Holy Ghost Girl (25 page)

The tent was smaller than Brother Terrell’s but everything else about it looked and smelled like home. The dust from the cars driving across the field, the moldy canvas, the sawdust, the way people greeted one another.

“Sister Mayfair, how are you? Come on over here so I can hug your neck.”

The familiarity filled me with despair. Sister Coleman marched us to the front row of the middle section, so that we could sit in front of the prayer ramp. She had me spread a pallet for Bug on the ground. Once he was settled, she bowed her head. Aunt Eunice positioned her walker to the side of her chair and eased herself into the seat. She looked around, bright and expectant. She had told me once that she never left disappointed.

“Even if you didn’t get healed?”

“That just means the healing is still out there waiting for me.”

I covered my eyes with my hand and pretended to pray. The organ music started, and it sounded so familiar that for a moment I thought it might be my mother sitting at the Hammond. I opened my eyes and raised my head. I recognized the woman. Evelyn. She had approached Mama at one of Brother Terrell’s revivals and said she wanted to play just like her one day.

I recognized the preacher too: Ronnie Coyne, the man who could see through a glass eye. A picture of Brother Coyne would eventually end up on the cover of the
Weekly World News
, a tabloid cousin of the
National Enquirer
, under the headline, IT’S A MIRACLE AND A MYSTERY, SAY DOCTORS. That night he yelled into the microphone for a long time, then he taped up his good eye and had someone write a few words on paper and hold it in front of him. He read the words aloud and everyone went crazy. Once he had quieted the crowd, he invited them to form a prayer line. Sister Coleman knelt on the quilt beside Bug and gently rolled him into a crumpled sitting position. She threw his arms around her neck and struggled to her feet, one arm under his bottom, one cradling his back. She carried him through the line and the preacher laid hands on him. The tent workers helped them down the ramp, Bug’s head lolling on his mother’s shoulder, legs dangling, useless, outlined in the heavy metal braces. Sister Coleman put Bug back on his pallet and sat down. Up on the prayer ramp, Aunt Eunice planted the walker in front of her and pulled one leg and then the other until she was even with the preacher. Her lips moved constantly as Brother Coyne laid hands on her, then it was back down the ramp. When she reached the ground, she took one hand off the walker and raised it into the air, and then she raised the other one. Maybe this would be the night. She lowered her hands to the walker and pulled herself back to her seat. She sat down and leaned over to her niece.

“The Lord’s presence was so sweet tonight, Lib. Thank you for bringing me.”

Then it was over and we were packing up. Sister Coleman gathered up Bug. “Donna, get the pallet and bring it to the car.”

I folded the quilt, tucked it under my arm, and turned to follow her out of the tent. But before I could think twice about it, before Sister Coleman could stop me, I grabbed Gary’s hand and ran toward the back of the platform. I had not known I was going to take off, had not thought about it beforehand. Sister Coleman called after us.

“Come back here. Where are you going?”

“To visit people,” I called over my shoulder.

I pushed the canvas curtain aside and pulled Gary around the tent man who asked us what we were doing back there. I had to find Evelyn before the tent man told us to leave, before Sister Coleman came to get us. I spotted her standing in a small group with her back to us. She was tall and slim like my mother, with brown hair that fell almost to her waist. Like my mother, she wore a long skirt that dragged the ground. I ran up to her and grabbed her arm.

“Evelyn. Do you remember me, I mean, us?”

She turned and studied us, her brows coming together. My chest heaved. After a moment she knelt down and brought her face close to mine.

“Of course I do.” She reached out and hugged me. “You look just like your mama.”

I broke into sobs.

“What is it? Is your mom here?” She peered over our heads.

“No. I mean no, ma’am.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. We live with Sister Coleman now.”

“Who is Sister Coleman?”

I felt a hand on my back and looked up. Sister Coleman stood over us, her mouth pulled into that thin line that was something between a smile and a grimace. “I hope these kiddos aren’t bothering you.”

Evelyn stood up. “No, not at all. I know their mother. She still traveling with Brother Terrell?”

“They were on a mission trip to Central America and Mexico last I heard. I expect they are back in the states by now. I’ve got to get these chillens to bed. School tomorrow.”

Without saying anything more to Evelyn, we turned and walked away.

She called after us, “Y’all visit again before the revival is over.”

As we stepped through the curtain, Sister Coleman warned me. “Don’t ever run away like that again. Do you hear?”

I nodded.

“And pick up that quilt, you’re dragging it through the sawdust.”

 

 

We went back to the revival every night so that Sister Coleman and Aunt Eunice could offer their burdens to the Lord. Every night Evelyn waved to us from the platform and we waved back. I wanted to talk with her again, but I did not know how to bring about a meeting without risking the wrath of Sister Coleman. The night before the revival ended, Evelyn’s mother came and sat with us before service began. She carried two large brown grocery sacks and without asking Sister Coleman for permission, she handed one to Gary and the other to me.

“Evelyn wanted to give y’all something before we left.”

We held the sacks in our laps until Sister Coleman nodded her permission. Gary pulled a canister of Tinkertoys from his bag and I lifted a doll, about twenty-four inches tall, from mine. She had two tiny teeth, reddish-blond braids, and pink cheeks. She looked oldfashioned, like a picture of a child in a storybook.

“I’ve never in my whole life seen a doll like this.”

Evelyn’s mother laughed. “Probably because they don’t make them anymore. It was Evelyn’s first doll. She wanted you to have her. Let me show you something.”

She took the doll and stood her on the ground. “Look, if you hold her hand, she walks.”

I walked the doll through the sawdust while Evelyn’s mom talked with Sister Coleman. “Evelyn has the doll clothes in her purse. She wants to give them to Donna after church, and to say good-bye to the kids before we leave.”

I waited for Sister Coleman to say no, but she said yes, and the two women hugged each other’s necks.

“Good, then. See you kids a little later.”

After service that night Gary and I headed behind the platform. I stood by the ladder that led to and from the platform. I needed to make sure I caught Evelyn as soon as she came down. She would play until everyone had left the platform and most of the congregation had gone home. I knew this would take a few minutes, but my eyes would not leave the little half gate at the back of the platform. I strained to hear the last note.
Any minute now, any minute.
Silence. There it was. The gate opened, and I saw Evelyn backlit on the top step, her face in shadow.

As soon as she was within reach, I grabbed her hand. “I need to talk to you. Please. Right now. Hurry.”

She stepped to the side and I told her everything, about the vomit and the crackers and how Sister Coleman said our mama had given us to her. She dropped into a nearby chair.

“What do you mean, gave you to her?”

“She said she was our new mama.” Gary and I both were crying.

Evelyn sat down and pulled Gary into her lap. “Wait a minute. You threw up and she made you eat it? You’re not making this up?”

She had to believe me. I talked faster and louder. “She feeds us this salty fish for breakfast, Evelyn. She does it to make us sick. She likes us to throw up, we can tell.”

Gary nodded as I talked. People around us were staring. Evelyn’s mother joined us. “What’s going on here?”

“I’ll tell you later, Mom.”

Evelyn’s arm encircled me. “I am going to find your mama. It will be okay. I promise. Don’t say a word to Sister Coleman. Can you do that?”

We nodded. Gary climbed out of her lap, and we turned to go.

“Wait.” Evelyn opened her purse and handed the doll clothes to me. “Remember, not a word, even if she asks. I’ll handle this. Don’t worry.”

I worried all the way home that evening, through a long night of tossing and turning, and during school the next day. Life could get harder, much harder, if Sister Coleman found out I had confided in Evelyn. And what if Evelyn could not find our mother? Or what if she did, and our mother did not want us back? What else could I have done?

I walked home from school, noticing how the homes were so well cared for, no peeling paint, no dirt yards, gardens dark and empty, at least until next spring. I came to Sister Coleman’s house and looked up the driveway. Empty. She was still at work, so she must not know. When I started second grade, Sister Coleman had given me a key to wear around my neck and told me I was old enough to stay by myself after school some days until she could make it home. I pulled the key over my head and fitted it into the front-door lock. Inside, everything looked exactly as it did every other afternoon. I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I followed my routine. I made up the daybed and wandered through the kitchen into the wood-paneled den. A large white tablet stood on my easel, waiting for pictures and stories that had never come. Just beyond the easel, sliding glass doors framed a backyard made up of green on green. We should have been happy here, but things had gone wrong. I had helped them go wrong. Why had I told Sister Coleman things I knew would make her hate me?

A car pulled into the driveway. Car doors opened and closed. The front door creaked.
Might as well get it over with.
I trudged into the living room. Sister Coleman stood with her back to me, facing the door. Bug’s head rolled on her shoulder. “Come on, Gary. We don’t have all day.” She bent down and placed Bug on the daybed, then turned to face me.

“We’ve got a lot to do here tonight. Some people made sure of that.” She walked toward me. “I guess you’re happy with yourself, Miss Smarty-Pants. I hear you told Evelyn how
mean
I was to you all.”

She turned to my brother. “You think I’m mean, Gary?”

He shook his head no.

She bent down and pulled my face to hers. I stared at the crease between her thin, pale eyebrows. “You think your mama wants you? If she takes you back, it will be for a minute; then she’ll send you to the next person who feels sorry for you. I wanted to give you kids a stable home, something you could count on, but you stabbed me in the back with your lies.”

She raised her hand to slap me. My eyes met hers and she started to cry. Gary moved over to us and we put our arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Mama. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.” I was sorry. For so many things.

Sister Coleman fed Bug and put him to bed. She asked us if we wanted dinner, and for the first time in months, we did. We ate grilledcheese sandwiches and reminisced: about the time her husband took us fishing at the lake, the swinging bridge in the Smoky Mountains, the first time I saw her lab.

“You had the funniest look on your face. I really believe you thought we were robbing people of their teeth.”

We all laughed, and I was sorry again.

After dinner, we packed our clothes, books, and toys into a small suitcase and a few paper bags, and sat down to wait for Evelyn and her mother. Sister Coleman’s husband came home and told us he would really miss us. He pulled us to him and I felt tears on his scratchy face. Aunt Eunice came by to wait with us. She gave me embroidery hoops and told me not to give up on embroidery or faith. Evelyn and her mom drove up late that evening to find all of us sobbing and hugging.

Sister Coleman handed our suitcase and sacks of books and toys to Evelyn and her mother. “These kids have been crying all evening.”

Evelyn loaded us into the car and backed out of the driveway. Once we were in the street, she turned to look at Gary and me sniffling in the backseat. “I don’t understand. Don’t you want to leave here?”

We nodded yes and continued sobbing.

“Why on earth are you crying? After everything she’s done?”

We shook our heads and cried on.

After a few miles, Evelyn spoke up again. “I have some news from your mother.” We stopped sobbing.

“Your mama didn’t give you to Sister Coleman.”

I sat up and moved my head close to the back of Evelyn’s shoulder. “But I saw her handwriting on that paper.”

“She gave her something called power of attorney. That way if there was an emergency, she could take you to the doctor.”

“Really?”

“Really. She’s in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. We’ll be there in the morning.”