After a brief moment of serene silence, Butch’s voice broke as he squeaked out, “Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—”
“Sssshhhh! Hush now!” Chester said softly, slightly rocking his boy side to side. “Ain’ nuthin’ to be sorry for! You know…” he looked at the widow and the sun shining through the blinds, “…I used to feel alone ’n afraid. I was ashamed…’n I was scared of dyin’. But you know what now? I’m happy!”
Butch’s eyes welled up with tears as his father spoke the words he had so longed to hear.
“I’m at peace when I’m with you, son! I love you, ’n I’m proud o’ you!”
A couple of weeks passed and on one particular Sunday, Butch drove Chester to church for what would prove to be the last time. The effects of the cancer were ever present as the two men inched their way down the aisle to sit with their clan of friends. Danny, Jason, Ron, John, and Casey all did their best to assist Butch in getting Chester seated and making things as comfortable as possible. From the moment he helped Chester out of the car and into church, Butch dared not let go of his father’s weakened hand.
An hour and a half later, Pastor Cregan led the congregation in a closing prayer. The sermon ended and members of the church almost immediately formed a small line at the end of the pew to greet Chester and shake his hand. Although thin and feeling a great loss of strength, he didn’t let his pain show as he smiled and chatted with the members of his Men’s Bible Study Group, the choir, and others from his senior class.
While Chester and Butch were preoccupied with their socializing, Danny stealthily left the group and pulled Pastor Cregan to the side.
“‘Scuse me, Mike, but Butch needs to talk to you and Pastor Brock for a second. He’s kinda wantin’ to get some advice.”
“Is he all right?” Mike inquired, concerned.
“Oh, yeah, fine…he’s fine,” Danny confided, glancing back. “I think he actually just wants a little ‘encouragement’ or opinion on something.”
Several minutes had passed by when Pastors Brock and Cregan finally approached the group, still talking and laughing. “Butch? You okay?” Brother Ray spoke up. “Danny said you needed to talk.” The huddle of friends quickly hushed themselves and turned their attention to Butch, who rose from his seat and attempted to diffuse the situation by discounting the comment.
“No, I mean, yeah, well, I don’t really need to, uh, well…” he stammered, looking to Danny for some support.
Danny tossed his head to the side, nudging him to talk to Pastor Brock.
“Well, I was wonderin’, I mean I was thinkin’ ’bout maybe, if ya’ll do this kinda thing here for someone like me, that uh, maybe, we could talk about uh…” Butch cleared his throat with a nervous chuckle and rubbed his hands together.
“Baptized!” Danny proclaimed with a smile, jumping in to finish the statement. “He wants to be baptized, right?”
“Really?” Pastor Brock confirmed with a pat on the shoulder. “That’s great! You think you’re ready? I mean, do you know why you want to be baptized and what it means?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Butch replied confidently as the other men congratulated him and shook his hand.
“That’s my boy!” Chester added.
“Thanks, Daddy!”
“Oh, Butch!” Sarah cooed as she kissed his cheek. “That’s great! God bless you!”
“Good, good.” Pastor Brock nodded before continuing. “Well, when are ya thinkin’ ’bout wantin’ doin’ this?”
“Today!” Danny blurted. “Like, now.”
“We can go up and get started if you like,” Brother Mike suggested enthusiastically.
“I do have one request, however, if you don’t mind?” Butch asked, moving to Chester’s side. “That my father be baptized, too, if he’s ready and willing.”
Chester raised his eyes to meet those of his son. All remained quiet as Chester shakily, but proudly, answered, “I’ll do it with you!”
Pastor Brock, beaming with pride and joy, announced, “Okay then, let’s go.”
The two pastors, along with Sarah, lead the way, followed by Butch and Danny as they helped Chester along. Monica and the girls, along with Jason and the rest of the husbands, remained seated downstairs in their pew.
Chester was sandwiched in the stairwell with Danny behind him and Butch facing him, walking backward up the stairs as he held his hands for support. As he neared the top of the stairs leading to the baptism pool, Chester looked past Butch and noticed the two pastors taking off their coats in preparation. Sarah was already seated in an extra side chair at the top of the landing near the baptism pool. Butch turned loose of Chester on one side and placed his father’s hand on the rail leading down to the water. Butch, unknowingly, merely kicked off his shoes and stepped down into the cool water, still dressed in his coat, tie and all. Sarah, Chester, and Danny laughed at the sight of Butch standing fully dressed in the cold and more than waist-deep water. Pastor Brock exited the dressing room and came back to see what the laughter was for and saw Butch already standing in the water. The scene unfolded like a play for the four couples sitting below and innocently joined in on the laughter. Not to embarrass Butch any more by what he’d done, Pastor Brock decided to forego the rubber trousers and waded in by his side.
“Mike?” Pastor Brock called out. “Mike?”
“I can’t untie my laces!” Mike whispered back as loud as he could.
“C’mon, now!” Pastor Brock urged. Not wanting to wait any longer, he loudly asked, “Cleo Farley, do you come unto the Lord filled with love in your heart for His Son Jesus Christ?” Mike appeared at the edge of the stairs leading to the baptism pool and tried once more to balance himself and untie his shoes. He inadvertently lost his balance and fell headlong into the shallow pool, completely dressed, creating a wave that spilled out over the wall onto the choir’s chairs and dripped down the wall. Pastor Brock allowed the peanut gallery below a few moments to get the laughter out of their system before returning his attention to the matter at hand.
Butch regained his composure, as well, swallowed dryly, and quietly answered, “Yes.”
“Do you accept Jesus Christ as your one and only Savior?”
“Yes,” he again replied.
“Then, Cleo Farley—” Pastor Brock began.
“Hold on!” Butch interrupted. He turned to his left, extended his hand, and called out, “Daddy?”
Danny and Sarah helped Chester remove his coat and shoes then down the stairs to the edge of the water. Mike took his arm and led him through the pool to Butch’s right side, then joined father and son by their hands. Butch turned to his father for reassurance, smiled, then faced forward as Pastor Brock triumphantly declared, “Cleo Farley, I welcome you as a brother into the Kingdom of God in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Signifying the birth, death, and resurrection…”
Pastor Brock and Chester, along with the help of Mike, leaned Butch back into the water. As his head dipped below the surface of the water, the pastor’s words were replaced with faint whispering and beautiful, calming humming sounds that resonated in his head. Suddenly the water felt rather warm, like he was moved somewhere else or in some sort of enclosed vessel. Sensations rippled throughout his entire body, like that of fingers of newborn babies touching their mommy for the first time. Time ceased to exist as he lay under the water; peaceful and content, yet feeling compelled to open his eyes. The Holy Spirit flowed through him as he looked in amazement through the water at the illuminated images surrounding Danny, Chester, Sarah, and the pastors.
“…Of Jesus Christ.” Pastor Brock finished the baptism, pulling Butch out of the water.
Butch lunged into his father and embraced him tightly, weeping with excitement at what he just experienced. His heart pounded fiercely as he drew bigger and deeper breaths of air, clutching his father. Chester and Butch clung to one another in the baptism pool as the spectators watched from below. Danny, Sarah, Pastor Brock, and Pastor Cregan re
cited silent prayers while the two men embraced each other. Butch was so overcome with the burden of guilt from sin being lifted from his shoulders, he couldn’t control his weeping.
Pastor Brock politely interrupted to move things along. “Chester?”
Chester switched places with his son and took hold of Pastor Brock’s outstretched arm while still clutching Butch’s hand.
Pastor Brock smiled, looked him squarely in the eyes, and asked, “Chester Farley, do you come before God filled with love for His Son Jesus Christ?”
“I do, sir.” He, too, answered, slightly gasping.
“And do you proclaim that His Holy Son Jesus Christ is your one and only Savior?”
Chester nodded and squeezed Butch’s hand.
“Then, Chester,” Pastor Brock offered, “I welcome you as a brother into the Kingdom of God in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!” He and Butch slowly lowered Chester back into the water.
Almost effortlessly, it seemed, they pulled Chester up out of the pool. The water trickled down his face as he breathed smoothly and deeply. He opened his eyes and looked about him, smiling; how brilliantly everything now glowed, as if washed clean and made anew.
Danny and Sarah then entered the water, both fully clothed, to embrace their friends.
On Tuesday, Butch went to Sgt. Huddleston’s office to discuss the case specifics of the suicide victim found earlier last month. “Well, to keep it simple stupid,” he blared, tossing a file on the desk in front of Butch, “ballistics said that your theory was right: all three rounds found in the female victims, and this fourth victim in Henderson County, were indeed fired from the same gun, and that the gun found on our dearly departed John Doe was the weapon used on the others.” As he finished, he leaned back in his chair, placed his hands behind his head, and sarcastically asked, “So…?”
“Sir?” Butch replied, looking up from the file.
“So what happened? Our boy gets a conscience all of a sudden and thinks, ‘Oh my! Look what I’ve done’! No explanation? No note? Just kills himself? This make sense to you?”
“Well, sir…” Butch began, clearing his throat to explain, “…serial killers are sometime known to—” Before he could get a chance to give his interpretation, the two men were interrupted by a tiny knock on the doorframe.
Sarah stood at the door with red and swollen eyes, clutching a tissue. Her voice cracked a bit when she called out, “Butch?”
It was a good ending. You couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day to have graveside services. The sky was a clear, deep blue with only a hint of a breeze. The air was filled with the scent of grass that had just been cut, and on the far side of the cemetery, water sprinklers danced in large, white arcs across the great lawns, tossing their fine mist into the wind. Lilac trees, along with the different varietals of roses, were in full bloom. The bright lavenders, reds, yellows, and whites contrasted against the deep blue-green of the grass, spruce, and cedars, stood as delicate and beautiful reminders that this place of rest was but only one of the many steps in God’s plan, and not necessarily the last.
If it weren’t for Butch, Danny, Sarah, the members of the church, and officers from the DPS coming to pay their respects, the attendance level for Chester’s services would have been nil. Butch sat in front of his father’s casket, alone. He had no sisters or brothers to share this burden with because, like his father, Butch was an only child. There were no large arrangements sent from family members from far away to show their respects, wishing to be there. But now, gathered around to offer their support, were the newest members of Butch and Chester’s family.
Danny stood directly behind his grieving friend, gently rubbing his shoulders as Pastor Brock delivered Chester’s eulogy. After a short but eloquent summation, Lynnly Ives rose from her seat and sang, “How Great Thou Art,” her voice ringing angelically across the finely manicured cemetery. From the corner of his eye, Butch caught a glimpse of movement between a few of the headstones. He turned his head to see what it was that caught his attention and saw his mother, in a bright-red, formfitting dress, leaning against a car with folded arms. Although she tried to obscure her face with a pair of large, framed black sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, he knew it was his mother. He offered her only a brief and emotionless stare from the makeshift church as Lynnly sang. His mind was suddenly awash with the repeating childhood memory of standing in the doorway of their home and her leaving to go to the grocery store, those words forever resonating in his heart: “I’ll be right back.” She wasn’t interested enough to come over and pay her respects or to approach Butch. As the hymn ended, and without so much as a polite wave of her hand, Butch’s estranged mother opened the door of her car and stepped inside.
He stood, removed his boutonniere, and gingerly placed it on his father’s casket. Butch briefly gazed upon the closed coffin and the single flower with bright-red petals, blooming with life, lying on the cold metal surface. Lynnly then began singing “Softly and Tenderly,” one of Chester’s favorite hymns. As the music played, he received and shook the hands of Pastor Cregan and Pastor Brock, then those of friends, coworkers, and church members. Slowly the line dwindled down to Danny and Sarah. The three stood silently as they viewed the flower-encrusted casket, sitting on the straps, ready to be lowered. Across the great lawn, some stragglers crisscrossed the grounds, seeking out the headstones of deceased family members. Sarah squeezed Butch’s hand, kissed his cheek, then turned to walk away.
Butch and Danny looked about the cemetery. Without speaking they turned away from the casket and exited the shade of the canopy. The two men squinted tightly from the late-morning sun, then donned their sunglasses. Once a few paces away from the tent, Butch broke the silence. “Thanks for bringing back my daddy.”
Danny silently gave his friend a consoling pat on the shoulder. The flowers were in bloom.
IT’S OKAY TO LET GO
T he early morning sunlight streamed through the east bedroom windows, reflected off the hutch mirror on the west wall, and hit Sarah’s eyes at around eight thirty. She was further rousted from her sleep by the sounds of a power air blower, the echoing bangs of a broom head on corrugated metal, and a booming Jimi Hendrix asking, “Are You Experienced?” She wiped the sleep from her eyes as she clumsily lumbered her way to the window to see what, or who, was causing the commotion.
As she lifted the window, she watched churning clouds of brown dust billow from the large, metal double barn doors. “Hey!” she yelled, but received no reply. After donning her robe, Sarah groggily trudged her way downstairs and out to the barn while Mr. Hendrix belted out “All Along the Watchtower.” Danny was once again tackling his summer cleaning.
As he blew the dirt and ages away from the tractors and farm implements, Danny’s mind was set adrift, reflecting upon his time at the gas station and the years he spent working for Charlie Doyle. He couldn’t help remembering Charlie without thinking of his dead father and how Tommy never had the chance to see him as a grown man. With broom in hand and his back to the doors, he unknowingly gave an impromptu performance for his mother who now stood in the doorway, chuckling to herself.
“Hey!” she hollered. “What ya doin’ out here all alone?”
“Momma!” he bellowed with a startled jump and rushed to turn down the radio. “Gosh, you scared me!” He laughed breathily as he gave her the traditional “good morning” hug.
Sarah remained locked in the embrace a few seconds longer than normal. As he pulled away, Danny sensed something was amiss and innocently asked, “You feeling okay?” He resisted the temptation of looking inside the bright white fold hovering above her shoulder and instead commented, “You lookin’ kinda worn.”
“Uh, nah!” she brushed off with a smile. “Just a little old age settin’ in. Some get old when they’re still a kid, you know.” She turned away and creakingly ambled to the John Deere riding lawn mower. He watched as she strained to swing her leg over the back of the seat.
“You all right?” he inquired. “Want to talk about anything?”
Sarah gazed at her son, and then with a slap on her leg she exclaimed confidently, “Yes, yes there is!”
Danny raised his head at the sound of her voice.
“You come ’ere, young man!” she commanded with a slight smirk, pointing down to the ground in front of the lawn mower.
He smiled and timidly approached his mother, for fear of having done something wrong. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Did you know how much I love you?” she questioned, taking his hands in hers, her eyes beaming. “And how happy I’ve been these two years and how thankful to God I am for you?”
“Aww, Momma!” Danny blushed, turning his head away, still clutching her hands.
“Don’t awww me!” she demanded. “You are such a good boy! ’Scuse me, you are such a great man! And I know deep in my heart that God has something, and someone, special planned for Mr. Danny…Lee…Albright! I love you, my son!” Sarah rose from her seat and, using Danny for balance, gingerly stepped off the mower.
Danny walked back to his broom but turned to watch his mother walk slowly away, grabbing the edge of the metal doors for support as she exited.
A few days later, in the early evening, Danny pulled his father’s old International tractor up next to the barn from disking the southwest sections. The soil, having not been worked since he left in 1986, was overrun with weeds and an irregular patchwork of remnants from the last cotton harvest. He shut down the tractor and headed straight for the water faucet at the end of the barn. Pulling the valve handle all the way up, he stuck his head under the torrent of fresh, cold well water, scrubbing his hair. He removed his faded and ripped Threadgill’s T-shirt and soaked it in the water to scrub his face, arms, neck, and chest. With one more rinse of his hair and a final swishing of his mouth, he stood up straight and shook his head like a wet dog. Glancing toward the house and looking over the top rail of the porch fence, he noticed that the screen was not completely closed and the front door was partially open. “Mom?” he shouted, and darted around the fenced yard to the side steps of the porch. Once parallel with the front deck, he could see Sarah’s legs sticking out the door.
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