Durant. Is that how Baptists do things?”
“I didn’t mean anything forward, Ma’am.” He took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. “I could give you a Bible. I have some extras. I mean, I notice you don’t carry one about.”
“Oh, gosh.” She put her finger on her lips and made small circles. “Hmmm.” She pulled her shoulders back. “Gosh, I don’t know, Preacher Durant.”
“Please, call me Foster.” His voice mouse-squeaked. He was even sillier when his face turned blotchy-pink. “We honor the Lord mornings and evenings on Sundays, then Wednesdays with a family supper, and there’s a Bible studying group that meets every other Saturday.”
“People go to church all those times? My lord. Are you kidding me?” She put her hand on his chest and pushed at him. Without looking at me, she asked, “Virginia Kate, what do you think? Should we come back to this church with this friendly preacher-man?”
He mopped his face and stared at Momma.
I didn’t trust shiny men. “No, Ma’am.” I hoped she wouldn’t get mad at me, but I had to tell the truth when it felt important enough.
“We’ll think about it, Preacher Foster.” She turned her back on him, grabbed my hand, and called to Micah.
Micah was busy touching a painting that showed a bunch of people drowning in the water, holding their hands up to a boat with their mouths open, their eyes big and scared. Micah’s eyes were closed like he was blind as he felt the painting. He pretended he didn’t hear Momma.
She went over, pulled his sleeve, and we marched on out.
Outside, Daddy was listening to an old man who wore a suit that was too big for him. We walked up in time to hear him say, “Yeah, I got the ’ritis and the gout something fierce. Sometimes cain’t get out of bed.”
“That’s terrible.” Daddy patted my head when I stood beside him. He still held Andy, who was asleep again, missing everything.
The old man pea-eyed Momma up and down. He noticed me and tried to hunker to my level. “Look at you, all dressed up.”
I wrinkled my nose. Micah ran over by our Rambler and picked up rocks to put in his pockets so he wouldn’t have to smell the old man’s breath.
“You like church, little lady?”
I put my hand over my nose and said, “No, Sir.”
The old man laughed, turned back to Momma, opened up his mouth, and let a million words fall out. “Jeremiah here. Born in Oregon and left when I was a little mite, been in two wars, married a good woman like you and then lost her to the cancer ten years gone by. Been in West-By-God-Virginia since 1932!” He horse-tooth grinned.
“Hello, Jeremiah.” Momma leaned over and kissed him right at his mouth, her hand held on to his shoulder so he wouldn’t keel over. I looked back at Preacher Foster Durant. He stared at Momma, his handkerchief just a-going on his big shiny face.
Daddy laughed when Jeremiah said, “Oh my!”
“Well, Jeremiah, my kids are hungry and tired of church,” Momma said.
We all jumped into the car, and Daddy drove off. I turned around in my seat and saw Jeremiah standing right still, touching his lips as if he was under a spell. Preacher Foster Durant held his Bible, his spell with Momma shining up his face.
Back in the holler, Daddy took pictures of us kids before we tore off our clothes. Then we ate roast, potato salad, deviled eggs, and lemon icebox pie. After that, we had our first ever Easter egg hunt. We just never thought to do it before. Daddy gave us each a basket full of Peeps, chocolate bunnies, and jellybeans. We poured it all out on our beds so we’d have a place to put the eggs we found. Daddy and Momma sat on a blanket under the maple and drank blackberry wine. It was a strange and good day.
The next week, Daddy gave me a picture of us. Micah made a frame for it out of Popsicle sticks. He glued our picture to it and used more sticks on the back to make it stand up. On the bottom of the frame, he wrote his name in a way he thought
“I didn’t mean anything forward, Ma’am.” He took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. “I could give you a Bible. I have some extras. I mean, I notice you don’t carry one about.”
“Oh, gosh.” She put her finger on her lips and made small circles. “Hmmm.” She pulled her shoulders back. “Gosh, I don’t know, Preacher Durant.”
“Please, call me Foster.” His voice mouse-squeaked. He was even sillier when his face turned blotchy-pink. “We honor the Lord mornings and evenings on Sundays, then Wednesdays with a family supper, and there’s a Bible studying group that meets every other Saturday.”
“People go to church all those times? My lord. Are you kidding me?” She put her hand on his chest and pushed at him. Without looking at me, she asked, “Virginia Kate, what do you think? Should we come back to this church with this friendly preacher-man?”
He mopped his face and stared at Momma.
I didn’t trust shiny men. “No, Ma’am.” I hoped she wouldn’t get mad at me, but I had to tell the truth when it felt important enough.
“We’ll think about it, Preacher Foster.” She turned her back on him, grabbed my hand, and called to Micah.
Micah was busy touching a painting that showed a bunch of people drowning in the water, holding their hands up to a boat with their mouths open, their eyes big and scared. Micah’s eyes were closed like he was blind as he felt the painting. He pretended he didn’t hear Momma.
She went over, pulled his sleeve, and we marched on out.
Outside, Daddy was listening to an old man who wore a suit that was too big for him. We walked up in time to hear him say, “Yeah, I got the ’ritis and the gout something fierce. Sometimes cain’t get out of bed.”
“That’s terrible.” Daddy patted my head when I stood beside him. He still held Andy, who was asleep again, missing everything.
The old man pea-eyed Momma up and down. He noticed me and tried to hunker to my level. “Look at you, all dressed up.”
I wrinkled my nose. Micah ran over by our Rambler and picked up rocks to put in his pockets so he wouldn’t have to smell the old man’s breath.
“You like church, little lady?”
I put my hand over my nose and said, “No, Sir.”
The old man laughed, turned back to Momma, opened up his mouth, and let a million words fall out. “Jeremiah here. Born in Oregon and left when I was a little mite, been in two wars, married a good woman like you and then lost her to the cancer ten years gone by. Been in West-By-God-Virginia since 1932!” He horse-tooth grinned.
“Hello, Jeremiah.” Momma leaned over and kissed him right at his mouth, her hand held on to his shoulder so he wouldn’t keel over. I looked back at Preacher Foster Durant. He stared at Momma, his handkerchief just a-going on his big shiny face.
Daddy laughed when Jeremiah said, “Oh my!”
“Well, Jeremiah, my kids are hungry and tired of church,” Momma said.
We all jumped into the car, and Daddy drove off. I turned around in my seat and saw Jeremiah standing right still, touching his lips as if he was under a spell. Preacher Foster Durant held his Bible, his spell with Momma shining up his face.
Back in the holler, Daddy took pictures of us kids before we tore off our clothes. Then we ate roast, potato salad, deviled eggs, and lemon icebox pie. After that, we had our first ever Easter egg hunt. We just never thought to do it before. Daddy gave us each a basket full of Peeps, chocolate bunnies, and jellybeans. We poured it all out on our beds so we’d have a place to put the eggs we found. Daddy and Momma sat on a blanket under the maple and drank blackberry wine. It was a strange and good day.
The next week, Daddy gave me a picture of us. Micah made a frame for it out of Popsicle sticks. He glued our picture to it and used more sticks on the back to make it stand up. On the bottom of the frame, he wrote his name in a way he thought
Similar Books
