Whisper Town (23 page)

“I second that motion,” said Will.

“Now hold on, here. Will, he can’t step in and take over,” said Sam. “He don’t follow rules of order or nothing of the like.”

“I never saw a race horse running backward, led by its own flank,” said Will. “Reverend, I’m all ears.”

Jeb started out with a prayer. He offered Sam the first say.

Sam bristled. “Ever since you started trying to mix not only your own household, but this church, we’ve had nothing but harassment.
It wasn’t but just this morning that every board member each unlocked our business establishments to find vandals had attacked
us in the night. None of this happened before. We have a right to lead quiet lives, like the Scriptures say.”

“No such Scripture, Sam, but go on,” said Jeb.

“Next thing you know, our young people will start losing the morals we’ve taught them and the whole town will go to the degenerates.
You seen that dancing club outside of Hope, Cotton Club or some such?” Sam asked.

Jeb didn’t say either way.

“Nazareth will go the way of reprobates if we don’t get a handle on this now before it all falls into a kafuffle. That’s all
I have to say about matters,” said Sam.

Jeb gave the floor to Arnell, who only agreed with Sam. “Floyd, you have the floor, if you like,” said Jeb.

“Evelene and me have worked hard to keep the Woolworth’s going throughout this Depression. When we found rocks through our
windows this morning, it scared us both. I’m not afraid to admit I’m scared. It seems to me we have no choice but to live
separate, keep to our kind, they keep to their own kind. If we upset the apple cart, here’s proof of what happens; things
get out of kilter. You can’t upset the natural order, Reverend, or we all pay.” He kept spinning the brim of his hat around
his fingers. “I’m done, I guess.”

Will said, “I’d like to give my time to Reverend Nubey.”

Jeb invited the men to sit along the first and second pew. He said, “Floyd, mind explaining ‘natural order’?”

“The way I see it, life is lived orderly, like God puts us where we belong. We get out of the natural order, then we blow
everything to kingdom come,” said Floyd.

“Makes sense,” said Arnell.

“Floyd, you think the church people thought Christ was blowing everything to kingdom come, what with him going off and having
dinner with people not of his own kind, mixing and mingling with—what was it you called those kind—‘degenerates’?”

“Jesus was a peacemaker,” said Floyd.

“‘Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword,’”
said Jeb.

“That’s Shakespeare, right?” asked Arnell.

“Shut up, Arnell!” said Sam.

“If you’re asking me to resign as your minister for taking in castaway kids, I can’t. Show me my wrongdoing and I’ll resign,”
said Jeb.

Will gave each man another opportunity to voice his opinion. He said to Jeb, “Let it be said that the elders of Church in
the Dell find no wrongdoing in the life of our minister.”

Sam got up and left. Arnell followed him, asking Sam what had just happened. Floyd and Will shook Jeb’s hand and Floyd left
for home.

“If they want to find wrongdoing, Jeb, you know they will, don’t you?” asked Will.

“All I wanted tonight was some time, Will.” Jeb told him he would lock up and shut off the lights.

He went back to the parsonage and waited for each child to disappear down the hallway and fall quiet. He lay in bed, staring
out the window after all the children had fallen asleep. He troubled over what he should do with his borrowed time.

T
HE SUNDAY CROWD HAD THINNED BY AT LEAST
two families a week for the three weeks surrounding Christmas, but typically picked up again by mid January. No crop needed
tending and the boredom of winter swept the every-other-Sunday-goers through the door, if for no other reason, but that of
having nothing to do in the cold weather.

Jeb needed at least another half hour of study before opening his message. Myrtle screamed from five on, rousing the rest
of the household. Willie, wrapped in a blanket, walked through the house with Ida May hunkering underneath the tail of the
thing for warmth. Jeb fired up the coals in the potbellied parlor stove. Lucky stroked Myrtle’s bottom lip with a warmed bottle
nipple. She finally grunted and took it.

“I’m going in early,” Jeb told Lucky. He kept a plain face, not giving away any of his morning plan. “Wake Angel and be sure
you’re all to church early and not late.”

“I wasn’t going, though. You can’t mean me,” said Lucky.

“I do mean you and your baby too,” said Jeb. “You got something new to wear. I call that without excuse.”

He felt Lucky watching him cross the yard.

An hour skimmed by and the church filled up, all except for Sam and Greta Patton. Arnell and his missus came in with their
sons, two of whom Jeb had baptized last summer in White Oak Lake. Will and Freda, Floyd and Evelene, all took a seat and then
came Fern. She wore something new, but in her usual manner, she wore a pair of older sensible shoes. Red and blue flowers
on white fabric gave her the look of one of the high-school girls who campaigned for Pony Fabrey during the last mayoral election.
Not that the teens had given a flip about the mayor’s election, but the young volunteers had enjoyed the benefits of the free
lemonade and fried chicken at the summer picnic.

Angel walked in with Lucky, who held Myrtle. Lucky wore the dress she had finagled from Angel and had done up her hair in
one of those knots that the women were all asking about down at the Clip and Curl. She held her baby close, allowing Myrtle’s
face to peek out of a pink blanket, not awkwardly mishandling her as she had done in the past, but assuredly, like a fourteen-year-old
Mary who knows that her child was sent by angels. Her eyes and her mouth firm, dogged, looked wise and like a girl who knows
things other people have yet to figure out.

The ladies parted and followed their husbands habitually to customary pews, and none of them greeted Lucky or made a fuss
over the baby as they customarily made over infants. Lucky made eye contact with several women, smiling whether or not anyone
reciprocated.

Angel scooted down next to Fern and Lucky sat next to Angel.

Jeb asked for every head to bow and every eye to close before thoughts melted like lard in a skillet, sizzling and popping
with opinion.

He asked that attention be drawn to Mark 10, and talked about the Sons of Thunder, James and John, and of their desire to
sit next to God in heaven. The rulers over the Gentiles, he said, lord it over them, and Jeb gave the definition of supremacy—the
desire to dominate. Jeb read verses 44 and 45 and asked God to teach him the way of servanthood.

It did not thunder at that moment, but some later remembered it that way, even though the sky had blued better than any day
in January.

The church doors opened and a timid woman came through. She wore a tall, wide-brimmed hat the color of daffodils and a thick
band decorated with a couple of flowers, though fake, but that yellow hat gave her the look of blooming in the doorway. She
led two others, two handsome young people, a young woman and a young man, who walked together and behind her.

Jeb’s eyes lifted and he smiled and nodded at them. Lucky turned and silently mouthed,
“Momma.”

Before Lucky’s mother could lead her two progeny to the last pew, Jeb came down onto the floor and walked down the aisle,
where he met them.

Some of the faces changed from Sunday ecstasy to something not as lovely or fitting for a church face.

“Are you Vera Blessed?” Jeb asked.

Her timidity did not allow her to speak, not with all of those eyes on her. She looked up and down the aisle, and when her
gaze met with Lucky’s, she teetered back on her heels. She pointed at Myrtle. “My granddaughter?” she asked.

Lucky wiped her eyes and she nodded at her mother.

“Vera is a sister in Christ,” said Jeb. “I invited her and her two children, Jewel and Ruben, as a sort of symbol of this
morning’s sermon.” Jeb took Vera’s hand, it was gloved in white, and led her up the aisle. Jeb invited Vera to take a seat
in the front row. Lucky followed, holding Myrtle close. She sat next to her mother. Jewel and Ruben took up the remaining
space on the pew next to their youngest sister.

Jeb kept to his sermon. As he finished Mark’s text, he closed in prayer. Will and Freda came up front and knelt in silent
prayer. Then they turned and Freda greeted Vera and told her what lovely children she had reared. Lucky sniffled. Her sister
held out her hands and she took her niece in her arms for the first time.

Angel got up out of her seat and came to the front too. Floyd and Evelene came forward and exchanged pleasantries with Vera.
Lucky and Angel hugged, even with all the better-looking boys calling them silly girls. They walked down the church aisle,
showing off Myrtle to the churchwomen who were willing to speak.

Church dismissed on its own, but hardly anyone left.

Vera said to Jeb, “Reverend, remember to pray for my husband, John, that he’ll forgive what’s happened and let Lucky come
home with our grandchild.” She looked around the room until her eyes fell on her boy, Ruben. He walked out the church doors
without saying much. “Pray for him too,” she said. “Ruben’s got lots of turmoil in his soul over Lucky.”

“I know we’re not over all this, Sister Blessed. I was hoping that today might start something better than what we had yesterday.”

“I’d say it’s some better,” said Vera. She moved politely through the church folk in search of her little girl.

Fern baptized Jeb with kisses up until late Sunday. “You did the right thing inviting the Blesseds to church.”

Jeb walked her to her door. He said, “I want to come in.”

“You ought to,” she told him.

She put coffee on to brew. Jeb dropped his hat on a chair and followed her into the kitchen. Fern put her arms around him
and kissed him again. Jeb stayed for coffee. “I’ll see you tomorrow after school.” He listened to the quiet of her house and
thought of the ruckus going on back at the parsonage. “Maybe I’ll stay a minute more.”

He kissed Fern in the doorway, not noticing how bitter cold the night had gotten.

Jeb woke up with the sun in his eyes and thoughts about Fern. That moment lasted long enough for thoughts to creep in about
Church in the Dell. Good intentions could sour over a single night. Not everyone had accepted the Blesseds, of that he was
certain.

“We are late, people!” Angel stumbled down the hall, jumping into her stockings. The noise she made set Ida May to wailing
hopelessly.

“Finally it’s the end of the world,” said Willie. “I’s afraid this’d be all there was to it.”

“I forgot pencils.” Ida May cried and laid her face on the kitchen table.

“Everyone, get in the truck and I’ll see you get to school,” said Jeb.

Lucky came out with her hair tied up in rags, something about her expressing her opinion of all of those with so little hope
on a Monday morning. “Angel, you’d think you was losing a birthday or some such.” She held out her hands to Ida May. “I got
a pencil if you will put a sock in that alarm of yours.”

Jeb covered his head with a hat and said, “Might you have coffee on the brew by the time I return?”

“You’d best strap on some galluses, Reverend, pull you on some trousers.” Lucky covered her eyes with both hands.

Jeb had fallen asleep Sunday evening in his Sunday shirt and not a whole lot of anything else. What with Fern’s scent lingering
on the collar, it had seemed a shame to change out of it. “Meet me outside,” he told Willie and Ida May. He gave Willie the
truck key, since he had gotten good at warming up the Ford.

Angel stormed past, yelling that she had dibs on the front seat and saying, “Jeb, you’ll catch your death!”

Jeb found his clothes by the door, his everyday trousers he had preached in on Sunday. He picked them up but nearly knocked
Lucky down, running through the hall. “You’re smiling this morning,” he said.

“We had us a good Sunday, Reverend. I’d say things is looking up from now on.”

Jeb chided his own thoughts. Here was Lucky already on Monday’s good side and he’d gotten up troubling over subjects left
unsaid yesterday, of those who did not come forward and greet Vera Blessed. “Coffee?”

“I’ll make your coffee, Reverend. Black. Side of biscuits,” she said.

“You’re a good girl.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Nazareth seemed to grow for an instant, like a wintered-over tract that had suddenly greened, life coming out of it and feeding
lonesome souls.

Jeb returned to find a car parked out front that belonged to Louie Williamson, of that he felt certain. Both rear tire rims
had rusted around the corners, red paint dabbed at the edges.

Louie sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee with one hand and holding Myrtle by his free arm. Lucky filled his cup and
filled him in on all that had transpired on Sunday.

“Lucky’s told you about Vera coming yesterday, I see,” he said.

“Vera told me last night at prayer meeting. I’m surprised you’re not roasting over an open fire, so to speak. So that note
you had me pass to her, it was an invite. I didn’t open it,” said Louie.

Jeb took his seat across from Louie.

“I asked him if my daddy had anything to say about Momma’s coming down and seeing me and Myrtle, but he said he didn’t know,”
said Lucky. She pushed Jeb’s full cup to his side of the table.

“John Blessed is prideful, that’s all I got to say. If I say anything else, it’s gossip. Your baby’s giving back a little
of her breakfast.” Louie reached for a towel and wiped the baby’s face. “Vera says you are a nice preacher and she is glad
Lucky came to stay with you. I can tell she wants things back like they’re supposed to be, though.”

“Daddy’s too hard on me, like he was too hard on Jewel. Jewel said yesterday that he won’t talk to her still,” said Lucky.
“He blames Jewel for what happened to me, but I lay half the blame on him.”