by Tony Martin
Joshua realized that some New Testament manuscripts simply said, “Deliver us from evil,” but knew that the more reliable texts had the whole phrase Bud cited. He was pleased that his deacon chairman was a bit of a Bible scholar.
“That’s exactly what we should be praying,” said Joshua. “Because Satan is at work – not only will he attack us in overt ways, but he’ll do what he can to get us at each other’s throats. That’s why he’s called the accuser of the brethren.”
Joel looked as though he still wanted to be mad, but said calmly, “Joshua, I’m still not comfortable with what has happened, but … what’s done is done.”
Joshua didn’t interpret that as an apology or concession, but he did recognize it as the beginnings of a truce, however temporary. “Bud,” he said, “I know you probably need to go to the deacons, and they deserve an explanation of what’s happening – I just can’t supply them with the why’s yet. And I know people are talking, but maybe the talk will be restricted to our church family.”
“Fat chance,” said Joel.
“Yeah, I know its wishful thinking,” admitted Joshua, “but we’ve still got to believe and pray something good can come from all this.”
“We’re under siege right now,” said Bud, “and it’s futile to try to figure out why.”
“We press on,” said Joshua. “You both should know that I’ve talked to an old professor of mine, Dr. Peterson, who’s recently retired from New Orleans Seminary. He’s had experience in this sort of thing, and he’s been helpful.”
“What do you propose to do?” asked Bud.
“Ask God to remove this wickedness from the Dubose house … from Meredith Dubose … from our church.”
The other two men thought about this. Then, amazingly, Joel smiled. “I feel like I’ve got a supporting role in the Saturday midnight Creature Feature on Channel 4,” he said. “How will I ever explain this to my family?”
“You just tell them,” said Joshua, “that the devil is a liar, that he is the father of lies, and he is trying to destroy all that is good here. He’s chosen to use tactics outside the realm of our experiences and beliefs. I don’t know why he’s resorted to that. But we won’t tolerate it, and we will deal with it.”
Bud and Joel both nodded grimly. “I don’t know that I need to call a special deacon’s meeting yet,” said Bud. “But at some point, Joshua, I think you’re going to have to go before them and tell them the whole story. Frankly, I don’t know how it’ll be received. I think we can sit tight for a while … and I’ll do what I can to pour oil on troubled waters.”
“Thanks, Bud,” said Joshua. He knew Bud was firmly in his camp, but he also knew that a church could produce a figurative lynch mob hungry for their pound of flesh. It was the nightmare of many a good pastor … and while the phrase “forced termination” sounded relatively benign, it could spell the end of a ministry, no matter who was at fault. Joshua knew that God was his employer – the church only paid his salary. Still, such an event could be devastating … and how would Bethany respond? There’s no need to borrow trouble, he thought wearily.
The three men stood and shook hands. Joel still seemed dissatisfied, but Joshua knew there was nothing he could say to Joel to make things right, at least not right now.
“I’ll stay in touch,” said Bud as the two men left together. When they had gone, Joshua sat at his desk, drew a deep breath, and cried, all alone.
Chapter Twenty-One – Bound by Blood
Joshua hunched over the steering wheel as he tried to navigate the slick streets between the church and his house. Lightning stabbed the sky, and the wipers were barely able to keep his windshield clear.
He was emotionally wrung out. Joshua doubted his worthiness, his ability to lead his church; while he was pleased that Meredith had received Christ, he wondered where God was in his own life.
Joshua pulled in the garage, trudged into the house, and, leaving the lights off, collapsed in his recliner. He felt as though he might cry again. He was not a “crier,” but that seemed to be his response.
He was still sitting in the dark when Bethany got home. She turned on the light in the kitchen and called Joshua’s name. “I’m in here,” he said.
Bethany could see Joshua sitting upright in the recliner, enough ambient light in the room for her to know that he’d been crying.
“This doesn’t look so good,” she said, sitting on the sofa and regarding him with obvious concern.
“It’s not so good,” said Joshua. He knew there were still tears on his cheeks, but he didn’t bother to try to wipe them away.
“Please talk to me,” Bethany said.
“I’ve had it!” Joshua roared with Jovian fury. “I’m sick of this situation, I’m sick of the church, I’m sick of the whole mess.”
Bethany flinched, and then recovered. “Keep talking.”
“I don’t know if God’s won, or Satan’s won, or who’s won. All I know is that I’ve lost.”
“So,” said Bethany softly, “how are you going to respond to this?”
Joshua swore – uncharacteristic for him – then said, “Bethany, will you please quit trying to fix me?”
“Hey, pal,” said Bethany, “you better value the support you’re getting here. For better or worse, remember?”
“Sorry. Just spare me the pop psychology, would you, please? If I knew how I was going to respond, I’d have already done it.”
“Tell me what happened tonight.”
Joshua looked as though he would snap at Bethany again. Instead, he just shrugged. “I just got my tail chewed out by Joel Battaglia.”
“C’mon, Nix,” Bethany said. “Consider the source. Is that it? Because if it is, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“What chaps me is that what he said was right,” Joshua said. “I’ve been unfocused on what’s really important and obsessing over what’s not.”
“I’d hardly consider fighting the devil tooth and nail as not important,” Bethany said.
“Don’t you see?” asked Joshua, tensing up. “Bethany – it is about me. Sure, Meredith has been the focus of the assault. But this whole mess comes right at me. This whole deal over my - infatuation - with Meredith … my neglect of you and the church … all this has done has been almost designed to make me understand who I am.”
Bethany pursed her lips. She knew Joshua was prone to spend time in some dark mental places, but she’d seldom seen him so overwrought. “Understanding who you are is sometimes the first step toward change,” she said.
Joshua laughed sardonically. “You sound like a fortune cookie,” he said.
“Didn’t I just tell the truth?” Bethany shot back.
“You did,” said Joshua. “Sure you did. But here’s the issue: I know who I am. I know my weaknesses and shortcomings. I know the sin areas I struggle with. But in all the time you’ve known me … have I ever taken steps to change, to allow God to change me? Heck, no. I keep returning to the same patterns of behavior, thinking the same thoughts, getting muddy in the same hole over and over again. No, Bethany, hon … who I am has come to the surface for the whole world to see.”
“Josh, my Lord, quit being so melodramatic.”
“The emperor has no clothes,” Joshua said, thumping his chest like a gorilla. “This is what you’ve married.”
“Hey, Josh, guess what. I know who I married, and I love you anyway. So don’t go there.”
Joshua ignored this. “Bethany, I think I’m done with the church.”
“What brought that on?” asked Bethany.
“All that’s happened, all that we’ve been talking about, has made me come to the realization that I don’t have any business trying to pastor.”
“You are so wrong,” Bethany insisted. “You’re gifted at what you do.”
“I’ve just been going through the motions ever since we got here,” Joshua said bitterly. “I’m talented enough to fake it, but I’m just bone weary. The last couple of weeks have
just verified it.”
“You can’t tell me you’ve been feeling this way for almost two years and you’ve never said anything about it. I’m not buying it.”
“Well, get out your purse and buy it,” said Joshua. “I know it, and you do, too.”
“I know no such thing,” said Bethany, inching to the edge of the couch. “I know you’re great at what you do.”
“It’s all a sham,” Joshua said. “I’m just going through the motions.”
“Just because you’ve had a bad night, and you’re ready to shuck the whole thing?”
“It’s more than that,” said Joshua patiently, as though he were talking to a child. “I know now, better than ever, that I need to find something else to do.”
“I’m listening,” said Bethany.
“Bethany, at some point before long, I’m going to have to stand before the deacons and explain all that’s happened with this Dubose situation. How do you think that’s gonna come across?”
“Tell the truth,” said Bethany. “It’ll serve you well.”
“The truth,” Joshua repeated. “That I’ve been involved in a haunting? That I’ve conjured up demons? That I’ve had an eighth-grade crush on a college student? How do you think that’ll go over?”
“Well, Joshua, you don’t have to be evasive, but you don’t need to say any more than you absolutely have to. Besides, you aren’t alone in this. The Tracys were there, Al was there, and these are folks who the church respects and trusts.”
Joshua fell back in his chair. “Whatever. But I’m going to offer my resignation when this meeting comes. They can do whatever they want. I don’t care.”
“Joshua, you’re scaring me. I’ve never heard you talk like this.”
“I’ve tried to protect you from how I’ve been feeling,” Joshua said. “But you have a right to know.”
“Listen,” said Bethany. “Rather than making all these broad, sweeping declarations of how you’re feeling, and what you plan to do, how about just sleeping on it? You aren’t through with the Dubose situation. Y’all were going to go back to the house and finish your job, remember?”
“I don’t think I’ve got the wherewithal to do anything of the sort,” Joshua said resignedly.
“Joshua,” said Bethany, her patience stretched, “why don’t let’s just go to bed? Call Gretchen in the morning and tell her you won’t be in until later. Give yourself some time. She knows what’s going on, and she’ll cover for you.”
“Whatever.”
“Hey, Joshua,” said Bethany, crossing to his chair and kneeling. She took his hand. “How ‘bout let’s pray before we hit the sack.”
“I don’t want to.”
Bethany stood. Her face was a mask of pain. “OK. I tried. I am going to bed.” She turned and headed for the bedroom.
Joshua sat in silence for several more minutes. Then he arose and went to the bedroom. Bethany had already put on her nightgown and was lying on her side in the bed. He changed into boxers and a T-shirt and crawled in bed next to her, trying not to awaken her.
“I’m not asleep,” she said, “so don’t worry about creeping around.”
“I love you,” Joshua said helplessly. Bethany turned to face him. “Joshua … I love you, too. Unquestionably. But you’ve got to work through this, and this business about being fired or you resigning … how ‘bout not worrying about that quite yet?”
“Sure. Hey. I’m going to sleep.” Joshua turned over.
Bethany stared at his back for a few moments, then turned off her lamp. To her surprise, Joshua was asleep in no time. With the thoughts of their conversation ricocheting through her mind, she, too, fell into a fitful sleep.
Bethany awoke a little after midnight. At first, she felt a little thrill of fear. Joshua was still asleep, completely still and thankfully peaceful.
She lay there for several minutes, her eyes wide open, and sleep suddenly seemed out of the question. One thought crowded out the next. She thought about the pure despair she’d heard from Joshua earlier, and while she knew that Joshua tended toward melancholy, she’d never seen him in such a state. She wondered forlornly how she could help; the thought occurred to her that ministers often went through periods of depression and needed counseling to work through them. Joshua had been low before – “my lows are so low I need cranes to get out of them” he’d once remarked – but she knew he couldn’t stay where he was now and function.
And, Bethany thought, what if he does lose his job? She knew she could teach school somewhere – she had a Florida teacher’s certificate, and felt they could move back there if need be. Joshua had never wanted to do anything but pastor, but there were opportunities in other areas, perhaps. If worst came to worst, they could conceivably move in with his or her parents. These were last resorts, but maybe until they could get their feet on the ground again …
Bethany realized that she was doing the same thing Joshua had done – “borrowed trouble.” She rolled over, trying to get comfortable, and wanting to sleep.
It simply wasn’t going to happen. Sighing dramatically, Bethany got up, put on her robe, and went to the kitchen. She thought she’d fix a cup of chamomile tea, a favorite.
While the water was coming to a boil, Bethany noticed Judith Duboses’ journal on the kitchen counter. She picked it up, idly running her palm over its surface. She laid it on the table, poured her boiling water over the teabag, and while it was steeping, began leafing through its pages.
Judith Dubose had a flowing, elegant script. Bethany smiled, thinking that back in Judith’s day fine penmanship was crucial. Bethany paused and read Judith’s entry for November 2, 1879:
Zeebo and the other hands have finished clearing the last of the cotton from the north fields. Captain Dubose is very pleased with its quality. Nevertheless, he seems more distant than ever. Certainly, he would never take me into his confidence, but his aloofness concerns me.
Bethany thought about what kind of relationship the old reprobate and his wife must have had. Not much of one, she reckoned. She flipped ahead a few pages to November 10:
I have petitioned Almighty God – must He be weary from my pleas? Margaret, blessedly, is returning from Eufaula in two weeks. I have no thought but that out of His infinite mercy He will restore calm to our household, and the darkness might soon pass. Margaret’s correspondence from the last six months has been encouraging to this mother’s heart, but I pray that her scars be healed in God’s timing. Haste the day, O Lord, when peace will once again reign! Holy writ informs us that not even a sparrow falls without His knowledge. Will He not even, in greater measure, lift us up in due time?
Intrigued, Bethany turned to the entry for November 26:
O, Glorious day! My little dear one has returned. She bears no shame. But she is uncharacteristically quiet, and I note that she spends much time around the estate alone, favoring the gazebo and her own company. Captain Dubose has barely spoken to her. God grant that this estrangement from her father not be permanent.
Bethany closed the journal for a moment, her finger holding her place. It was as though she were hearing the voice of a dear mother, her vocal cords long since turned to dust, speaking to her over the span of well over one hundred years. This book was a treasure, she thought, as she continued reading. She flipped ahead several pages to December 29, and felt her heart pound as she read:
How much pain will God allow a mother to bear? I recognize in my heart that God doeth all things well, but has He heard my cries in the watches of the night?
We buried my dear one today. I take some comfort in the outpouring of love from family and friends, and am humbled at the sweet remembrances offered by so many townspeople. Now, as I find myself sleepless and heavy of heart, I realize that so many of my prayers have not found favor with the Almighty. I do not doubt His love for me, nor do I doubt His love for my dear Margaret. And perhaps, when the morning comes, I will see the bright angel smile of this one who has gone before me. We grieve for now, and
I recognize that this parting is but for a season. Nevertheless, this mother’s heart is broken because, God help me, I have no peace about her passing. My mind rejects the unthinkable prospect that she may have taken her own life in crossing the ice. Yet, I cry out in my agony – would that I could have been more sensitive to her constitution! Perhaps in her youthful boldness she deigned to cross the pond as a lark, and God! – she has paid the supreme price for her frivolity.
May the God of all comfort minister his peace to our house.
Again, Bethany closed the book for a moment. What she just read shattered her. She understood that there were some question in Judith’s mind as to the circumstances of Margaret’s premature death … and realized the truth was unknown. Was Margaret’s death a suicide?
Bethany felt that she should go back to bed, but was compelled to read just a bit more. As she lifted the journal again, an envelope fell to the floor. It had been pressed deep into the pages of the book, and none of the men had noticed it in their haste to leave the Dubose mansion.
The postmark on the letter was November 8, 1879, from Eufaula, Alabama, which was perhaps ninety miles from St. Helena. It was addressed to Judith Dubose, in a neat, tiny hand. Bethany unfolded the letter and began reading it. As she read, she felt her chest constrict; her hands trembled.
When she finished, Bethany folded the letter, laid it on the table, and tried to steady herself. She was breathing heavily. Then she took the letter and re-read it.
“God Almighty,” she whispered. “Oh, God.”
Bethany debated just a moment before deciding to wake Joshua. The choice was simple. She went into the bedroom, turned on the bedside lamp, and shook Joshua. He awoke with a start, and then moaned.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he said, squinting against the light.
“This letter fell out of Judith Duboses’ journal,” said Bethany. “I couldn’t sleep, and thought I’d read a while … and I read this.” She passed the letter to Joshua, who was busy rubbing his eyes. He began reading:
