A Cup of Dust

by Susie Finkbeiner

  “It’s just when a man’s done as much wrong as Pastor did in the old days, he wants to make sure he’s right with God. I think he’s so scared of being wrong, he’s got to be loud and holler to convince himself he ain’t going back to his old ways.”

  Mama tsked and didn’t look up from her stitches. I wondered what that could mean.

  “We all done wrong, Pearlie. It’s the way of people,” Meemaw said. “But the gospel good news is that Jesus come and took the load of what we done.”

  “I wish Jesus could come and take all this dust from us,” I said, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes.

  “He will, darlin’. One of these days, He’ll save us.”

  Meemaw went right back to patching up the tent.

  With only a few days until the revival, Meemaw sent me around, knocking on doors, to invite folks to come hear the Word of the Lord.

  “In case any of them haven’t heard about it,” she’d said.

  She said this as we stood on the porch, looking out at the big, newly mended tent sitting in the middle of a field. I thought if anybody didn’t know about the revival, they were most likely blind. The green-and-orange-and-red panels of the tent broke up the tan landscape so you couldn’t have missed it if you wanted to.

  Daddy and Millard had set it up the day before with a crowd of kids gathered around their heels, thinking the circus was coming to town. They were more than a little disappointed when they found out it was just a revival.

  “Go on and tell them that meetings start at six on Sunday evening, hear?” Meemaw said, pushing me down the steps. “And don’t forget to tell them about the bread.”

  Most folks met me on their porches and nodded when I told them all about the revival and the bread. They thanked me and watched to make sure I made it to the next place okay.

  I was tired and hungry and thirsty by the time I got to the sharecropper cabins. But not too many of them still had people living there, so I got from house to house real quick.

  I saved the Jones’s house for last, hoping Ray would be there.

  I’d hardly seen him since Rosie died. When I did, all he wanted to do was walk. It was on one of those walks that he told me his father wasn’t right in his mind for all the moonshine he drank. He said that was why he’d get so mean.

  Knocking on the door of the Jones’s dugout, I got a nervous stomach, worrying that Ray’s father would answer and that he’d be mean to me. Stepping back, I waited. No one came to the door, so I knocked again.

  I heard coughing from out back behind the dugout, so I followed the sound.

  Mr. Jones sat on an overturned bucket, his hands holding the weight of his head. The whole of his body shook and jerked. He moved so strangely I wondered if he was having some kind of a fit.

  I didn’t know what I could do for him or if I should. He looked so much smaller than I’d ever seen him look before. That man who had swelled his wife’s eye with a strike of his fist. The man who poured all the money they had down his throat in the form of whiskey. That man sat behind his broken-down house and cried like a little boy.

  He sure seemed weak to me.

  The stronger part of me wanted to kick a toe-full of dust at him and tell him he had no right to cry. To tell him that misery was what he deserved because it was what he’d dealt to his family for years.

  But a weaker side of me felt soft toward him. I hated that side of me and wanted to shut it up. I just couldn’t, though.

  I gathered up my breath and took a step toward him.

  “Mr. Jones?” I said.

  He tucked his head tighter to his body.

  “You okay?” I took another step.

  He waved me off with one of his floppy hands.

  “Go on,” he said. “Get.”

  When I didn’t move, he lifted his head. Crooked lines of red cut through eyes stained yellow where they should have been white, and his face looked like it could use a good shave. All of him was filthy. I could smell him from where I stood.

  “Please,” he hissed at me through broken and tobacco-stained teeth. “Get.”

  I never did invite Mr. Jones to the revival. Instead, I ran all the way home, more angry than sad.

  It took Daddy and Millard plus a couple other men from town to move the piano from the church to the revival tent and put it on the makeshift stage. Then they set up benches and hung a couple lights from the ceiling.

  Meemaw had her table of bread all set up, and Mama put hymnals on each seat. Beanie and I had paper fans to hand to everyone who came in, and Pastor stood at the door of the tent to greet the arrivals.

  I watched his face as the folks came in. He started with a big smile and bright eyes that fell into half a grin and droopy eyes as only a few people came. Most of those who took seats on the benches were of gray hair and wrinkled faces. Not a one of them was from the Hooverville.

  “Well,” he said, slapping his hands on his thighs. “I guess we’ll get more tomorrow night.”

  Mama started off pounding out the songs on the piano. She didn’t have to look at the music in front of her—she’d played those hymns all her life. When she’d get to a part of the song that touched her, she’d close her eyes. I liked to think that was because she felt the music all the way down to her toes.

  The last hymn on the list for the night was “Amazing Grace.” All the voices around me shook out the words. Meemaw hugged the hymnal to her chest and closed her own eyes, swaying a bit from side to side.

  Daddy had told me once that Meemaw had been a Holy Roller back in the old days—that was why she rocked when she sang. Mama just said it was how the Spirit moved her.

  Whatever it was, I always got a bit choked up when Meemaw did it. It seemed she understood God in a way I never would. I figured if Meemaw loved Him, He must be somebody worth paying attention to.

  Mama got to the last verse, the part that said, “The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,” and she stopped playing. The few around me kept on singing even without the piano. She closed the cover over the piano keys and stood up from the bench.

  I didn’t think she wanted everybody seeing her cry.

  When I looked around, I saw that she wasn’t the only one.

  The third night of the revival, a family from the Hooverville showed up. I figured it was for the bread, but they sang all the words to the songs without having to look at the hymnal. And they even closed their eyes during the prayer time.

  Mama put her hand on my leg to let me know I should stop staring and pay attention.

  Pastor went on about the parable Jesus told about the man who stored everything up in his barn. He had so much, he built another barn so it would all fit. Pastor hollered about how the man had done all that saving and packing away just to have his life required of him.

  I didn’t have one idea why Pastor was hitting so hard on his Bible as he told us that story. There wasn’t a single person in Red River or even all of Oklahoma who had built a second barn to hold all their extra food. The barns they did have were full of nothing but dust, and I knew for sure they wanted to get rid of that soon as they could.

  I snuck a few extra peeks at the Hooverville people. A man, woman, and three boys. All five of them with eyes half closed with tired. Those ten eyes stayed stuck on Pastor as he went on preaching.

  Then, one of the boys, the smallest of the three, caught me watching them. He watched me back.

  When I smiled, he lowered his eyes, but I could see the corners of his mouth turn up and his cheeks grow red.

  I figured if my barn was stuffed to overflowing with crops, I would share with the shy, smiling boy.

  CHAPTER TEN

  More and more people from the Hooverville showed up each night of the revival, filling the benches under Pastor’s patchwork sideshow tent. On the last night, a spark caught fire in his soul, and he let loose a fury of God’s Word like Red River had never heard before.

  The power behind his words shook me so that I pushed my hands under my thighs to
stop them from shaking and kept my eyes on the ground. Whether it was Pastor’s yelling or the power of the Holy Spirit, I didn’t know for sure. Whatever it was, I couldn’t decide how I felt about it.

  “Y’all, the Lord God Almighty wants your hearts,” he yelled from his spot on the stage. “You come under this tent to hear the Word of the Lord. I’m fixing on bringing it to you. Can I get a amen?”

  He got a few. But those couple amens were loud.

  “You look outside. Go on. Take a look. You see all the dust crushing the roofs and killing the livestock. You know what that is?” He waited. I turned my head up to see his wild eyes surveying the crowd. “It’s the wrath of God Almighty pouring down on us. Blowing round our heads all day and all night. And we’re too blind and stupid to see it’s all our own doing.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he made a face like he drank milk that had gone blinky.

  “You know what we all best get doing? We best get on our knees and beg God to take us back. Beg Him to forgive our sins and to take us back.”

  Jabbing his finger in the air in front of him, he pointed amongst the crowd.

  “We all best be asking ourselves what’s our share of the dust wrath.”

  I prayed that what Meemaw’d said about Jesus taking our load of sin was true. When I looked down the row at her, she nodded, winking her eye at me as if she knew what I was thinking.

  Pastor pushed the steel-gray hair off his forehead and closed his eyes, sighing like he was about to give up. For a moment I thought he was near to falling over, his face paled. But he didn’t faint like I feared he would. Instead, he stepped off the stage and right into the aisle between the rows of benches.

  As he walked past me, a drip of sweat dropped off the end of his nose and fell to the dirt floor beneath his feet. His hands shook at his sides.

  “Brothers and sisters,” he said, his voice just a little over a rasp. “All this week I been breaking my back trying to get y’all to hear me. To get y’all to finally let go of them black and dirty sins. All’s I wanted so bad was for you to turn and repent. To get baptized for the forgiveness of sins and the gift of the Holy Spirit.”

  His steps were slow. One after another. And his eyes were fixed. But the crowd of folks in the tent was so thick with strange faces that I couldn’t see who he was staring at.

  “What are you doing here?” he growled at someone toward the back. “You here to work your seduction on these men? You come to talk them into your bed and out of their money?”

  He stopped in the middle of the aisle and spit right on the floor.

  “How many among us have fallen for her tricks?” He thrust his hips one way and then the other in a way that made me real uncomfortable. “Her wiggling and waggling her sinful way, offering us to come and taste of her sweet damnation.”

  Mama turned, lifting up off the bench. When she relaxed back on her seat, she sighed and whispered in Meemaw’s ear.

  “Who among us has rebuked her snares?” Pastor went on. “Who among us has declared that he will no more give in to his lust for her soft, smooth flesh? She the whore of Red River.”

  Mama’s arm draped over my shoulder and pulled me close, putting her lips to my ear.

  “You gotta go,” she whispered. “Take Beanie and go on home.”

  I nodded, not understanding. Mama had never sent us out of service before. Then again, Pastor’d never used the word whore in a sermon before.

  “Meemaw and I will be home as soon as this is finished.”

  Standing, I grabbed hold of Beanie’s hand. For once, she didn’t struggle against me. As I ducked under the sideshow tent flap, I turned to see Pastor with his finger pointing right into the face of That Woman. For about half a minute, I watched, expecting her to run off, red-faced from the shame. But she did not. She crossed her arms and stood, staring him down.

  Beanie shuffled her feet all the way home. She yawned loud with her mouth hanging as wide as it would go. She could have laid down right in the field and gone to sleep for all I cared. It was just nice to be out from under the stuffy air that hovered, thick as mud, inside that tent.

  I did wonder, though, what I would have done if Pastor had yelled at me right in the face like he did to That Woman. I couldn’t see myself being as strong as her to stay quiet and not fight back. And I certainly would have let out a little bit of a cry, too.

  Our house was dark when we finally got to it.

  “No lights,” Beanie said.

  “Daddy must not be home.” I rubbed the back of my neck. The muscles felt tight and sore.

  “Where is he?”

  “Probably playing cards with Millard or something.” I prayed God wouldn’t be too mad at Daddy for that. Millard, too. They were real good men even if they did play cards and skip church every once in a while.

  I let go of Beanie’s hand and climbed up to sit on the top step of our front porch. “We better wait for Mama out here.”

  Truth was, I hated going into a dark house without Mama or Daddy. My imagination created too many monsters and ghosts with no light to wash them away.

  “I’m hungry.” Beanie stood at the bottom of the steps. “Mama said I could eat something.”

  “Nah, she never did. I would’ve heard her.” I reached out and grabbed hold of her hand, trying to pull her up on the porch. “Sit with me. It’s nice out here.”

  She pulled her hand right out of mine and crossed her skinny arms over her chest. The way she stood reminded me of That Woman, the stubborn look in her eyes, too.

  “You can pout all you want.” I smoothed my skirt across my knees. “I’m not fixing anything for you.”

  “I wanna eat.” She stomped her foot, making a poof of dust around her.

  “You can do that all you want, too,” I said, trying to make my voice stern like Mama’s could be. “I’m not letting you eat until somebody comes home.”

  The slap stung my cheek before I knew she’d struck me. I cupped my hand on my face. It smarted so bad, I was sure it would turn red quick. On her face was no expression at all. No anger and no more of her pout. She stared at me, her face blank. Before I could get up on my feet, she had run up the steps and into the house, slamming the door and locking it behind her, leaving me on the porch with a sore cheek and a raging temper.

  I could have spit I was so mad.

  Mama would have had a snit fit over me spitting. She had a set of rules that included no spitting, no cussing, no yelling or running in the house. I didn’t obey the one about cussing that night. And I didn’t whisper it, either.

  I wondered how much dust wrath Pastor would have thought that was worth.

  “Mama’s going to tan your hide,” I hollered, feeling the heat from my face. “You’re in for it this time.”

  Even though I knew she’d locked it, I twisted the knob just the same and pushed against the door. It wouldn’t budge, and I said the bad word again.

  I jumped off the porch and tore around the side yard, fixing to get to the back door before Beanie thought to lock that one, too.

  Just when I got to the other side of the house I ran into something firm and fell back on my behind. All I could make out was the shadowed outline of a man.

  “Whoa there. What’s the rush, Pearl?” Eddie’s voice. I knew it was his because that voice had played over and over in my mind. “I heard that curse word. What’s a girl like you yelling cusses for? You sure got a mouth on you, don’t ya, girl?”

  He stepped closer and out of the shadow, reaching his hand to help me up. I swatted at it and got up all on my own.

  “Well, ain’t you a spitfire?” He laughed. “Shouldn’t you be at the revival still? Last night of it, ain’t it? Don’t wanna miss none of the hooting and hollering. Might go to hell if you ain’t there.”

  “Mama sent me home with my sister.” I tried to get around him with no success. Everywhere I moved, he stepped in front of me.

  “I seen her.” He turned his head and spit. “You told me she was pretty as yo
u. My opinion? She ain’t even close.”

  His fingers curled around my shoulder and pulled me close to him. It smelled like he hadn’t had a good scrubbing in a long time. The reek from his mouth told me his teeth weren’t cleaned enough, either. I tried to hold my breath.

  “She favors her mother, don’t she?” He smirked. “A bit plain, ain’t they?”

  “Mama isn’t plain.” I jerked from him, trying to loose myself, but Eddie had a real tight hold on me. “I got to get inside and see to my sister.”

  He let go, but then caught me again, putting his arm around my waist. I was sure his musty skin would rub its stink off on my dress.

  “Gotta see to her, huh?” he asked. “I hear y’all gotta take care of her most all the time. I hear she’s a idiot.”

  The mad rose up from my gut all the way to my head, heating my cheeks so I was sure they were blazing. I was half scared I’d break a tooth in half, the way I clenched them together. My hands on his side, I shoved him away from me with all my strength.

  “What’s that? Why’d you do that? You mad?” He stumbled a bit before settling down on his haunches. “I wasn’t fixing to make you mad. Just telling you what folks around town was saying.”

  “She isn’t an idiot.” My teeth didn’t stop grinding together when I spoke. “She’s a miracle.”

  Eddie’s face went blank, and he seemed to be thinking of something. He pushed up with his hands on his knees.

  “Settle down, would ya,” he said, tipping his hat back on his head. “Lord, do you ever have a temper on you. I thought you was about to punch my lights out.”

  He pulled out a tin of chewing tobacco, pinching some of it and working it into the space between his teeth and lip.

  “Does it ever feel like you’re somewhere you don’t belong?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What’s not to understand?” An edge sharpened his voice. “Lord Almighty, I thought that other girl was the idiot, not you.”