Fiery Rivers

by Daefyd Williams

  “Lincoln verbs?” Devon thought. “A president has verbs named after him?”

  At home that night, the family sat down to a supper of fried pork chops, fried potatoes, canned peas, canned corn, and hot biscuits with grape jelly and butter. Marie prayed before the meal, “Heavenly Father, we thank thee for these blessin’s we’re about to receive. Bless all of our friends an’ relatives an’ may the church lead many souls to live with thee in heaven. May you work in Dad’s life an’ bring him to thy side, also. We thank thee an’ praise thee. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Adam echoed, “Amen,” and the children raised their heads and opened their eyes, even sixteen-month-old Denny, sitting in his high chair beside Marie.

  “I got five more customers for my rout,” Del announced, reaching for the platter of pork chops.

  “Good for you, son,” Adam stated.

  “That gives me sixty-two for daily, an’ ninety-seven for Sunday.”

  Devon said, “Mr. Wilson moved my seat in class today.”

  “Wha’djou do?” Adam asked crossly, thinking that Devon had misbehaved.

  “I didden do nothin’. I ask’ him to move me ‘cause I coulden see the board.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “Why couldenchou see the board?” Marie inquired.

  “Mr. Wilson was writin’ spellin’ words on the board an’ I coulden see none of ‘em. They was all blurred.”

  “Why?”

  “I been havin’ trouble seein’ all year, an’ even when he put me in the first desk right in front o’ the board, I still had to squint to read the words.” He did not tell his parents that he believed he had done this to himself by staring at the sun.

  “They ain’t nothin’ wrong with your eyes,” Adam stated. “Even if there is, Jesus’ll heal you.”

  “But I think I need glasses,” Devon remonstrated. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.

  “You don’t need no glasses. You’re fine.”

  The subject was dropped, and conversation turned to other matters. Marie informed the boys that they would be helping Uncle Dwayne on the garbage route on Saturday. She mentioned that she had not seen Feisty for two days. Gloryann, sitting beside Devon, pushed the peas on her plate to one side with her finger.

  Marie noticed and said, “You eat them peas, Glory.”

  “I don’t like peas,” she pouted.

  “You’re not gonna git no dessert unless you finish them peas.”

  “But I don’t like ‘em,” she whined.

  “You’re gonna eat ‘em or you’re not gittin’ no ice cream.”

  Gloryann loved ice cream, so, with tears in her eyes, she slowly ate the peas, grimacing with each swallow.

  It would be another year before Devon would convince his parents that he needed glasses.

  When supper was over, Devon did the dishes because it was his turn, and then he and Del went outside to call Feisty. Del stood on the back porch and Devon in the backyard and they called, “Here, Feisty! Here, Feisty! Kitty, kitty, kitty. Come ‘ere, kitty. Here Feisty! Here Feisty!” but to no avail. Feisty did not appear.

  “Wonder what happen' to ‘im?” Devon asked.

  “Doeknow,” Del said.

  Devon glanced at the empty barrel sitting in the backyard that Adam had bought for Uncle Dwayne to take to one of his garbage route customers tomorrow. “Hey, ya wanta see if we can fit inside that?”

  “What for?”

  “We can roll each other down the hill.”

  There was a slight decline to the west in the grass north of the house down which the barrel would roll.

  “OK, let’s roll it over here.” They laid the barrel on its side and rolled it just east of the back porch.

  “I’ll try it first,” Devon stated.

  “OK, git inside.”

  Devon got in, crossed his legs, and pressed his back against the inside of the barrel. He clasped his ankles. “OK, give it a shot,” he called out to Del.

  Del pushed the barrel as hard as he could down the hill.

  “Wahoo!!” Devon yelled from inside as he rolled down the hill as if he were in a clothes dryer.

  When the barrel came to a stop close to the fence of the convenience store behind their property, he got out unsteadily. “Man, that makes ya dizzy!”

  “Lemme try,” Del said eagerly.

  They rolled the barrel up the hill and spent the rest of the afternoon making each other dizzy until it got dark and Adam called them inside.

  It was the middle of April, Saturday evening, the second church service of the week of the four services the Hensleys held—Wednesday night, Saturday night, Sunday morning, and Sunday night. Brother Peatry was back from Tennessee. He came to Adam’s church whenever his wife complained that the children were going to go hungry unless he brought some money into the house. He could rely on Adam to allow him to preach all three services over the weekend, netting from fifty to eighty dollars. His theme tonight was the bloody crucifixion. Del sat in the last pew beside Geneva close to the wall. Rig and Devon sat on the end of the pew next to the aisle. Every pew was filled; Brother Peatry’s preaching always attracted a large crowd. Some came out of curiosity. Some came out of a desire to prevent their souls from burning eternally in the lake of fire. Marie was leading the congregation in singing “When the Roll is Called up Yonder,” accompanied by Daryl, a new convert, on guitar and Keith on tambourine:

  Let us labor for the Master from the dawn till

  settin’sun,

  Let us talk of all His wondrous love an’ care;

  Then when all o’ life is over, an’ our work on earth is

  done,

  An’ the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there.

  “An’ now we’re gonna hear a sermon from our visitin’ pastor, Brother Peatry,” Marie announced. She turned and faced him on the dais. “Brother Peatry, welcome back to our church.” She sat down beside Adam along the left wall.

  Brother Peatry stepped up to the pulpit and grasped both sides of it with his bony hands. His wiry frame was nattily attired in a white suit, white shirt, white shoes, and a light blue tie. He smiled. “Welcome, everyone, to the house o’ the Lord. Ya know why we call this the house o’ the Lord? ‘Cause it’s dedicated to him, because only through him an’ his grace will you ever see the kingdom of heaven. Only those of us who are saved an’ have asked sweet Jesus to forgive us of our sins an’ been warshed in the blood o’ the Lamb an’ been born again are gonna see his holy face an’ not burn forever in hell, the lake o’ fahr. Now lemme tell you a little bit what Jesus done for you, so you woulden burn in the lake o’ fahr.”

  Before Brother Peatry began to describe the whipping that Jesus had suffered after Pontius Pilate had judged him, he took off his white coat, folded it neatly, and placed it atop the pulpit, turned his back to the congregation and faced the framed picture of Jesus on the back wall. He turned his head towards the former kitchen door so that he could be heard. “The whip the Romans used then wudden just one piece o’ leather. No, it was a whip with many pieces o’ leather at the end, each one containin’ bits o’ bone an’ pieces o’ metal at the tips, so that each lash wudden just one lash, but many at once across our Lord an’ Savior’s back, cuttin’ an’ bruisin’ him.”

  He walked over and took the tambourine from Keith’s hand and returned to his former position with his back towards the congregation. “An’ they whupped him.” He struck the tambourine with his right hand and cringed as though a whip had struck him across the back. “An’ whupped him.” Tambourine, cringe. “An’ whupped him.” Tambourine, cringe. “An’ whupped him.” Tambourine, cringe.

  He turned around and faced the congregation and laid the tambourine on top of his coat. “An’ when they was done a whuppin’ ‘im, the Roman soldiers made a crown o’ thorns an’ forced it down onto his precious head.” He reached up to the sides of his head with both hands and forced an imaginary crown down onto it, grimacing. “Now kin you imagine the
pain Jesus was feelin’ then? You know how bad it hurts when you’s out pickin’ blackberries an’ you accident’ly prick your finger with them thorns. Well, these warn’t no blackberry thorns, they was big, two or three inches long, an’ they forced ‘em down onto his precious head, the blood streamin’ down his forehead an’ runnin’ into his eyes.” He slowly drew the forefinger and middle finger of both hands from his hairline down across his forehead and over his eyes to illustrate how the blood running down into Jesus’s eyes would look. He took his coat from the pulpit and draped it across his shoulders. “Then they put a purple robe crost his shoulders to mock him as the king o’ the Jews, an’ spat on ‘im. An’ when they was a done mockin’ ‘im, they took the robe offen him, an’ drug ‘im out onto the street and made ‘im carry his own cross.” Brother Peatry put his coat back atop the pulpit and stepped off the dais and pretended to carry the heavy cross on his shoulder across the room in front of the altar, dragging his feet and stumbling all the while. He dropped to one knee when he reached the opposite wall. “An’ when he coulden carry the cross no more, they chose a stranger who was just a comin’ into town, Simon o’ Cyrene, to carry the cross for ‘im.”

  Devon sat mute and immobile beside Rig. He had heard the crucifixion story his whole life, but he had never seen it portrayed like this. Everyone in the congregation was transfixed, even those who were already saved.

  Brother Peatry stood up. “An’ when they got to Golgotha, the place o’ the skull, they offered him some wine with gall an’ vinegar in it to drink, but he woulden drink none, an’ then they laid ‘im on the cross and pounded nails through his hands an’ feet, put a sign on top o’ the cross that said ‘Jesus o’ Nazareth, the King o’ the Jews,’ an’ planted him upright on the cross ‘tween two criminals, one on his right, an’ one on his left. An’ then Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive ‘em, for they know not what they do.’”

  “An’ then, after he had hung there for six ars, when he was about to die, a Roman soldier come up an’ stabbed him in the side, an’ blood an’ water gushed out.” He raised his right arm toward the ceiling and then brought it swiftly down into his right side, pointing his hand towards the back wall so that it appeared that his hand had entered his side below the rib cage, where the spear had entered Jesus’s body. He winced and then raised his arms into the crucified position. “An’ then Jesus cried out with a loud voice an’ said, ‘Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit,’ an’ he died.”

  He turned his eyes to the ceiling and then dropped his head to his chest and left it there, leaving his arms in the crucified position. He was silent for thirty seconds.

  “Oh, my sweet Jesus!” Marie cried out, tears streaming down her face, “Sha nah nah nie, suh bock thuh nie!”

  He dropped his arms and raised his head. “An’ ya know why he suffered all this? Do you know why? He done it to save each an’ ever one o’ you here, so y’all wouldn’t haf to go to hell an’ burn in everlastin’ flames in eternal darkness, where all you’re gonna hear forever an’ ever is the cacklin’ an’ laughin’ o’ the demons, the wailin’ an’ cryin’ o’ the sinners, an’ see the evil grinnin’ face o’ the devil, gloatin’ ‘cause you’re spendin’ eternity with him, instead o’ bein’ with us in heaven, where we’ll be walkin’ on streets o’ gold, praisin’ His holy name, an’ feastin’ on heavenly food.” He looked intensely into the eyes of every congregant. “Now, do you wanta be happy with us in heaven, or do ya wanta burn forever in hell? You know the answer. Come up right now an’ git down on your knees in front o’ this altar an’ ask Jesus to forgive you o’ your sins so you can be with us in paradise. Do it now while you still have the chance. Tomorr’ might be too late.”

  Marie began to sing “Amazing Grace,” accompanied by Daryl on guitar.

  A corpulent woman in a blue dress with yellow flowers on it in the middle of the second row immediately got up and waddled to the altar, where she laboriously got down on her knees. A tall, thin man in blue jeans and a black tee shirt at the end of the first row followed her and took a place at the opposite end of the altar. Devon stood up. Brother Peatry’s vivid presentation had touched his heart. He had never had sympathy for Jesus before, but now the only thing he wanted to do was to ask Jesus to forgive him. He walked to the altar and knelt down between the man and woman.

  “Yes, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!” Brother Peatry commented when Devon walked forward. “If this young lamb has the courage to come forward in front o’ y’all an’ ask Jesus to forgive him of his sins, surely you’uns holdin’ back ain’t allowin’ the devil to hold you in your seat, are ya? Come on up now, an’ git saved an’ follow this young lamb into heaven.”

  Marie continued to sing:

  ‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,

  And grace my fears relieved;

  How precious did that grace appear

  The hour I first believed.

  “Are you gonna be lost forever in hell when you die, or are ya gonna be with us within the pearly gates, praisin’ His holy name?”

  Adam, Uncle Dwayne, and Uncle Rufus walked off the dais and into the congregation to try to coax the reluctant sinners to the altar.

  Devon placed his elbows on the altar, clasped his hands together, and closed his eyes.

  “Son, just ask Jesus to forgive you o’ all o’ your sins an’ ask him to come into your heart,” Brother Peatry whispered into his ear as he laid his hand upon Devon’s back. He moved over to the corpulent woman.

  “Jesus,” Devon whispered, “I ask you to forgive me o’ all o’ my sins. Please forgive me for blasphemin’ the Holy Ghost, for stealin’ Del’s rubber, for lyin’ to Mommy about goin’ number two in Grampa’s pond that night when me an’ Del went swimmin’ by ourselves, an’ for playin’ cowboys an’ Indians in the hall that night Daddy whupped me. I ask you to forgive me for all o’ these sins an’ any others I can’t remember an’ to come into my heart tonight.” He suddenly began to cry and soon was sobbing. “I’m sorry, Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blaspheme the Holy Ghost.” There was suddenly a movement in his body, as though a crack had appeared in his silt-covered soul. The crack widened and a brilliant white light, like a gust of wind, blew away all the silt. He felt light, free, happy. “Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus!” he repeated over and over. He was saved. He continued to cry in gratitude. Jesus had forgiven him for blaspheming the Holy Ghost!

  After the service was over, he and Rig were standing on the porch talking to Bessie, a fat brunette with a large, red birthmark on her right calf, waiting for Del to come back from taking Geneva home. He pulled up in front of the porch in Adam’s Chevrolet station wagon. He got out of the car, walked up to Devon and stuck his left middle finger under his nose. “Sniff that,” he commanded.

  Devon sniffed and a foul, repellent, fishlike smell entered his nostrils. He grimaced. “Eeeeewww! What is that?”

  Del just laughed.

  The next day at the Sunday morning service, when Brother Peatry asked if anyone would like to stand and testify, Devon stood up. “Yes, thank you, Jesus. Young Brother Hensley, go ahead.”

  Devon swallowed and began. “Well, I been a sinner my whole life, but las’ night I got down on my knees at the altar an’ ask’ Jesus to forgive me o’ my sins, an’ he did.”

  “Yes, Lord, thank you, Jesus!” Marie exclaimed from the dais.

  “He come into my life an’ saved me, an’ I wanta say that it feels good to be saved an’ goin’ to heaven instead o’ burnin’ in hell. I feel better’n I’ve felt in years.” He did not say that he felt better than he had since he blasphemed the Holy Ghost. He smiled nervously and sat down.

  “Thank you, Brother Hensley,” Brother Peatry said. “Would anyone else like to testify?”

  The corpulent woman wearing the same blue dress with yellow flowers that she had worn the previous night stood up. “My name’s Alice. I come to church las’ night ‘cause I heerd that they was a preacher a comin’ from Tennessee
, an’ I’m from Kentucky, so we’re practally neighbors.”

  “Within spittin’ distance,” Brother Peatry commented and smiled.

  “Well, I come las’ night jus’ ‘cause I’s curious, an’ lo an’ behold when I seen Brother Peatry actin’ like he was Jesus a dyin’ on the cross las’ night, I heerd Jesus a callin’ me, an’ I knew right then an’ there that I needed to git saved an’ give up sinnin’ iffen I wanted to go to heaven an’ be with him when I die, ‘stead o’ burnin’ in the lake o’ fahr. An’ that’s what I done, an’ I’m gonna thank Jesus ever day for a savin’ my life.” She sat down.

  “Yes, Lord. Thank ya, Sister Crum,” Adam said, as he stood up and took Brother Peatry’s place at the pulpit. “Is there anyone else like to testify this mornin’?” he asked. “If not, we’re gonna pass around the basket for an offerin’ for Brother Peatry. Please give as much as you can. It’s a long way up here from Tennessee.”

  While the basket was being passed, Marie began singing “This Little Light of Mine” accompanied by Daryl on his guitar.

  After the service was over, the family went to visit Adam’s sister, Lee, and her husband, Hood. They lived in a trailer on the right side of the dirt road that led to Nando’s house, where Adam and Marie had begun the church.

  As Marie and Lee were preparing dinner, Hood asked Adam, “You ever hear from that woman in Montana?”

  Marie turned quickly from slicing potatoes and said, “Del, you an’ Devon go outside an’ play.”

  “OK,” Del said.

  When they were outside, Devon said to Del, “See? I told you Daddy was divorced.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “Why do you think Mommy told us to go outside just now?”

  “I doeknow.”

  “She told us to go outside ‘cause Hood was askin’ about Daddy’s first wife.”