by Lynne Hugo
Who did Gracia have right now but me?
I held her to my left side so she would hear my heartbeat. I thought maybe she’d remember her mother’s and be comforted that I was taking her place. I started thinking about Gracie’s mother, tried to imagine what could have brought her to leave her baby. Was it like Gary said, that she just needed some temporary help? The more I thought about it, the more questions I had, the more doubts. Gary said he didn’t know where the mother was. Wouldn’t a mother say where she’d be, or check on her baby? What kind of help had she come to him for, exactly? Would she disappear and not say where she was going? Was it possible that she’d abandoned Gracie? But then, wouldn’t Gary know that he had to call Gus?
Had Gary lied to us? And if he had, why? What wasn’t he telling us?
Gracie stirred in my arms. Her eyes opened and locked on mine. I gave her my forefinger to hold. She was wearing one of the dresses I’d bought her, white, embroidered with red strawberries. “Most impractical thing you coulda found,” Louisa announced when I showed it to her, trying to act like she is the sensible one, but I’d known how pretty it would look with her dark hair, and I’d been right, and I remind you Louisa has less fashion sense than Rosie and Marvelle combined. (You can throw in everything the chickens know about how to dress, too, and they all beat Louisa.) Gracie lay loosely folded in a new pink-and-white receiving blanket. I didn’t want her either overheated or chilled as she slept. I wanted everything perfect for her.
Louisa came into the living room then. “Good Lord,” I said. “What’s the deal?” She’d changed her clothes, but a blind woman could have done a better job of coordinating an outfit.
“Gus is taking me out to dinner. I can’t keep putting him off. He’ll think—well, I just came up with another story and he’s taking me out. I told him I’d meet him at the restaurant, and you don’t even want to know the reason I made up for that.”
“Oh, good job,” I said. “Um, you weren’t thinking of wearing that, were you?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Let me count the ways. And did you fix your hair with a blender? What happened to the style I taught you, the French twist with the sexy little strands around your face? Haul me out of this chair—be careful of Gracie, now—she’s just half awake, and I’ll fix you up. I figure I’ve got a solid fifteen minutes before she wants to eat.”
“Well, I need to leave in ten,” Louisa said. “I thought I looked pretty good.”
“I swear you do this to torture me, don’t you, Sister?”
* * *
When she’d left for her dinner with Gus, I fed Gracie on the couch, knowing I could get up from it unassisted, even holding her. Don’t laugh, it’s not as easy as you think. I played with her feet and tickled her belly lightly, which I already knew she loved, and watched how her eyes tracked Jessie when the Lab came to nose her. Marvelle, highly suspicious of both Jessie and Gracie, remained perched on the throne she’d created on the top of the wingback chair, with a disdainful expression. I read Gracie three of the baby books I’d bought, plus the one Gary brought, and showed her the pictures. “You’re very smart, aren’t you?” I said, sure that I could tell. When I saw her rubbing her eyes, I carried her to the back bedroom to change her for bed.
Louisa was so busy worrying about how her time and naps with Gus were derailed by Gracie that she wasn’t paying attention to the hole in her own son’s story. I wasn’t about to point it out. I could see that she was on the fence a bit now, alternating between threatening to kill Gary, and softening, finding Gracie adorable.
I sat on the bed to cuddle Gracie before I put her in the bassinet, but she wouldn’t settle down. She twisted and fussed a bit. Then I realized she was looking at Glitter Jesus, hanging directly across from us. I said, “Okay, I see what you mean.” Still holding her, I got up and took Gary’s artwork down. “I’m not sure Gary’s telling the truth, that’s the thing, Gracie. Is that bothering you, too? Do you know the real story?” I carried the picture across the room one-handed, and when I propped the picture up against the wall over toward the bathroom, bits of the glitter were still falling off.
“Don’t worry, my love,” I whispered to Gracie when I finally laid her in the bassinet now that she was quiet. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” She gave me a little smile, even though her eyes were at half-mast on their way to sleep. A bit of glitter was in her hair, and that was fine by me.
Chapter 15
Rosalina
She ended each day the same way in the dark after her prayers, amid the sighs, snores, and mutterings of the other women who slept there, with a sheet of words to cover her anxious mind. Rosalina did her rosary to herself, then mouthed the words, “Good night, my sweet baby. Mama loves you. God with you always.”
Her milk was drying up and the pain was nearly gone. It was a relief at work, where she was on her feet all day, but it made her sad, too, the physical connection to Gracia thinning, diminishing as time stretched, now late in the second week. The loss felt unendurable sometimes. She’d remind herself of her own father’s sacrifice to save her. But he’d been able to watch her grow, teach her respect and the love of Jesus. Surely that was better than nothing, which is what she’d have of her daughter when the milk was no more.
She was finally able to send some money home, and her father had word that she was safe. She’d not said anything about Gracia to him. Why add to the pain of his sending her away? She could do for him as he’d done for her.
Gary
He felt better after he talked to Gus at the station, even though he’d had to tell Gus more than he’d wanted to—like Rosalina’s name—but, Gary reasoned with himself, how was Gus supposed to find her if he didn’t even know her name? Of course, he’d had to have that much. It would be fine, and with all Gus’s professional training, he’d find Rosalina with practically no sweat, and then Gary would be able to explain that he just couldn’t keep Gracia, that she belonged with her mother. Definitely. For sure. He had it worked out in his head and felt like he was walking on God’s swept sidewalk again for a whole hour. Then, almost as soon as he got to his office in the church, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and was momentarily puzzled: Z Barnes, it read. Oh! Brother Zachariah! He didn’t know that Brother Zachariah even had his phone number, but it was fine that the preacher who’d Saved him did, for sure. And Gary answered the call.
“Gary! Brother Zachariah here,” the voice came through hearty, even forceful.
“Great to hear from you,” Gary said. He meant it.
“Doing the Lord’s work, I hear.”
“Why yes, Brother, I am. I was so inspired by your work I went and got myself ordained.” He sat at his desk, proud, wishing Brother Zachariah could see as well as hear him.
“Did you now.”
“I did.”
“Heard that, too.”
Gary was pleased, wondering if he was starting to be known as an evangelist. It was almost too much to hope for. “That’s great. Great. How did word get to you?”
“One of your members, she said she was, well, I guess she was in need of having the holy fire lit inside. Anyway, she was visiting her cousin in Couter County, and don’t you know, I’m doing a revival series there, big tent, don’t you know, got me a couple gospel singers and they add a real nice touch. Anyway, she came up answering the call to Jesus, all excited about it, too. Thought you’d be pleased to hear.” Gary was not. “Afterward, see, she mentioned she’d been comin’ to your church. So how’s it goin’?”
“It’s going pretty well, I’d say. I’d like it to grow faster, but like you told me before, the Lord will provide,” Gary said.
“Surprised you didn’t ask for some guidance about setting up a church. Disappointed.”
“. . . Oh. I didn’t know I was supposed to. I mean, I didn’t know you had one.”
Brother Zachariah’s voice turned soft and sad. “How long you think I been preaching?”
Gar
y had no idea. “A long time.”
“You imagine I’d know how this is rightly done?” Brother Zachariah’s voice was crimped by how he’d been slighted.
“Well, sure. Of course you know. I mean yes, definitely.”
“So how did you go about it?”
“I rented a barn and I fixed it up as a church. I talked to people that I knew went to your revival, and—” Gary could explain it all, but Brother Zachariah interrupted, indignant.
“I see. You grabbed people that I warmed up to Jesus and sweet-talked them into coming to you.”
“It wasn’t like that, Brother Zachariah. I got myself ordained. Like you.”
“Not like me, I assure you. You know anything ’bout establishing a church?”
“I just did it.” Did that sound prideful? “I did ask the Lord for guidance.”
“I see. So you takin’ tithes and donations?”
“Well, yes, I mean there’s rent on the barn and expenses to pay. And we’re small but we want to build a real church down the road someday, so we’re trying to set aside a little bit for that.”
“You registered with the authorities then, of course,” Brother Zachariah said.
“What authorities?”
“Brother Gary, you can’t be serious, askin’ me that question. You’re takin’ in money and not registered? You payin’ taxes? Renderin’ unto Caesar? Not that you have to, bein’ a nonprofit, unless you failed to file all the proper paperwork.”
“I didn’t think I . . .” Gary felt his face getting hot, like he’d done something wrong, but he didn’t know what.
“Oh, boy, you got yourself a heap a trouble. Don’t tell me you’re not proper with the authorities.”
“I didn’t know I had to . . .”
“See, I’d a thought you’d come to me. You got no idea what you’re doin’, do ya? No experience, just thought you could do it with no guidance. Now, I suppose I’m gonna have to clean this up since I’m the one that Saved you. You’re gonna have to pay the taxes and penalties, y’know, from not being registered proper. I’ll take care of the paperwork.”
Gary slumped back in his chair, suffused with relief. “I’d be grateful, Brother Zach. I should’ve come to you when I started up, I just—”
“Never mind. I’ll get you right with Caesar. You make sure you stay right with Jesus, y’hear? You figure up how much you’ve taken in, now, do you have that figure? I’ll find out what you owe—interest and penalties, see, and what your tax is—and get you registered right. You get the numbers for me.”
“I . . . Do you mean like right now?”
“Better get on this quick. Don’t wanna get shut down—”
Good Lord, Gary did not want to get shut down. He’d put everything into this church like a basket of hope that he’d finally picked up after leaving his son’s grave wearing the lead shoes of failure. He still wore those shoes, but having been Saved and starting his church was what gave him the strength to lift his feet enough to walk. He couldn’t ruin this, too. “Yes, right. Right now. I can look it up right now. I’ve got the records, see, we keep good records, we’re hoping to build someday if we get more people Saved and they donate, and—”
“Just look it up now, so I can get on with it.”
“But do you need totals of what we’ve spent, too? Because—”
Brother Zachariah clicked his tongue. Gary could see him, his hair that started out so high and neat it looked fixed in place, mostly green eyes that grew fiery bloodshot after hours of preaching, and the ripe apples of his cheeks then, too, the inspiring fervor of his shouting, whispering, blaming, blessing, arms waving down the Holy Spirit. The white suit he wore (which Gary had tried to copy when he held his own first revival, with white pants, heaven-blue shirt, and white tie, though he couldn’t begin to afford white patent shoes like Brother Zachariah’s so he’d settled for new white sneakers). Brother Zachariah made that clicking noise when he was disappointed, when someone was denying his sin. “Do you want the church to be Saved or don’t you?” he said now.
“Yes. I’m sorry I did wrong. Please help me,” Gary said. He’d learned not to deny it when he’d sinned, to ask for forgiveness.
“I’ll see what I can do. Maybe I can fix this. Get me the total amount you have taken in donations. I’ll be callin’ you back in thirty minutes.” And the connection went dead.
Gary did his best to get an accurate total, rummaging through the monthly receipts in his desk. His heartbeat was too fast, he felt sick and sweaty. How had he messed this up so badly? He had the sum ready for Brother Zachariah when the phone vibrated in his shirt pocket twenty-nine minutes later.
“Huh,” was all Brother Zachariah said. “I’ll let you know real soon what you owe, y’know, taxes and penalties, to stay open. Probably gonna need to be monthly payments. Might hafta take out a loan. Maybe I can cover and you pay me. Gotta keep the Lord’s door open.”
“I’d be so grateful,” Gary said. “Let me know as soon as you can how I make this right.”
After Brother Zachariah hung up, Gary laid his head down on his desk, told himself that he had to have faith. There were tears that wanted to come, but he sniffed them back and pressed his jaws together hard to hold them in. He absolutely had to go to his mother’s. He’d promised. More important, though, he had to make sure she’d let Gracia stay longer.
* * *
His mother was having a conniption. “Yes, son, Gracie is fine and such a good baby, but how much longer?” was what she said each time he either called or went to the house to check on things, and she didn’t pick today to give him a break from it. Recently he’d been pleased to see the portrait of Jesus on black velvet that he’d done for his mother back out in the living room, where Gary preferred it. His mother had hung it in the master bedroom a while back and explained it was because it was where she kept her memories of Harold and it was like saying Bless your heart. Gary guessed he couldn’t disagree with that, though he preferred it in the main room, to be seen all the time. Yesterday, it had been a bit crooked, which wouldn’t do, and when he’d straightened it on the wall, a little of the glitter from the halo had flaked off and fallen to the floor. He’d meant to bring some with him today to touch it up but had been upset by Brother Zachariah’s call and then concentrated on talking his mother into keeping Gracia longer and it had slipped his mind. He hoped Jesus wasn’t disappointed in him, his lack of attention, but then he thought that He would likely find the baby and the church more important and would forgive the oversight. God would be merciful about a small thing, too, having been merciful about Gary’s much larger transgression with Rosalina and, he hoped, this tax issue. Plus, there was always that thin line about a graven image, so it was best that he hadn’t put that first.
They were in the kitchen now, his mother and CarolSue having tea. Gary asked for coffee, which his mother had made him. The store-bought cookies were disappointing. He’d hoped for some of her homemade ones. She’d started baking again a while back, which he’d taken as a good Sign of something, though he wasn’t sure what.
“I’m working on finding her mother,” he said now, as he did pretty much every day. “Making progress. It’s what God wants.” He was fairly sure of that, even now, but he didn’t understand why God wasn’t helping him out more, because the truth was that he’d made no progress at all. Meaning that Gus hadn’t had a thing to report yet. It had put some doubt in Gary’s mind, and talking to his mother never diminished that.
“How can you be so sure?” she said again. “Maybe Gracia’s mother is a drug addict and God wants the baby in a safe, loving foster home. Which Gus can make sure is what happens.” She was relentless, even though he could tell she thought a lot of Gracia. But now, his mother never took her eyes away from his even when she took a drink of her tea, which was disconcerting. He let his eyes follow his hand to the cookie plate as a way not to look at her for a moment.
“It’s the sanctuary thing, the confidentiality, Mom. You woul
dn’t understand, but I have to do it this way. I’ll find her. I have to,” he said. “She belongs with a parent.” As soon as he said parent, Gary felt himself redden. He got up abruptly to hide it, went to the counter to pour himself more coffee. While he held the cup, he suddenly thought, If the church wasn’t real because it wasn’t registered, like Brother Zachariah said, then there was no sanctuary, and it was just plain old fornicating. But Brother Zachariah would make it retroactively a sanctuary, wouldn’t he?
“Louisa, we’re doing fine. The baby’s really no trouble.” This was becoming a pattern, Aunt CarolSue stepping in to help him. He didn’t really understand it entirely because he could see it was annoying his mother, but it was working for him so he sure wasn’t going to question it. In fact, he thought maybe it was a Sign that he was right, and finding Rosalina was what God wanted. Then, CarolSue pretty much confirmed that by what she said next.
“Really, Sister, Gary is the Reverend. I’m sure he knows how to handle these church matters better than we do. We can help out. I’ll take care of Gracie.” And then she’d tacked it on again, “She’s no trouble. And it’s something we can do to help Gary’s church work.”
“Well, you mean the baby isn’t changing your life all that much, but I was counting on . . .” She trailed off then, giving CarolSue The Look.
“Mom, if Aunt CarolSue is willing to take care of her, why do you mind?”