by Han Nolan
We were so full of good feelings for one another, the way it used to be before the summer, before Mama left and Adrienne came to town, that driving back home that day I didn't even think about searching out Adrienne when we drove past her house. Shoot, I wasn't even looking at that side of the road; but Daddy was, and he said, "What in the—" and I felt the car speed up and then stop short, and when I turned my head to look, I saw the picnic all over again. There were cars and trucks everywhere—on the lawn, across the street, in the driveway—and gathering out in front of the house looked to be the whole town of Casper.
Miss Tuney Mae Jenkins pulled her old Fleetwood up behind us and shouted, "Hey, y'all, come get me out of this contraption." I started to get out of the car to go help, but Daddy pulled me back.
"I'll do it," he said in this barking, snarly kind of voice.
He got out of the car, leaving his door open, and I slid across the seat, climbed out, and followed him. By the time we reached Miss Tuney Mae, Sharalee was already helping her out. When we caught a look at each other, we gave one another this embarrassed look like we were meeting for the first time, and in a way we were. We hadn't seen each other since her confession.
Old Higgs Holkum was leading the line of folks back out toward the cars, back out toward us.
Daddy waited for them with his arms folded across his chest, leaning against Miss Tuney Mae's car and not saying a word. For a change, neither was Miss Tuney Mae.
"Evening, Able, ladies," Old Higgs said when he got close enough to be heard. He gave a glance behind him like he was making sure everyone was still there and then said, "We're having a special prayer meeting tonight and, uh, it would be nice if you were to lead it. It's for Miss Becky, of course."
Daddy gazed out over his congregation, almost as if he were making a list in his head of all the people there that night. Folks were trying to tuck in behind one another, getting out from under Daddy's eyes, but Daddy started walking back and forth, still with his eyes on them, and they couldn't hide, just like they couldn't hide from the Lord.
He finally stopped in front of Old Higgs again. "You're wanting me to lead you in prayer." He glanced up at the sky and so did I. The clouds hung low and gray-white, like a cluster of cow udders ready for milking.
"It looks like rain, thank the good Lord," Daddy said. "Why don't y'all get in your cars and we'll meet back at the church, where we can stay dry?"
Nobody made a move for their cars. They just stood there, shifting their feet and staring at the ground and digging their hands into their pockets, even if they didn't have any.
"Well, see, it's like this," Old Higgs said, crossing his arms and tucking his hands into his armpits. "We're wanting to do it round Miss Dabney's chair."
Daddy's eyes glared out at them through his glasses. "Are you mad? I would never play a part in such an abomination! If you don't care to do it at the church, then I suggest we say a quick prayer right here, right now." Daddy made this come-let-us-gather-together gesture with his arm, but everybody just stood there watching their feet some more.
"I hate to admit it, Able, but that chair does have a certain glow about it," Hank Dooley said.
Folks lifted their heads and nodded.
"Couldn't hurt any," said Dale Dooley.
Daddy backed up against Miss Tuney Mae's car. "This is outrageous. It's blasphemous. I cannot condone such idolatry."
"Please, Able, for my sister," said Miss Anna.
"For your sister I will pray at home, as I have done all week. Now, if there are those of you who wish to pray with me, please step forward. The rest of you, go! Go to your graven image!"
For a whole minute it seemed nobody moved, or breathed, or anything, and I thought they were going to stay and pray with Daddy; but then Old Higgs turned and walked toward the yellow house, and that started everyone moving back into the line, streaming back toward Adrienne's glowing Jesus chair.
Miss Tuney Mae and Sharalee were the only ones who stayed put.
"It's just that they had this all planned, Able," Miss Tuney Mae said. "It ain't no disrespect to you."
"Sheep! You're all sheep!" he yelled at their backs. "Sheep without a shepherd, and you will follow—you will follow that woman like lambs to the slaughter." He raised his fist in the air. "Mark my words." Then he looked over at me and said, "Charity, get in the car. It's your bedtime."
I hurried to the car, climbed in, and looked down at my watch. It was just ten minutes past six.
12
All week I had been good about not visiting that Jesus chair, but hearing that the chair actually glowed was too much for me. I just had to go see it. I had to be at that prayer meeting, 'cause I just knew there was going to be magic that night.
Problem was, how was I going to get there? Daddy had sent me to my room as soon as we got home, punishing me for sins I didn't even commit.
"It would serve him right if I just snuck out of the house," I told myself. I paced the floor of my room and listened to the rain and thunder overhead. Anyway, I would be doing it for a good cause. I would be helping Miss Becky and Miss Anna. I wouldn't go to hell for that, would I?
Adrienne's vision of the flames pulling someone down into the earth and the earth closing up over him flashed through my mind. I shuddered and started singing, "Lord, I want to be a Christian in-a my soul," trying to block out the thought.
I went to my closet and searched through the pile of junk on the floor for an umbrella, singing all the while. I tossed aside a couple of broken birdcages, found another old drawing pad, and stuffed it into my backpack, just in case Adrienne was at the meeting and wanted to teach me something else about drawing. I dug a little deeper but couldn't find the umbrella.
I went to my bedroom door and opened it. Daddy was in his study yelling at someone on the phone. Maybe with the rain and thunder and all his noise I could tiptoe downstairs, grab an umbrella out of the closet, and sneak out the front door.
I crept out into the hallway, closing my door behind me. Grace opened her door and peeked out. Daddy had sent her to bed early. too. I put my finger to my mouth, signaling her to keep quiet, and she closed her door. "Lordy, what kind of example am I setting for her?" I said under my breath.
I made it to the hall closet and found myself an umbrella. Daddy was still shouting into the phone. I realized he was shouting at Mama. I couldn't help but stop and listen.
"I've got to put an end to this," Daddy said. "They are my congregation. The Lord is challenging me and I shall rise to the challenge. I shall not fail. I won't let my flock down. I won't let the Lord down."
He listened and then he said, "What? Of course it matters. They're out of control. They're all skating on the edge of reason, under the influence of that woman. She's brought nothing but sin to this town."
Daddy paused again and then said, "Why are you telling me this? What do you mean? How can you stay another day, knowing what's going on here? Don't you realize our own daughter's bedeviled by this woman?"
There was a long silence and then Daddy put the receiver down.
"Have I lost it?" I heard him ask in this sad voice. "Am I a modern-day Job, losing my family, my congregation—everything? How long shall I be tested?"
"Daddy, I'm here," I whispered. "You haven't lost me." I closed the closet door and leaned against it. I shut my eyes and thought of Adrienne gathering around that glowing Jesus chair with everybody there except me. I could hardly stand the thought.
"What in heaven's name are you doing downstairs?"
I jerked my head sideways and saw Daddy standing at the end of the hallway.
"What is this? What are you doing downstairs?" he asked again. "Were you listening in on my conversation?" He marched down the hall toward me.
"No—I mean, I didn't..."
He glared at me, standing before me with his hands on his hips, making the shoulder pads in his jacket puff up. I wanted to back away but I had the closet door pressed against my back.
"And where
did you think you were going?" He grabbed the umbrella out of my hands, which until then I had forgotten I was holding.
"No, don't tell me. Let me tell you. You were going to that meeting, weren't you? You were going to sneak out of this house. You git on up those stairs!" Daddy clapped his hands and started chasing me toward the stairs.
I ran, squealing like a greased pig, knowing what was coming. As we got to the stairs he was paddling my behind with every step I took, following me up to my room and then charging ahead of me. He flung my door open and let it slam against the wall.
"You are never to see that Adrienne Dabney again, you hear? Never! Now, you get in your room and stay there. And don't even think of sneaking out again. I'll be watching you. And tomorrow I expect you to memorize twenty Bible verses, starting with all of Leviticus nineteen, which begins in verses three and four with 'Each of you must respect his mother and father,' and 'Do not turn to idols or make gods of cast metal for yourselves. I am the Lord your God.'"
Daddy grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone in my room to wonder what had just happened.
I waited a bit and then opened my door a crack and peered out. Grace was peering back at me.
13
I was mad at Daddy, really mad. I don't think I'd ever felt that way about him before and it was giving me all kinds of crazy thoughts. I was questioning everything. Like why should I stay away from someone who could help me, who could show me how to be a real artist, a real somebody? And how could Adrienne be of the devil if she saw Jesus setting in her chair and He showed her all that love and such? And especially, why did it seem as if I was getting the blame for everything? What did I do?
That's what decided me going over to Adrienne's the next morning instead of learning those verses like Daddy wanted. I knew he was going to be in Dothan meeting with some other preacher for a couple of hours, so why shouldn't I go over? Anyways, if I was going to be yelled at all the time and sent to bed while it was still daylight out, then I was going to do something worth the punishment.
As soon as I saw Daddy's car roll out of the driveway, I grabbed my backpack with my sketchpad and Bible in it, drank down a few gulps of milk straight from the carton, and set off for Adrienne's. I caught sight of Grace cutting through a hedge on her way to Boo's and wondered why she got to go anywhere she pleased while I had to be sneaking around if I wanted a life. I put the thought out of my mind and breathed in a lungful of air, sweet smelling after last night's rain. I picked my way around the fields and puddles, feeling braver, more sure of myself the closer I got to Adrienne's.
When I reached the house, I saw Mad Joe's truck and one of his signs, a new one, sinking into the lawn. It said, Jesus Chair Around Back. I decided to follow the sign, getting excited all over again at the thought of finally seeing the chair for myself.
At the back of Adrienne's house, tacked to the porch door, was another sign that said, Wait on the Porch If Room Is Occupied. I stepped inside and saw yet another sign hanging from a string on the entrance door to the living room. It said, Occupied, and was outlined in red. I flipped it over and the other side said, Free, and was outlined in green. I turned it back to Occupied and sat down in a rocking chair and waited.
Finally the door opened, and out stumbled Mad Joe, looking the way I was used to seeing him: unshaven, wearing dusty black pants, a booze-stinking white shirt, and his suspenders, and carrying his shotgun.
"Charity!" He lunged toward me and grabbed ahold of my wrist, the gun clunking up against my thigh.
"Pray for my babies. The Lord has spoken to me. You pray for my babies and believe."
"Yes, sir, I will," I said, standing up and keeping an eye on the gun.
He got up real close in my face and his lips puffed out a breath of stale liquor that curdled the milk slushing around in my stomach.
"Pray for my babies. The Lord said, 'Feed them grain,' and I did. The Lord knows they ain't done nothing wrong." He let go of my arm and straightened up. "No sir. They ain't done nothing. Just like my Datina. You remember my Datina? The Lord can't take my babies away."
"I'll pray for them, Mad Joe."
He patted my arm. "You're a good girl. The Lord won't take good girls. The Lord won't take my babies. You gonna pray for my babies?"
I edged my way toward the open door. "Yes, sir. I'll go do it now. I'm sorry they're sick."
"T'ain't sick no more. I fed them grain and I believe. I believeth in the Lord." Mad Joe lunged toward me again, half-stumbling over the shotgun. I squealed and ran inside the house, closing the door behind me and locking it.
When I turned around, right away I saw the chair. The room was dark 'cause all the curtains were drawn, but the chair stood out from the gloom as if it were glowing. Just like it was glowing. I felt my scalp contract like my hair was getting ready to stand on end. The house was all hushed up quiet except for the fan whirring and blowing on the other side of the room. I figured Adrienne was still asleep. I looked at the chair again, then around the room, and then back at the chair. Mad Joe had left some rosemary on the seat. I knelt down in front of it and closed my eyes.
"Hey, Lord, Jesus Christ, sir," I began, "I don't know if I'm sinning just being here. Daddy would say I am, but how could praying be a sin?
"I'm scared. I have a feeling, just kneeling here, that something's going to happen, something bad. Am I having a vision?" I opened my eyes. Everything was still dark and the chair still glowed, kind of, but nothing else. I kept my eyes open in case a vision was coming, and continued with my prayer. "First off, I pray that Miss Becky is found, 'cause Miss Anna is sick with worry and we've got to get Boo and his rotten okra off his porch. Grace says the okra's staining his underwear. I hope Miss Becky is all right.
"And Mad Joe, he's a good soul really, don't you think? Don't you think his girls should be healthy now? They've been sick forever with that anemia thing, and they're the smartest girls in the whole country ... so they should stay alive, don't you think?" I waited in case God was planning to use his "still, small voice" on me. I didn't hear anything, so I went on. "Mama's always lecturing me about letting things happen in God's time—Your time. Always saying I don't need to push so hard for things and that if I let go and let You handle it, it will all turn out just right. Something, she says, me and Daddy need to learn. Well, there's lots of things I'm wanting to have turn out just right. Lord, but the problem with waiting for Your time, dear Lord, is that it's not measured in minutes or hours, or even years, but in these eternities, and that's just too long for me. Forgive me, Lord, but it is.
"I see how quiet Mama is all the time, and patient, and then comes the convention and she just lights up and it's like the whole rest of the year she's just waiting, collecting her birdcages and waiting for that birdcage convention to come around again. Lord, is that how we're supposed to live?"
I looked at the chair and, really, it seemed to glow brighter. Chills were running up and down my arms. "And Lord ... I need to know ... Is she coming back? I mean, is she ever coming back?" I whispered this part so quiet, afraid that just asking about Mama would keep her away, but I knew the Lord heard.
I closed my eyes. "Now about Daddy, Lord. I know he's like one of your disciples and he's always right about things, but I know, too, that Adrienne is telling the truth and isn't the Antichrist leading us astray. But how can Daddy and Adrienne both be right?
"I know the answer is something clever like in the Bible when, Lord Jesus, You were accused of healing some sick lady on the Sabbath, which was a wrong thing, and yet You made it right by telling Your accusers that setting her free of her affliction was the same as them setting free their oxen and donkeys so the animals could have water on the Sabbath. It's like that somehow, isn't it, Lord?
"Well, I pray they can get along and that Daddy lets me see Adrienne again and that I become a famous artist. I know, Lord, I said I was going to be a preacher lady. And see, here I am, facing You and telling the truth. I can preach the Word
through my art, don't You think? Don't You think there are other ways of being a preacher besides standing behind a pulpit every Sunday? If You do, I wish You'd put that idea in Daddy's head so he could understand, too.
"Well, Lord, forgive me for such a long prayer, but I've been saving it all up so I could bring it here to You, to this chair. I really feel You're here with me."
I sat there another five or ten minutes, I don't know how long, just staring at the chair, a straightback wooden chair with two slats across the back and a rush seat. Plain, and white, and glowing. And I felt this holiness feeling spread all through me, and I wished that I could carry that feeling around with me all the time. I prayed to Jesus Christ, our Lord, that I could carry that feeling around with me all the time.
14
I knew I had to get up in case someone else was waiting on the porch wanting to use the chair, but I couldn't bring myself to move. Right then I wanted to stay in that house always. I was ready to never set eyes on my daddy or Grace or Mama or anyone again. I was ready to become one of those nuns that hole up somewhere in a cave and float around with this holy smile on their faces, never speaking to anyone but God.
I leaned forward and kissed the chair, just in case Jesus was setting in it in His invisible state, and then I got up and floated over to the door, just knowing I was smiling my own holy smile.
The sun hit me full force when I stepped out onto the porch, but it felt good, like Jesus was shooting these warm love rays into my body. I sat down in the rocker and, with my eyes closed, just rocked and rocked and let myself feel the sun and Jesus and all His love burning through me. Then I reached into my pack and pulled out my Bible, figuring I would learn my verses while that holy feeling was still there.