Fallen Angels

by Patricia Hickman

  “I do. You got three already, about yay long.” Wilhe sat back on his heels and held out his hands, creating a measure of ten inches.

  “Give it another couple of hours. Sun's just coming up. We might land another one if we wait.” Jeb heard a faint rustle behind him, like soft fabric swishing against itself.

  “Good morning,” said a young woman. “Reverend Grade, I assume.”

  Jeb and Willie froze like raccoons at the water's edge.

  Jeb wondered how long she had listened to him and Wilde. He turned and saw the woman, maybe nineteen, who smiled at him. Yet, her voice made her sound older. Twenty-two, maybe. The first rays of sunlight framed her in a yellow-white oudine. She dressed simply, but the folds of the fabric settled on her round curves as well as any expensive fabric might do. Her dress was White cotton. A pink scarf tied softly at the neck blew across her chest. The scarf, pale like her cheeks, made the rest of her skin look white as linen.

  “I realize it's early. If I'm coming at a bad time, I can make an appointment.” Her posture was vividly erect, defining her shoulders while everything from the waist down disappeared into white fabric until her knees appeared beneath the hem. She possessed slender calves not lacking the same roundness as the rest of her. Her hands moved about often as though she searched for something to hold. She brushed her mouth with her fingertips and before she spoke her lips came together, an “o” shape that gave her a thoughtful look. The breeze caused her hair to flutter like petals. A strand of blond hair stuck to her lips, but she either didn't notice or didn't care.

  “I don't believe we've met,” Jeb finally said as he righted himself. He had clambered outside to scold the boy, still holding a cup of coffee and a newspaper, so he could not tuck in his shirttail or even straighten his slovenly tousled hair. “I'm—” He stopped, having forgotten that awful name but looking straight at her startled him. The sunlight behind her obscured her face. Jeb made a slight move left, found shade, and then started to speak again. By that time, he'd forgotten what he was about to say.

  “Fi-lee-mon,” Willie whispered. His prompting made the woman laugh. She laughed like a boy—easy, with high notes descending into low notes.

  All Jeb could do was nod and mouth silently, “I reckon so.”

  “I'm Fern Coulter. I teach school here in town.”

  “She don't look like no schoolteacher.” Willie said it to Jeb. When he felt bashful, he only addressed the person most familiar to him.

  Jeb came to himself. “I'm the Reverend Gracie and this is my boy. Willie.” He stuck the newspaper under one arm, rubbed Willie's head for the first time, and noticed the strawness of the Welby boy's hair.

  “I met your daughters already. They cook for themselves in the morning. Never too young to learn,” said Fern.

  “You met Biggest and Littlest. I hope they used their manners,” said Jeb, meaning what he said in the worst way.

  “Quite mannerly. The oldest, Angel, said I'd find you out back. If it's all right with you, I thought I'd help you get the children in school when we start up again. Just a few weeks away, you know, and they'll need school paper, pencils and such. What grade are the children in?” Fern asked.

  “Grade?”

  “Sure, grade. You know, they matriculate up from one grade to the next. What grade will you be in, Willie?”

  “Snow Hill had us all in the same class. I'm nine, though.”

  Fern kept addressing Willie, having found him the fastest source of information. “I can give you a test, if that's all right with your father,” she said. “Figure out your placement. We've been using grades since I've been here. Keeps you up with the other students your age. You say you came from Snow Hill? I understood you all came down from Ft. Smith. We don't stand on ceremony too much here in Nazareth. But I can send a letter and see if your teacher would send us some of your grades.”

  “Ft. Smith is right. We did a little preaching, what-have-you around Snow Hill. Camden, you name it. We go all over.” Jeb placed himself between Willie and the teacher. “Maybe you ought to go inside and help your sisters with breakfast.”

  Willie stared up at him as though he had not a thought in his head.

  “Go on, now. Do as your daddy says. Son.” Jeb pressed his palms against Willie's shoulder blades to move him forward.

  “Now, about the youngest girl, Ida May, is it?” Fern continued with the interview.

  “Yes, she's the littlest.” Jeb kept nudging Willie until he broke free and ran inside.

  “She's not school age yet, I gather?”

  “That would be right.”

  “I noticed she doesn't know her ABC's. You know it is a good idea to allow her to learn that early. She's five now but she is awfully bright.”

  “Her mother was bright, I reckon. Don't get much of that from me.”

  “I'm sure that isn't true. Your letters make you sound scholarly.”

  Jeb took a sudden interest in a fishhook.

  “Regarding Ida May, though, we can Work on all of that later. The school is not far from here. We don't have a new building or big schools like Camden or Ft. Smith. But it's a decent structure and we've managed to buy school books for most every student.” She hesitated as though she wasn't sure how her presence was being received, “It's called Stanton School.” Her lashes lowered, and then her whole face turned sympathetic, like Evelene had given her a boatload of benevolent facts. “I understand you got your truck stolen. But Willie and Angel, they can walk. They can join students from two families along the way. They probably make friends easily if you all have moved: around a lot. Most students walk to school, what with no money for gas. When you and the children have the time, I can take you to the school building. My father gave me his old car when I came to work here, so I can drive you out for a look.”

  Jeb had never met a woman who drove herself. “We can do that later, as you say. I do thank you for coming by, Mrs. Coulter.”

  Fern's hand brushed over her empty ring finger, but She did not correct him.

  “Very neighborly of you.” Jeb took a few measured steps in the direction of the house.

  Fern crossed her arms, one toe pointed at the house. “Your oldest daughter invited me in for coffee. But I don't have to stay if that's a bother.”

  Jeb raised his empty cup. “Time for a fill up myself.”

  Willie rushed ahead of them and sat down at the table. “Can't remember the last time I had bacon.” He gripped his fork upright and stared over at his sister.

  Fern stood over Angel, who stirred the bacon campfire style. “If you.-and your little sister want to go and get dressed for the day, I'll finish up.”

  “I usually do the cooking. I know how my little sister likes her eggs and stuff like that,” Angel said, a flutter of irritation in her voice. She stretched her upper lip over her bottom lip and shook the pan by the handle.

  “Angel, if our guest wants a turn at the skillet, you step aside and let her have a go at it,” said Jeb.

  Angel dropped the spatula onto the stovetop. She lifted Ida May out of her chair and led her into the bedroom. When she slammed the door, Jeb shifted uncomfortably and said, “She's tried to fill in for her momma for so long, it makes her a mite peevish.”

  “Don't apologize. For a man without a Wife, you've done a good job with the girls.” Fern shook flour into a bowl, added water, baking powder, and a pinch of salt. She bent down and checked the oven to see if it had preheated. “Mr. Honeysack put you a good stove in here, plenty of kerosene. I guess you're happy about that. I'm going to slow this bacon down a bit. We need time to bake the biscuits,” She adjusted the burner knob.

  “You know, Miss Coulter, on this school issue, there's no need to involve you with letter writing and what-not. I'll take care of the schooling when the time comes.” Jeb had to prevent her from delving into their past and finding Gracies of a different kind. They'd be gone long before the first day of school anyway.

  “No bother. My family doesn't live here
so helping others settle in is something Hike to do.” She rolled out the batter and cut out circles of dough with a snuff glass.

  “Where are you from?” Jeb asked.

  “I came here from Hot Springs, but that's not where I grew up. Good schools over there but I wanted to go where I felt needed. Nazareth is behind a lot of other towns so they don't always attract the experienced teachers.”

  “How experienced could you be? You can't be a day over nineteen.”

  “I'm twenty-five. I started working as a tutor when I was fifteen. I was in college by seventeen, graduated before age twenty. I guess I'll grow gray hairs at twenty-nine.”

  Jeb doubted that.

  “I can make gravy with these drippings. You have milk?” she asked.

  “I'II get it.”

  “No need to bother.”

  They both made it to the icebox at the same time.

  Jeb reached for the icebox but touched her hand instead. He drew back as though scalded.

  Fern clasped the handle and opened the appliance door. “You have milk from Lucy and Bill Dolittle's farm, I see. I can make real gravy with their milk.”

  Jeb returned to the table and seated himself. He clasped his hands in his lap and determined he should not stand again until Fern Coulter left the parsonage.

  “I'm just seeing it all now. The longer I stay, the more tangled up I get in this place. Now duping those farmer folks is one thing, but that teacher gal, she's quite another. That girl's got a thinker on top of those shoulders and pretty soon she'll have us all figured out. I'm no saint and surely no man of the cloth. She'll be the first to know. Then you give her a chance to get a letter back from that school, wherever this Gracie family comes from, and our little con job will wash on down the river.”

  “We can tell her we use nicknames, you know. My name for sure sounds like a nickname. When we get hold of the real names, then we'll just give her that for an answer,” said Angel.

  “What if Gracie has three sons? Or two sons and a girl? This scheme of yours ain't going to fool nobody. I got enough food to last me a month; a mule and a wagon that will get me clear to Tennessee if I want. Come Sunday, I'll be somewhere, someplace you won't know about, but I won't be here.”

  Jeb heard a knock at the door. He climbed out of the rocker and answered it. Horace Mills and a man Jeb remembered from town greeted him. “Reverend Gracie, this is Tom Plummet the tailor. I bought a suit for you ready-made but he won't have it any other way. He wants to fit you for it.” Mills held up the suit of clothes, a dark gray suit with a faint pin stripe.

  Jeb blew out a breath. “Please do come in, Mr. Mills. Mr. Plummer. Kind of you to drop by.”

  “I got to thinking about Sunday and it occurred to me you lost all your wardrobe.” Mills stepped back, his toes pointing out, while Plummer lifted Jeb's right arm and measured it.

  Jeb felt the house growing smaller, the windows squeezing shut and locking themselves from the outside in.

  “I have to hand it to you, Reverend, you're a calm one, like a cucumber, you are. If I had all my clothes stolen, why I guess I'd just sit in the house and hide until the wife fixed me up again.” The tailor moved to measure Jeb from the top of his leg down.

  “He's a cucumber, all right,” said Angel.

  “Angel, you take your sister and go wash up those breakfast dishes.” Jeb had had his fill of her. “Here it is noon and you have yet to make yourself busy.”

  Since the teacher had appeared at the parsonage, Angel had moped around sullen, answering him in short sentences.

  “We already washed up. That Miss Coulter did it, actually,” said Angel. When she said, Coulter her voice faltered.

  “Miss Coulter came by? Don't say. Well, now, that is a fine young woman, Reverend. I'm glad you had the chance to make her acquaintance.” Mills handed the twine back to Plummer.

  Jeb dropped his arms at both sides. “Mr Mills, I'm feeling badly? about you buying this suit for me. I don't think I can take it. As a matter of, fact, I know I can't.”

  Angel studied him as though trying to see clean through him.

  “The missus had me do it and I'm glad she did. Don't you give it another thought at all, no sir! Our two oldest children are off to school. Oldest boy, Matthew, is all the way up in a Chicago college. Daughter studies in Little Rock, Our two youngest boys will be going off to college in the next two years, if they ever start studying here, that is, Helping you all gives my wife things to think about besides growing old.”

  “I'll have this back to you on Saturday, Reverend,” said Mr. Plummer. “You going to need some shoes. When you come into town, drop by Honeysack's Or try Woolworth's. They keep shoes for men all the time.”

  Mills reiterated, “Sure, sure, you do that. I guess you know all the Women done started cooking for the big church picnic on the grounds Sunday.; My Susan she's the best at potato salad, but I can't say that to anyone.Makes the others mad. Can't do that in a town this small.”

  “I appreciate you both dropping by,” said Jeb. He followed them out onto the porch to be certain he headed them toward Mills's June-bug-green automobile. The men disappeared into the long vehicle, waved, and pulled away.

  Angel appeared on the porch in a candy-red sundress. “They done too much for you now, Jeb Nubey. If you take off now, lightning will strike.”

  “If I don't take off now, lightning will strike, Willie, you go hitch up my mule. I do hear thunder.

  “No use, Willie. He won't leave,” said Angel.

  “Do you mean what you Say, Jeb? You really leaving after Mr. Honeysack signed for you on this wagon and mule? He’ ll be the one paying for it if you steal it.” Willie had the corners of his shirt pulled up over the ends of his elbows.

  “That's what it means when you take things don't belong to you, Willie—other people have to pay. Those boys took my truck and it didn't cost them a cent. Now I'm taking something that makes up for what I lost. It's plain and simple borrowing.” Jeb Saw his reflection in the window. His face looked shadowed again, as though his beard was coming back even though he had gotten a shave this morning.

  “All them people are going to show up expecting to hear about all them commandments while you're off breaking them,” said Angel.

  “You got a confounded way of looking at things. All them commandments is for the good of the community. Just keeps governments orderly. You live on the road, you keep your own commandments. Do thyself a little good, feed thy face, and other ones like that.”

  “Mr. Honeysack is a nice feller. I don't think it's right.” Angel seated Ida May between her legs on the floor and commenced rebraiding her hair.

  “In case you haven't noticed, Biggest. One way, I'm lying. Other way, I'm a thief.” Jeb tucked in his shirttail.

  “Lying makes more money. How you think the big rich men like Rockefeller made it so big?” Angel's reasoning face emerged. Three wrinkles formed half circles on either side of her brows.

  “You saying that me sticking around is going to make money? They give me five dollars and a month's supply of Mrs. Honeysack's pies. I ain't Rockefeller.”

  “Barbara Stanwyck preached, using big words, making all kinds of promises, and people just flocked to her with money.” Angel tied off Ida May's braids with green satin ribbons.

  Jeb sat slouched back in the rocker. He looked at Willie, “Why does she keep rattling about Barbara Stanwyck?”

  “It's something she saw at the picture show, got her all goggly-eyed with big ideas. They're playing that one downtown at the Starlight.”

  The lights on the theater marquis buzzed and then came on just as the light of evening faded.

  “Hand me the popcorn down,” said Jeb to Willie, who sat two sisters away. “I still don't get what this Barbara Stanwyck has to do with Sunday.”

  “You talk too loud. Preachers ain't even supposed to go to the picture show,” said Angel. ?It's a sin.” She sat on the other side of Jeb beside Ida May, who was none too happy to be seeing the
same film all over again. She'd hated it me first time with Lana.

  “How is watching this a sin?” Jeb dug into the bag and redeemed the remaining soft popped corn for himself, but then wished he hadn't said anything to her. He tired of her antagonizing him, feeding him little tidbits about preaching and Moses, like her superiority was all he had in his favor.

  Angel sipped her Coke. “We, should have gotten the giant popcorn. Movies is just a sin. Momma let us go if we earned the nickel for ourselves. Granny pitched a fit but we went anyway. She sang a song with words like, ‘be careful little eyes what you see.’”

  “That's just plain silly. If I preach, I'll tell people they can go to a picture show. What's the deal with that anyway?” Jeb Watched Barbara Stanwyck enter a lion's cage and then preach from it. The Miracle Woman went from one unhappy part of life to the next, her money machine collecting offerings like a giant snowball rolling and growing out of control. She called people forward, daring the devout to buy into her theatrics, calling her malarkey faith, A blind man accepted her invitation for getting religion.

  As he watched the film unfold, Jeb suddenly got the gist of the whole preacher business. Jeb watched her staging, the way she seized the platform, lifted her arms, and addressed the crowd. He'd never got any of it until now. “Some of those folks, they really believe all that show and put on.”

  “That's the point. Religious people get bored. They want entertainment. You know—a big show. But they'll pay a lot of dollars for it,” said Angel.

  He watched Barbara's temple go down in a fire. “Big show. All an act. I'll study on that,” said Jeb. “Willie, here's another nickel. Go get me some more popcorn and some of that penny candy.” He hadn't had any in years.

  “ ‘The Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there He put the man whom He had formed”. Now you say it.” Angel, standing behind Jeb, handed him the Bible. “Hold it up and kind of out in front of you.”

  Jeb wet his lips with his tongue, stretched out his arms and said, “The Lord thy God—”