Passing Through Perfect

by Bette Lee Crosby

  Most days when Otis limped back to the house, Delia would spot him coming and have a steaming cup of coffee waiting. For hours on end they’d sit side by side on the porch and talk. They never again spoke of Benjamin’s days in the army, but they spoke of everything else and Delia came to love Daddy Church in much the same way she loved Benjamin and Isaac. He was family and in a softer, less sandpapery way he filled the empty spot left by her own daddy.

  A bitter cold frost hit Alabama in January of 1954, and it lasted until early March. That spring the harvest was small enough to be considered puny. The cabbages grew to the size of a baseball and never got any larger. The turnips survived the frost but brought in barely enough money to buy seed for the summer planting.

  “We got nothing to worry about,” Benjamin said and assured Delia that the summer harvest would more than make up for what was lost.

  At times it seemed like summer had forgotten about Alabama, but when it finally arrived it roared in with a vengeance. In just a handful of days the temperature zoomed from a cool 60 degrees to well over 90, and the sun baked the ground until it was so hot you couldn’t walk across the road without having your feet blistered.

  Alabamans could generally expect a thunderstorm to pass through in the evening and cool the heat of day, but for the entire month of July there was not a drop of rain. After the first two weeks Benjamin began to draw water from the well and carry it to the fields. He climbed from the bed and started work three hours before dawn. While the sky was still too dark for a man to see where he was walking, Benjamin worked his way through the rows by counting the number of steps he’d taken. When the sun moved high in the sky he stopped carrying buckets of water and sat on the porch, but after an hour or two of rest he was back at it.

  When Delia saw Benjamin nearing exhaustion, she and Isaac both began to help. They used anything that would hold water: cleaning buckets, cooking pots, jars even. Otis, whose leg was worse than ever, stayed behind to help draw water from the well and fill the jars. There were any number of times Delia was tempted to tell Benjamin that if they’d move north he could be working as a mechanic and wouldn’t have to be carrying buckets of water, but she held her tongue. When a man had that much worry strapped to his back, it seemed cruel to add another brick.

  The heat of July moved into August, and still there was no rain. Twice they saw lightning flash across the sky and heard thunder boom with such ferocity it shook the house, but then there was nothing. Benjamin stood on the porch waiting and watching.

  “Please, God,” he prayed, but still the rain never materialized. It was the kind of summer where rain thundered down on one farm and then bypassed the one next to it.

  On a morning in late August, Benjamin lowered the bucket into the well and waited. It was several seconds before he heard the splash. The water table was low. Too low. They could live without a lot of things, but they couldn’t live without water. He dipped a tin cup into the bucket of water, took a long drink, and then poured the remainder of the water back into the well. There would be no more watering of crops.

  When Delia rose that morning she found Benjamin sitting on the porch step. Seeing the sorrowful way his head was buried in his hands, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “The well’s running dry,” he said. There was no need for further explanation; anyone who lived in Grinder’s Corner knew what a dry well meant.

  Once Benjamin could no longer carry water to the fields, he sat on the porch looking to the sky then looking back at the stalks of corn. They were half the size they should have been and leaning over like a man ready to die. Sometimes Benjamin prayed; other times he shouted angry curses at the God who would deny him rain.

  In the third week of August it came. Benjamin was inside the house when he first heard the thunder, but by then he’d given up hoping.

  “Sounds like we’re gonna get a storm,” Otis said.

  Benjamin grunted. It was neither a confirmation nor denial; it was simply a grunt of annoyance. Too many times he’d been disappointed. Too many times he’d prayed for rain and gotten no answer.

  “This one sounds real close,” Delia added.

  Benjamin remained at the table drinking his coffee.

  Moments later the downpour started.

  The rain came in huge sheets of water that were too much for the baked-dry ground to absorb. A small portion soaked through, but much of it ran off and created puddles in low-lying areas. Although the downpour did little to restore the crops it replenished the well, for which Benjamin was thankful.

  That summer there was no harvest. Benjamin pulled the dead corn stalks from the ground and plowed the fields under. In the years of abundance he’d set aside a bit of money, and he took it from the jar saying he was going to buy seed for the winter planting. When a look of worry settled on Delia’s face he assured her things had to get better.

  “Money’s a bit tight now,” he said, “but come next summer we’ll be fine.”

  Delia could no longer hold back. “Rain ain’t something you can swear to,” she said and once again brought up the thought of moving north.

  Benjamin moved toward her, his expression not one of anger but resignation. He wrapped his muscular arms around her and said, “Delia, sugar, I loves you more ’n anything else in this world, but I still ain’t gonna leave here. Grinder’s Corner may not be much, but it’s where I was born and where I’m gonna die.”

  When he kissed her full on the lips, Delia felt the depth of love he offered and she knew this was where she also would die. Her love for Benjamin outweighed her hatred of Grinder’s Corner.

  It was the last time she ever mentioned moving.

  Bad Luck Years

  For the next two years bad luck clung to Grinder’s Corner like a devil with razor sharp claws. The weather was hot and dry all summer, and the rain skipped over the struggling farms like they weren’t worth wasting water on. Left with few options, a number of farmers gave up trying to scratch a living out of the dry dirt and left town. Some went west, believing Louisiana had to be better; others went north claiming that at least the mountains of Tennessee would be a bit cooler. Tom Burns, a man who’d been friends with Benjamin since they were in grade school, left town with his wife, Sarah, and all five kids but never said a word of goodbye to anyone, so there was no telling where he’d gone.

  After Benjamin watched the second field of corn wither and die for lack of water, he was weary of farming. If Delia had picked that moment to ask about moving north he might have packed up and gone, but she never again mentioned it.

  When the money he’d set aside ran out, Benjamin drove into Bakerstown and began rapping on the back doors of white folks asking if they had handyman work that needed to be done.

  Emma Burnett was the first to say yes. She was certain a raccoon had gotten into her attic and was willing to pay a dollar if Benjamin could chase the critter out and repair any damage that was done. Even though it was poor pay for such a task, Benjamin did it and collected the dollar.

  Day after day he continued to knock on doors and ask for work, and in time he became known as a dependable worker. Emma told Susie Watkins that Benjamin would be a good man to trim the apple trees in her yard. Then Susie, pleased with what he’d done, began to spread the word. Before the end of summer Benjamin had work enough to fill his days.

  He left the farm before sunrise and returned after dark, but the money he made was enough to keep food on the table and pay for the things they needed. Each week he set a small amount aside thinking that next year he’d try planting another crop.

  With Benjamin gone all day, Delia’s days were long and weighted with emptiness. Although she’d sit for hours on end talking with Daddy Church, she grew restless. On a Saturday when Otis remained in bed because his leg was bothering him something fierce, she sat on the porch with a glass of lukewarm coffee and looked across the flat land. Without the fields of corn fluttering in the breeze it was nothing but brown dirt for as far as she could see. De
lia pulled out the bottle of red nail polish Benjamin had brought from town and painted her toes, but once that was done there was nothing else to look forward to.

  She called out for Isaac who was off playing with a dog that at one time belonged to the Burns family.

  “Yeah, Mama,” he answered and came from behind the house.

  “Ain’t you tired of playing with that ole dog?” she laughed.

  Isaac tossed a yellow ball across the yard, and the dog went after it. “Well, there ain’t nothing else to do.”

  Delia smiled. “What if we was to go visit Luella Jackson and her boy, Jerome?”

  “That’d be real good,” he answered, “except Daddy took the car, and we got no way to get there.”

  “Ain’t we got feet?”

  “Yeah, but that’s a far ways for walking.”

  “It’s far,” Delia said. “Too far for Daddy Church maybe, but not too far for you and me.”

  “Really?”

  Delia smiled. “Really.”

  She darted inside and told Otis they were going down the road to visit neighbors.

  “We’ll be a while,” she said. “You gonna be okay while we’re gone?”

  Otis nodded. “I’ll be jest fine. Go have yourself some fun.”

  The Jackson house was more than five miles away, but with a fair bit of eagerness and a snappy step they were there before lunchtime. Delia had taken a liking to Luella, and her having a boy Isaac’s age made it doubly nice. While the boys played the women sat on the porch sipping sweet tea and trading stories. Like Benjamin, Will Jackson went off to work each day and like Delia, Luella enjoyed having someone to talk to.

  When it got close to four o’clock and Delia said she had to be going, Luella begged her to come again.

  She did.

  It got to be a regular thing. Delia and Isaac would walk the five miles to the Jackson house at least once a week, and on occasion as often as three times. They also began visiting the other neighbors, the ones who’d been guests at the barbeque. Twice they arrived at a house where they’d expected to find the yard filled with youngsters and instead found the place abandoned. At the Barker house the door was unlocked, but inside there was nothing except a three-legged chair and a broken broom.

  That day Delia sat on the step of what was once the Barker porch and cried.

  “Lord God,” she moaned, “have you no mercy?”

  The walk home was long and sad. Delia had been fond of Cissy Barker, and it was heartbreaking to think the family could be without a place to call home. She snuggled Isaac close to her and told him how lucky he was to have a daddy like Benjamin.

  “Your daddy works real hard so we can stay in our house and have a good place to live,” she said, and the funny thing was she meant it. Two years back when things were good, Delia believed the world outside Grinder’s Corner offered untold opportunities. Now with work scarce and times hard, she feared the outside world could be worse yet. Any thoughts she’d had of moving were gone.

  In the early days Benjamin believed he’d go back to farming, but with long work hours and traveling back and forth to Bakerstown the weeks turned into months and the months became seasons that disappeared in the blink of an eye. In early March he spoke of putting in summer corn, and when that planting season passed he thought of winter cabbages or parsnips. Before long one year became two and everyone settled into the way of life that was, so he sold the tractor.

  “It needs work,” he reasoned, but the truth was Benjamin had lost the image of the farm he’d once planned.

  He could no longer close his eyes and imagine fields of corn stretching out for as far as the eye could see. Now when he closed his eyes he saw fences that needed painting, trees that needed trimming, and gate hinges waiting to be replaced. It seemed an odd coincidence that at a time when Delia no longer argued for leaving the farm, Benjamin no longer cared about staying.

  In June of that second summer, on a day when Benjamin had gone off earlier than usual, Otis sat at the kitchen table complaining that the pain in his back had traveled around to his side.

  “I don’t gotta go to Luella’s today,” Delia said. “If you’re feeling poorly I can stay here and fix you up a nice hot mustard plaster.”

  Otis shook his head. “Ain’t no mustard plaster gonna fix what’s ailing me.”

  “And just what’s that?” Delia asked.

  “Too many years of living,” Otis chuckled. “A man gets to where he done outlived his usefulness, then—”

  “Daddy Church, don’t you dare talk that way!” Delia said angrily. “You got more usefulness than a man half your age.”

  He laughed again. “Delia Church, you is one sweet woman.”

  Although Delia said half a dozen times she’d be happy to stay and care for Otis, he was insistent she go.

  “I need me some peace and quiet,” he said. “So take that young’un and do your chattering elsewhere.”

  A short while later she and Isaac left the house and started toward Cross Corner Road. They were almost to the turn off when Delia got a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “We gotta go back home,” she said. “Daddy Church ain’t looking too good.”

  “I thought we was gonna visit with Jerome,” Isaac said.

  “We ain’t going nowhere if Daddy Church is sick.” Delia whirled on her heel and started back toward the house.

  Isaac reluctantly followed. “Granddaddy looked fine to me,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah, well, you is ten years old and ain’t in charge.”

  When they got back to the house Otis was sound asleep on the sofa. Delia walked over to where he was lying and listened for the sound of his breath. She stood there for a moment then smiled.

  “See,” Isaac grumped, “you made me miss out on a fine day of playing for no reason.”

  “It weren’t for no reason,” Delia said. “It was on account of loving Daddy Church.”

  Delia

  It don’t matter how old or how young you are, everybody needs somebody to watch over them. Me and Benjamin got each other but Daddy Church, all he’s got is a faded little picture.

  Benjamin’s his boy, true enough, but once your boy gets married he got his own family. He’s not really your boy no more; he’s some woman’s husband. That’s just how life is. Right now me and Benjamin got Isaac to watch out for, but when Isaac grows up and marries off he ain’t gonna have responsibility for watching over us, he’s gonna have responsibility for his own family.

  Boys outgrow their daddy, but girls is different. Girls don’t ever outgrow needing a daddy to watch over them. Daddy Church knows that, and he treats me good as if he was my own true daddy.

  When my baby girl died Benjamin was busy watching over me, but Daddy Church went and carved out a coffin for that tiny baby. On the top of that pinewood box he cut a little heart. It was like he put a piece of hisself in there to watch over our baby. I ain’t never gonna forget that.

  He thinks I can’t see when he makes a face from hurting, but I see plenty. I’d like to say, Let me take care of you, Daddy Church, but I can’t ’cause he’s too proud a man to be accepting pity.

  I been praying and asking the Lord to watch over him, but the thing with praying is that you don’t always get what you’re asking for.

  The End of a Generation

  Otis died the second week of September.

  The week prior Delia never left the house because she feared he wasn’t looking well, but those days passed uneventfully. Otis ate breakfast, then napped on the sofa for most of the day. With Otis sleeping and Isaac off at school, Delia was left to face the long days of emptiness alone. She cleaned everything that need to be cleaned, drank cup after cup of coffee, and sewed several more patches for the quilt she was making, but she missed having someone to talk with.

  “Go visiting,” Otis said, “and quit fussing over me like I’m a dying man.”

  “I ain’t going nowhere ’til I see you looking chipper.”

/>   “Ha,” Otis laughed. “You wait for a man of my years to get chipper, and you for sure ain’t going nowhere.”

  Nothing more was said that day, but by Tuesday of the following week Delia could no longer stand the thought of another day filled with the sound of silence. Visiting Luella Jackson was an all-day thing, but if she walked down to Bessie Mae’s house she’d be back before Otis woke from his nap.

  “Daddy Church,” she said, “you mind if I take a jar of my apple jelly down to Bessie Mae?” Before he could answer she added, “Bessie’s house ain’t but a few minutes down the road.”

  The truth was it took twenty minutes to walk to Bessie’s, but Delia figured she’d step lively and be there in half the time.

  When Otis said for her to go and quit worrying about him, she left.

  Once she got to Bessie’s they settled in and Bessie, who was a talker to begin with, had a truckload of gossip. Delia intended to stay for an hour, two at the most, but as they sat on the porch enjoying ham sandwiches and sweet tea she lost track of the time. It was well into the afternoon when their conversation was interrupted by a gust of wind ripping through the trees.

  “Looks like we’re gonna get a rainstorm,” Bessie said. “We better get inside.”

  “Unh-unh,” Delia said. “I got to get going. Daddy Church is there all by hisself, and he ain’t doing so good.”

  Without staying long enough to finish her tea, Delia lit out. She headed for the road walking as fast as her feet would move. As she was about to turn onto Cross Corner Road, a crack of thunder rolled through the sky and rattled her bones.