The Fiery Ring

by Gilbert, Morris

  “I just made some stew, Sister Hannah. Sit down and eat a bite.”

  “There ain’t no time for that,” Hannah said flatly. “Get your things together.”

  Joy exchanged a startled glance with Chase, then stammered, “But-but where are we going?”

  “You’re going to my house, that’s what.”

  Chase shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

  “Ain’t no bother about it, but it ain’t fittin’ for a man and a woman what ain’t married to stay together. So don’t argue with me none. You’re goin’, and that’s the way it is.”

  Joy swallowed hard and felt her cheeks grow warm. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “The Bible says ‘Abstain from all appearance of evil.’ ” Hannah’s voice was sharp, but then a kindly light appeared in her eyes. She reached out and ran her hand over Joy’s light hair. “I know you ain’t done nothin’ wrong, honey, but people talk, so you’re comin’ with me. Don’t worry about crowdin’ me. That big old barn of a house has got more bedrooms than you could shake a stick at. Back a few years ago I had it full of young’uns, but then my husband went to be with the Lord, and the kids all growed up, and I’m all by myself there. So get yourself ready, because we’re a-goin’!”

  ****

  “You’ve gotta take it easy, Chase. Got plenty of time. Don’t move them ribs around no more than you can help.”

  Chase held himself carefully upright in the seat of the buggy. Joy sat between him and Sister Hannah, and when they arrived at the house, both women got out and helped him get down. Pain shot through him as his heels hit the ground, and he took a deep breath. “Not too bad,” he said. “I think I can make it.”

  “You just keep ahold of him, Joy,” Sister Hannah admonished. “Men ain’t got no sense about takin’ keer of themselves.”

  As the trio moved through the gate of the picket fence, a sudden barking startled Joy. She looked over to see the German shepherd that had barked at her on her first visit hit the end of its chain, fangs bared. She asked, “Is that your watchdog, Sister Hannah?”

  “He’s just a no-count dog, that’s what he is. His name’s Jake, but it might as well be Satan!”

  “He looks like he could eat somebody up.”

  “I reckon you got that right. My grandson Caleb, he had the crazy idea that I needed protection and brought that dog here a couple weeks ago. Keerful now goin’ up these steps—just take it slow and easy.” As she helped Chase up several steps to the front porch, she laughed, “That Caleb! Sometimes I think that young’un ain’t got a lick of sense! He gave me that dog to protect me, and I can’t even get close enough to feed him. If he ever gets loose, I expect he’ll half kill me.”

  They reached the porch, and Hannah opened the door. “Bring ’im on in here. I got a room on the first floor. You can stay upstairs, Joy.”

  Chase’s room was large, and the two high windows admitted plenty of sunlight. A walnut bedstead with a red-and-white counterpane all turned back was waiting.

  “You might as well get out of them clothes. You gotta have a bath.”

  “I guess I can do that myself.”

  “We’ll see about that. Who’s gonna wash your back? You answer me that.”

  Chase laughed. “All right, Sister Hannah, you’re the doctor.”

  “You just keep thinkin’ that, son! Come on, I’ll show you your room, Joy,” Hannah said.

  Joy followed the large woman back into the hall, then up a flight of stairs. At the top she saw that there were two doors, one on each side. Hannah opened the one on the right, saying, “There ain’t no heat up here, but you can come downstairs when you get cold. We got plenty of blankets for the night-time.”

  “Oh, it’s a beautiful room!”

  “It is pretty, ain’t it, now.”

  The room, not as large as the one downstairs, had a sloping ceiling to follow the roof and a large window at one end. A worn blue carpet covered the floor. The bed was made up with several blankets, and the pillow was fluffy and thick.

  “One of my granddaughters, Lucy, she lived here with me a spell afore she went off to college in St. Louis. She left some of her clothes here. I reckon they’ll jist about fit you. They’re in that closet over there.” She gestured toward the closet, then added, “Reckon you’d like to have a nice hot bath, wouldn’t you?”

  “Oh yes!” Joy said fervently. She felt gritty and grimy, and just the thought of a good bath warmed her heart.

  “Let’s let Chase get cleaned up first, then you can take your turn in the tub. Go ahead and pick out some of them clothes. There’s some underwear over in the drawer of that bureau. Good thing Lucy’s about yore size.”

  “But . . . I can’t take her clothes!”

  “Them clothes is goin’ to waste. Pick somethin’ out, and I’ll start heatin’ the water for Chase.”

  ****

  Joy sank down in the tub and luxuriated in the hot water—as hot as she could stand it. Her knees stuck out, and she closed her eyes and laid her head back.

  “Might as well wash your hair while you’re in there. The well water here is pretty soft. ‘Course I use rain water sometimes, but I ain’t catched any lately.”

  “Oh, that would be good! My hair is so dirty and grimy.”

  “I got some store-bought hair soap from the Sears ’n Roebuck catalog. Ain’t even out of the box.” Sister Hannah rummaged in a cabinet, located the soap, and handed it to Joy. “You just enjoy a nice bath. I’ll lock the door so cain’t nobody get in. Not that I’m expectin’ anybody.”

  Joy soaked until she felt like a prune, then scrubbed herself with a washcloth and washed her hair. Finally she got out of the tub and dried off with the fluffy white towel Sister Hannah had left her. She slipped into the underwear she had found in the drawer. The clean garments delighted her, and the dress was a perfect fit, better than any of her old dresses had fit her. It was light green with small white flowers. She slipped on a pair of stockings and a pair of black shoes that were a little large, but not by much. She unlocked the door and sat down beside the kitchen stove, drying her hair with a towel. She was trying to comb it with her fingers when Hannah returned.

  “Land sakes, you can’t comb your hair like that! Let me get you a comb.”

  Hannah disappeared and was back almost at once. “You set still whilst I comb it out.”

  Joy sat upright, and an unfamiliar feeling of luxury swept over her. No one had helped her with her hair since her mother had died, and a lump rose in her throat as Hannah gently pulled the comb through her hair. It always made her drowsy when someone combed or brushed her hair, but it was a comforting drowsiness. Finally she said, “Thank you, Sister Hannah. I’ll just tie it back.”

  “You got right pretty hair. Always was partial to blond hair. Ain’t none of my children exactly blond. My youngest—her name was Fairy—she had kinda reddish hair with a light streak, but yours now is a real pure blond color.”

  “What can I do to help with chores, Hannah?”

  “Well, be time pretty soon to be thinkin’ about supper. You know how to kill a chicken and cut it up?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Well, go pick out a nice one, and while you get it ready I’ll do the rest.”

  Joy started out the door, but Sister Hannah said, “Put on a coat, young lady! It’s cold out there—always is in March. And put that sweater on first.” She pointed to a sweater draped over the back of a chair.

  Joy put on the blue sweater, then the coat Hannah handed her, and went outside. She heard the clucking of the chickens and followed the sound around to the back of the house, where she found a large area fenced in with chicken wire. She chose a fine young chicken that came trustingly up to her. She reached down, stroked the hen for a moment, then said regretfully, “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to have something to eat.” Expertly she reached down, grasped the chicken around the neck firmly, and with one practiced motion, swung it upward in a wide circle. The head sep
arated, and the headless body hit the ground. As she knew it would, the hen got to her feet and began running around wildly. It fell twice, kicking and bloodying the ground with bright red blood. Finally it lay still, and Joy went over and picked up the body. It always troubled her to have to kill chickens—but she’d learned that such things were a part of life. She sat on a stump in the yard and plucked the chicken, and then finally she went back into the warmth of the kitchen.

  Sister Hannah nodded. “I watched you take care of that hen. Ain’t it a caution the way they run around after they have their necks wrung?”

  “I never could understand it,” Joy said, laying the chicken on the cutting board. “If you’ve got a sharp knife, I’ll gut it and cut it up.”

  “Right there in that drawer.” Hannah studied the hen and then laughed aloud. “Reminds me of some church members. Some of the most active ones ain’t worth nothin’. I always say the most active chicken in the barnyard is the one that just had its neck wrung—and some church members that make the most commotion ain’t got nothin’ in ’em.”

  Joy had a good laugh, and it was the first time Sister Hannah had seen the girl release the tension that had bound her. As Joy expertly prepared the chicken, Hannah said, “You remind me of my middle girl, Susie. She’s the one who went to be with Jesus two years ago.”

  Joy looked up. “That must have been very difficult.”

  “She was never healthy. Had a lot of sickness, but I loved her. She was always my favorite, but I tried not to show it.” She came over and stood beside Joy and stared out the window. The big dog, Jake, had come to the end of his chain, and was filling the air with savage snarls directed at a man who was walking down the road. “That’s a bad dog. I’m gonna have to get rid of him.” She turned then and said quietly, “You know, Joy, I got mad at God when He took my daughter Susie. I wouldn’t even speak to Him for nearly a year.”

  Startled by this revelation, Joy stared at the older woman. There was strength and character in every line of the old face, and she thought, That’s what I’m doing. I’m mad at God because He took my parents and my sister. . . .

  “But then, you know, that all changed one day. I was poutin’ and wouldn’t read the Bible and wouldn’t do what God told me to do. I was just downright mad. And then I remembered somethin’. I remembered when I was just a little girl, no more than five or six years old, I pulled up some of my mama’s prize flowers. Well, she cut a switch from the apple tree and took me by the arm and started switchin’ my legs.” A smile touched the older woman’s lips as she said softly, “I tried to get away, and the further I got, the more room she had to swing that switch—and the more it hurt. And you know what happened then, Joy?”

  “What?”

  “I was tryin’ to get away, and somehow I ran right into her. I grabbed her around the legs and held on to her, and I started cryin’ out, ‘I love you, Mama!’ and I found out somethin’ right then about God.”

  “About God? I don’t understand.”

  “Well, when I was tryin’ to get away, my mama had plenty of room to swing that switch, but there I was holdin’ on to her, and she couldn’t swing it with her whole arm. She could just pat me, sort of. It didn’t hurt near so bad, and then I kept tellin’ her I loved her, so she quit switchin’ me. She put her arms around me, and I remember she cried that day—and my mama wasn’t a cryin’ woman.” The distant memory caused Sister Hannah’s face to grow soft. “Not long after that, I run across a verse in the Bible. It said, ‘Kiss the Son, lest he be angry.’ So I learned somethin’. When God’s whippin’ us, we don’t need to be tryin’ to run away. We need to turn to Him and throw our arms around Him and tell Him we love Him.”

  The kitchen was silent then, and Joy Winslow felt tears rise in her eyes. The story had touched her, and she could say nothing. Her throat grew thick, and she turned away and began fumbling with the pieces of chicken. “Do you want me to fry these?”

  “We’ll wait a spell, so they’ll be hot for supper.” Hannah’s hand fell on Joy’s shoulder. She said nothing, but there was a warmth to her touch that made Joy feel even more vulnerable. After a moment Hannah changed the mood, saying, “Can you make biscuits?”

  ****

  “What are you doing up?” Joy asked with surprise a few days later. She stepped into the kitchen to find Chase fully dressed and sitting at the kitchen table. Sister Hannah had gone to visit a sick member of her congregation, and Joy had just come inside after feeding the livestock.

  “I couldn’t stand that bed anymore,” Chase said. “I had to get up and stretch my legs.”

  Chase had been getting out of bed more each day, but he usually just sat in a rocker in his bedroom. Now he had more color in his cheeks, and Joy said, “You look better.”

  “I feel better.” Chase carefully took a deep breath and shook his head. “That feels good. I feel like I can get some air down in my lungs.”

  “Well, what do you want for breakfast?”

  “Anything!”

  “I doubt that. I think I’ll fix pancakes.”

  She began pulling the ingredients out of the cabinets. During the five days they had stayed at Sister Hannah’s, Joy had learned everything about the house. She rose early, washed, cleaned, ironed, took care of the animals, and worked in the kitchen. Sister Hannah had shaken her head. “You are a working machine. Slow down, girl!”

  It pleased Joy to work hard. She had tried once to express her thanks to Sister Hannah, but the silver-haired woman had said, “Just pass it on, child. You’ll find somebody that needs help. As a matter of fact, you already did—with Chase in there. That’s what we live for. To love God and to love each other.”

  Now as she poured the batter into the large black frying pan, Joy thought back to the day she had met Chase. She asked him, “Do you miss drinking, Chase?”

  “I haven’t even thought about it. That surprises me too. I haven’t gone this long without drinking in ages.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Pretty hard way to stop drinking.”

  Joy was hesitant. “Have you been drinking a long time?”

  “Couple years.”

  It was on the tip of Joy’s tongue to ask him why he had started drinking, but she knew that would not be right. She gave Chase the first two pancakes, then said, “You start on these while I fix some more.”

  Chase looked at the golden brown pancakes and shook his head. “You are a fine cook, Joy.”

  “My mother taught me.”

  The two ate breakfast slowly, coating the pancakes with rich, fresh butter and dousing them with cane ribbon syrup. The fried ham not only tasted good but also left a delicious aroma in the air.

  “I haven’t eaten this good in a long time,” Chase murmured.

  “Neither have I. I’ll be fat as a hog if I don’t slow down.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Joy was wearing another of Lucy’s dresses that had been hanging in the closet. It was pale blue with a white collar and nipped in at her waist. Chase noticed that the dress fit her perfectly, and he admired the easy way she moved about the kitchen. When she refilled his coffee cup, he said, “We can’t stay here forever.”

  “No, but it’s sure been nice compared to the caboose.”

  ****

  The next day as Sister Hannah was returning from another one of her visits to a sick church member, she pulled the buggy into the driveway, then stopped abruptly and stared at Chase. He was sitting on an empty apple crate in front of Jake. The dog was staring at him, his lips drawn back from his teeth. Hannah wanted to tell the man to get away from the dog, but she was afraid she would startle the animal. Quietly she went inside the house and found Joy mopping the kitchen floor. “You know what that fool Chase is doing?”

  Joy looked up, wiped her hands on a towel, and said, “What?”

  “He’s out there tryin’ to make friends with Jake. Might as well make friends with the devil himself!”

  Joy went to the front room and
looked out the window. “He shouldn’t be doing that,” she whispered. “That dog could tear him to pieces.”

  “I guess he knows that. Kinda funny, ain’t it? He’s the first one I ever seen come anywhere close to that dog.”

  “I thought he’d gone back to his room. He must’ve been out there the whole time you were gone.”

  The two women were puzzled by this, and when Chase came in thirty minutes later, Sister Hannah said, “Chase, you stay away from that dog.”

  “Why? He’s a fine dog.”

  “Fine? He’ll bite your head off!”

  “No, he won’t do that.”

  “What were you doing out there with him, Chase?” Joy demanded.

  “Just getting to know him—and letting him get to know me. There’s a good dog down in that animal somewhere. He just has to find out about it himself.” He smiled, and there was a winsome look about him. His olive skin and black hair went well together, and even in the few days he had been at Sister Hannah’s, he had put on enough weight that his cheeks were no longer sunken. His eyebrows were dark and arched in an unusual fashion.

  “You’re gonna get dog bit,” Sister Hannah warned.

  “Why, Sister, don’t you think God can take care of me?”

  “If Jesus told you to do it, it’s fine. But if it’s jest somethin’ you thunk up, you’ll get bit. The Bible says, ‘Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.’ ”

  “Yes, that’s in Matthew 4:7.”

  Hannah was surprised at Chase, and a look of grudging admiration flickered in her eyes. “Well, you ain’t got completely away from your raisin’, have you, boy?”

  “I’ve gone pretty far.”

  “Well then, you’re goin’ to church tomorrow, so make up your mind to that. If you’re strong enough to sit out by that worthless dog, you’re strong enough to sit through a sermon!”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Woman at the Well

  As Sister Hannah halted the buggy beside a grove of pin oak trees that bordered a plain white church, Joy felt strange. She glanced at Chase, who was clean-shaven and wore the same clothes she had always seen him in, only freshly washed and pressed. She was wearing the blue dress that had belonged to Sister Hannah’s daughter. She felt strange about coming to church and wondered if Chase felt the same. He said nothing, however, as he braced himself against the jolts of the buggy and the dirt road.