“They’re going to get to pay off their bills and have some to live on. It’s better than starvation. Asa may go to prison for what he did downtown. What will Telulah do then, with those boys still living at home and all their land half blown away?”
She turned away.
Angel said little during the rest of the meal and the last hour of the drive into Nazareth. Jeb decided to stop by the church and let Gracie know they had returned home early. But when they pulled into the churchyard, several families were gathered on the lawn. Fern Coulter, pale as pearls, came running up to the truck.
“Jeb, thank God you’re back! Reverend Gracie collapsed this morning. They just took him to Hot Springs to a bigger hospital. He was so worried he’d not be able to talk to you again. Can you go to Hot Springs tonight?” she asked.
“Angel, I’ll take you to the house with your brother and sister. I want you home in your own bed tonight.” Jeb let out a sigh. He felt like his soul had just been washed out from under him.
18
St. Joseph’s Mercy Hospital was lit up on every floor, no doubt a quiet hive for the Sisters of Mercy who doted on the infirm. Jeb checked in with the nun seated at the front desk. She arranged a vase of daisies with one hand while telling a nervous husband where he might find his wife, who had gone into labor in a nearby Hot Springs grocery store.
Jeb told the sister of his clergy status, just as he had heard Gracie do on occasion. She informed him that because of hospital rules about pastoral duties he could call on Gracie past visiting hours. Jeb climbed a staircase that smelled of paint and disinfectant. When he opened the door out onto the second floor he heard a girl’s voice scolding someone. He found Emily Gracie standing over Agatha, begging her to finish her arithmetic problems even though she would not be in school the next morning. It was like trying to bring dust to life. Agatha curled up in a chair with her sweater pulled over the bottom half of her thin frame for a blanket.
“Jeb!” Philip called out when he saw Jeb coming down the hall.
“Philip, you don’t call him that. It’s Reverend Nubey now,” said Emily. She extended her hand to Jeb and smiled, tired and too worn out to care whether or not Philip minded his Ps and Qs. She looked thirty instead of fourteen.
“Emily, I heard about your daddy and came as fast as I could,” said Jeb.
“He’s better. Or he says he’s better,” said Agatha.
“Let me take you to him.” Emily handed the pencil to Agatha. “Finish in the morning.”
Philip collapsed on the rug, tired of their arguing.
“Where will all of you sleep tonight?” Jeb asked Emily.
“The Sisters of Mercy have a room in their convent. When my father told one of them about us, she wouldn’t hear of us staying in a motel room tonight.”
“She had crossed eyes,” said Philip. “And a mustache.”
“Don’t pay him any attention, Reverend,” said Emily. She led Jeb down the hallway and into the room, where they found Gracie with eyes almost closed. His lids lifted at the sight of Jeb. He tried to say something but could only whisper.
“I’ll do the talking this time,” said Jeb. Gracie’s pallor made him look as though someone had let every drop of blood from him.
“Dad, the sister that’s taking us to the room for the night is getting off her shift now.” She kissed Philemon on the cheek and squeezed his hand. “I love you. Sleep well.”
Gracie held her hand for a moment and then let her slip out of the room.
“I shouldn’t have gone to Little Rock. It was a wasted trip, and you needed me here.” Jeb took the chair next to the bed.
Gracie slipped his hand around Jeb’s and hoarsely said, “No, the little girl needed to see her mother. How was Mrs. Welby?”
“Insane. I brought Angel home.”
“After all this wait, you were right to take her. It was best she see for herself that her mother is not well. You’ll find her more settled, no doubt, now that she can stop wondering and guessing about her mother’s condition.”
“I’ve never known Angel to settle down because of anything. But she is different. I see that in her now. Something has changed. I hope you’re right.”
“I can’t go back, Jeb. Church in the Dell will have to get along without me.”
“Don’t think about Church in the Dell right now, Gracie. We want you well.”
“How do you feel about taking the platform after all?”
“I still have that Sunday message simmering in me. That will do for this week. As for the remaining fifty-one Sundays, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You’ll do a fine job. I’m proud of you.”
“I’d rather see you up there than me, Gracie. Without you around, I think sometimes I’ll lose my way.”
Gracie’s fingers fiddled with something inside the neck of his gown. “May as well get this over and done with, I guess. I’ve been saving something for you. It’s a gift someone once gave to me.” Gracie pulled a chain out from around his neck. He opened the fastener and slid off what looked to be some sort of charm.
Jeb took it. He turned it over and said, “It’s a gold key.”
“My father gave it to me at my ordination. It was no large ceremony, mind you. The elders of our church encircled me and laid hands on me after I graduated college. Read the inscription. I don’t think I wore it off too badly with worry.”
Jeb held it up to the dim hospital light. “It says, ‘Do Not Lay Down Your Plow.’”
“My father was so proud I had entered the ministry that he wanted to buy me something. He couldn’t afford much, and having been a farmer his whole life, he was at a loss for what the key should say. But it meant the world to me. ‘Do Not Lay Down Your Plow.’ The Scriptures say that, of course, or close to that. But to him it meant that once I had my course set for the ministry I should endeavor to keep plowing ahead, around the stones, through hard soil, and even in drought. He had done so for years as a farmer. Now he wanted me to continue as he had done, but in a different kind of field.
“My wife and I knew many hard fields. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to plow ground for the first time. It isn’t the same as digging up last year’s field. You don’t know what’s beneath the surface, or even if you’ve found the best soil. That’s what it’s like when you start that very first church. Church in the Dell has its stones and times of drought. But it’s a field plowed long before we came. You’ll do well, Jeb. Of this I am certain.”
Jeb tried to hand the key back to him.
“I want you to keep it. Here, take this chain and wear it around your neck as I have, if you want. Whenever you feel as though you want to give up, pull it out and read it as a reminder that the man with his hands on the plow is the man most likely to reap a harvest. I know this church has a few thorns in the bunch. But if you practice at feeding them, God’s Spirit will fill in where you think you’ve failed.”
Jeb read the key again and then placed it back on the chain and around his neck. He did not want to burden a sick minister with his own list of complaints. But the fear that he would not have Gracie around to make him rewrite a lousy sermon or reword a didactic phrase sickened him. “I love you, Philemon. You’re going to be well again.” He slipped the key inside his shirt. “I won’t put down the plow. I swear it to you on my life.”
Jeb checked into a room down the street from St. Joe’s and visited Philemon twice a day until Saturday. He visited him once more before he headed for home. Philemon prayed for him and for the Sunday message. Jeb felt for the first time in over a year that he might be ready for the task. Or at least he did when he read the confidence in Gracie’s eyes.
The sky had bloomed early that morning but froze in the distant landscape with November bringing an early wintry cold. The few berries left unpicked in the wooded jungles of ivy and oak lay in ice-coated bondage on the vines. The truck slid up over an icy hill and then skidded down into a winding turn of road. Jeb squeezed against the brake, easi
ng the old Ford back and forth until it found its bearing again on the sludged-over highways. He knew when he had arrived at the town limits; every tree of substantial size had been papered with election flyers. Come Monday, the whole town would be out voting and dodging campaigners on the way to the mill or town.
Jeb arrived home in time for a late biscuit and bacon breakfast and then realized he could not shake Angel’s insistent accusations against his bank delivery to the Hoppers. He counted out his bills and found a place to hide them in a tin box beneath a loose board. Before the school bell rang he wanted to know exactly how Telulah Hopper and her family would fare after they had signed the bank’s offer.
First Jeb drove toward the bank. He sat outside in the truck, deciding whether or not Mills would consider his inquiry as intrusive. He had finally stepped outside the truck and almost walked through the front door when he heard Winona’s voice coming from inside. Before he could reach for the door handle a politician slapped a paper fan with “Vote for Bryce” emblazoned across the back into his hand.
The bank door opened. Winona stepped out, fresh as spring. She smiled and sounded surprised to see him. “Reverend Jeb, I can’t believe it’s you. It’s good you came back after Reverend Gracie’s illness. How do those kids like living back with their family?”
“They’re still living with me. I couldn’t leave Angel in Little Rock.”
She hesitated and then said, “That sounds like you. Always looking out for others. I hope you can tell us Reverend Gracie’s getting better.”
“It’s hard to say. He’s still bent on getting up to Cincinnati to see some doctor, but I think the hospital in Hot Springs is helping him mend for now. Sure put a scare into those kids of his.”
“So you’ll be stepping into his shoes now?”
“I can’t promise I’ll fit into Gracie’s shoes. But I’ll be assuming his duties as pastor of Church in the Dell. He seems to think I’m up to the task.”
“You are, of that I have no doubt.” She tapped Jeb with her pointer finger right against his shoulder bone. “Let me buy you lunch today, Reverend. I have something I need to tell you. But it has to be in complete confidence, even though I think it’s something you’ll be glad to hear.”
Jeb hesitated.
She seemed to try to read his hesitation and said, “This has to do with your ministry, Reverend. You’ll want to hear it.”
Jeb said, “Beulah’s around noon, then.” Winona looked exceptionally fine in the color blue, he decided. He stuck the paper fan in her hand. “Here, you can put this to better use than I can.”
She took Bryce’s campaign fan and laughed. Then she wafted away, leaving nothing behind but the better women’s way of marking their trail in the breeze—something as sweet as bluebells. Her scent matched her dress. She pulled a fur coat around her frame and dropped the fan into a newspaper boy’s open hand.
Horace had left his office door open to allow in the heat from the bank’s potbellied stove. Jeb shook off the chill and warmed beside the fire. He could hear Mills’s chuckle all the way out into the lobby. When Mills’s secretary, Mona, saw Jeb, she greeted him and asked if he had an appointment with her boss.
“I’d like one, if possible,” said Jeb.
“Come on in, Reverend. Good to have you back. You must bring with you news of all kinds on this November day.” Mills walked a customer out of his office. “What would you like to tell us?”
“I didn’t leave Angel in Little Rock, for one thing. I think Gracie’s ready to retire, at least for a time, so that he can mend. That’s the news from Nubey.”
“How fortunate Gracie has you to take his place. Man like you will do well, in my opinion.” He invited Jeb into his office and closed the door behind him.
Jeb took his seat across from Mills.
“I have some news of my own. Those Hoppers are leaving town. Looks like Asa’s going to be sent to the work farm down at the penitentiary to do some time. Best news we’ve gotten in a long time here in Nazareth. I never seen this place so jittery since that riot broke out. Best to put things like that behind us and move ahead to better tomorrows, if you know what I mean.” Horace had a relaxed demeanor, more jovial than Jeb had ever seen him. “We owe it all to your intervention.”
“Telulah Hopper’s leaving too? I was hoping she’d have the chance to stay and keep her roots here. Maybe somehow get at least part of her land back. Is there no way she can keep her house?”
“That woman’s packing as fast as she can. Don’t know where she’ll go. Between you and me, I don’t care. I don’t mean to sound unchristian, but she needs to start somewhere new, in a town where no one knows her name.”
“She’s a good woman, Mr. Mills. With her husband being sent off to prison, couldn’t our town come together to help her out? She’s not to blame for what Asa did. If he hadn’t gotten so drunk, I don’t know that he would have done what he did.”
“It’s your job to be sympathetic, Reverend. But my job is to make the hard decisions.”
Jeb said, “What will happen to the Hopper land?”
“Timber. Those investors you met have cut a deal with Uncle Sam to plant thousands of trees on that place. It will rejuvenate the lumbermill in Nazareth, put a lot of good men back to work.”
“At least Mrs. Hopper has a nest egg to take with her.”
Jeb excused himself. He thought it best not to let Mills know right off how the news about the Hoppers sickened him. Gracie would most likely tell him to hold his tongue, weigh the matter a bit before spilling his opinions out all over the bank.
He would pay Telulah a visit after lunch and express his sadness over the loss of her land. If she was going to lose the land anyway, she might be glad to see Jeb after all, since he had helped her connect with the land offer her husband had so adamantly refused to acknowledge.
“If ever there was a man who could take the reins after the departure of our dear Reverend Gracie, it’s you.” Winona spouted on about Jeb so much, it seemed she had more invested in his pastorate than even he.
“I still can’t believe it myself.”
“What’s it feel like?”
“Not too many years ago, I remember breaking my back over another man’s field and hating it—I’m talking about picking cotton. I always thought if I could get a little piece of that land myself, I’d not mind the work if it was for the sake of my own land. Church in the Dell’s been Gracie’s field. But now it’s mine to look after. So taking it over for him is like getting my own little piece of land—an honor I don’t take for granted.” Jeb did not tell her that his faith in himself ebbed and flowed by the hour. “That doesn’t mean I think it will be an easy pulpit.”
“Your character will prove itself. Everybody’ll see. I’ve already heard the gab around town about you. The women all think you’re the best thing to come along since bobbed hair. They like the fact you were a sort of gangster. They think it’s kind of exciting having a John Dillinger in the pulpit.”
“They do?”
“I think you’ll be surprised at the girls who show up on Sunday. But all that aside, you know how soon Gracie will be leaving?”
“I told him that I was in no hurry to move into the parsonage. Most likely, he’d appreciate it if some of the ladies helped him pack up, and then the men can help load his belongings. You can bet his oldest girl, Emily, will manage it all for him.”
“I still can’t help but think if we can help you find a good home for those Welby children, that will be one less worry. Don’t you sometimes think that as you take over the parsonage, it would be best to be free and clear of kids that aren’t yours? Church in the Dell’s a handful for any man, but managing a brood of chicks that belong in another person’s pen, if you catch my drift, has got to be a load.”
“I’m not complaining about the Welbys, Winona.” Her habit of bringing up the subject of the Welbys leaving was starting to annoy him.
“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to sound insen
sitive. I pity those poor babies. What I mean to say is that I did some checking and if you want, there is a family in Pine Bluff that takes in children put out by their families. Good Christian people, from what I hear.”
“I don’t remember asking you to find a home for the Welbys.”
“Reverend, you know I wouldn’t do that without your asking me. I have friends who live all over. I happened to mention your precious charges to a friend, and she knew of someone who knew this family in Pine Bluff. That is all. See, until now, I hadn’t mentioned it to you. If you don’t want to know about a place that will take these kids off your hands, nothing could drag it from my lips.”
“Beulah, wrap my food in wax paper, please. I need to take it with me,” said Jeb.
Winona nearly lifted off the booth. “I’ve made you angry with me. See, my mother tells me that even when I’m not meddling I come across as though I am. Please forgive me.” She clasped both of Jeb’s hands. “I’d hate myself if I thought I’d made you angry with me.”
Jeb was surprised at the way her eyes teared. He had not seen this side of Winona. “You’re forgiven.” He sat back down. “I’m sorry if I sound testy. I feel like I’ve been driving back and forth from here to Hot Springs and beyond for days on end. A little rest tonight and I’ll be better company in the morning.”
“You’ve every right to be testy. And I owe you more respect. You are, after all, our new minister.”
“I’m still plain old Jeb.”
“But that’s what makes you different from other preachers. Other men, for that matter.”
Jeb had to admit Winona had her likable ways.
“But promise me you’ll not tell those kids I brought up this Pine Bluff family. I’d be like Public Enemy Number One in the eyes of that Angel. I really do like her. She’s a peach.”
“I won’t tell her. She tends to jump to conclusions, truth be told.”
He assured her that the matter was dropped. He’d decided not to tell Angel about the Hoppers moving away, either. She was much too fiery a girl to understand such things. As a matter of fact, it was best that all the business of the church and any matter she might misconstrue in her confused state be concealed from her inquisitive nature. She could not be counted on to be reasonable. He decided that somehow he would help her rise to such ripeness of judgment over time. He was, after all, a minister.
Nazareth's Song Page 18