Son of a Preacher Man

by Karen M Cox

  “Hmm.” I sat and pondered that a minute or two.

  “So, what does Mrs. G say men are in charge of?”

  She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “She says they are the light and fire of the world. They can burn and destroy, but through that flame, they can also push the world from one thing into the next.” She giggled. “She also says they keep us girls warm on cold nights.”

  “Mrs. Gardener is important to you, isn’t she?”

  Lizzie nodded, a sudden solemnity in her expression. “Very important. I don’t know where or what I’d be without her. She probably saved my life. I know she saved my soul.”

  I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Will you tell me what happened, Lizzie? Can you?”

  She threw her arms around me and pulled me close. I felt the tension in her body and stroked my hands down her back, trying to soothe her.

  “Maybe someday I can,” she whispered into my neck.

  I didn’t push her to answer any further. One couldn’t push Lizzie Quinlan anyway, not when the burden she carried seemed so intertwined with her very self. If she rid herself of that heavy load, would any part of the actual Lizzie be left? I didn’t know. So, I just kissed her hair and held her close, and as the sun began to sink in the sky, I stood and held out my hand to her. And then I led her home.

  Chapter 13

  The day my father was due back in town, there was a terrible storm. All that afternoon, dark clouds threatened overhead, rolling around in the sky like a maimed serpent might writhe on the ground. Heat lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled, but the clouds stubbornly refused to open and give their water to the earth.

  Dad arrived at Cavanaugh Street about three in the afternoon, right about the same time as the rain did, but I didn’t see him because Doc and I were stuck in the office. It had been dry for almost two weeks, but when the rain finally came, it didn’t come in gentle showers that gradually filled the streams and dampened the ground; it fell violently in sheets. The discombobulated weather seemed to rattle the townsfolk as well, and we saw many minor complaints and injuries, making us late for dinner. Although it was only just past eight o’clock, the sky was dark as night. Dad, Charlie, and the Miller women were gathered around the table, just about to begin eating as we blew in the front door, shaking rain from our shoes and shoulders. Doc set his umbrella in the stand, took off his hat, and tossed it up on the hook at the top of the coat rack.

  “Martha?” he called.

  She hurried in from the dining room. “There you are! We had to start without you.”

  “I’m sorry, dear.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It was wild over there today.”

  Doc’s demonstrative gesture made her cast a quick, self-conscious glance at me, and I looked away, trying not to grin at her embarrassment.

  “Well, I understand, of course, Alvin, but the food was getting cold and we have company so…” She brushed at the raindrops on his shirt.

  “I’m glad you went ahead and started.”

  Dad stood as we came in the dining room and shook Doc’s hand. “Alvin!” he boomed, smiling.

  “Should we build an ark, Reverend?”

  My father laughed at Dr. Miller’s joke, and then he turned to me. I waited, wondering what he would say and how he would greet me after the way we left things last month. It startled me to realize he seemed almost as apprehensive as I felt. He reached out a hand to shake mine, and when I took it, he patted me awkwardly on the arm.

  “How are you, Son?”

  “I’m well.”

  He took a step back and looked me over. “You look well,” he replied, a note of surprise in his voice. “A little damp though.”

  “Yes, sir. How about you? Are you well?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  We all sat down to a meal of buttermilk fried chicken, zucchini and summer squash, and sliced tomatoes. I was starving, and I ate like I hadn’t had a meal in a week. Of all of us, Dad talked the most at supper. He entertained us with stories from his travels around the state while we listened and laughed, then refilled our plates. In record time, it seemed, the meal was over, and Louise and Marlene were clearing the table when a knock sounded at the front door.

  Doc frowned. “I wonder who that could be on a night like this?”

  Mrs. Miller disappeared into the front foyer and returned a minute later with the visitor in tow. My back was to the door, so I didn’t see right away who it was, but when Mrs. Miller spoke her name, I whirled around.

  “Alvin, Miss Quinlan insists that she needs to speak to you right away.”

  I sat, stunned for a second at the sight of Lizzie in the doorway of the Millers’ dining room. Before I could get up and go to her, Marlene came over to get my plate and put a polished claw on my shoulder. I shrugged her off and stood just as Doc reached Lizzie.

  “I’m sorry, Doc, Mrs. Miller, to interrupt your supper.” She looked at the rest of us, apparently not noticing or caring that Marlene had tried to stake her claim on me. “I wouldn’t have come, except—”

  “Why don’t we step into the parlor, Lizzie?” Doc gently took her elbow and escorted her out of the room. I moved to follow them, but Dad touched my arm.

  I pulled against him. “Dad, it’s Lizzie.”

  He restrained me with his hand and the soft, commanding tone of his voice. “It might be a private matter.”

  I stood indecisively, looking from my father to the door, to Marlene’s churlish smile. Doc returned just a few seconds later.

  “It seems that little Lily Quinlan is missing.”

  There were murmurs around the table, and Marlene rolled her eyes. Lizzie had come to stand just inside the room, and I immediately went to her and took her hand. She was soaked to the skin and ghostly pale, her lips a bluish sort of pink from being chilled.

  Doc was still speaking. “She’s been gone—how long now, Lizzie?”

  “We’re not sure, but at least since about two or so. She didn’t come home for dinner, or when it started storming. And that’s how we knew she must be in trouble. Lily’s always home by mealtime.”

  There was an annoyed sigh from one of the Miller girls that we all ignored—except for Mrs. Miller, who shot a glare of shame in their direction.

  “I was hoping maybe Doc could use his phone to call people, see if they’d seen her.”

  “We can certainly make calls,” Doc answered. “But really, how likely is it that she’s in town? Isn’t it more likely she’s out somewhere around Linden Road?”

  Lizzie’s eyes filled with tears. “I suppose. I just didn’t know what else to do. We’ve been looking for hours, and there’s no sign of her anywhere.”

  I put my arm around her. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

  “I thought we’d find her. I know she wanders around a lot, but she’s never been gone after dark like this. And she’s afraid of lightning and thunder, so I know she must be out there, scared and—” Her voice broke.

  “Well, here’s what we’re going to do,” Doc said in a calm, firm voice. “Charlie, Marlene and Louise will start looking in town. I’ll call some friends and neighbors, and then we’ll all split up and search for her.”

  Lizzie nodded. “I don’t want to put anyone out, but I have to admit I’ll gladly accept any help.”

  “Nonsense, honey. Your neighbors will be happy to help find your sister.” Doc gestured toward the kitchen. “Martha, can you make Lizzie some hot tea? I’ll get started on the phone calls.” He turned to the phone in the front hall.

  Two hours later, though, there was still no sign of Lily. Lizzie, Dad, and I were part of a group scouring the roads between town and Linden Road, but we had no luck at all.

  Lizzie’s silent sobs were almost constant now. I tried to hold her hand in mine, but she drew it away, retreating behind the mask that shut out the whole world. Her tears brought a protective rage up from somewhere inside me. I wanted to hit something, pick up a big stick and just—

  I st
opped in mid-stride. “Lizzie...”

  She turned to me. “What is it?”

  “I think I have an idea where she might be.” It struck me out of the blue—a vision of myself taking out anger on a poor, defenseless plant.

  “Why you so mad at that shrub, Billy Ray?”

  I tried to look around in my mind’s eye, to go back to that sunny day in the woods. Were there any landmarks I could remember? How far away was it? Could I even find the spot again?

  “Dad, can I use your car to go out to the Quinlan place?”

  “I’ll drive you.” He fished in his pocket for his keys.

  The three of us piled into the Oldsmobile and headed out. Rain fell from the sky in torrents. Sheets of water were thrown from the windshield as the wipers tried in vain to clear our view of the road ahead. Every once in a while, a flash of lightning illuminated the road, the woods, and everyone in the car.

  Dad was frowning, concentrating on the road, his lips moving swiftly in what I was sure was a prayer to help us find Lily.

  Lizzie stared straight ahead, her eyes dark and deadened, as if the light that shone from her had been extinguished. She was retreating into herself, I knew, because the reality of what might be happening was too awful for her to contemplate. I leaned over the seat and reached for her hand.

  “Lizzie? You remember that first day I came up to Linden Road? And you and Jeannie were looking for Lily?”

  She looked at me in solemn silence and nodded.

  “I was walking by the creek, and she was hiding in a tree. She said it was her favorite hiding spot, and that you all could never find her there.”

  “You think she’s there?”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  My father interrupted. “It’s by the creek, you say.” He looked at me, and a knowing anxiety passed between the us. “The creek will have risen fast with all the rain from this storm.”

  “Yes, sir.” I looked back at Lizzie and squeezed her hand. “We’ll find her. I know it.”

  We got to the Quinlans’, and Dad went up to the house to tell Mrs. Quinlan where we were going. Lizzie and I started toward the barn, and it was a couple of minutes before he came jogging to catch up to us.

  “Mrs. Quinlan is beside herself. I almost didn’t want to leave her, but we need every spare pair of eyes to help look. The middle girl, Carla, is with her, and I guess that will have to do.”

  Dad and I each took a flashlight. He scanned one way, and I scanned the other, and the three of us took turns calling out for Lily into the night. I grasped Lizzie’s hand tightly and led her as near as I could remember along the path I’d taken that day. Sometimes, it looked familiar, but it was maddening how everything looked so different in the dark. I couldn’t tell for sure if we were even going the right way. After about twenty minutes, I saw a shrub very like the one I’d swiped with the stick. I looked off to the right, my heart beating with wild hope.

  “I think this is it.” I went a few paces to the right and ran my flashlight up the trunk of the tree. No Lily. As I brought the light back down though, it rested on a small piece of fabric caught on one of the branches. An anguished cry escaped Lizzie’s lips.

  “That’s her dress!” She began to sob. “That’s her dress. Oh God!” Her voice lifted into an almost hysterical scream. “Lily! Answer me! Lillian!”

  My light was frantically scanning all the surrounding brush. Dad was several feet ahead of me when I heard him shout above the wind and rain. We ran up ahead to meet him.

  His flashlight was trained on the other side of the creek—a little figure, sitting on a rock next to the opposite bank, huddled against the elements. Her arms wound around her knees, her head was hidden, and her shoulders were shaking—with cold, fear, or shock, or maybe with all three.

  “Lily!” Lizzie called, running toward the bank. I put out a hand and yanked her back.

  “Wait! You can’t see without a light, and the creek’s overrun its banks. I don’t want you to fall in.”

  Lizzie fought me for a second, but then she realized I was right. “We’re gonna get you, Lily! Just hang on.”

  Lily’s dark head popped up at the sound of her sister’s voice. “Lizzie?” She screamed and held her arms out. “Lizzie, help me!” She started to get to her feet. All three of us shouted, “No!” all at once.

  “We’re going to help you, child,” my father called. “Just don’t move, all right?”

  Her voice was full of frightened tears. “There was rocks across the creek, but after I got here it started to rain real hard and now the rocks is gone, and I can’t get back.”

  “I could wade across,” I mused to myself. “It’s not that deep.”

  “No!” Dad’s voice was harsh, his anger a thin veneer over a deep-seated panic. “We’ll go back for help.”

  He and I walked a few feet downstream to figure out how we might get to her.

  Lizzie called, “No, Lily, stay where you are!” There was a splash, followed by Lizzie’s frantic cry.

  Before I could think straight, I waded in. Water that was usually around mid-thigh deep, swirled up around my hips and rushed past at an alarming speed. I held my light aloft and looked, heedless of the cries from Lizzie and my father. I scanned back and forth, saw a brief flash of arm, lunged for it...

  And promptly lost my footing.

  Down under the water’s surface I went, and the creek stole my breath. All around me I heard the crashing water. It carried me I don’t know how many yards downstream before I was able to feel the creek bed and stand up again. I planted my feet firmly into the sandy bottom and tried to get my bearings.

  My flashlight was gone, of course, but I could see Dad’s light upstream and that helped me orient myself and put the Earth and sky back in their rightful places. A long flash of lightning illuminated the water around me for several seconds, just as Lily passed me, her arms flailing above the water. I grabbed her and held on, willing my legs to be as immovable as tree trunks.

  I almost lost my balance again as I pulled her to me but managed to clutch her to my chest as she sobbed and sputtered against my shoulder.

  “I’ve got her! We’re down here!”

  Lizzie and Dad were there in a matter of seconds—she, holding a long branch, and he, searching the creek with his light. Dad took the branch from Lizzie, and while she held the light on us, he took a couple of careful steps into the creek. He held the branch out, and I grabbed hold of it with one hand, while the other kept Lily against my side. Dad pulled, and I walked, and we came out of the water with a rush. Dad fell backward, sitting on the soggy bank, but keeping hold of the branch. The two of us climbed the slope until we were well out of the way of the rushing water. I collapsed on the ground, and Lizzie pulled her unresponsive sister from my arms, crying and calling her name.

  We laid her down on the grass, the two of us. I checked, and thankfully, she was still breathing on her own.

  “Hold the light,” I commanded, and Lizzie complied, shining it on her sister’s face. When I heard the gasp, I looked up and saw the deep gash on Lily’s forehead. It was bleeding, and Dad handed me a handkerchief from his pocket to staunch it.

  Lizzie and I crouched on either side of her, Dad standing behind me looking on. Finally, he spoke. “We need to get her back, so Doc can look at her. Can you walk, Billy Ray? Are you hurt anywhere?”

  I stood. “My ankle feels a little sprained, but I believe I can walk just fine.”

  Dad and I took turns carrying Lily the mile or so back to the Quinlans’. When we got there, Mrs. Quinlan let out a keening cry and rushed toward us. Dad put out an arm to shield me from her, afraid, I guess, that she’d knock me over.

  “She lives, Frances. She’s hit her head. Where’s Tom?”

  “Still looking. He checks back every thirty minutes or so for news.”

  “I’ll take my car then and go fetch the doctor. Billy Ray, you come with me. Maybe I can help you wrap that ankle?”

  “But…” I looke
d to Lizzie. She was holding the cloth to Lily’s head, but at the hesitation in my voice, she turned.

  “Yes, Reverend, please take care of him.” She took her mother’s hand and placed it on the cloth covering Lily’s forehead. She stood up and came to me, standing on tiptoes and kissing my cheek.

  “There are no words for what you’ve done for us tonight. Only thank you.” Her voice was choked. She kissed me again. “I’m going to stay here with Mama and wait for Doc. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay.”

  Dad and I left the house and drove in silence. Doc met us at the office door, took a quick look at my foot to ascertain it wasn’t a serious injury, and he was gone. I sat on one of the patient gurneys, wrapping my ankle and washing up the best I could. When I finished and looked over at Dad, he was sitting on a chair, his head bent in fervent prayer. I walked over, limping slightly, and put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He looked up at me, stood, and reached up to take my head in his hands. In a rush, he pulled me into his embrace, holding me in an iron grip as if he was afraid to turn loose. An agonized cry tore from his throat, and then I heard the terrifying sound of my father, who was proud, strong, and brave beyond belief, sobbing into my shoulder.

  Chapter 14

  Dad and I waited at Doc’s office for him to come back with the news about Lily. I got up and paced a few times but finally had to sit down on the waiting room couch because my ankle was throbbing. I lay down, elevating my foot on the arm of the sofa and turned to look surreptitiously at my father.

  Dad sat on a chair, hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees. He dried his tears by running his fingers over his eyelids, then leaned back and looked at me across the room. The low light from the lamp cast shadows on his face, making him look tired and haggard.

  “I’m sorry I lost my composure—sorry that you had to see my weakness,” he began.

  “Dad—”

  “No, a boy should be able to count on his father to keep his head.”