Earthly Vows (24 page)

“Oh, that’s Loretta, you know, one of those girls that walks past every morning to school. She sneaks out of her daddy’s house
to meet boys, thinks I don’t know she uses my barn. They park near the far gate, do some sparking, then head into town for
a bite to eat.”

Angel remembered her. She wasn’t interested in school. “How you know it’s her?”

“Edwin got messed up with her. Big mistake. She made all kinds of claims, lies. But everyone in town knew the truth. She got
what she asked for.”

The air cooled. Smoke was filtering up from under the pans, white, noxious. There was a cold moon overhead, a drafty wind
blowing against the coals, driving the smoke into their faces. Her summer sleeves could not keep her warm. She excused herself
to go inside.

M
RS
. A
BERCROMBIE’S CURIOSITY ABOUT
Jeb grew. If Angel didn’t know better, she’d believe she was asking her over to hear her tell another story about the outlaw
turned preacher. She relived the stories and Mrs. Abercrombie asked her to put out the checkerboard on the kitchen table while
she poured the coffee. Angel gave her red and she took the black. “Jeb kept that Negro baby a good six months or so,” said
Angel. “He couldn’t put her out.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” said Mrs. Abercrombie. “He’s been good to you then, it sounds like.”

“He took us in after Claudia disappeared and has had us ever since.”

“Claudia. Was she living in Nazareth?”

Angel did not mean to spill out yet another reason for Mrs. Abercrombie not to like Claudia. “Bo made her leave.”

“He was a hooligan from the get-go.”

Angel did not remember him so poorly, but she was young when Claudia left. “Granny didn’t care for him. Daddy and Momma liked
him.” It was one less mouth to feed when he took her away from Snow Hill. She remembered more about Claudia each day. She
shirked her chores. Sewing was her interest, that and cross-stitch and getting into cars with boys easily.

“Claudia, now she’s not one you can count on, is she?”

Angel shrugged.

“If she needs you, that’s a whole ’nother story. I know her type. But once a man enters the picture, she’s done with you.
Sorry to say, dear, but that’s why you got left in Nazareth.” She said one thing as easily as another. “Edwin, he’s cut from
the same cloth. Claudia’s an amusement, that’s all. Are you hearing what I’m saying?” asked Mrs. Abercrombie.

Angel opened her mouth to state her piece about Edwin, but changed her mind.

“Edwin’s good when the liquor and the sex is free. But that isn’t life, is it, girl?”

“I guess not, ma’am.”

“Women lose their positions. We get pregnant. Babies get fevers.” She was looking at the photograph on the kitchen counter
of her husband and herself. “There’s no luxury of time for us.”

“How about Mr. Abercrombie, did he stick around when the baby got a fever?”

“If he’d been around, he’d have stuck. James was as good a man as they make. Edwin was not his boy. But he did best he could
by him. Edwin had already taken on too much of his daddy’s ways when I met James.” She rested her hands in her lap and looked
straight at her. “You didn’t finish my crocheting night before last.”

Angel shook her head. Her new habit was staying at Claudia’s mornings until Edwin took off for the shop. If Mrs. Abercrombie
left to meet the man in the black car, she left too. Unless she had Thorne or John by the hand, she stayed out of the yard.
Edwin kept his distance better with too many little eyes and ears underfoot. Claudia told her she was starting to act as bad-tempered
as Granny. There was good reason. She slept on the floor, staring at the front door that had no keyhole because it had no
lock. She was tired of losing sleep over Edwin, the way he showed up when she was alone, was always trying to touch her. Mrs.
Abercrombie was wise to Edwin, it seemed. Whenever her grandmother nosed around to know things, like how she felt about her
momma being taken to the sanitorium, she would fish. It was a kind of game Angel and her grandmother played. She would ask
if she was sleeping nights. Angel would say no, she wasn’t. Then Angel could tell Granny things that her daddy had forbidden
them to discuss. Maybe Mrs. Abercrombie had seen the way Edwin watched her when she crossed the pasture to milk the cow. She
was a smart woman who had birthed a lunatic. It happened to good people, same as bad. Maybe the woman was fishing to find
out things. If anyone could head off Edwin before he fell into trouble, it was his own mother. Angel played the next checker.
“Your boy ever live off on his own?”

“He did. But after James passed, it was hard going on without him. It was me asked him to stay on after the funeral.”

“Where did he live before?”

“Oklahoma City. They got jobs in that place when no place else does.”

“He ever been married?”

“Not even engaged.”

“He comes around when you’re not here.” It was as casual as jumping Mrs. Abercrombie’s corner checker.

“It’s his place too. Why wouldn’t he?” It was the first time since she had first walked into the yard with Claudia that Mrs.
Abercrombie sounded unsettled. Angel thought she’d want to know what her boy was up to. At times, she had her temperance ways,
but others not. Mrs. Abercrombie’s eyes bore the same pale blue color as her son’s. Edwin had said she’d throw her out if
she told on him.

“He’s not perfect, but he is my son.”

Angel was finished with checkers.

Ida May ran through the house in nothing but a pair of cotton panties. “We’re going to see Angel tonight, bringing her home,
bringing her home!” She hopped on the hardwood floor from the living room into the kitchen.

Jeb was weary of telling her any differently. “Willie, I’ve got business at the church. You keep an eye on Ida May. We’ll
head for Norman this afternoon. There’s food in the icebox.” A pair of churchwomen showed up each day, including this morning.
They brought simple food, but better than the tasteless dishes Jeb would cook up. Another reason Willie and Ida May ought
to join Angel. She cooked.

Willie surprised him by asking, “Are we going to start school?”

“We’ll see what your sister has to say about it. If she feels settled in her school there, we’ll go and see about getting
you and Ida May enrolled.”

“You ever been to Norman?”

“Don’t expect I ever have, Willie. It’s close by, though. Won’t take more than an hour, and Fern and I will be knocking at
your door at all hours, in your business, same as always.”

“Should I bag up my things then? Is this it?” His voice was tense.

“It’s only a visit. I want to know first that Claudia is settled in her job and can handle all you varmints.” He wanted Angel
to look at him and tell him she was happy under Claudia’s roof.

Willie stared vacantly at the floor.

Jeb was annoyed that Fern was not here fielding Willie’s questions. She was better at settling the waters, so to speak. Each
day closer to her moving in with Sybil was one less day of feeling frustrated with her. It was fifteen until eight. He had
time for one more swallow of coffee before meeting the deacon board.

“Are you and Miss Coulter all right?” asked Willie.

“Good as gold. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know nothing about women, Jeb.”

“Makes two of us.”

“But she’s not acting the same as usual.”

“She was happy in her job, Willie. Fern’s given up a lot to come and be with me.”

“They gave her a big send-off at Stanton School.

Gave her an award, called her the world’s best teacher.” She hadn’t told him that. “Some of the girls cried. Even Ida May
cried until I poked her and told her she was leaving too.” Willie laughed and made Jeb laugh. Jeb downed the last sip of coffee.
He asked Willie, “Did Fern cry too?”

Willie bit his lip, staring at the floor. “You don’t have to answer. Women do those things.”

“It was more like she was apologizing to all of the teachers for leaving, like she was deserting them.” Ida May ran back through
the kitchen, Jeb’s shirt for a hat.

“Go and get dressed, Ida May!” said Jeb. It was time to go, to get back to the real world. He could not explain it, but this
bigger congregation made him feel needed, and as though he could make a difference. He cut his teeth on Nazareth, coddling
old ladies and taking chickens for pay. God’s genuine work could now commence.

The deacon board was easy to find. Jeb followed the men’s laughter into a small room not far from what would be his pastor’s
study. Henry Oakley was the first to stand from the wooden table, where the men were gathered. “Welcome, Brother Nubey!”

The deacons all got up from their chairs to meet Jeb and shake his hand. He recognized most of their faces from the dinner
that followed his sermon that Sunday.

Henry made the introductions. First an elderly man called Everett Bishop shook his hand. Then, “Fred Sellers, Joe Gallagher,
and Sam Baer.”

The names were familiar. All of the men came dressed from their respective places of business. The coats and ties were a nice
change from Church in the Dell’s deacon meetings in overalls. Henry gave Jeb the chair at the head of the table.

A boy poked his head in the door, a youth actually of about sixteen, the same boy who poured him water before his sermon.
“Rowan, is it?” asked Jeb.

“Your water boy.” Rowan grinned.

“Rowan was Brother Miller’s apprentice,” said Henry. “He’s been useful during our hiatus, so we decided to keep him around.”

Jeb was glad for Rowan’s enthusiasm. He was wearing a suit cut out of older cloth, borrowed possibly. The arms hung long over
his hands. “I’m glad to know you,” said Jeb. “You training for the pulpit?”

“I hope I am,” said Rowan. He carried in the water tray and left it for the men. He closed the door as he left.

“First order of business, financial report,” said Henry.

Jeb smiled. Will Honeysack would have prayed. “May I ask you-all about your families?” asked Jeb.

“You’ll have to pardon me, Jeb,” said Henry. “I may be a little overzealous, since we’ve gone so long without a preacher.”

Each of the men told a little about their wives and the number of children they each had.

“Our daughter-in-law is ill,” said Sam.

“You remember us talking about her, don’t you, Jeb?” asked Henry. “Over dinner at the Skirvin? Her name is Anna.”

Jeb recalled dinner at the Skirvin. Fern had been in a foul mood after meeting an old beau, the senator. There was a pause
as Henry politely waited for Jeb’s reply. Marion talked about a girl named Anna. He was sure he remembered.

“Senator Walton Baer, you remember, left our party early to see to his wife. She’s Anna,” said Henry.

Jeb shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Anna is Sam’s daughter-in-law?”

“And Walton is my son,” said Sam.

“My daughter, Sybil, you’ve met. Your fiancée, Fern, is going to stay with her until your nuptials. That’s Syb all over. Anna
has been her best friend since college. She has tended to Anna like a mother hen.”

Perhaps Fern had tried to tell him. But he wasn’t certain of it or if she was trying to tell him that Sybil was Anna’s friend,
Anna the wife of Walton Baer. Fern’s old beau. “I may have pushed my fiancée into that matter without meaning to,” said Jeb.
“Fern is worried it would be an imposition.”

“Nonsense, no imposition. She and her husband have never had children and that room sits empty reminding her of that. Sybil
will love having Fern around. The three of them will get along so well and make your fiancée the center of attention. I know
women like that.”