“Just as John baptized Jesus,” Adam intoned, “we baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, an’ the Holy Ghost.” He and Dwayne gripped her wrists with one arm and placed their other arms behind her back. “Jus’ lay back in the water,” Adam whispered. “We gotcha.”
Alice leaned back, and they submerged her head. When they brought her out of the water, she raised her arms to the hazy sky and shouted, “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!”
Adam and Dwayne walked alongside her up to the bank, where Marie wrapped a large towel around her. She was crying.
Adam looked at Devon. “You ready, son?” he asked.
Devon shook his head yes.
They walked into the water up to their knees and turned and faced the congregation as Alice had done. “Brothers an’ sisters,” Adam stated, “I’m pleased to announce that my own son has recently been saved, an’ today we’re gonna sanctify him by baptizin’ him.” He looked at Devon. “You ready?”
Devon shook his head again.
“We baptize you in the name o’ the Father, an’ the Son, an’ the Holy Ghost!”
Devon leaned back into the water holding his nose until his head was completely submerged. He went into the water expecting only to get wet, but as soon as he was underwater, his body seemingly became permeable, and all the anxiety, depression, and fear, the accumulated detritus of a lifetime, were washed downstream. He emerged to an ineffable joy and a wholeness of soul he had never experienced. He held his arms aloft and cried in gratitude, “Oh, thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!” He felt as light as a feather as he walked to the bank between the two men, where his mother was waiting for him with a towel. He had never felt so free and happy.
It was the middle of August, and there were two weeks before school. Devon and Del had been swimming all day in Grampa’s pond and had just finished changing into their clothes. On their way out the trailer door, Marie said, “Don’tchou boys go back to that pond.”
“OK, Mommy, we won’t,” Del said.
They went back to the pond. Del was almost fifteen and was beginning to think that his parents telling him what to do was silly. As he and Devon walked out onto the dock and then along the bank, talking desultorily about nothing and watching the reflection of the moon as it followed them, Del mused as they got close to the diving board, “I wonder what it’s like to dive off.” Neither he nor Devon had ever done anything but jump off the ten-foot-high board. “I’m gonna take a look,” he said, as he grabbed a rung on the wooden ladder and began to climb.
“You sure?” Devon asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure. What can happen?”
He climbed to the top of the ladder and walked onto the board. As he approached the middle of it, he slipped and fell off. His shoe got caught in the “X” of the wooden trestle beneath the board, where he briefly dangled, waving his arms in the air.
“Del!” Devon shouted.
Del suddenly dropped headfirst into the shallow water along the bank as his foot slipped out of his shoe. Devon rushed to him. “You alright?” he asked anxiously.
Del was on his hands and knees in the mud. He stood up and began pulling the mud out of his hair. “Yeah, I’m alright. Daddy’s gonna kill me.” He searched in the water along the bank with his hands until he found his shoe, which had dropped alongside him when he fell. He sloshed to the bank. “Wha’da we gonna do?” he asked plaintively.
“Let’s go sit in the car until they come out an’ maybe they won’t notice,” Devon suggested.
“Good idea. If I go back inside I’m bound to git a whuppin’.” They went to the car and waited for their parents to bring the two little ones out.
By the time they got back to Dayton, the boys had fallen asleep. Adam reached in to wake Del and felt his wet shoulder. “Why, this boy’s soakin’ wet, Mother!” he exclaimed.
Marie turned around sharply. “You boys went back to that pond, diddenchou? After I told you not to!”
“Yes, Mommy. I’m sorry.”
“You’d better be sorry. If it wudden so late, you’d get a whuppin’. Go on upstairs an’ take them wet clothes off an’ take a bath.”
“Yes, Mommy,” he replied contritely.
At the beginning of the seventh grade, Devon was six feet tall. His teachers were Mrs. White for language arts and history and Miss Cruea for science and math. He had had the courage to ask Sandy if she was going to the football game on Friday, and she had said yes.
Now it was the end of the game, and Tipp City had won. Devon and Rig had sat beside Sandy and Gwen in the highest row of the bleachers, but now they were standing along the track as Del and the marching band went past. Devon shyly reached down and held Sandy’s soft, warm hand. It was the first time he had ever held a girl’s hand. It was electric, rapturous, as though his heart were attached to an Aeolian harp on a window sill in heaven and God had just slightly exhaled, setting the strings in motion and conveying ethereal music into the depths of his soul. It was indescribable bliss.
When the band had passed, he dropped her hand and looked down at her. She was smiling. He shyly smiled back. “So, you goin’ to the fair tomorr’?” he asked.
“Yeah, me an’ Gwen are goin’. Are you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. See ya tomorr’ then.”
“OK. See you.”
Devon ran to catch up with Rig, who was walking behind the drill team. “You goin’ to the fair tomorr’?” he asked hopefully.
“Nah. Me an’ Travis are goin’ fishin’ tomorr’ with Daddy.”
So Devon would be going to the fair by himself, to meet Gwen and Sandy. Had he just made a date? He had made a date. He was excited.
Annually, Northridge held a fair on the blacktop north of the high school to raise funds for the school plays during the year. There were usually a Ferris wheel, a Tilt-A-Whirl, pony rides, carnival games, and food booths.
Saturday morning, Devon woke up early, ate breakfast quickly, and then prepared to go on his first date. He took a bath and washed his hair in the old claw-footed tub in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, put some Brylcreem in his hair to keep his hair straight and shiny, and donned one of his nicest Sunday shirts, a pair of black pants, and his black shoes. He looked at himself one last time in the bathroom mirror before he left and decided that David had been right. He did look like Elvis.
He went downstairs and into the dining room where Marie was sitting at the table with Gloryann and Denny, eating breakfast. “Where you off to so early in the mornin’ an’ all dressed up?”
“I thought I’d go to the Northridge fair an’ meet some o’ the other students in my class. Is that OK?”
“The fair’s today?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess so then. How long you gonna stay?”
“I doeknow. A couple ars, I reckon. Can I borry some money?”
“You ain’t got no money?”
He shook his head. “No, I was hopin’ maybe to borry some from Del’s jar.”
“Go see how much is in it. Don’t take more’n five dollars.”
“OK.” He walked into the kitchen and took down the Mason jar atop the refrigerator. There were fourteen dollars in it, two fives and four ones. He took the four ones. “I’m takin’ four dollars.” He walked back into the dining room holding the four ones to show her.
“OK. Don’t spend it all on games. Be back two ars before church.”
“OK. I will.” He left.
He got to the fair just after ten o’clock. The fair was starting to get crowded. He walked the length of the midway, looking for Sandy and Gwen. No luck. He stopped at the Tilt-A-Whirl to watch people spin around and around with cackles of glee and screams of fear. He looked back down the midway and saw Sandy and Gwen walking past the Ferris wheel at the other end. He waved to them. Sandy waved back. The cold fist of fear plunged swiftly into his stomach and he went white. “I can’t do this.” He turned from the Tilt-A-Whirl and Sandy and Gwen and ran west away from the midway
, across the parking lot, and south on Dixie Highway, repeating over and over, I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. He did not stop running until he reached the river. He went under the bridge and sat down, put his head in his hands and wept.
He stayed under the bridge for two hours, repeating the Holy Ghost mantra and watching the muddy Great Miami River swirl and eddy around the piers as it flowed westward on its way to the Ohio River. He finally stood up and walked dejectedly home.
“How come you’re back so early?” his mother asked when he entered the house. “Didjou lose all the money playin’ games?”
“No. I didden play none.”
“No? Why not?”
“I looked around a while an’ then just decided to come home. It wudden no fun.”
“You better change outa those clothes, then. You don’t wanta git ‘em dirty before church.”
“OK.” He went upstairs and changed his clothes and lay down on his bed. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. He picked up the Hardy Boys’ mystery from the table between his and Del’s bed and started to read, hoping to drown out the voice in his head.
When he saw Sandy on Monday as they were changing classes, he smiled at her and she smiled back, to his relief. She never asked him why he ran away and he never explained. He did not know that he could explain why he ran. He did not know himself.
In early October, Marie gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. She named them Jackie and Gina. There were now eight mouths to feed. Adam began to borrow more money from the Mason jar atop the refrigerator, Del’s paper route earnings.
The boys had stopped calling for Feisty in September. It was obvious that he was never returning. It was just as well, for with the new babies, there was little time for anything else. Devon took care of Gloryann and Denny, Del was busy with marching band and his paper route, Adam worked at Frigidaire, and Marie tried to keep up with the washing and ironing. Devon vacuumed, dusted, cleaned the bathroom, and washed the supper dishes every other night, alternating with Del.
In late October, Gloryann fell ill. She had a sore throat and a high fever. Marie gave her liquids and kept her warm, but the fever and sore throat persisted. She and Adam knelt beside her bed every night, laid their hands on her head, and prayed.
“Lord, we ask thee to drive the devil away from this child an’ make her whole,” Adam prayed. “The devil’s got no place in this house. This house has been sanctified by the blood o’ the Lamb. Jesus, we ask thee to come down an’ touch this child so she can rise up an’ play an’ be free of all sickness. May she be made whole just like you made the leper whole. We ask it in thy name, Lord. Thank you, Jesus. In Jesus’ name, amen.
“Amen,” Marie echoed. “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.”
But the fever and sore throat did not abate. When Uncle Rufus and Aunt Uma came to visit on Saturday, Gloryann had been lying in bed for six days. Uma took one look at Gloryann’s sunken eyes and wan face and said to Marie, “Honey, I don’t like the look of her. I think maybe you oughta take her to see a doctor.”
“Jesus is gonna heal ‘er,” Marie insisted. “We’re puttin’ our faith in him, that he’ll touch her an’ make her whole.”
“I doeknow, honey. She just don’t look right to me,” Uma said doubtfully.
“God’s gonna heal ‘er,” Adam confirmed. “If we just have the faith of a grain o’ mustard seed. Let’s all pray for her again.”
Adam and Rufus laid both of their hands on her head. Marie and Uma held her hands.
“Devil, we rebuke thee!” Rufus commanded imperiously. “Leave this child right now, an’ take your evil hands offen her!” He continued in a more unctuous and conciliatory tone, “We ask thee, Jesus, to take this child by the hand an’ lead her into the paths o’ health an’ wellness that she may rise up an’ be whole an’ happy once again. We thank thee, Jesus, in advance for answerin’ our prayers. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Yes, Lord. Thank you, sweet Jesus,” Marie added.
The fever and sore throat subsided in two days, but Gloryann’s healthy appearance did not return. Her eyes remained sunken and had dark circles around them, and she was listless and had no interest in playing with the other children or going outdoors.
In the second week of November, Grampa fell ill and was taken to a hospital. Marie rushed to be with him. The diagnosis was viral pneumonia. She stayed by his side until he died a week after being admitted.
When she returned home, she was disconsolate. Devon and Del took care of the younger ones while she remained in the bedroom. She mustered herself to attend the funeral, but went back to isolating herself when she returned. After two weeks of grieving in the bedroom, one day she emerged and assumed the role of mother again as though nothing had transpired.
The one benefit the boys received from Grampa’s dying was his television. Adam and Marie allowed them to place the nineteen-inch black-and-white television atop the dresser where the cactus lamp had been. They had to promise to keep the volume low. It was the first television that had ever been in the house. The boys were thrilled. Now they would know what the kids at school were talking about when they talked about TV shows.
Devon could watch cartoons on Saturday morning with Gloryann and Denny, and Del could watch sports. None of them had ever really known Grampa, so there was no sadness about his passing among the children. Devon would never be called “Flathead” again.
Chapter 8
1963
The sweating, disheveled, slender man runs frantically from car to car, yelling for people in the cars to stop and help him, that those people are after him, that they’re not human, that they’re in danger. None of the cars stops. The drivers tell him to get out of the road. They blow their horns at him. He jumps onto the running board of an eighteen-wheeler and pleads with the driver to pull over to the side of the road, that something terrible has happened.
The driver pushes him off the running board and shouts at him that he’s drunk and to get out of the street. As the truck moves past the man, the words “Los Angeles-San Francisco” can be seen on the side of the trailer. As the trailer goes past him, he impulsively jumps onto the rear of the truck and looks over the tailgate and sees within hundreds and hundreds of large seed pods. His eyes widen. He jumps off the bumper and a car behind the truck nearly hits him.
The driver yells at him that he’s crazy and calls him an idiot.
The man continues running from car to car, screaming at the people in the cars to run and telling them that their wives and children are in danger, that they’re after all of us, and that they’re next. He looks directly at the camera and tells Devon and Del that they’re next. The picture fades to black and the movie ends.
“Wow!” Del said. “That was scary!”
“Yeah, it was,” Devon agreed. He got up and turned off the TV and the light. He pulled back the blind and looked down at the snow in the moonlight. There were no pod people approaching the house.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers was only the second horror movie that they had seen in their lives. The first had been Creature from the Black Lagoon at Franklin High School. This one had been scarier because they had watched it in their own room, in their own house, and not in an auditorium filled with laughing teenagers.
Devon lay down on his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He lay awake, his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, and lulled himself to sleep by repeating, I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe . . .
Mrs. White’s language arts students were returning to their seats after the school-wide duck and cover drill when she reminded them that whenever they heard the school alarm, they should always get beneath their desks and place their hands over the backs of their
necks. “We hope we never experience an atomic bomb, but we can be prepared if we do,” she intoned. Changing the subject, she said, “Children, now you know we are in a race with the Soviets to be the first to land a man on the moon, and I am pleased to announce that Devon wrote a patriotic poem about that race for our poetry assignment, and I would like to share it with you. I think it’s an excellent poem.” Devon blushed and shifted in his seat. He had never been complimented for anything he had written. She cleared her throat and read:
Someday in Space
Through the emptiness of space,
Someday will fly the human race.
We’ll visit Mars and maybe Venus,
And hope the scientists have seen us.
But in the twilight of nine light years,
And in the many eons,
We’ll get tired of all the meteors,
And long for different seasons.
We’ll go through the many gyrations
Of stopping at all the space stations.
We’ll radio back to Earth,
“We’re coming in. Warm up the hearth.”
When we reach that good old planet,
We’ll have finished an old race.
We’ll be so happy we can’t stand it.
We’ll have won the race through space.
“We can only hope that that comes true, and the United States is the first to land a man on the moon, as President Kennedy urged us to do in his speech last year. Now, along with Devon’s poem, I’m going to post the poems of Debbie, Richard, David, and Gwen on the bulletin board in the hallway. I encourage you to read them on your way to lunch or recess. They are all excellent.”
After they had eaten lunch, Devon, Joe, and David were shivering and talking on the grass outside Mrs. White’s classroom when Mr. Wilson approached them. “Can I talk to you for a few minutes, Dev?” he asked.
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