“I don’t know where my Jeremiah is buried. They put him in a county grave somewhere.”
Evangeline stopped in front of a stone that had one word on it:
WILLIE
She waved her hand over the grave. “Everybody needs a place where they can visit those who have passed on, so I imagine Jeremiah is right here.”
I thought about the Littleton Funeral Home box still on the mantel at the farm, Mama. It didn’t seem like the right place for it, but both Aunt Bernie and I avoided the task of finding a better spot.
I carried the basket of wildflowers and held on to Evangeline’s elbow. She greeted people as we walked, saying, “Glory be to you,” and “Have a glorious day.”
Most people were polite and greeted her back, while some veered off if they saw her coming—as if a divide as big as the Grand Canyon ran right up the cracked sidewalk.
At the side of the building, I spied Jason talking with Reverend Love. Jason’s face was red and animated like a cartoon bull’s. I couldn’t hear him, but no doubt he was squealing on Faith—about her stealing the Swinsons’ money from the collection plate.
I followed Evangeline into the vestry. She turned on the sink and let it run so it would be real cold, and poured me a cup straight from the spigot. I gulped it down, something earthy and rich rendering the water delicious. I filled up another and drank it, too.
Evangeline got out a mason jar, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers under the Every Good and Perfect Thing sign. Without any prompting from me, she pointed at the small handmade plaque. “My boy made that for me. Only thing I have of him.” She put the basket under the sink and said nothing more about it.
The new rainbow choir robes were hanging on the rack waiting to be hemmed. Evangeline reached up and pulled out a white cotton robe on a hanger. “This is your robe for Baptism Sunday.”
It seemed like a million years ago that I’d agreed to such a thing—dressing up in a white gown, only to be dunked into a tub. Now it didn’t seem there was any way out of it.
I reached out and touched the fabric. It felt soft and billowy under my fingers.
“We’ll hem it up for you this week.” Evangeline smiled. “You go on and let your aunt know you’re here.”
I headed down to the basement. People stood around with paper cups of coffee, napkins filled with lemon bars, plates of ham and potato salad. Aunt Bernie was helping Mary Love in the kitchen and didn’t notice me as I walked by the pass-through. I headed in her direction to let her know I’d arrived, no worse for the wear.
Hands clasped over my eyes.
“Guess who?”
I whirled around to face Faith, and glared. I am so mad at you.
“What?”
Reverend Love appeared beside us. “We missed you this morning, Dulcie. I understand you folks had some car trouble on your way to church.” He laughed. “Well, I’m glad you made it for the important part.” He winked at me. “The Jell-O and pie.”
He turned to Faith, his expression unreadable. “Faith, could I have a word with you?”
“Sure, Preach.”
She followed after him, calling out over her shoulder, “Wait for me, okay?”
I had no way of warning her that she’d been caught, that Jason had spilled his guts. Maybe she deserved what she had coming, but I hated that Jason had put her in hot water.
I could only hope that Reverend Love would understand the mixed-up thinking behind her stealing money from the collection plate, but I doubted it. He’d given her a chance, and she had blown it for herself.
As the last few people were heading out to their cars away from the basement and the heat, Ray and Trixie wandered in. They made their way over to me. Trixie stuck out like a full circus had come to town. Ray pulled at his collar, uncomfortable to be in the midst of the church crowd.
He whispered as if God himself could overhear, “Trixie and me need to head out. We’ve got a long drive ahead and some visiting with Trixie’s people, so we best get on the road.” Clearly, Ray had had too much of Shepherdsville, Mama, and was cutting out before we had time to figure out we missed each other.
Trixie gave me a little pat, her voice sincere. “Dulcie, I am so happy we got to know each other.” She dug into her bag and handed me her pink plastic compact. “You know, just in case.”
She nudged Ray. “I’ll wait for you outside. My dress is already pit-stained enough as it is.”
Ray cleared his throat. “I’ll be back down soon. I don’t know when.” He sputtered a string of things, trying to put them together. “I got . . . stuff to do . . . take care of . . . and you seem settled in here all right. Everything is okay, isn’t it?” He swallowed. “I mean, you understand, I can’t . . .” He stopped, his words drying up.
I put my arms around his waist and held on to him, tight. It was the only thing I could do for him, Mama. It took him a long time, but Ray put his arms around me too. We stood like that until I could feel his chest starting to buck like a wild thing.
He turned and left me there in the stairway—with Aunt Bernie and a basement full of discarded napkins and dirty dishes waiting.
When she found me, Aunt Bernie lighted on me like a pesky fly. “Heaven’s sake,” is all she said. She handed me a dish towel and apron, and I went to help her clean up.
23
t-e-s-t-i-m-o-n-y
testimony (n.)
public avowal, as of faith
I was elbow-deep in dishwater when Reverend Love sent for me, Mama. Aunt Bernie took the dish towel from my shoulder. “You run along. I’ll finish up.”
Plodding slowly up the stairs, I could feel my heart drumming a funeral march. My hands oozed, hot and sweaty, as if I had a coal furnace in my chest. I could barely breathe. The wood floors creaked under my feet as I walked softly down the hall to Reverend Love’s office. I knocked on the glass part of the door—a rattled chord under my knuckles.
Reverend Love opened the door, his face grim. “Come on in, Dulcie.”
Hurt feelings and uncomfortable words hung in the air. Jason and Faith sat on opposite ends of a ratty sofa inside Reverend Love’s office. Faith’s arms were crossed in front of her chest, her face dirty with a scowl. Jason leaned forward, lips pursed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
Reverend Love took a seat behind his desk and indicated I should sit. The only place available was between Jason and Faith. I sat and tried to catch my breath. All the oxygen in the room seemed to have been sucked away.
“Dulcie, I need to ask you something, and I’d like you to tell the truth. Then Faith and Jason can come to an agreement as to what might have gone on today in services.”
Reverend Love leaned on his desk, one hand cradling his cheek, holding his head up, as if it were too heavy to stay upright by itself. I got the impression that what had been said in that office was a disappointment to him.
“Now listen, Jason and Faith, you both know that stealing is against the law. If you break the law, you end up a criminal. I know this to be true. I can’t let either of you go down that path.”
He softened. “Faith, tell me again what happened today.”
She glanced at me, then back to Reverend Love. “Jason Burdine hates me, and he told a big fat lie. He’s the one who stole the money.”
Jason yelled out, “I did not. I watched you take it out of the collection plate and put it in your pocket. Don’t try to pin this on me.”
He swiveled toward me, his voice rising. “You saw her. We both did.”
Faith pleaded, “You didn’t see me take any money, did you, Dulcie? You saw Jason do it. You were sitting right there. You must have seen him.”
Reverend Love rubbed his forehead. He scanned my face, searching deep down to my very soul. “Dulcie, did you see Faith steal money at services? Did you see Jason take something from the collection plate?”
Mama, you raised me right. I know the Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not lie. Thou shalt not . . . We
ll, I don’t know all of them, but those two stuck in my head.
I didn’t want Faith to get in trouble. Jason, on the other hand, had made my life miserable since I’d arrived in Shepherdsville.
Reverend Love waited for an answer.
Before I had time to consider what I was doing, Mama, I sinned right there in Redeemer Baptist Church—probably a double sin, because I lied to a minister of the Lord.
I looked Reverend Love right in the eye and pointed at Jason.
Reverend Love winced. “Jason stole the money from the collection plate?”
I nodded. Jason’s jaw dropped. “I did NOT.”
Faith shouted back, “You did too.”
Jason lowered his voice to practically a whisper. “She’s lying.”
Reverend Love returned his gaze to me, looking at me hard for a long minute, while I squirmed, sweat popping like blisters on my skin. I dropped my eyes, not sure I could go through with being a snitch. A lying snitch, at that.
“Are you sure, Dulcie? God is listening right now. He would not want you to lie to protect a friend. Are you sure?”
I nodded, a hard lump, a rock of regret lodged in my throat. Faith had stood up for me, and now I was standing up for her. It felt wrong, but I had to do it, Mama.
Reverend Love stood up. My queasiness rose along with him. “All right, then. Dulcie, you can go. Faith, wait outside for me.”
Faith followed me out into the hallway. She grabbed my hand and whispered, “Thanks. It’ll teach that yokel to not mess with us.” I shook her off, hopping mad at myself for lying and as frustrated as a bug under a jar at her for putting me in the situation at all.
Otis Burdine and his wife waited by the front door. Reverend Love called them into his office. “Jason’s got something to tell y’all. Come on in.”
Passing them, my cheeks on fire, I rushed out of the church to the porch. Almost everybody was gone by then, the parking lot empty of cars, save for a few: Aunt Bernie’s Olds, Reverend Love’s wagon, the Spanglers’ rusted-out Dodge, and the Burdines’ truck. Marlow was sprawled out beside the truck, his eyes looking mournful, miserable in the heat.
Gray haze moved in—even the sky seemed to have caught on to my mood. I should have gone back up there and told Reverend Love the truth—that Faith and me were both sinners. She was a thief, and I was a liar.
Faith trailed me to the porch and stood behind me. “Thanks for saving my butt,” she said. “I’ll have to clean the place from top to bottom this week and dust all the pews, but I’m not going to be nailed to a cross or anything.”
She bounced down the steps to the lot, gathered gravel from the ground, and tossed stones from one hand to the other, shifting them back and forth, like a juggler.
“Look, Jason is a punk. He deserved it.”
I refused to look at her.
“Dulcie, come on. It’s no big deal.” She sidled up in front of me. “I’d have done the same for you. You know I would have.”
I turned and stomped back to the church doors. She followed, intent on changing my mind.
“Dulcie, wait.”
Exasperated, I whirled and shot her all of my ill temper. I conjured lightning bolts flying out of my eyes and venom shooting out from my gritted teeth. At least, that was what I hoped I looked like—the devil on a bad day.
“Dulcie!” She grabbed my arm, desperation in her voice. “Come on. Don’t be mad.”
I closed the sanctuary doors right in her face.
The quiet of the church echoed my footsteps as I passed the pews on my way to the vestry door. Evangeline was gone. The cemetery flowers she’d picked for her son sat, bright and hopeful, in the silent room. The white baptism robe hung on its hanger, waiting for me.
The heavy pinch of what I’d done to Jason throbbed in my chest. I hadn’t wanted to let Faith down, but I shouldn’t have lied to protect her. I’d let Reverend Love down too. He had put his trust in me and I’d pointed at the wrong person. Aunt Bernie would want to strangle me if she found out I was nothing but a liar.
Poor Jason. Sure, he had been mean to me, but he didn’t deserve punishment for something he didn’t do.
The sign Evangeline’s son had painted, the scripture carefully written in black paint, rested in its place on the shelf above me: “Every good and perfect thing is from above.”
One day, when we’d been sewing together, Faith had asked Evangeline what the scripture meant. Evangeline was piecing together fabric, pins in her mouth. She took her time answering, but when she did, she leaned forward, placed her hand under Faith’s chin, cupping it, and looked deep into her eyes.
“What it means, sugar, is that when we fall—and, oh, honey, how we are going to in this life—we have to fall looking up. That’s all you gotta do. Look up. Find a way to rise up, even when you are flat on your back. That’s what it means.” She turned away and busied herself with stitching, needle going in and out of the fabric like a silver dart.
Faith shrugged. “What if you can’t get up, no matter how hard you try?”
Evangeline said, “You ask for a hand up, and go on the best that you can.”
As I sat there, alone in the vestry, after I had lied to Reverend Love, Evangeline’s words, like her neat stitches, one after the other, in perfect order, led me to the answer. It was right in front of me, Mama. I knew what I had to do.
Your suitcase waited under the bed. Everything I owned would fit into it. I had Maybelle—she could get me out of town. Faith had told me how she’d managed to get from place to place, tricks she’d used to travel on her own—what to tell bus drivers so that they’d let you on the bus without paying. The best places to catch rides—churches and schools. How to wash dishes for a meal.
It was clear to me, Mama.
Me leaving Shepherdsville was the best thing for everybody. Maybe Ray didn’t want me, but I could take care of myself back at the trailer.
My Bible bag was right where I’d left it, on the overstuffed chair by the wardrobe. I reached inside it and pulled out the crumpled Sunday bulletin from the service the week before, the swan that I had drawn on the cover flying over Redeemer Baptist. I thought maybe Evangeline would like it. So I placed it next to Jeremiah’s sign on the shelf there in the vestry. I dug out my smiley-face notebook from the doctor and opened it. My drawing pencil was tucked inside, ready for the words I needed to say.
Lilac Court waited for me. It was where I belonged.
But first I had to do something.
24
c-o-n-f-e-s-s-i-o-n
confession (n.)
an admission of guilt, especially formally in writing
Dear Reverend Love,
By the time you get this, I’ll be gone from Shepherdsville for good. I know you and Aunt Bernie both tried to help me, but it’s no use trying any longer.
I did the wrong things for what I thought were the right reasons, but the reasons I did what I did don’t matter now. There are some things you should know.
First off, I lied about Jason. He didn’t steal the money from the collection plate. Please don’t be hard on Faith. She has a hard time asking for a hand up.
And I sort of lied about something else, too. Remember the night I hit Loretta with my Bible? How you told me about the swans?
Well, I did see one, that very night, flying over Redeemer. I don’t know why I didn’t let you in on the truth. When you told Evangeline we’d been swan-watching and that we hadn’t been lucky enough to see one, I went along with it. I guess I wanted to keep the swans to myself. But keeping things to myself lost me my mama.
Not saying anything, sometimes, is worse than telling a lie.
Sincerely,
Dulcie Louise
P.S. Tell Evangeline I’m sorry about not being here to help finish the robes.
My pencil lead broke, I was pressing so hard on the paper.
But it was done.
I tucked the note into the pocket of Reverend Love’s preaching robe that was hanging on th
e vestry door. He wouldn’t find it until the next Sunday, and by then I’d be long gone.
I planned to pack up when I got back to the farm and leave after Aunt Bernie went off to do bookkeeping at the radio station the next day. I aimed to leave her a note too. I would tell her not to worry, that I was going someplace safe.
Ray would be out on the road where nobody could reach him. He wouldn’t know I’d left Shepherdsville until he got it into his head to call or visit me at Aunt Bernie’s. Maybe months. Maybe never.
I figured that no one would bother to look for me at Lilac Court. Your tip jar was still hidden behind the water heater, Mama, and I could use it to get along by myself for a while. If Faith could manage on her own, so could I.
The quiet was broken by a sudden ruckus going on. Old Marlow was yowling up a storm outside. From the vestry it sounded like he was trying to call the dogs in the next county. He barked angry yaps, followed by long wailing howls.
I opened the vestry door to the outside and followed the noise around to the front of the building. Shouting joined the dog’s voice. When I got to the parking lot, I stopped, the scene in front of me so brutal that I wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
Otis Burdine had Jason up against the truck, smacking him around the top of his head, punching him in the arms, slamming his body against the truck door like he was a rag doll. Jason crossed his arms over his head, covering his face, but could do little about the rest of his body. He drew himself up into a ball, protecting himself the best he could from the blows.
Otis threw Jason to the ground, hollering and railing, “I’ve had enough of you. You’re nothing but trouble, you hear me. I will teach you a lesson if it’s the last thing I do.” Foam flew from Otis’s mouth. “You steal from a church, you no good, worthless . . .”
Rising Above Shepherdsville Page 13