I’m not going to make it shine.
I’m just going to let it shine,
hallelujah. . . .
“It’s colder than the dickens!” Jewel Blessed squeezed through the parsonage door with Lucky. The girls had come for Lucky’s things.
Fern told John and Vera to come inside and she might be enticed to brew coffee. Vera wrapped her shoulders with a shawl and eased out of the Model T, a car that made fluttering sounds, like bats in an attic, for several seconds after John turned off the ignition. She wore a hat, blue straw with straw flowers attached to one side of the band, all of it matching the shawl and her gloves. “If I’d a known it was going to be so cold, I’d have put on Ruben’s old woolens.” She said other things to herself, such as the way that women outright froze in cold weather and how men got all of the good warm clothes. She covered Myrtle’s face with her blanket and said to Fern, “Do I know you, honey?”
“I’m Jeb’s friend.”
Vera glanced around until Fern pointed to him as he held open the parsonage door. “Reverend is a good man,” she said. Then she said to her husband, “I told Ruben he ought to come tonight. He’s got too much pride, that’s what.”
Fern helped Vera and John settle on Jeb’s couch and then went off for the coffee.
Angel coaxed Ida May into the kitchen to help make icing for cinnamon bread and told Jeb, “We’re making up sweets for everyone.” After Jeb gave her a look, she said, “We won’t stay up late, I swear.” Jewel followed the girls.
Lucky plopped down between her folks and said, “Look at some of these things Angel and I sewed up from the church rag bag.”
John muttered about charity and Vera said, “That dress looks new. Funny what people throw away.”
Jeb said, “You surprised me, the both of you. When I asked Reverend Williamson to bring his church choir by tonight, I didn’t mention you, but I’m grateful you came.”
“Reverend Williamson talked John into coming. Louie Williamson has the gift of persuasion,” said Vera.
“He said if I didn’t come, that it wouldn’t do him no good to mention me in his morning prayers. He said if my soul was so locked up by pride, I may as well give my key to the Devil,” said John.
“He didn’t say it like that,” said Vera.
Lucky laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to go home.”
“I guess your son, Ruben, is surprised by all of this?” asked Jeb.
“Ruben’s got a lot of hate built up,” said Vera. “He’ll be glad to see his sister, though. He looks after Lucky like no brother I ever saw.”
Myrtle made bubbling sounds and drew her grandmother’s attention.
“I see some of Ruben in this baby’s face, around the eyes, and, see, that grin, John? That’s Ruben all over. The idea of this child being born away from home still gives me chills to think of it. Was she born here at your place, Reverend?” Vera asked.
“Vera, I’ll do my best to always tell you the truth. But I think your daughter ought to be the one to answer your question about Myrtle.”
“Not here, Momma,” said Lucky.
“Where, then?” she asked.
Willie walked through the parlor, drawn by the smell of cinnamon. “You mean you haven’t heard the story? That there’s the apple orchard baby.” Willie disappeared into the kitchen.
“Nobody asked you, Willie,” said Jeb.
“Ruben never said you had this baby in the apple orchard,” said John. “What else do we not know?”
“I’ve been kind of curious about it myself, Lucky. What made Ruben drive you down into the apple orchard?” Jeb asked.
“Ruben never wanted no one to know,” said Lucky.
“You may as well spit it out,” said John. “You’ve carried it this far all by yourself.”
Lucky touched her daughter’s face and sopped the corner of her mouth with the edge of the blanket. “Ruben drove us straight into Nazareth. I told you, Reverend, he was acting crazy that night. My pains had started and I was crying. He drove downtown and stopped at that drugstore, Fidel’s place, but it was closed. A group of young men had gathered out in front of the drugstore talking to girls. When they saw Ruben banging on the window, they yelled at him, called him ‘nigger,’ and asked him why he was banging on the drugstore window. Ruben, all of a sudden, got calm. He told them that he was bringing money to Frank Pella, that Pella would want to see him. One of the boys just blurted out big and easy, ‘Why, you can find old Pella down in the apple orchard necking with his girlfriend.’ That boy told Ruben how to find the orchard and that it wasn’t far. I told Ruben not to go, but he drove straight into the apple orchard like he was going to kill Frank Pella. I cried and started screaming.”
Jewel came and stood in the doorway, silent and listening to Lucky.
“Ruben saw Pella’s car parked under an apple tree. He got out and yelled for Pella to come out of his car. Only Pella wasn’t just with a girl. They was three boys in that car. They all got out and came at Ruben with tire tools. I laid in the backseat of that car, crying, but knowing if they found me, they’d hurt me and my baby. I put a rag in my mouth and bit it. I had her by myself while my brother took a beating. Ruben, he laid on the ground until the next morning. He crawled to the car and found me and Myrtle in the backseat. I thought I was dying and that Myrtle would die too.
“He drove us out of town, away from Nazareth, but not home either. We wound up in the yard of some old woman outside of town. Ruben drove until the car was flat out of gas. This woman came out of her place and found us. She thought we were all dead. She dosed Ruben with some yarbs and he slept for three days. She took Myrtle and finished off what needed to be done after I birthed her. I couldn’t have done none of that without her. She made me chicken soup and kept making me sip her tea until I had the strength to hold the cup myself. After Ruben came to himself, he told her that I was in trouble, that I needed someone to take my half-white child. I cried. I didn’t want to give up my baby. I had never felt the way I did when I saw her face. It hurt, like I was breaking open inside. I knew I was too young to take care of her, but it didn’t stop my wanting to try.”
Jeb kept saying, “I’m so sorry.”
“This woman told you about Reverend Nubey?” asked John.
“She told Ruben. Said that she heard of a preacher who took in kids and showed Ruben how to find Church in the Dell.”
“What was her name?” asked Jeb.
“She called herself Toni, like a boy’s name. That’s all I know,” said Lucky.
Vera cried. John rubbed Lucky’s back as she spoke. When it seemed that she had finished her story, he said, “Life don’t make no sense.”
Jewel kept staring at the floor without saying a word.
“There I was mad at Ruben for staying gone for all those days. I could tell he’d been in a fight. I thought he’d gone off on a drinking binge or some such. He never told me,” said Vera.
“Hot cinnamon bread and coffee,” said Angel.
Jeb told the children they could stay up later than usual to visit. The sound of children and a baby filled up the parsonage with good sounds. He told the story of how he came to be minister at Church in the Dell. John laughed and Vera plain did not believe him.
“I had him figured out when he preached that Paul wrote from the Isle of Patmos,” said Fern.
“You never told me that,” said Jeb.
John and Vera laughed some more, eating cinnamon bread until nothing remained but a plate of crumbs.
“You’re place is nice and warm,” said Vera. “I’m glad we stopped by.”
24
ON FRIDAY MORNING, THE SECOND TO THE LAST Friday in January, Beulah broke from custom and set a kettle of stew to simmer on the back burner, a convenient leftovers’ recipe using up the unsold portions of Thursday’s flank steak. Her rhythmic chopping of ribs of celery, red potatoes, and the skinning of corn lent a cheery quality to the cafe. Jeb enjoyed his first cup of cafe coffee
at the bar minus one baby in a laundry basket.
“If I’d have known you was going to have the Eternal Mansion chorus Wednesday night, I’d have been there. Shame I missed it,” Beulah told Jeb.
“Eternal Hope.”
“I say those people can sing better than any white choir.” She filled his cup. “I guess your house is quieter now, what with that teenager and her baby gone home to be with their family. I always say it’s best for children to be with kin, if possible, but if not, you are the darlingest man I ever knew to take in a stranger’s kids.”
A group of banking apprentices milled outside of Nazareth Bank and Trust.
Jeb pushed his cup toward Beulah and said, “Keep it warm for me, will you?” As he walked toward the men, he pulled his hat down, keeping his eyes to the town walk. He decided to cross the street corner, up a half block from the barbershop, and then walk past the Clip and Curl. He averted his eyes from Faith Bottoms, who fiddled with a window shade. Jeb increased his pace and nearly ran to the corner adjacent to the bank. “Frank Pella!” he yelled.
“Who wants to know?”
“You came back into town. Good to see you,” said Jeb. He figured he had a few seconds before Frank bolted for his automobile or came at him with a tire tool.
“Someone’s started rumors, Preacher. Good thing my father has an attorney. He has a way with preachers.” Frank Pella’s shirt look disheveled, slept in, creased in odd places at the shoulder and forearm.
“Your father know he’s a grandfather?” asked Jeb.
“Let’s adjourn our meeting indoors, gentlemen,” said Frank.
None of the men broke away from the group or went inside.
“Fine. Stay out here and freeze,” said Frank.
“Frank, I have a question for you,” said Jeb.
“Not interested.”
“It’s about last October. Want to tell me what happened down in the apple orchard between you and Ruben Blessed?”
Two boys turned and went into the bank.
“I hear you always stand on the wrong side of the fence, Nubey,” said Frank.
“While you and your friends there took out your meanness on Ruben, Lucky Blessed was in Ruben’s car. She knows you beat him, saw your white face shining in the moonlight. That little girl laid in that car having your baby, Frank, while you beat her brother with a tire iron.”
“Shut up!” Frank came at Jeb, his arms raised.
“Something wrong, boys?” Deputy Maynard walked up behind Frank.
“Lucky Blessed saw her brother beaten last October by Frank Pella and two of these young friends of his,” said Jeb.
Maynard looked at the others.
“I’m not taking your blame, Frank!” one of the young men said. “It’s not my business, Deputy. Talk to Wade and Gordon. They just went inside.”
Maynard got his name and told him, “Harry Marsden. I heard them bragging about beating up the Negro down in the apple orchard.”
“Keep your mouth shut, Harry!” said Frank.
“Frank, let’s have us a talk down at my place. Come quietly. You can call your daddy,” said Maynard. He took Frank by the upper arm.
Frank pulled away. “This lousy preacher’s not ruining my life!” He clambered into his car.
Oz came running out of the bank and saw Frank jerk away from Maynard. “Don’t, Frank! Go with George. He only wants to talk, right, George?”
“That’s right. But you take off, boy, you can add resisting an officer to whatever else it is this Blessed girl thought she saw.” Maynard held out his arms, palms out. “You can walk beside me back to the jailhouse, like we’re having us a good-buddy chat.”
Jeb knew that Frank Pella’s father would have him out of jail by the time the lunch crowd gathered for stew at Beulah’s. “I’ll see you around,” he said to George.
“Get me that little girl in my office, Reverend. I’ll listen to what she’s got to say.”
Ruben Blessed’s thick glasses gave him a scholarly appearance, like a college boy who wore lab coats and poured chemicals into beakers. He had driven from home and waited in the parsonage drive. He came up from his leaning stance against his daddy’s car. “Reverend Nubey, I understand I owe you an apology.” He stuck out his hand and Jeb shook it.
“Vera must be making you apologize, but don’t do it on my account,” said Jeb.
“My little sister. She says if she can forgive the man who did this to her, then so should I.”
“I didn’t know if you’d heard, Frank Pella was questioned for beating you today.”
“And let go.”
“Deputy Maynard asked me to bring in Lucky, to ask what she saw that night in October.”
“His daddy got him a Little Rock attorney. He’ll never see the inside of a jail, Reverend.”
“Deputy got a confession out of one of his friends.”
“What he did to Lucky was worse than what he did to me. What kind of justice slaps a man on the wrist for beating the brother of the girl he raped?” He looked around and then said, “I’ve wanted him dead for a while. I almost killed him one night too.” He pointed into the woods. “I could have killed him right there under that big cedar. He was sneaking around with two of his friends, the ones who tore me up. They was watching Lucky through the window.”
Jeb had wondered if Pella had been sneaking around the parsonage, since the church had been vandalized. “You had your chance.”
“I knocked him smooth out. He lay there, looking like he was dead already. It scared me to think that I was turning into a monster. I realized I couldn’t kill no one, not even Frank Pella. I went to the High Cotton Club that night and got so drunk, Jewel had to drag me home. Oh, by the way, she’s told me about your debut at the club. You play good. She said the boys told her that at the club.”
“No need to mention that to anyone, though.”
“No, sir. I slept for the whole next day. I was afraid of myself. Then I looked at my own face in the mirror. I wasn’t going to turn into Frank Pella, I decided.”
“Lucky is proud of you, Ruben. When she talks about you, her whole face lights up,” said Jeb.
“I never thought any of us could love that baby or give it our name. You ought to see my daddy bouncing that little girl on his knee, like she was his own.”
“She is his own.”
“Maybe she looks like me. I’ve taken to her, I’ll say that. Anyway, it’s getting dark and I promised my mother I’d be home to help her cook peas and ham. I got my own recipe.” He laughed. “Someday I’m going to own my own restaurant.”
Jeb remembered how Lucky said she wanted to teach. “John and Vera have done well with you and your sisters, Ruben, in spite of what they think. I see the future when I look into your eyes.”
“Don’t get all soft, Reverend. You’ll turn into Vera.” He stuck out his hand again.
Jeb threw his arms around Ruben and hugged him.
Fern had left cookies on the table next to Jeb’s bed along with a note that said, “I miss you so badly I could scream.” Angel told him that Fern had waited at the parsonage an hour before going into his bedroom and then leaving.
He would go Saturday morning and wake her up at sunup, the worst part of the day in her estimation, but then he would make it the best time. He ate one of the cookies, not one of her better batches, but the vanilla scent reminded him of the first time he smelled her hair. He placed a cookie on his pillow and fell asleep.
Nothing could have awakened him, he decided, except something that might startle him out of his dream—something like a fire. Even from his bed he saw the flame shoot up. He did not know if the blaze had ignited the whole woods, seeing as how it flared up only for one astonishing moment that brought him upright, stumbling off the mattress and feeling in the dark for his trousers, notching up his galluses. He called out for Willie, but then he had to go and wake him, telling him not to wake up Ida May. Half-asleep, Willie followed him outside. He unquestioningly dragged a pail of wa
ter, as if he were carrying it out for a washtub full of laundry or a Saturday bath.
Jeb hefted two pails and ran into the woods, and it seemed like a dream, like a foolish thing to do in the middle of the night.
“Where are we going?” Willie asked.
“Fire in the woods.”
“It’s cold. Woods are too wet.”
He realized Willie was right, but he saw the orange glow and kept pressing through the brambling brush, snagging naked brown ivy until he came to the flaming tree, an oak flaming at the base. Jeb threw water onto the tree, and that is when he noticed the shape of a man.
The man seemed to be part of the tree, but the water caused his eyes to come open and he said gently, “I thought you’d come.”
Jeb and Willie put out the fire and pulled Ruben Blessed away from the charred trunk. The ropes broke well off him and he was surprisingly light to carry.
Willie could not speak at all, not when Jeb told him to run and fetch Angel to bring balms from the kitchen, or when Angel came out of her room to ask him what was going on and what lay on the sofa that Jeb was crouched over, that thing that could not be a man, yet was. Angel cried. She had trouble keeping her balance, dashing back and forth from the kitchen, and then, when the cupboard ran bare of ointment, she said quietly, “I’m driving your truck to Fern’s. Then we’re going for Doc Forrester.”
“Get Fern first, that’s right,” Jeb kept saying, even after she ran out of the parsonage in her nightgown.
Ida May tiptoed into the parlor, soft as a moth, and then slumped against the doorpost and wailed.
Fern used tweezers to peel strips of clothing from Ruben’s skin. Angel kept burying her head in her hands; then she would sit up, like a girl coming to the surface of a pond for air, and help Fern strip Ruben’s charred trousers from his legs.
Doc Forrester sent Willie and Ida May out of the room. He told Jeb, “It’s really bad, Reverend.”
“Do your best,” said Jeb.
“My wife went for the boy’s family. Fern here told us where they lived.” Dr. Forrester knelt next to Ruben. “Reverend says you talked to him. Can you talk to me, Ruben? Can you hear me?”
Whisper Town Page 20
