THE HOMEPLACE

by Gilbert, Morris

  She turned to a blank page, ready in the quiet hours before Corliss awoke to attempt a different kind of poem. In addition to the sonnet, Miss Dunsmore had also been teaching her class about dramatic monologue. “It’s a poem spoken by one person,” Lanie recalled her saying, “and the poem tells you what that person is really like on the inside. Most of the time we don’t let people know what we’re going through, but in this kind of poem, the character speaks without regard for what people will think.”

  As she sat before the fire, Lanie became consumed with a desire to write a poem like that. But who would be her character? Not anyone she knew; they might be offended if her efforts were discovered.

  “Why, I could write a poem about some character in the Bible!” Mary, perhaps, because it was almost Christmas. The idea excited her so much that she jumped up and fetched the family Bible to read the story again, though she knew it well.

  Mary wasn’t married—but she was going to have a baby. She was the only one who knew the baby was from God, and she knew everyone would think she had been a sinful girl. And she was engaged to Joseph. How would she tell him? It would be so hard!

  Lanie began to write and was surprised to find out how quickly the ideas came to her. She worked on the poem for a long time and changed it more than once. Now, as dawn tiptoed through the windows, she somehow knew that what she was doing was right! Finally she put her pencil down.

  Mary

  Three days I’ve waited here, but Joseph’s smile

  Has silenced me. I could not speak my heart

  Beside this sunlit well with strangers close.

  But now so late he works the sky is veiled—

  Except for rose-tints from the dying sun,

  And even now they fade. I hear his steps;

  Tonight I must tell him I am with child.

  He is a child himself (though older far Than I) and nothing knows of women’s ways.

  More like a father than a husband, Joseph

  Seems to me. Could it be that God

  Foresaw the peril of a young man

  (Blinded by a hotly jealous heart)

  Gave me instead to one made temperate

  By the slowing pace of older blood?

  I see him now in those dark sycamores

  Feeling his way along the stony path.

  His is the right by law to cast me off—

  But how I fear to walk this road alone!

  O God, if Joseph will but keep me close

  Despite the public shame—I’ll say your hand

  Has moved the two of us to your own ends!

  For a long time Lanie studied her work, and a warmth came to her. She thought of how she had tried to put herself in Mary’s place in that most difficult time, and how the tears had come to her eyes, so caught up she was with that ancient event.

  Finally she closed the notebook with a sense of satisfaction. And even as she did, a thought came to her: I could write a whole lot of poems like this! I could pick out the people who met the Lord Jesus and write what they were thinking and saying about Him!

  The thought startled her, but at the same time she felt a sense of rightness in it. I can’t preach, but I can write poems about the Savior! Her own daring stunned her, but then she prayed, “Lord, I’d like to do this for You.

  Even if nobody ever sees the poems but me, I’d like to do this to say how much I love You.” Corliss cried out. Carefully Lanie closed the notebook and put the pencil with it and went to pick up the baby. “We’re gonna have a fine day, just me and you, Corliss. All those noisy people are out killing innocent little deer, but you and me are going to have fun. I may even write a poem about you!”

  She found a great joy taking care of Corliss, and after she changed the girl’s diaper and put warm pajamas on her, she sat in the chair and poked at Corliss’s cheeks, which delighted the baby. When Corliss grew fussy, Lanie put her on her stomach on the floor with the talcum powder can just out of reach. She could not get to it, for she swam on her stomach, getting nowhere.

  “Come on, you can do it! Crawl!”

  At ten o’clock Lanie heard a slight knock at the door. “Who can that be?” she muttered. She glanced over at Corliss, who was playing in the crib. Lanie went to the front door and opened it. There was no one there. She stepped outside and saw a package in red paper with a bow on it right in front of the door. She bent over, picked it up, and went back in the house. Shutting the door, she studied the present. It was about eight inches square and obviously a Christmas present. A little tag was on it, and when she held it up to the light she saw written very faintly with a pen her own name. “For me? Who could have brought that?” Curiosity touched her. She had the impulse to leave it until Christmas morning, but she couldn’t wait. Carefully removing the paper, she unveiled a box that said: “Winter Wonderland.”

  “Winter Wonderland? What’s that?” Carefully she opened the box and pulled out a round glass globe. Inside was a tiny nativity scene with Joseph and Mary and the baby Jesus in a manger. They were made out of some sort of glittering material, and when she stirred the ball, white flakes flew up.

  “How beautiful!” Lanie exclaimed. She shook it and watched the flakes swirl. “It’s the same one that I looked at in the drugstore, but it cost ten whole dollars.” She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the glass, wondering who would have done such a thing. Then she noticed a small piece of white paper in the box. She pulled it out: “Mery Crist-mus. You ar a kind gurl.”

  “Who in the world? Somebody who couldn’t spell very well. And why didn’t they wait for me to answer the door?” She took the ball over to where Corliss was playing on the floor, picked Corliss up, then spun the ball so that the flakes swirled. “Isn’t that pretty, Corliss? You see how pretty the snow is?” Corliss agreed, for she gurgled and beat the ball with her fists.

  “I don’t think I’ll tell Daddy and the others about this. It’s a secret thing.”

  At eleven thirty Lanie heard the truck roaring and went outside. The log truck came into view, two big deer with heavy antlers laid across the hood. The horn was blowing, and when her dad stopped the truck, the kids boiled out, shouting. “I got the big one!” Davis yelled.

  “And I got the other one!” Maeva cried. “That one right there. You see, Lanie?”

  They grabbed Lanie and pulled her up to the truck, and she tried to express her admiration, but dead deer didn’t thrill her all that much. She felt a sadness when she saw their stiffened bodies, but she made herself say brightly, “They are certainly wonderful. Where’s the third?”

  “Well, shoot! That dumb ol’ gun don’t shoot right. I would have hit him if I had another shot, but he got away,” Cody said. “Besides that, I don’t think the ammunition was any good, and the light wasn’t too good either.”

  “I guess that’s about enough excuses for one missed deer,” Forrest said. The tall, young son of Reverend Madison Jones stood next to him, grinning his agreement.

  “Hello, Bascom, did you go hunting too?” Lanie said.

  “No, Missy, I ain’t studyin’ no huntin’, but yo’ daddy says if I help dress them two deer that he’s gonna give one of ’em to my family.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! I bet you like venison, don’t you, Bascom?”

  “I’se ’specially fond of it, Miss Lanie, ’specially fond!”

  “You kids go on and practice on your parts,” Forrest said. “Me and Bascom will dress out these here deer.”

  “You look up in the balcony tonight,” Bascom called after the kids.

  “Our whole church is comin’ to watch you do your Christmas pageant.

  You do real good now, you hear?”

  “You watch me,” Maeva said. “I’ll be the best Virgin Mary you’ve ever saw!”

  Bascom hooted and said, “I’m mighty curious about why the preacher’s wife picked Miss Maeva to be the star.”

  Forrest winked at him. “Why, I guess she thought that Maeva was the sweetest, most gentle girl in al
l Fairhope.”

  Bascom winked back and laughed. “I reckon she is if you say so, Mr. Freeman. Now, you let me clean them two deer. You go in and play with dat girl baby of yours.”

  Davis went into town alone to look at the decorations. He had precious little money, and it wasn’t time to go to the rehearsal at the church, so he just walked up and down the streets looking in the windows and enjoying the displays. He knew most everybody in Fairhope and stopped to talk with his friends and greeted others he knew.

  He walked in front of the courthouse and then down to the Dew Drop Inn, where he was greeted by Sister Myrtle and Charlie. The place was packed, but Sister Myrtle said in her big booming voice, “Well, praise God, alleluia, Davis! Come in here and let me set you down a big meal.”

  “All I got’s enough for a hamburger, Sister Myrtle.”

  “It’s on the house. My Christmas present. Charlie, you go fix this young man a hamburger, a good ’un, and some of them french fries. You set right down there, Davis. Do you want an RC Cola or a Nehi strawberry?”

  “Either one, Sister Myrtle.”

  Davis enjoyed the warmth and the conversation of this place. He heard someone call his name, and he turned around to see the lawyer Orrin Pierce sitting at a table with Mamie Dorr, who owned the beauty parlor. “Howdy, Mr. Pierce. How are you, Miss Dorr?”

  “We’re mighty fine,” Mamie said. Mamie Dorr was a beauty. She was a widow, and it was whispered that her husband had killed himself. Secretly Davis had always thought she was the prettiest woman in town. Even though women gossiped about her and said she wore too much makeup and her clothes were too tight and her dresses were too short and she was too free with men, he still liked her.

  “Are you all ready for the great production, Davis?” Orrin smiled. He had dark hair and light blue eyes that seemed to look right through a body. He was a heavy drinker, and some were appalled to hear that Mrs. Prince had chosen him to read the narration from the Bible for the pageant. Of course, he did have a deep baritone voice, but still he was, more or less, a drunkard, and Mrs. Prince had come under fire for her choice.

  Mamie smiled at Davis. “You’re shootin’ up like a weed, boy! You’re gonna be as tall and good-lookin’ as your pa the first thing you know.”

  Davis flushed. “I hope I’ll be as good a man as he is.”

  Orrin sipped his coffee and a smile touched his lips. “That’s the way, Davis. Always hold up for your folks.” He took another sip of coffee. “I still can’t figure out why I’m involved in a Christmas play.”

  “Because you’re such a saint, of course,” Mamie said. She reached over and ran her finger over the back of Orrin’s hand. “That’s why I’m goin’ tonight. I hope the roof doesn’t fall in. I haven’t been to church since I was fourteen, but I’m lookin’ forward to it.” She turned to Davis with a smile.

  “Here’s your hamburger.” Sister Myrtle set down his hamburger and a pile of french fries.

  Davis said, “I like the way you read the Bible, Mr. Pierce. It sounds just beautiful.”

  “It’d sound more beautiful if you stopped wearing them sinful neckties,” Sister Myrtle said.

  Orrin began to laugh, and Mamie laughed with him. Mamie finally said, “If that’s the worst thing Orrin Pierce ever does, he’s sure for heaven.”

  Sister Myrtle sniffed. “You both need to come to my church.”

  “Maybe we’ll do that,” Orrin said. “I’m sure we’ll hear somethin’ worth hearing.”

  Davis ate his hamburger and french fries and washed it all down with a Nehi soda and an RC, both of which Sister Myrtle had put in front of him. When he was finished, he thanked Sister Myrtle. “That was the best hamburger I ever had.”

  “I’ll see you in that play tonight. I don’t hold with theatricals, but I’m makin’ an exception just because I like you folks.”

  “I’ll watch for you, Sister Myrtle.”

  Davis left the Dew Drop Inn and started back down Robert E. Lee Boulevard for the house. When he passed the alley in the middle of the block, a movement caught his eye, and he saw Butcher Knife Annie dragging her wagon with the wobbly wheels. It was piled high with junk of one kind or another. The wind was not blowing, but still it was cold and a touch of remorse came to Davis as he saw her. In truth he had never forgiven himself completely for hitting her in the mouth with a pear. He and the other kids had gone by occasionally to take her bowls of food or fresh baked bread, and Davis and Cody worked half a day once propping up her old barn that was about to fall down. Annie had not even said “Thank you,” but that hadn’t mattered.

  Turning to go, something touched Davis almost as palpable as a hand. He did not understand what it was, but he stopped dead still, turned around slowly and watched as Annie moved through the alley. She shuffled slowly, stiff with the cold. She didn’t have gloves on. He could see how red and raw her hands were and, without planning to, he walked toward her. By the time he reached her, he knew what to say. “Hello, Annie.”

  “Howdy.”

  “Good to see you again.” She did not answer, so he said, “What are you going to do tonight, Annie?”

  Annie stared at him strangely. “Do? I ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

  “We’re having a Christmas pageant, and me and Cody and Maeva are in it. Everybody’ll be there. Why don’t you come?”

  “Church ain’t for me.”

  “Sure it is! Church is for everybody.”

  Annie blew on her hands and shook her head. Though he expected her reticence, Davis made one more try. “Look, it’ll be fun. I’ll come by and walk you to church, and you can sit with Daddy and Lanie, and you can see the baby.”

  “They won’t like it.”

  “Who won’t like it?”

  “People. They don’t want me.”

  Davis took a deep breath. “Well, I want you, so will you come?”

  Annie looked at the ground for so long that Davis felt she had forgotten his question. Finally she mumbled, “I reckon so.” Then without another word she picked up the handle of the wagon and hobbled down the alley.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re so excited about it,” Davis mumbled, wondering how he would tell his family what he had just done.

  Davis did not tell anyone about inviting Annie until it was time for the actors to leave. He startled them all when he said, “Maeva, you and Cody go on.”

  “You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” Maeva said.

  “No, I’ve got to go by and get Annie.” They all stared at him, including Lanie and his father, and he blurted out, “I asked her to go to the Christmas pageant.”

  “You asked Butcher Knife Annie!” Cody exclaimed. “Why’d you do a crazy thing like that?”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy,” Lanie said quickly. “I think it’s sweet.”

  “That was a thoughtful thing to do, son. I should have thought of it myself,” Forrest said. “You run along and get her. Lanie and me will get some good seats down front. When you get there, you just bring Annie to sit with us.”

  Warmth flooded Davis and he smiled. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  Davis left at once, and Maeva muttered, “Well, I hope he washes her down before he brings her in. You can smell her a block away.”

  “You never mind that, Maeva,” Forrest said. “Remember, you’re the Virgin Mary now. Start actin’ like her.”

  Lanie and her father found places up in the front, but the church was filling up fast. Holding Corliss, Lanie kept glancing back at the door. “I don’t think they’re coming, Daddy,” she said.

  “Doesn’t look like it. Look at how many people there are here. Look up in the balcony. I think every member of Reverend Jones’ church is here.”

  Lanie did look up in the balcony then. It was packed with members of the Methodist Church. She saw Bascom Jones grinning at her and waving, and she waved back and smiled at him.

  “Daddy, do you think that black people will ever be able to sit in the same room with white people?”


  Forrest sighed. “I don’t know, Muff. It don’t look like it unless things change a lot, but then—” He broke off and said, “Look, there comes Davis with Annie.”

  Lanie turned and saw that Davis had just walked in. Annie was beside him. “Daddy, she hasn’t cleaned up or anything!”

  Indeed, Butcher Knife Annie wore the same tattered coat, the same heavy brogans, and the same ratty old shawl wrapped around her neck. She wore a man’s hat, full of holes, and she stared around defiantly. If Annie was looking defiant, the congregation at the First Baptist Church of Fairhope, Arkansas, was having their look as well.

  “Everybody’s staring at her, Daddy!”

  Forrest Freeman stood up and waved. “Over here, Davis,” he said loudly. “Bring Annie down. We’ve saved a seat for her.”

  Relief crossed Davis’s face. “Come on, Annie,” he whispered.

  “There’s Daddy and Lanie.”

  The two walked right down the aisle, then Annie hesitated. There were three people between her and the Freemans, and they stared at Annie with undisguised disgust.

  “Come right on in, Annie,” Forrest said. “We’re about ready to start.”

  Annie looked around wildly, and for a moment she looked ready to bolt, but Davis whispered, “Go on, Annie, they’re waiting for you.”

  Annie moved past the three people and sat down beside Lanie. Lanie reached out and squeezed her arm. “I’m so glad you could come. Look, you haven’t seen Corliss. She’s growing every day.”

  Forrest leaned forward and said to her, “Glad you could come, Annie. This ought to be good.”

  Annie did not say a word. She did reach out and touch the baby on the cheek. Corliss stared at her and then suddenly chortled. She had this strange laugh that seemed to begin way down deep in her stomach and then bubble over.

  “She likes you, Annie,” Lanie whispered.

  The overhead lights went out, and two spotlights from the balcony focused on the stage. The rostrum had been transformed into a pastoral set that could be quickly changed. The sound of Orrin Pierce’s smooth baritone voice broke the silence. “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed . . .”