Billy (26 page)

B I L L Y /
111

Reverend Sims sits ba
c
k in his big chair behind the pulpit. His head is bowed and he's swaying with the Sunday music. Pat
c
h folks' hu ms and songs seem to float out from them and fill the air, deep slow sounds flow from shaded face
s
and gleami ng white teeth, then the
e
choing notes of hums and songs leave a chord of silen
c
e.

Reverend Sims remains sitting with his head bowed, then he rises and slowly walks up to the dark wood pulpit and stands looking out over the shadowy face
s
. This is his time, his Sunday morning, this is when the world is his, no
c
rows Hy, no demons in the sky
,
he is in his house of the Lord.

He speaks.

"Ah got somethin."

Silence, then he speaks again.

His words flow slowly. "Ah got
s
omethin ta say ta ya
,
got words for ya, got words Ah got
s
ta
s
ay.
"

He stops now, wipes the sweat from his forehead, th
e
n shakes his head before he begins again
. "
Ah got ta tell
ya
bad days are here. Bad days have come.
"

Now his voice is raspy, he twist and squeezes his word
s
, gets all the pure feeling out of them. "We seen th
e
fire
s
, seen em in the night, heard our children cry. Some of us w
e
r
e
beaten
, s
ome of us w
e
re . . . were . . . were dragged from our houses, dragged out into the night, drag
ge
d like animal
s.
Whipped and beat, dragged while the fires burned with flames of evil. Flames of evil
c
an burn you r flesh ri
g
ht off your bones. The devil ha
s
his ways, h
e c
an come into th
e
night and bring all his evil wit him.

"
His fires can bum the flesh, but not th
e s
oul. His sti
c
k
s ca
n beat your back, but not
y
our heait if it i
s
of the Lord. Th
e
Bibl
e
say, the words of Gos
ya . . . t
e
ll
s
everybod
y
. . . t h
e
llibl
e
say, 'The enemy that sowed th
e
m is the ;
th
e
harve
s
t i
s
th
e

112
I Albert French

end of
the world; ands the reapers . . .' Bible
say
the reapers,
yes, '
. . .
the reapers
will
be God's angels.' Jesus is comin. Ain't no man of the
earth can
tum Him around.
No
man. He's comin and ain't no fires
can
burn Him. Ain't no
sticks
that
can
hurt him. A in't no death that can
end
his life, ain't no
evil
that can
stand
up ta His love. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus will put the fires of
evil
out. Theys won't burn again."

Reverend Sims will go on now, his voice
will
crack through the hot sticky air, his hands will swing and draw pictures of his words he
speaks,
he will close his
eyes
and
scream
to the sky, but he will not stop
talking
about his God.

Patch dogs lay quiet in the morning
shade,
smoke
still
seeps from the burnt
wood
that was Gumpy's house.

Cinder lays beneath the light cover, her face flush against the feather-stuffed pillow, her eye closed, but
she's
not asleep. They had yanked and dragged her through the dark, jerked her back when
she
screamed and reached for Billy. She could hear Billy's
screams,
see him in the dark reaching for her and being
yanked
away by the big man that dragged him along the Catfish Creek until they
reached
the
road
where the bridge is, then the
car came wit h
its lights
shining
into the night. She'd lunged for Billy as the
y
threw him in the
car,
bu t
she
was shoved away, then pushed to the
ground, as
the car disappeared into the dark.
She just
laid beside the road until the man who
called
her by her
mother's
name took her
in
his
arms,
tal ked to her i n
a way she
never knew.

He brought her home,
carried
her up through the Patch paths, past the flames
of
Gumpy's house, until
she
was home and in Katey's care. Then he ru bbed her hair, whispered something she
cou
ld
not hear, then
vanished
in the night. Katey took her into the house, laid her
on the
bed, and held her while
she shook.

B I L L Y
I 113

Now the sunlight nips at her eyes, she winces and buries her face deeper in the pillow. Katey has come to her again, sits
at
her side, and rubs her hand across her shoulders, but does not speak, does not say words, knowing nothing can be said.

Time cannot move from Cinder,
she
will not let it move, she reaches for it and grabs it and won't let it go, won't let it move, keeps asking what it will not tell, twisting her feelings beyond any words and asking again, but nothing comes to her mind, nothing, not even Katey's words now, that plead
with
her to put it in the hands of her God,
"Take
it ta Him,"
she's
sayin, "take it to Him, child," but her words
can't
get into the dark corners of Cinder's skull, where her mind has curled into despair.

Jenny Curran is home. It is the first Sunday that
she will
not hurry up and eat, finagle her way out of her
chores, then
beg
,
sneak, or just run over her fields, and
cross
the hard road to Cousin Lori's house. She was afraid last night, everything moved in her darkness, shook her when it did, everything keeps happening again. Lori keeps falling to the ground
with
blood on her, Lori keeps looking up at her,
she
keeps
seeing
herself running across the field, keeps seeing the
coffin
being carried into Lori's house.

Jenny is not up yet, but her eyes are
open.
She does not want to close them again, look again at the faces in her night. Her mother's with her, has been with her
all
through the night. She sits on her bed and looks into her
eyes
and
asks
softly, "Jenny, Jenny,
you
want Mommy to
get you some
mi lk
?
You want some milk? Maybe
some cookies too?"

Jenny does not
come
out of her
stillness.

"Honey, you wan t Mommy to
get
anything for
you'?"
Jenny's eyes remai n
still and she
is
silent.

114 I Albert French

Her mother
sighs and
looks away and
stares.
She thinks of Lori and
shudders,
thinks it could have been Jenny and
shakes,
then turns back to Jenny, takes the
cover
down, and pulls her u p into her arms.

Jenny's father's
standing
at the doorway, he is quiet, just
stands
and looks, then
with
a sigh he
whispers,
"How is
she?" "She's
woke, she just ain't sayin anything,
she
won't talk
,
"
Jenny's mother whispers. "I don't know
what
to do, she shook
all
night, screamed in her sleep. I don't know what to do. She talked some
yesterday,
they
said she
talked to Sheriff Tom for a good while. I just don't know
what
to do." Jenny's mother's voice is fading, her father takes
a
deep breath, then whispers, "She'll be all right, she got to have her time,
work

it out her way."

Jenny's mother turns and looks
at the sunlight coming
through the
window,
then quietly
and without words
thanks her God for her
child's
life.

Ginger Pasko did not sleep at all,
she would
not leave Lori's
side,
Red Pasko
sat
with her.

Marcus Warden did more
than
he usually
would, and
did it with the
grace of
an angel
of
the night.
He prepared Lori, em
balmed her, washed the
blood
from her,
combed
her hair, then placed her in the
coffin wi th the white dress
her mother picked out. Then he
put a
little
makeup on her cheeks and
patted her face until it took the
shape of peace,
folded her hands beneath her breast. He had
worked quietly,
then
pre sented
Lori to her mother and
father for approval.
It
was
th
en
that he sighed, bowed his head, and
left without a sound or
farewell.

David had made
coffee
for his mother and father
and
placed it in their reach. It is
cold
now, the
cups
are
still
full.
It
ha
s
not been touched.