by Betsy Ashton
Okay, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Emilie jumped with joy and clapped her hands. We’d won. “Junie is happy,” she whispered.
“One more thing, if I might. This nosey woman, this most meddlesome woman, Miz Davies, asked me why the most segregated time of the week was eleven on Sunday morning. I didn’t have an answer, but I do now.” Pastor Washington turned toward me. “Miz Davies, Father Sean, and Sister Susan, will you join Pastor Taylor and me at the first ever ecumenical church service tomorrow? We’ll be meetin’ in the rec center. At eleven. We’ll both preach our style of preachin’ and hope people will be more comfortable around us as they get to know us.”
“I’d be honored,” Father Sean said.
Hot Pants nodded.
Bishop Spellman led us in prayer, punctuated by a few amens from the Baptists in the room. He left without looking back.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Mississippi, week of February 27
I stayed behind in the Sunday school room. Emilie walked out hand in hand with Marianna. Isabella held Marianna’s other hand. I turned to Bug and Hot Pants.
“I had no idea you were coming. I can’t thank you enough.” I hugged each in turn.
“Joe and I talked it over and decided it best we be here. I had no idea we’d catch Alvarado in the act. We’d planned to confront him in private, remove him from the parish and take the Sanchezes back to Richmond.” Bug stopped and shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe this was the better way. At least they know they’ll never see him again.”
Sister Susan nodded. “Mouse, I can’t believe you pulled this off. Where’s that timid child who kept her nose buried in a book and rarely joined group activities?”
“Sue, you might say I paid a debt I’ve owed for forty years. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”
“Amazing how we’ve all changed. Even Hot Pants here has found God and the church.” Bug had a wicked glint in his eye.
“I hope no one knows my nickname. It could be very embarrassing if they did.” Sue didn’t look the least put-out.
“I haven’t told anyone, although my granddaughter has pestered me to no end about it.” I chuckled.
“Oh, she knows. She’s a rare child, isn’t she?” Sue said.
“You have no idea. When are you heading back to Richmond?”
“Tomorrow after services, if the Sanchezes can be packed and ready.”
“I’ll go and help them. Where are you staying?”
“We found a place over in Gulfport. Not very fancy, but clean.”
“Good. Can we have dinner and catch up? Just the three of us.” I wanted to reconnect with my old friends.
“Of course.”
We made plans. This was one meal where I didn’t want Emilie, Alex, Charlie, Ducks, Johnny, or Whip with me. We had too much of the past and the future to talk about.
####
The entire community turned out for the joint service. Pastor Taylor began, but Pastor Washington stole the show. His cadence reminded me of Dr. King’s I Have a Dream speech. I nodded along, amening with the black congregants and praying for peace in my heart as well as for this battered but healing community. When Pastor Washington turned to Father Regan, my dear Bug, to offer the final prayer, it surprised the hell out of everyone.
I waited while the recreation-center-turned-ecumenical church for a day emptied. As a tiresome woman, I wanted to have a last word with Pastor Washington.
“Now what do you want, Miz Davies? You got that look about you.” The pastor mopped his brow with a white handkerchief. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“Partly.” I had one last request up my sleeve.
“Partly? Today went right well, didn’t it? What more do you want?” The black preacher shook his head.
“When are you going to do this again?” I stared him straight in the eye. “After all, none of the churches have all that many parishioners. It seems to me you’d want to combine services, say, monthly?”
“Woman, you’re way too meddlesome.” Pastor Washington shook his head.
Pastor Taylor walked over. He laughed when he saw the looks on each of our faces. “Is Miz Davies getting on you again, Roland?”
“She got what she wanted. Integration at eleven on a Sunday. She wants even more.” Pastor Washington pulled a hangdog expression.
“Like what?” Pastor Taylor acted as if he had a secret, one that didn’t involve me.
“Like monthly ecumenical prayer services, for a start.” I had a list ready. “And more interaction between the black and white communities, an embracing of the local Hispanic and Catholic communities. It’ll move this area one step closer to the twenty-first century.”
“We’ve agreed to joint services on the last Sunday of the month. When the new priest gets here, we may have to adjust to fit his schedule, but we want him too,” Pastor Taylor announced.
“You were conning me, Pastor Washington.” I lightly slapped his upper arm.
“And why should I let you think you’re gettin’ your way all the time, Miz Davies? You’ll be leavin’ when the road’s done and will forget all about this backward corner of Mississippi.” Pastor Washington sounded like he was both joking and serious.
“I may not get back this way again, but rest assured I’ll never forget either of you and what you’re trying to do here. You’ll do just fine without my meddling.”
“That we will, Miz Davies. That we will.” Pastor Washington moved away to speak with a family who had been waiting for him.
“Miz Davies.” Pastor Taylor moved into the black pastor’s place. “The police and the FBI aren’t going to charge Jake with anything. J’Marquis and LeRoy are going to be prosecuted in federal court for murder and rape, as well as for hate crimes. Danny Ray will be prosecuted at the local level. He’ll serve a minimum sentence.”
“What about Jake? Are they going to turn him loose to roam?”
“No. The missus and I are going take him in at least until we can find his kinfolk. I’m going to have him tested and try to get him into some kind of special educational program. He’s a good boy, but he’s had no chance. Maybe the missus and I can give him one.”
I gulped. I never expected Pastor Taylor to take on a mentally challenged youth. I wished him the best of luck.
I had one more stop before I returned to the compound. Emilie had gone ahead with Bug and Hot Pants to help the Sanchezes load the van. I wanted to say good-bye. I caught them as Bug slammed the back door of the van. Isabella’s car was packed.
“Will we ever see you again?” Isabella’s eyes were red-rimmed.
“Of course. Emilie and Alex and Whip live a few miles from where you’ll be. We go back all the time. Don’t worry. You haven’t seen the last of us.” I hugged Isabella and then turned to Marianna.
“Do well in school. It’ll make your mother very proud.” I kissed the child’s tear-stained cheek and helped her into the backseat.
“Bug, thanks for everything. I can’t ever repay you.” I, too, had tears in my eyes.
“You could always go to Mass…” Bug kissed me on the cheek.
“You never give up, do you?”
“Nope.”
I laughed and turned to Sue, who was going to drive Isabella’s Toyota. “Take care of them. I can’t tell you how much they mean to me.”
“You don’t have to worry.” Sister Susan hugged me. A different sense of peace washed over me.
“Sue, did it cross your mind that sometimes God goes by the name of Max?”
“Oh, no. Don’t you go there, Bug. I did what had to be done.” I pushed him toward the driver’s door.
Emilie and I waved until they were out of sight. I couldn’t save Junie, but I helped Isabella and Marianna. I said a tiny prayer it would be enough. I hoped Junie heard me.
“She did.” Emilie put her arm around my waist.
“Thanks.”
“Um, Hot Pants?” Emilie grinned.
I held up one finger before folding
my fingers in a clam shape. “Brat.”
Emilie put her finger to her lips, turned an imaginary key, and locked the secret away.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
New York, April 16
Two months later, Bug called. I hoped nothing bad had happened. He assured me the Sanchezes settled in nicely. Marianna had tested well below her grade level, as expected, but with tutoring, she was making up ground. Isabella had taken to her job and volunteered to help Sue when she had free time.
“So, why did you call?” I was in New York for the weekend, my monthly board meeting behind me once again. Emilie had come along, but Alex stayed at the camp. We neared the end of phase one of the job. Alex spent as much time with Charlie as she allowed. He hadn’t outgrown the crush he’d formed in Peru the previous year.
“Someone put a cashier’s check for ten thousand dollars in the collection plate at Mass this morning.” Bug acted like he knew I was behind the donation. “You wouldn’t have any idea who it was, would you?”
“Did you see me in church?” I played innocent. “I’m in New York.”
“I didn’t. If you ever find out who gave us the donation, will you thank her for me? We can use the money.”
“If I could, I would. Speak again with you soon, Bug.”
