Whisper Town (7 page)

Jeb asked Will to take his spot greeting folks so that he could return to the platform and gather his notes. It would be a
brief service, but a good message from the New Testament.

“I hear you’ve taken in some trouble, Parson,” said Oz.

“Depends on how you describe trouble.”

“Folks are starting to wonder if you’ll ever get the hang of this job.”

“The truth is that she was dropped off without my consent. But I have her now. So I have to see to her needs.”

“You might want to remember the needs of those who pay your biscuit-and-coffee tab every week at Beulah’s.”

Jeb made a fist at his side.

“My opinion? You’re a fool for not dropping the kid off in Tempest’s Bog,” said Oz.

“Maybe she’s better off with me. Who are you to say?” He stepped toward Oz.

Oz held up both hands in mock surrender. “None of my business, Parson. Let’s go stand by the fire, boys. It’s cold on this
side of the room.”

Fern came through the door holding Ida May by the hand. Behind her, Angel stared hard into a worn pink bunting, like the contents
might break if she so much as sneezed.

Jeb brought his right hand into his left. He came two shakes from pummeling Oz Mills two feet from the altar. He took a breath
and mounted the platform.

Some of the women gathered around Angel when she showed up holding a baby. Mellie Fogarty asked to see the child. Angel said,
“She’s sleeping. She just had her supper,” and then walked away from the ladies. Ida May led the way to a pew one seat behind
Fern.

Fern smiled up at Jeb, but his thoughts wandered back to what he was about to say.

Oz and the young banking clerks took a seat in Fern’s row, right next to the schoolteacher.

Jeb opened with prayer and then said, “My children and I received a precious package on our doorstep this week. For those
of you who don’t know, someone dropped a baby off with us. Her name is Myrtle.”

Some of the women craned their necks to see Angel’s package.

“Being as how I don’t have a wife at my side, it don’t seem fitting that I try and take care of another child. Especially
a newborn baby.”

Many of the women cooed at the mention of a newborn.

Then from the middle of the church, Josie came to her feet and said, “You forgot to mention that baby’s not white, Reverend.”
She floated back down, quiet.

Each woman’s smile faded, like lilies losing their blush. Their eyes strayed from Jeb, no longer held spellbound by the news
of their minister. The church building held silence as well as it held music, but the silence paralyzed Jeb in a manner that
caused him to want to toss away the evening’s sermon. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “I guess the good Lord’s given
her to me then. Pray then that I won’t allow harm to come her way. Ask God to give me grace if he won’t give me a wife.”

His last comment caused some of the women and the men to laugh. Fern laughed without opening her mouth.

Jeb waited for her eyes to connect with his. He wanted to come down from the platform, take her by the hand, and walk away
from this troublesome place. But instead he opened his Bible and began to read.

S
CHOOL HAD BEEN OUT FOR TWO HOURS AND
Fern’s automobile sat parked in front of her cottage. Jeb paced, treading out a one-by-three-foot path in front of her doorway
before he announced his arrival. Wednesday night after church, Oz had walked her out to her car.

The moon’s high and yellow mark beyond the paper shell pecan trees was too good a light to waste on Oz Mills. Oz had given
her a peck on the cheek, but it was too dark to tell if Fern liked it or not.

Today Jeb wanted answers from Fern once and for all.

Jeb rapped against the weathering frame of her screen door. Fern opened the door and Jeb said, “Fern, I think it’s time we
had a talk.”

She invited him inside. A stack of bedsheets and kitchen towels sat next to her sofa, where she had knelt folding linens.
Jeb nudged them to the side and then took a seat on her sofa, tossing his hat onto the seat next to him.

Fern sat across from him in an overstuffed chair the color of ripe apples. “You look flush, Jeb. You want coffee?”

Looking at her in her green cotton dress, like a girl cut out of
Sears and Roebuck,
Jeb nearly lost all thoughts of Oz and what he had planned to say.

Fern poured coffee for both of them.

“Fern, I know you think you know me, but not in the way that I want you to know me.”

Fern’s cup froze right in front of her lips.

“That’s the whole thing in a nutshell, if you catch my drift, that you’ve never known the real Jeb. I’ve been afraid of that
more than anything. I know I’ve tried to prove to you that I’m a changed man, but somehow in proving it, you don’t really
see the real Jeb. I know I came into town lacking in social graces. I had to adjust my way of thinking about women and such,
but I did adjust. Especially about a woman like you.” Just to be safe, he added, “You’re the top of the line where women are
concerned. But you should know some things about me.”

“You’re getting at something, I can tell.” The sweet place between her brows dented.

“I’m tired of playing patty-cake, or whatever it is that you expect of me.” That didn’t come out like he intended. “Or maybe
that has been my expectations, I don’t know. It may look as though I want a wife, someone to take care of all of these youngens
I seem to be attracting. But the truth is that I’m miserable. I’m tired of juggling people and trying to please everyone but
myself. You know what I really want?”

“I guess you’ll tell me.”

“I want a life with you in it. With or without this church, or all those kids, or any of these people in this town. Or all
of them included, as long as you’re in it.”

“Jeb, I wish I had known.” Fern took a breath and then cried like she’d come from a funeral.

“I’ve made you cry.”

“It’s just the situation in general.”

Jeb came down to his knees and scooted across the hardwood of her floor. “Fern, here’s the deal, the way I see it. Before
you decide whether or not you’re going to trust me again, in the way I want you to trust me, I want you to know me as I am.
I want you to see me after I’ve been under the house and smelling like manure. I want you to know what I look like when I
wake up in the morning.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Come to think of it, I want to know what you look like
before you comb your hair in the morning. I want to know that you’re seeing me at my worst and yet still loving me.” He took
both of her wrists and pulled her next to him. Her softness and the way she looked at him caused him to breathe harder. “First
off, I don’t really ask permission to kiss.” He kissed her, maybe too hard, but she didn’t seem to dislike it. “I do it because
I want to or because I don’t know any better. But it’s what I want, so I kiss you and that’s that.”

Fern didn’t try to speak. She kissed him back, but another tear streamed down her face, dampening the faint line around her
mouth.

“The truth is that I want to carry you back to that sweet bed of yours and give you everything of mine I have to give. It
takes everything in me not to do that very thing.” When she didn’t act surprised, he said, “I want to love you and show you
that I love you. But I want to do that with you as my wife.” He pulled out his mother’s old gold wedding band from the chain
around his neck. After slipping it off the chain, he slid it onto her index finger.

“Jeb, wait, I—”

Jeb kissed her again, sliding his hands down her back and around her hips. “I love you, Fern.” He pulled her against him.
She felt like a part of him that had been missing.

Fern burst into tears. She sobbed so hard that Jeb reached for a handkerchief from her stack of white linens. He slipped it
into her hand. She wiped her eyes and nose and then laughed as though a little embarrassed.

“I know I’ve hurt you beyond words.”

“Jeb, I couldn’t tell whether or not we were going to, well, be us. That is, a couple. So when a job offer came from Hope,
I thought it wouldn’t hurt to check things out, give the job a shot.” She hesitated as though she were reading the pages of
his life. “Stanton School has six teachers now here in Nazareth and Hope is desperate for teachers.”

“Hope?” He sat back on his feet. “Oz Mills lives in Hope.”

“I wasn’t following him there, if that’s what you mean.”

“He had something to do with it, someway, somehow, he did.”

“The letter came from the school committee in Hope, so I wouldn’t know if Oz had a hand in it.” She started sobbing again.

“You’re not taking that job, Fern. I took my time with you because I thought that’s what you wanted. I see now that I took
too long. You’re not leaving, Fern. I won’t let you.”

“They’re desperate, Jeb. If you could see those poor kids’ faces—”

“I don’t care about the poor kids, Fern!” He grasped her shoulders.

“I think you do. I know that much about you.”

“We can live somewhere in between. You teach in Hope and I’ll preach here in Nazareth.”

“Jeb, I want to say so much.”

“Come here, girl. Say what you want to say.”

“What if I say something I’ll regret?” She looked at the ring on her finger.

He could not think of a single poetic phrase that would make things right. But the quiet between them seemed to have a good
effect.

“I love you, Jeb.” She wiped her eyes and then moved her face near his. They kissed and Fern stopped crying; she touched Jeb’s
face with her ring hand. Jeb pulled her onto the couch, where she could get to know him better.

Belinda nursed Myrtle out in the bright sunlight of afternoon. The sky blued better than a wash of ink, crisp and perfect
without a single fold of cloud. The day was almost like summer, like a day full of kites and blankets spread out on the grass,
the last dabble of warmth before winter.

Willie took his studies out onto the porch. Angel watched him from inside and then followed him out. His gaze followed the
V of Belinda’s open blouse. “Willard, I know what you’re doing,” she said through the open door.

“This baby’s almost asleep. Can’t the two of you fight somewhere else?” asked Belinda.

“I’m studying for my spelling test, that’s all,” said Willie.

“He ain’t hurtin’ nothin’, Angel,” said Belinda.

“Where’s Jeb anyway?” asked Angel.

“Off doing his preacher chores, whatever they may be,” said Belinda. “What is it preachers do anyway?”

Willie wrote down a word, then scratched it out, his eyes still trained on Belinda.

“Preachers go around town talking to everyone, kind of like he’s making sure they’re going to be in church on Sunday and such.
You say he said he was doing errands?” Angel asked.

“He said he was headed to Long’s Pond.” Belinda popped Myrtle loose from her bulldog grip. Myrtle nuzzled next to Belinda,
still asleep.

Angel glanced up the road. “Long’s Pond. Miss Coulter lives out that way.”

“I noticed he smelled good this morning. Washes up real purty, like no preacher I ever seen. He ever date anyone serious?
Not that I’m asking for any reason. I have a boyfriend.”

“He likes one of our teachers, Miss Coulter,” said Willie. “But she’s been a hard one to pin down on account of she’s rich
and he was nothing but a cotton picker.”

“And a murderer.” Ida May appeared at the doorway. “But not really.”

“Willie, you don’t know diddly squat about anything. Hand me your spelling words and I’ll give them to you just to shut you
up,” said Angel.

“Yonder comes someone from up the road,” said Belinda.

The old squad car from downtown Nazareth turned into the churchyard drive. Deputy Maynard drove past the church and around
to the circular drive in front of the parsonage.

Belinda got up out of the rocker with Myrtle to take her inside. “I don’t have no business with cops. Angel, you talk to him.”
She disappeared into the house before Maynard could reach the front porch. He walked less leisurely, like he had some business
to address.

“You looking for Jeb, I guess?” Angel asked Maynard.

“Got some news about the apple orchard incident. Is he about?” Maynard stood at the foot of the steps with his hat in his
hands.

“Not for another hour or so. I can give him a message.”

“You’re old enough, I reckon. He was interested, so I thought I’d let him know. The word out is that some high-school boys
skinned a cat down in the orchard. So that bloody shirt was left behind by one of the boys that got the worst of the deal
handling that cat.”

“Who told you that?” asked Angel.

“One of those banker boys, Frank Pella. Said that he caught wind of it when a group of teenagers got drunk down on the lake.
He was down on White Oak Lake with a date and heard the whole confession.”

“I’ll tell Jeb then,” said Angel.

Maynard climbed back into his automobile and drove away.

“What was that all about?” Belinda appeared again, fully dressed and carrying her own baby on her hip.

“Boys been skinning cats down in the apple orchards, I guess,” said Angel. “According to Frank Pella. Ain’t he one of those
college boys that runs with Oz Mills from Hope?”

“That’s a lie if I ever heard it.” Belinda called her two older boys to join her out front.

“Why you say that?” asked Willie.

“I went to school with Frank Pella. He wouldn’t tell the truth if you tied him up and left him on the railroad tracks. Why
would he care, anyway, if boys was skinning cats? It don’t make no sense. I’m done, I reckon. Please ask Reverend Nubey to
remember to pay me tomorrow. I owe a wad of money down at the Woolworth’s. They can’t hold my bill past Friday, they told
me.”

“You take care, Belinda,” said Willie. He watched her drive away.

“You’re sick in the head, Willie.” Angel picked up a dropped baby blanket and went inside.

Jeb helped Fern peel off her sweater. She let it drop onto the rug. “Come here,” she whispered, and then held out her arms.