dogs lie,” she cautioned her daughters afterward, when they wanted to pry into the particulars. She saw that Rose got to her room and dispatched Sally to fetch her a pitcher of cool water and some fresh linens so she could clean away the smears of blood and dust and then left her alone the remainder of the evening.

  It was dark by the time Jack got back, and since Rose feigned sleep, he didn’t light a lamp or disturb her in any way.

  By morning, although she looked awful, she felt much improved and was able to talk him out of, or at least postponing the killing of Art Saylor.

  But Jack never again would allow her to go anywhere near her family.

  After that, there was another period of good times, though it was discomforting to put up with the Nash prejudice against her family and their patronizing attitudes. But Rose was adaptable and nothing kept her down for long. Maybe she couldn’t have meals alone with her husband or spend long, quiet evenings alone with him in front of the big fireplace in the living room, or ever be alone a
nywhere in that big old house except in their bedroom upstairs, where truth be told, they weren’t all that much alone anyhow, with Molly’s room on one side and Sally’s across the hall.

  But they could go for walks together, and there were several secluded and secret places they could stop along the paths they took. Places remote and beautiful where their natural inclinations could surface and be satisfied with complete privacy, and were! And Rose never stopped thanking God for letting Jack Nash fall in love with her. Sometimes her happiness scared her, how even a thought of him would thrill and excite her, and the sound of his name lit a fire inside her. When she watched him bounding across the yard in the evening to meet her on the porch, the animal grace of his smooth gliding long-legged lope made her skin tingle and sparks twinkle up and down her spine. It was entirely likely that no mere human should be so happy. She couldn’t imagine that even heaven would be more perfect. And maybe just thinking that was a sin. Still, she couldn’t change how she felt. And as long as Jack Nash was with her, nothing in the world could bring her down. Not as long as he was nearby, and not even if he was far away, as long as she knew how much he loved her.

  Jack was running the farm for his Daddy again. And the Depression wasn’t getting any better. In fact, it just kept getting worse. Lots of farms were being foreclosed on. Lots of houses in town, too. And stores were closing, and banks. Nobody seemed safe from the ugly black fingers of that evil demon that kept reaching farther and farther into the countryside touching more and more people Rose knew—lots of whom were leaving their land and even their wives and kids and moving off to places like Chicago and California.