by M. E. Kerr
Mum was making macaroni and cheese in the kitchen for dinner. We’d brought Brother Dudley back from The Hand to eat with us, and turned on the TV to watch Guy Pegler while we were waiting for Mum to get everything ready.
“Opal here’s seeing his son,” said Daddy.
“I’m not seeing him much,” I said.
“She’s got a date with him,” said Daddy.
“So you said, so you said,” Brother Dudley answered. “My own little girl married herself a salesman of sporting goods, moved over to Buffalo, New York.”
“So you said,” Daddy said. He was wearing the black coat with the silver lining I liked best of his coats, had his gray tie loosened.
“My little girl and her husband received The Power shortly after meeting, both at the same time, both slain in the spirit, reeling around like a pair of drunks it was such ecstasy.”
“The ecstasy of the spirit,” said Daddy. Brother Dudley would shout it when he was healing: “The ecstasy of the spirit!”
I sat on the couch hugging a pillow, pushing my cuticles back to bring up my moons, and waiting for Mum to call in to me for help. She never did like anybody in her kitchen with her first thing when we got back from The Hand Sunday mornings. She was in there singing “God Bless America” very softly, rattling plates and pulling out the table leaves.
Daddy and Brother Dudley had their eyes fixed to the TV, and I was looking at it too, without seeing it, my thoughts running wild. I was thinking about Bobby John’s secret meetings with Diane-Young. He’d say he was off to a Prayer-and-Share meeting down to Riverhead, then drive off to meet her somewhere.
“They did her over, Opal,” he told me, “getting her ready for the Winning Rally. She don’t look the same and’s all painted like the Devil’s lady. She don’t talk the same, says I don’t have an idea in my head except what’s good and bad, says I can’t ever come up with an in between.”
“In between is Satan’s wedge,” I told him. “So Daddy says.”
“So Daddy says.”
He was going through a torment, I could tell, but he was still the only one I could talk to about being scared to go on my date with Jesse. I’d tell him boy was Jesse Pegler going to be sorry he ever asked me, because even if I did get my moons up, the rest of me was wanting, and I’d look so awful Jesse Pegler’d like to die carting me around. If I’d have told Daddy that, he’d lecture me on vanity, quote me Acts XIV: 15, and if I’d have told Mum that, she’d say I was pretty as a picture and Jesse Pegler’d be proud to walk out with me anywhere. But Bobby John knew what I meant, said them and us was from two different worlds, and sometimes he got to thinking we wasn’t the smart ones, they was; they had all the ideas.
Last night I kicked the covers off trying to sleep in the heat, and thinking about The Rapture. Daddy was saying it was coming, he felt it, and Brother Dudley was agreeing, saying, “Yes, it’s on its way,” while Daddy talked about a golden day going to be here before we knew it.
When Mum kissed me good night in my room, I asked her when she thought it’d come, this month, this year? Would it come after the Soaking?
Mum said, “Oh, honey, it don’t matter when, your Daddy’s so worried about a lot of things, he wants it badly because we’ll get our great reward then.”
“I just wish the Soaking wasn’t the same night as The Last Dance,” I said, “and sometimes I think Daddy planned it that way.”
“Daddy didn’t plan it, Brother Dudley did. And you got to make it to the Soaking, Opal,” she said.
“I will. I said I would.”
“You just pretend you’re Cinderella at that dance and you’re going to leave it before your coach turns into a pumpkin, hear?”
“I said I would.”
“Daddy can’t be asking folks to come if his own family don’t support it. You got half the evening to dance, and then you come down to us.”
“I said I would, I said I would, I said I would. But I hate it. A lot. First time I ever got asked anywhere important and I can’t even stay to the end.”
“Anything happens at The Hand’s more important than anything happens where you’re going.”
“I’m not telling them where I’m going, either. That’s all they’d need to hear. Opal Ringer’s leaving The Last Dance to go to a Soaking! They’d never let me forget that one. I can hear them all now: Where’d Opal go? Oh, Opal had to go to a Soaking.”
“Opal Ringer,” said Mum, “you think about them too much. You think they think about you? You think about them but they don’t think about you, so now you’re lopsided, honey. You got to straighten yourself out.”
“I know it.”
Then I said, “What’s ecstasy, Mum?”
“Ecstasy is what we’re going to feel when The Rapture comes.”
“But I looked it up in the dictionary, and rapture is ecstasy and ecstasy is rapture. I still don’t know what it really means.”
“They’re words, honey. Words can’t always say what things really mean.”
“That’s why they say it’s unspeakable joy, I guess.”
“If you get hot in here, you go down to the living room,” Mum said, “sleep on the couch. You don’t have enough breeze in here to lift lint off the windowsill. I’ll tell you something, honey,” she said, standing in the doorway, “there’s a lot going on in your head coming up from your heart. It’s like foreigners meeting and they don’t speak the same language. They will, as you get older, but right now don’t tire yourself trying to get all the answers.”
For a time I lay in the dark singing to myself in a whisper, knowing how I’d sound if I would let the door of my heart come bursting open, come with a great light, lifting my words: O Love divine, what hast Thou done! … Joy—bells ringing in your heart, joy bells ringing in your heart.
When I did get to sleep, I saw the speck turn into me again, and felt the glow, and in the dream I told myself it wasn’t a dream, that it was really real, then woke up sweating, a little of the glow left. It was like an old friend coming back, not to stay maybe, just to let me know there it was again.
“Opal,” Daddy said, “stop mauling the pillow and go in and help your Mum!” He snapped off the TV. The show was over. He told Brother Dudley he had some praying to do, said help yourself to the Sunday paper or whatever you got in mind.
Brother Dudley had out a nail file, nodded, said, “I stopped reading the newspapers when I found Jesus, there’s so little of Him anywhere in them. Don’t worry about me, Royal.”
In the kitchen, Mum was cutting up leftover ham she’d brought down from the von Hennigs’ last night, tossing it into the macaroni casserole.
I peeked into the bag the ham came out of and said, “What they throw out anyone could eat for a week on.”
“Praise God,” Mum said, “and thanks to them there’s some real good licorice candy in there, Opal. There’s cake I’ll take to The Hand to have with coffee Wednesday night, cut it up in little pieces. Honey, have yourself some of that good licorice.”
“It’s you likes licorice.”
“I don’t care one way or the other.”
“With all the Good & Plenty you eat?”
“I just like the name,” Mum said.
Then Daddy started praying from in his room, same as he always did Sunday mornings, loud enough for the cat to hear sleeping way out on the roof of the van, even though Brother Dudley was right there in our living room.
“There he goes,” I groaned.
“He’s got every right,” Mum said.
What bothered me wasn’t his praying aloud. It was what he prayed about. It was like on Sundays he just got everything off his chest about us, told the Lord things he never told us face to face. We had to listen to all the things we’d done (no way we couldn’t hear every blessed word) that sat heavy on his head like a basket of wet wash.
Doing it with Brother Dudley in the next room was like going to the toilet with the door open, in front of company.
Right away he star
ted in on me, too.
“… and I pray, Lord, that my daughter, Opal, will cast her eyes away from this godless astrology she’s got herself interested in, to go to some dinner party or other. Let Your light shine on her, revealing the true stars in Your heavenly sky! Lead her to Your side at our Soaking, fill her with Your love at our Soaking, so she will know the only true dancing is dancing in the spirit, in Your name, never mind last dancing and last dances. Only the Lord has the last dance!”
I got so mad I began slamming dishes down on the table, while I was helping Mum set up for lunch.
Mum put her hand on my wrist to stop me making so much noise, said, “He don’t mean it.”
“He means it. He begrudges me anything everyone else does.”
“He don’t begrudge you it, he just don’t want your head so turned, not by those people.”
“… and forgive me the sin of envy,” Daddy continued. “I should have known better than your servant Guy Pegler how Willard loved that dog. I should have listened, and for not listening now I have the sin of envy. Someone else was rewarded for an act of kindness I did not extend!”
“I told him he should have took that dog,” I said to Mum.
“Honey, don’t be hard on him. We would have found Yellow a home. Willard wasn’t dead yet. Don’t you see how Guy Pegler’s squeezing the breath out of your daddy? Takes his healing, takes Willard’s money, and his son takes you off.”
“I’m still here far as I know,” I said.
“Lord, don’t let me be too impatient with Bobby John, and forgive me for losing my temper over his stupid idea to bring Guy Pegler to a memorial service for Willard, for if that is Your wish, so be it. Seems like we’re hurting too bad at The Hand for such turn-the-other-cheek ventures as carting Pegler down to a small service in Willard’s memory, but Bobby John never was one to think past his nose, how well I know it!”
“At least Bobby John got his way for once,” I said to Mum.
“Let up on your daddy, honey. He means well.”
We had the ice cubes in the water glasses by the time he got to her.
“… and Jesus, help Arnelle fight Satan’s gluttony so’s she can sing Your praises once again before our humble flock, guide her from—”
“Gluttony?” Mum said, her face bright red.
“Shoe’s on the other foot now,” I said.
The memorial service for Willard Peyton was set for noon on the day of The Last Dance.
Daddy was letting Bobby John be in charge of it, since Daddy had other fish to fry. Fried them right across from St. Luke’s church, a moment after the noon whistle blew.
Mrs. Bunch had closed down to go to the service, and I’d decided to catch the bus back to Hog Creek Road from Main Street, so I could pass by St. Luke’s and see them getting ready for the dance.
I didn’t know anything about Daddy’s plans. I was walking along thinking about how people in that town brought clothes in for cleaning that weren’t even dirty, trousers with the creases still in them, and blouses wrinkled from being tucked in, but spotless. That’s what amazed me. I was trying not to think too much about that night, and me being with all the ones who took clean clothes in to be cleaned, but feeling the little leap in my heart when I got to the churchyard and saw the workers setting up everything. They were hoisting up a huge red-white-and-blue-striped tent, with a wooden platform for dancing. Women were cutting honeysuckle branches from bushes on the ground, and men were stringing Japanese lanterns from tree to tree.
The noon whistle gave me this punch of shock, it sounded so loud. I was recovering from that jump to my insides when I heard Daddy’s voice, big as all outdoors, and twice as powerful.
“SINNERS? WHERE ARE YOU GOING TONIGHT, AND WHEN YOU GET THERE, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, AND WHEN YOU DO IT, WHAT IS IT GOING TO MEAN?
“IF YOU’RE COMING TO THE HELPING HAND TABERNACLE, WHEN YOU GET THERE YOU’RE GOING TO PRAY, YOU’RE GOING TO BE HEALED, YOU’RE GOING TO RECEIVE CHRIST AS YOUR PERSONAL SAVIOR, YOU’RE GOING TO FEEL THE POWER … AND IT’S GOING TO MEAN YOU’RE NEW, YOU’RE SAVED, YOU’RE SAFE, YOU MADE IT, YOU’RE BORN AGAIN!”
Everyone around me just froze, same as I did.
I could see the van parked across the street, speakers up on the roof.
“SINNERS? WHERE ARE YOU GOING TONIGHT, WHO ARE YOU GOING WITH, WHO ARE YOU GOING TO SEE?
“OH, I GOT OTHER PLANS, YOU SAY, I HAVEN’T GOT TIME TO GET SAVED, YOU SAY, I’D GET SAVED, YOU SAY, IF I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO SOMEWHERE FOR A PARTY, YOU SAY, IF I COULD ONLY GET AWAY, YOU SAY, IF I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO TO A DANCE, YOU SAY, IF I COULD ONLY SQUEEZE THE LORD JESUS CHRIST INTO MY SCHEDULE, YOU SAY, AND YOU ARE DAMNED!”
“Royal Ringer,” a woman near me said to another, and she laughed.
“It’s not funny. It’s disgusting,” said the other woman. “It’s disgraceful!”
“YOU NEED TO COME TO THE TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR SOAKING AT THE HELPING HAND TABERNACLE, YOU NEED TO BE SOAKED WITH THE SPIRIT, YOU NEED TO BE SOAKED WITH LOVE, YOU NEED TO BE SOAKED WITH LIGHT, YOU NEED TO BE SOAKED WITH GLORY! YOU NEED, YOU NEED, YOU NEED JESUS! YOU NEED JESUS!”
“I don’t need this,” someone said.
I didn’t either, and I walked away fast, breaking into a run, finally heading down Main with Daddy’s voice chasing me: “YOU NEED, YOU NEED, YOU NEED, YOU NEED JE-SUS! I SAID JE-SUS. I SAID JE-SUS CHRIST YOUR LORD AND SAVIOR!”
By the time I got home, the Seaville Police had made Daddy stop, said Seaville had a noise ordinance. Mum said when it came to Daddy they had a noise ordinance; what about all the noise every Sunday morning, traffic pouring in for It’s Up to You, horns going, what about all that noise?
I was so down in the dumps I was hardly hearing her rave, sitting in my rocker in my room, rocking my body, rocking my head from side to side like I was watching a tennis match and not just feeling the shame of being me, hugging my arms in my undies.
Mum finally took notice of my condition, said, “You been waiting for tonight all your life, now look at you. Face down to the floor like you was going to a funeral.”
“You don’t know anything,” I said. “Daddy downtown calling everyone sinners through loudspeakers, and I got to face the whole bunch of them tonight.”
“Daddy’s got a right.”
“You always take his side,” I said.
“It’s Daddy’s business to call people sinners, honey. That’s the business Daddy’s in.”
“I got to face the whole bunch of them and I’m the only one can’t wear a hat.”
“Confounded be all they that serve graven images, the Bible says.”
“Pisces isn’t a graven image,” I said, “it’s a sign of the zodiac. I’m going to be the only one there without a hat. Why don’t the Bible say something about that?”
“Hush now. Shush! You should be counting your blessings right now, not looking for the hole in the doughnut.”
“I know it,” I said, “but seems like I never will be one of them, not even for one little night.”
“I love the way Jesus’ eyes is always following you in this room,” said Mum, looking at the picture Bobby John gave me. “I’d rather belong to Jesus any day than belong to that crowd.”
“I don’t know as we got a choice,” I said.
“I tell you what, honey!” Mum said. “Play your radio, and bring out everything you’re going to wear, and what we’ll have is a dress rehearsal. Now, what are you going to wear? Let’s get it all out on the bed.”
“My lemon-yellow dress,” I said. “Oh, Mum, I’m real scared.”
“Nothing to be scared about. Get that dress out, honey.” She snapped on the radio. “When he comes, I’ll answer the door and then you’ll come down. That’s how it’s done.”
“When I hear that doorbell,” I said, getting out of my rocker, “I’m going to climb right into my bed and pull the covers over my head!”
There was a sweet song coming through the radio. Mum was laughing. “You’re going to
wait right up here until I shout up at you, ‘Your young man’s here, Opal!’”
The color came to my neck and spread up across my face. “You shout he’s my young man up to me and I’ll never come down!” I said. “Now, I swear I won’t, Mum! You got to promise me you won’t shout nothing like that up those stairs!”
She was giggling and getting me to giggling, when the song coming through the radio stopped in the middle, and the announcer said there was a bulletin.
“A bulletin!” Mum said.
“… repeat, a bulletin,” the announcer said. “Dr. Guy Pegler has been abducted by an unknown kidnaper. Dr. Guy Pegler has been—”
“What’s abducted?” I said.
Mum said, “Shhh! Listen!”
“… while he was on his way from a local church service. The Pegler family was informed he’s being held hostage. There are no other details at this moment.”
“Honey,” Mum said, “we got to get down on our knees.”
Twelve
JESSE PEGLER
THE MORNING OF THE last dance, my mother and Seal and I worked on ACORN applications.
When Mrs. Davison, our housekeeper, announced that lunch would be served in fifteen minutes, my mother said, “Seal, honey, you’ll stay for a bite to eat, won’t you? Donald’s staying.”
“I can’t,” Seal said. She was working in white short shorts, and a yellow cotton sweater the color of her hair, with a thin belt around it. “Dickie and I are going to work on our hats, so I’m having lunch at the Clowards’.”
“Are you up to all that excitement?” I said. I’d intended to sound cool, but my voice cracked midsentence. I think Seal noticed how weird I sounded, because she didn’t zing me back.
“You go along, dear,” said my mother. “You worked with Diane-Young yesterday, didn’t you? How’s she coming?”
“She’s finally got the removable braces,” Seal said, unwinding her long, tan legs, getting to her feet, “but the contact lenses aren’t working. They irritate her eyes. She’ll have to go back to her regular glasses.”