Benediction (10 page)

At suppertime Mary stood beside the bed in the dark downstairs bedroom. Are you awake,
dear?

I’m awake.

Can you get up for supper?

I don’t want anything.

You don’t sound good. Are you all right?

He nodded slightly.

Okay then. But you seem sicker than you did this morning. Call me if you need something.

In the kitchen she sat down with Lorraine and Frank and she noticed his face immediately.

Honey, what happened to you?

I ran into a post in the barn.

It must hurt. You need something on it. Let me look at it.

He pulled away. Leave it alone, Mom. Never mind.

D
AD CAME OUT
from the bedroom through the hall in the hot still summer afternoon using his wood
cane, with Mary following behind, her hands held out in case he needed help, and they
came on into the living room where the preacher and Lorraine were sitting together
on the couch. Lyle had said not to disturb Mr. Lewis if he was sleeping but Mary told
him she’d go back to see if he was awake yet. Now Dad moved across to his chair and
sat down and put his cane in place on the floor, looking up at Lyle, who rose and
stood next to him and touched him on the shoulder and reached down to take his hand.
It’s good to see you, he said. How are you doing today?

Getting slower. Going downhill more.

Are you in pain?

No. They got that taken care of.

I won’t trouble you for long. I just came to see how you were feeling.

You don’t trouble me. Sit down a while if you care to.

Lyle turned and sat again beside Lorraine. Mary seated herself in the rocker as Dad
glanced out the window at the sprinkler that was throwing rings of water onto the
grass between their house and Berta May’s.

What’s the weather doing out there today? he said. Too hot again?

They say it’s going to rain, Lyle said.

It might. It’s turning off dark right now.

The farmers won’t like that, will they, Daddy? Lorraine said.

Not if they’re trying to cut wheat. The guys with corn won’t mind it.

Sounds like a mixed blessing, Lyle said.

Dad looked at him. Yes sir. Lots of things turn out to be blessings that got mixed
up.

You’ve seen some in your lifetime here.

I was raised out on the west plains in Kansas.

You’ve seen some changes.

One or two. He looked out the window again. The sprinkler had moved on its cleated
wheels. He looked back. This was the only house on this street when we bought it.
Isn’t that right, Mary?

It was nothing but prairie and wind and dirt, she said.

The wind still blows, he said. That doesn’t change. You got to have some wind.

It doesn’t have to blow on my account, she said. I’m tired of it.

They never paved our road over. I don’t guess I’ll see that. If they ever do.

What about people you’ve known? Lyle said. Do you think people have changed?

People?

Are we any different now?

I don’t know. He stared at the preacher. We got more comfortable. We’re not as active
or physical. We don’t even go out as far as the front porch as much as we used to.
We sit around and watch TV. TV is what’s become of people.

My folks always used to sit out in the evenings in the summer, Mary said. I remember
that so well.

We did when I was a kid too, Lorraine said. When Frank and I were still little, before
junior high. Do you remember?

Frank’s your brother, I understand, Lyle said. May I ask about him? I hear his name
mentioned.

No one said anything. After a while Dad said, You can ask about him but it won’t make
no difference. He left here a long time ago. Two days after he finished high school,
he took off.

That’s pretty young to leave home, Lyle said.

He only come back twice, Dad said.

But he’ll come back now, won’t he.

Back here?

Yes.

Why would he?

To see you. He’ll want to say good-bye.

He won’t come back for that, Dad said.

Honey, he might yet, Mary said. Oh I want to think he will.

He doesn’t know I’m dying. He won’t be coming back.

Haven’t you told him? Lyle said.

We don’t know where he is.

But would you like to see him?

I’m not waiting on Frank so I can die. If that’s what you’re getting at.

Most people want to see all their family before they go.

I got my family right here.

No, this is not all of us, Mary said. Don’t say we’re all here.

As far as I’m concerned we’re all here, he said.

No, we’re not, Daddy, said Lorraine.

He looked hard around the room, at each face, then pushed himself up from the chair
and bent over and picked up his cane and stood still to get his balance. Lorraine
came across the room and put her arm around him, holding him, and kissed him on the
cheek.

Don’t leave, Daddy. Stay and talk to us. It’s all right. Don’t go, please.

He looked at her face so close to his and looked away and closed his eyes and stood
for a long time and finally sat down. She took the cane and set it on the floor, bending
over him, kissing him again, putting her cheek against his old age-spotted gray face,
and sat down once more beside Lyle. There was silence for a while.

Daddy, why don’t you tell Reverend Lyle about some of the preachers we’ve had, Lorraine
said. Like that one you always talk about.

Which one is that?

The one that the woman saw Jesus standing on his head.

He looked at her, then at Lyle. All right, you asked about changes, have people changed,
you said. They have in church. Church used to
be a long serious affair. None of this bell ringing and people’s dogs getting blessed
down at the altar and kids dancing around during the service.

Sounds like a good time for a nap, Lyle said.

I had me some good ones on Sunday mornings. That’s a fact. Anyway, on one of those
long hot Sunday mornings there was this woman that was visiting town. Who was it she
was seeing, Mary?

The Thompsons, Mary said.

That’s right.… But you tell it. I won’t remember it right.

Yes, you will.

No. Go ahead. Why don’t you.

She was visiting the Thompsons, Mary said, and while the preacher was giving his sermon
this woman, she was only a little thing, didn’t weigh as much as a cat, all of a sudden
she jumps up from the pew and starts wailing and crying. The preacher, it was Reverend
Cooper then, wasn’t it, interrupts his sermon and this tiny little woman cries, Glory!
It’s the Lord Jesus! Praise God Almighty!

Reverend Cooper says, Yes, ma’am. Can I help you?

He’s right there over your head! Dressed all in white and walking in the air!

She shoves her way out of the pew and comes running down to the front of the sanctuary
and starts shouting how she’s changed this very hour. On account of what she’s witnessed.
Oh heavenly days! Hallelujah! Then it’s like she faints out or has a spell, she kind
of sinks down in front of the altar and Marla Thompson rushes down and lifts her up
and hauls the poor thing back to her pew.

What did the preacher do all this time? Lyle said.

Oh, he’s watching her like the rest of us and then he just goes on with his sermon
from where he left off. And afterward we sing the last hymn and he gives out the benediction.

It woke us up at least, Dad said. I couldn’t sleep through that. But there was another
one too. You remember, Mary. Reverend John Dupree.

You’re not going to tell about him.

What was that about? Lyle said.

He was a preacher here too. About twenty years back.

What happened?

Well, him and his wife, she was a lot younger, they had a boy about eight. They were
having some kind of trouble and got separated from one another. She went off somewhere
and left him.

She just went back to Denver, Mary said.

She went back to Denver and that put Reverend Dupree here alone with the boy. It was
a god-awful mess. Dupree, he wasn’t any good at church anymore, wasn’t much good at
anything at all, couldn’t concentrate on practical matters, and the boy was moping
around town getting himself into trouble. Then the Sunday comes, and during the time
for announcements he says, I got an announcement myself. My bride is coming home!
She’s coming back to me this week. People in the church just applauded. The women,
mostly.

There were men clapping too, Mary said.

Clapping at the news. I never heard such a thing in church before in my life.

Did she come back as he said she would?

Yes sir, she come back. All in good time. And shows up in church sitting with the
boy and singing hymns. She seemed more or less all right, didn’t she, Mary.

Not really.

No?

No.

Well, she seemed all right to me, a man, but Mary’s correct, she must not of been
completely all right because two Sundays later the preacher’s boy is sitting in the
pew by himself again and we find out the woman has left Dupree and is living across
town with Don Leppke, the young fellow that manages the radio station.

I guess people in Holt didn’t care much for that.

No, people didn’t care for it at all. The station lost some advertising.

What became of her?

Her and Don went off to Denver. We’d hear her on the radio broadcasting from Denver
now and then. She seemed to have a talent for it.

That happened after I left home, Lorraine said.

Yes. I think it did.

It had grown darker outside the house and suddenly there was a flash of lightning
and it began to rain. The wind came up. Thunder rolled across the sky and there was
more lightning flashing. In the living room they watched it out the side window. The
rain came down hard at a slant.

Let’s go outside and enjoy it, Lorraine said. Come on, Daddy.

They helped him move out to the front porch and stood watching the rain falling on
the grass and out in the graveled street. There were already puddles in the low places
and the silver poplar trees were dark, streaming with water. Lorraine held her hand
out to the rain and patted her face and then cupped both hands and caught the overflow
from the gutters and held her hands up to Dad’s face. He stood leaning on his cane,
his face dripping. They watched him, he looked straight out across the lawn past the
wrought iron fence, past the wet street to the lot beyond, thinking about something.

Doesn’t it smell good, Mary said.

Yeah, he said softly. His eyes were wet, but they couldn’t say if that was from tears
or rainwater.

T
HAT AFTERNOON
, when the rains came, John Wesley was standing at the counter in the Holt post office
mailing a package for his mother. When he was finished he went outside and stood next
to an old woman who was waiting under the porch of the little entryway. Cars went
by on Main Street splashing up wakes of spray, their headlights on, their windshield
wipers going fast. The old woman was staring at him. You’re that preacher’s boy.

My father’s a minister, yes.

I recognized you. She turned and looked out at the wet street. How about this rain?

I wish it’d quit, he said.

Oh no. You don’t know nothing about rain out here. You haven’t been in Holt long enough.
You got to want it to keep on.

The rain came down hard and sheeted off the street, filling the gutters, running toward
the town pond. Then as they were watching, it stopped as suddenly as it had started.
The sun shone out from behind the racing clouds.

That’s it. That’s all we get, the old woman said. She stepped out briskly and walked
away up the block.

He watched her. He moved out from under the porch roof and crossed Main Street and
turned up Fourth Street. The trees were all dark and dripping, the sidewalk spotted
with puddles. In the air was the sweet pure after-rain smell and the smell of wet
pavement and wet ground. He was three blocks from his house when the two high school
boys pulled up at the curb in a black Ford. One of them said, Hey. Come over here.

John Wesley looked at them.

We want to talk to you about something.

About what?

Something you need to know.

When he turned and went on along the sidewalk, they jumped out of the car and caught
up with him.

Where you going? Wait up. Shake hands, son. The first boy put out his hand and when
John Wesley only looked at it the boy snatched his hand and squeezed it.

What do you want?

What do we want. He turned to the other boy who was shorter but dressed in the same
way, in long baggy shorts.

We want to help you.

That’s right. Why don’t we just walk along here and we can talk.

I don’t think so.

No, let’s just walk along here. He draped his arm around John Wesley’s shoulder, moving
him forward, and the other boy came along on the opposite side. They walked to the
end of the block and crossed the street.

I figure you’re headed home, aren’t you. The bigger boy stared closely at the side
of John Wesley’s head. Am I right?

It’s none of your business.

You’re going back to your house. We know that.

He has to get himself ready, the other boy said. She’ll be picking him up any minute.

How’s she doing for you? the first boy said.

Who?

Genevieve. She’s fucking you now, we know that too.

Shut up. He pushed the boy’s arm off his shoulder.

Here now. Don’t get upset. I was just going to give you a few pointers. You don’t
want to make a mistake about this.

Leave me alone.

Now be nice. We’re trying to be friends here.

We only want to give you some advice, the second boy said. Is she
treating you right? Tell us that. John Wesley stepped off the sidewalk to move away
but they moved in front of him now. I mean is she fucking you the way you want?

Fuck you, John Wesley said.