The Promise of Jesse Woods

by Chris Fabry

  “So this is about Mom? She pushed you into keeping us apart?”

  “We both agreed Jesse wouldn’t be right. With all we knew about the Woods family . . .”

  “What right did you have to decide that?”

  “We had every right. I’m your father. And I believe her choice of Earl means she wants to move on. The question is, will you let her? Will you do the hard thing and let her?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’ve always tried to teach you that the Christian life is not about making the easiest choice. It’s sometimes the harder way to live. I believe every person is called to do one difficult thing in life. And I think you have come to that place. This is your chance to sacrifice.”

  His voice was even and controlled. The gentle and reassuring sound usually calmed me, but not today. And as the rain fell and streaked the window, I didn’t hold back.

  “I could ask you to do the same thing.”

  SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1984

  My mother did not understand why I was home. My father spoke in hushed tones as I fell into bed, exhausted. I slept like a dead man. I didn’t think, didn’t dream, didn’t feel.

  I woke to my alarm the next morning, my parents gone. I showered and dressed in one of my father’s suits, the coat and shirt fitting nicely, the pants loose. I drove to the church and parked behind it near the field and picnic tables. Slipping in the back door, I was met by Shirley Turley. Jesse was right—she had become a beautiful mother, and the kindness in her eyes surprised me.

  “I didn’t think you’d come to this,” Shirley said, glancing at the front door.

  “Don’t let your brothers know I’m here,” I said.

  She gave a smile and I stole to my old spot on the bride’s side and sat close to the wall. Everything in me wanted to scream this wasn’t fair. But the revelation in my father’s office made me believe I could make the hard choice. And it wasn’t because I wanted to protect him, but to do the loving thing for Jesse.

  A wedding is the beginning of two lives becoming one. It’s a celebration of abundant life. For me, this day was a funeral for a long-held dream. And I knew I needed to stare at the casket to believe reality.

  My father arrived with the groom and his party and ducked into his office. He exited and quickly approached when he noticed me.

  “You shouldn’t put yourself through this,” he said, sitting by me.

  “I need to.”

  “You’re not going to disrupt—”

  “It’s nothing like that. It would be like stopping at the bottom of Golgotha, you know? I have to climb the whole way.”

  He smiled a little and put a hand on my shoulder. “I understand.”

  His touch felt somewhat like a kiss of betrayal, but that was something I would deal with later.

  My mother walked down the aisle. Her gait was slowing. It was partly her age but also the toll of all she had been through with her life, her marriage, and her sons. She stopped and put her purse beside me, sheet music tucked under her arm.

  “I thought you would still be sleeping.”

  “Like the suit?” I said.

  She smiled, then moved toward the piano. The prelude consisted of hymns of the Savior’s love and classical pieces that felt like sad longing and I closed my eyes. I had wanted the truth and I finally possessed it. But as I sat there, I wondered if the truth was what I really wanted. Was the truth enough?

  I felt a presence beside me and looked up at Basil Blackwood in a dark suit, his hair slicked back with Brylcreem. He had not received the memo about using “a little dab.” His face was grim, lines deeper than the Grand Canyon, and there was a skin anomaly on his left cheek that needed attention.

  He leaned down, hands on his knees, head dipped so he looked at the floor. His voice was low and gravelly. “Do we have a problem here?”

  I remembered the Polaroid he had destroyed and my father’s betrayal. His thirty pieces of silver were this church.

  “No, sir.”

  He edged closer and his breath smelled of stale tobacco. “Then I’d like you to leave. The bride and groom have requested it.”

  “Mr. Blackwood, I’ve waited a long time for this. A friend of mine is going to walk down that aisle and out of my life for good. I aim to see it.”

  “Verle will haul you out of here.”

  I caught his gaze. “You’ve been calling the shots a long time. And you can remove me. But it’ll be a fight. I don’t think you want that.”

  He stood erect, looked at the door to the sanctuary, and shook his head. I turned and saw Verle, but I wasn’t afraid. I hadn’t come here to change the outcome of the service, just to witness it.

  The door to my father’s office opened again and he walked out leading Earl. The bridesmaids walked down the aisle in pretty, flowered dresses that might have been from a department store. When Shirley passed, she smiled at me. Then, something I hadn’t prepared for, something wild and wonderful—Daisy Grace came down the aisle carrying a bouquet of daisies, pulling them one by one and letting them fall on her sister’s path. She was beautiful and tall. The little girl in the backyard with the stubby-tooth smile was grown, and I had to wipe away the unanticipated emotion.

  My mother’s hands fell on the sacred chords of the song I knew as “Here Comes the Bride,” and pews creaked as everyone stood. I rose out of duty and my stomach lurched. I took a couple of deep breaths to settle it.

  And there she was.

  Jesse Woods, as I had never seen her, but as I had always seen her, walked alone. She glanced at the daisies and I saw those front teeth and the view flooded my mind, the fishing trips and bike hikes and the little cemetery at the end of the road and her sister’s gravestone. The voice of her mother and Carl’s bark and all the dusty roads we shared. School bus rides and sorting out life by citizens band—and then the severing, cold silence.

  As she passed, she glanced at me and the surprise on her face let me know Blackwood had lied about her requesting I leave.

  I smiled and nodded, and she continued and took Earl’s hands. My father skipped the part where he asked, “Who gives this woman?” There was no one to give Jesse away. And that was fitting. No one could have given her away but me. And that was exactly what I was doing.

  The congregation sat as my father began his “Dearly beloved” message, and a strange sense of peace came over me. There are some things you do from duty and some that come from sheer love, but you don’t realize the difference. Right then, in that pew where I had sat as a teenager, where I had heard the message of sacrifice and offering, things came into focus. I was letting go not because I was required to by any force on earth or principality or power in heaven. I was letting go because I wanted to for Jesse. That release, that surrender, felt like nails in my wrists, but at the same time like love from a bursting heart.

  “Marriage is an honorable institution given by God,” my father said. “Ordained by him and a picture of his bride, the church. What you see before you is the way God chose to describe the culmination of all of history. Jesus will return as the Bridegroom for his church.”

  “Amen,” someone said behind me.

  My mother slipped into the seat beside me and patted my hand. She unwrapped a peppermint and put it in her mouth, clearing her throat.

  My father gazed over the congregation, then looked straight at me. “If any of you has reason why these two should not be married, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.”

  I stared at my hands. Then my fingernails. The hush over the congregation was palpable. I looked at Basil Blackwood on the front row of the other side, his bald spot glistening red.

  “Very well,” my father said.

  And with that, it was over. The ceremony would continue with rings exchanged and I dos and pronouncement of man and wife and “you may kiss the bride.” It was a fait accompli. The reception downstairs would be an awkward affair, and I would pay my respects and give my blessing and slip out quietly. Or maybe I would j
ust skip the reception and head toward Chicago.

  It was the silence that unnerved me. I looked up and saw my father in a state of confusion. He paused and faltered as if he had forgotten the order of service. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead, then brought a glass of water to his lips, his hand trembling. Then he touched his temple.

  Jesse leaned forward and said, “Are you okay, Pastor Plumley?”

  He looked at her, then closed his eyes tightly. “Oh, dear.”

  A murmur went through the congregation and my mother turned to me. “Something’s not right. I think he’s having a stroke.”

  I studied him carefully. “No, I think it’s something else.”

  The longer my father waited, the more the congregation murmured. Mrs. Talmage stood on the Blackwood side as if ready for an altar call. She was an emergency room nurse at St. Mary’s.

  “Do you need help?” she said forcefully.

  Another touch of his temple. “I think I just need to catch my breath,” he said, wiping his forehead. He found my mother and asked, “Please, could we sing the hymn we were going to sing after the ceremony?”

  My mother rose quickly and went to the piano. The hymnal was open, everything prepared. She played the last line of “He Hideth My Soul,” as an introduction and my father said, “Excuse me” and went to his study.

  People stood and pulled out hymnals and whispered. Jesse said something to Earl and he shrugged. Dutifully, the congregation followed my mother’s lead and sang the first verse as I took the long way around to the study.

  Mrs. Talmage was inside, holding his wrist.

  “I don’t like this one bit,” she said.

  “Please, give me a moment,” my father said. “Let me speak with my son.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “The sweating and the shortness of breath are classic signs of a heart attack.”

  “I assure you, I don’t need a doctor.”

  Mrs. Talmage retreated. As she opened the door, Gerald Grassley entered. He was as close to a right-hand man as my father ever had.

  “Calvin, are you all right?”

  My father nodded. “I just need a moment alone with Matt. Thank you.”

  “What are you doing?” I said as Gerald closed the door again.

  “Something I should have done long ago. Before today. Tell me it’s not too late to find my backbone.”

  “It’s not too late to get yourself killed.”

  “I asked you to do the hard thing. To sacrifice. You said you could ask me to do the same. And as I stood there today . . .”

  The door opened and this time Basil Blackwood walked in with Earl close behind. “This better be good, Plumley,” Blackwood said. “If you’re sick, we can get somebody to step in.”

  “I’m not sick,” my father said. “In fact, I feel surprisingly good considering what I’m about to say. And I do apologize. I take full responsibility. This is not fair to you, Earl, or to you, Basil, with all the trouble and expense you’ve gone to.”

  Blackwood pushed closer, a look on his face I had seen when he spat at me as a kid. “I want you out there before they finish this song. Is that understood?”

  “I understand, but I can’t marry Earl and Jesse today.”

  “And why in blue blazes not?”

  The door opened once more and I heard the words “He hideth my life in the depths of his love.” Jesse walked in, her veil still covering her face. Daisy pulled her train into the room and discreetly left. The small office was getting crowded.

  “You all having a party without me?” Jesse said, deadpan.

  I couldn’t help smiling.

  “Jesse, I was just apologizing,” my father said. “I owe you one, too. I can’t finish the service.”

  She took another step forward. “Are you sick?”

  “No. It’s because I violated my own rule.”

  “What rule is that?”

  “Yeah, you never told us about no rules,” Earl said.

  “I have two policies I never break. One: I will not marry a Christian and an unbeliever.” He held up a hand. “Now, I’m fully persuaded that both of you are sincere followers of Jesus. That’s not the problem.”

  “This is crazy,” Blackwood muttered.

  “What’s the other rule?” Earl said.

  “Early on, I vowed I would never marry two people if I knew one of them loved someone else.” He glanced at me. “I believe that to be the case here.”

  Blackwood charged my father. “You get out there and do what we paid you to do.”

  “No,” my father said, shaking his head.

  “Then you’ll never preach in this church again.”

  “That may be true. Ever since I came here, you’ve reminded me how much control you have over every decision. I went along because I wanted the church to grow—I wanted to keep this position. Maybe I thought you’d change. That you’d listen to one of my sermons. But somewhere along the line I decided to just make you happy. And it’s become a full-time job. I’ve wondered what it would take to make me stand up. I guess this is it.”

  Blackwood grabbed him by the shirt. “I’ll sue for every penny you got!”

  My father smiled. “Pennies is exactly what you’d get. I don’t own anything, Basil, except the property my family handed down.”

  “Pastor Plumley, I don’t get it,” Earl said. “Are you saying I don’t love Jesse?”

  “No, I believe you do, Earl. That’s the hardest part of this. Jesse is ready to marry you. But I have a hunch she’s in love with someone else.”

  Earl looked at her. “Is that true?”

  Jesse had been watching the proceedings with the interest of a hungry cat waiting to pounce on a scurrying mouse. She lifted her veil and glanced at me. I shrugged as if saying, I didn’t put him up to this.

  The song ended in the sanctuary and I heard the whomp of the congregation being seated.

  Jesse squinted at my father. “Hang on a minute, Pastor. I’ve had people decide stuff for me all my life. I been sacrificing. Scratching and clawing every day. And I won’t have you taking this away. I’ve dreamed of this since I was a little kid.”

  Blackwood raised a fist. “You heard her. Get your sorry behind back out there and finish this.”

  Before my father could answer, Earl spoke to Jesse, his shoulders slumped. “This is not about Pastor Plumley, though. I don’t want you saying, ‘I do’ if you don’t mean it.”

  Jesse swallowed hard and glanced at my father. Before she could speak, he said, “Jesse, I’m releasing you from any promise you made the night your father died. What I asked wasn’t fair. Matt knows about it.”

  “What in the sam hill are you two talking about?” Blackwood said.

  “You knew?” Jesse said to me.

  “I stumbled onto it.”

  Jesse turned to my father and cocked her head. “So you got up there and were going to go through with this even though you thought I loved your son?”

  I had never seen my father’s face so pained. “I felt trapped. And then I saw Matt sitting there.” He took off his glasses and raised a hand to his eyes. This was not an act, the emotion was real. “I asked him to sacrifice. To walk away. And I realized that wasn’t fair. I’m the only one who can make things right.”

  Earl shook his head. “Well, you could have picked a better time, Pastor. I got our honeymoon tickets. I got the rings. There’s people out there who drove all the way from Point Pleasant. This ain’t right.”

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Jesse said, throwing down a fist. She turned from us, spinning something in her mind. “I promised my mama I would take care of my sister, and I done that. I’m proud of it. I made a promise to you, Pastor, and I kept it. I stayed away from your son. And I done sacrificed every dream I ever had to hang on to that land, though you’ve tried to rip it out from under me, Mr. Blackwood. And don’t say it’s not true because it is. So what I’m standing here wondering is, what do I get from all this promising? What happens
to me and my dreams?” Her face was red.

  Earl took her hand and gently held it in front of him. “Jesse, I love you. You’re going to have my child. I want to raise that little one with you. And I don’t want nobody taking my place.”

  My father and Blackwood looked stunned at the revelation. I also heard a stir from the congregation. Earl was standing close to my father and I realized his microphone was on. Why the man running sound hadn’t cut it was a mystery, but it was probably the best theater in town since Oklahoma! ran on network television.

  I got my father’s attention and gave him the slicing neck sign. “I think they can hear us through your mic.”

  My father turned off the transmitter and there was a huge click in the speaker on the other side of the wall. Someone out there said something—it sounded like Mr. Grassley. The piano began again, my mother playing the introduction to “And Can It Be?”

  Earl held on to Jesse’s hand. “All right, tell me straight out. Tell me you don’t love me. I got to hear it from your lips.”

  Jesse looked at me and I pictured her on that rooftop seeing her father on the ground and all the days and questions in between.

  “Matt was my first love. It was sweet and innocent. And you was always saving somebody or something. So it makes sense you’d come back here to rescue me. But the way I figure it, you got to see that you can’t rescue everybody. There’s only one who can. And from what I can tell, you need to let somebody rescue you, PB.”

  The words felt like daggers at first, and then I heard the truth in them spoken from a heart of love.

  “As for you, Earl, I done accepted your ring because you’re the man I want to grow old with. I want to sit out on the front porch and drink sweet tea with you of a night and yell at the kids. You ain’t perfect, and your family certainly ain’t perfect, but neither am I. We’ve made mistakes already. But God has forgiven us and we’re going to walk this road together. I’m choosing you.” She looked at my father. “And if you don’t want to do the service, we can go to the justice of the peace. It don’t make no difference to me.”

  My father bit his lip and glanced at me. I gave him a thumbs-up.