TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1984
My father invited me to lunch, and because it would be uninterrupted time without my mother, I agreed to meet him at a restaurant after his hospital visits. In the meantime, I started to write Jesse a letter three times and crumpled the paper each time, knowing I needed to talk face-to-face.
I called work and checked in with the counseling center to make sure they had gotten my message and that all my appointments were covered. “Kristin is taking Dantrelle this afternoon,” I said.
“She mentioned that to me,” Carl Sheets said. He directed the center and was good-hearted, though a bit scattered. We all worked for little pay, but there was a sense that we were really making a difference in the community, the city, and individuals’ lives.
“Do you have a better timetable of how long you’ll need to be away?” Carl said.
“I’m trying to help a friend I met when I was a kid,” I said. “She’s getting married Saturday.”
“I see. Well, we can cover for a few days, but I’d like you back as soon as possible. Do you think by the end of the week, or do you need to stay for the wedding?”
“End of the week is fine. I’ll hash this out by then.”
I met my father at a steak house off the interstate that overlooked the valley. The silverware was thin and the forks bent and the foil-wrapped potatoes were chewy, but the steak was edible if I doused it with enough A.1. sauce. The meal reminded me of dinners with Kristin and I shoved those thoughts away. One of the servers recognized my father and greeted him. He introduced me to her and we shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.
“Your daddy has helped a lot of people at his church. I hope you know that,” she said.
I nodded and smiled. When she left, my father leaned closer.
“Years ago her mother dropped her off at the youth group. The girl was a mess. The whole family was. But something happened. God got hold of her heart and the mom noticed and she started coming. Now that whole family is changed. It’s the power of the gospel you’re looking at right over there.”
“I’m surprised Blackwood allows teenagers in the church that aren’t in his circle.”
My dad speared a piece of steak and pointed it at me in thought. “You know, you should speak with the teenagers at church someday. Tell them what you do now.” Even while he was speaking, he seemed to regret suggesting it.
“You didn’t comment on Blackwood.”
He wiped his face with a napkin from a dispenser on the table. “Every pastor has a thorn in the flesh. I have Basil Blackwood. He’s my Diotrephes.”
“Your who?”
“Third epistle of John. The man was a rabble-rouser. Had to have everything his own way and tossed people he didn’t like out of the church.”
“Did he promise a parsonage and renege on it?”
My father chewed his steak and took a sip of soda. “I’ve tried to look at Basil as God’s way of keeping me humble. I’ve had to bite my tongue so many times I’m surprised I have one left.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have bitten it. Maybe you should stand up to him.”
“I think trying to get along with him and keeping peace is one way to show I’m taking God’s Word seriously. As far as it depends on me, I will try to live with everybody. I know you don’t agree with that—”
“I agree we should get along with people. But there’s a time to take a stand. To grab a sling and some smooth stones.”
He smiled at my Old Testament reference. “So I assume you’re going to talk with Jesse before you head back to Chicago?”
“That’s my plan.”
“Well, there’s a bridal shower tonight. I doubt you’re going to crash that party.” When I didn’t answer, he said, “Matt, if you don’t mind my asking, where are you with the Lord?”
I put the steak knife down and stared at my plate. “I suppose I’m where I’ve been for a long time. And he doesn’t seem to have moved much either.”
He tried to smile, seemingly unable to come up with a follow-up. We finished our meal and walked toward the parking lot.
“You know what I think?” he said, a hand on my shoulder. “God is at work. Even though we’re imperfect, he still uses us. And he’s using you, Son.”
By Tuesday evening every relative and church member within thirty miles had heard of my return. My mother said Uncle Willy had asked to see me and I told her I would stop by his house before I left.
I took a walk after dinner on the hill where Dickie, Jesse, and I had roamed. The old fire pit was still there with rocks circling it in a tangle of growth. I kicked at a tent peg driven too deep. It felt like a lifetime ago.
I looked out over the little town and wondered where Jesse was and what kind of presents she was opening. If there was anyone on the planet who deserved a bridal shower, it was her.
I heard the rumble of an engine through the trees and made my way down. A red pickup sat near the lamp at the end of the walk and someone stood next to it, speaking to my father.
I could have waited but something told me I should face this trouble. As I passed what was left of my grandfather’s barn, I heard the nasal whine of Earl Turley.
“And you know better than I do what he’s up to, Pastor,” Earl said, jabbing a finger in my father’s face. “I’m a peaceful man. But he was at the store to see her. I’m not leaving till I have a word with him.”
“Earl, I told you, he left a bit ago. I don’t know where he went, but I do know—”
“Dad,” I yelled from the barn. “I got this.”
My father’s shoulders slumped as if he had hoped I would stay away. Earl stepped back, his hands on his hips, sizing me up. He no longer suffered from a lack of height or muscle, but he had the same red hair and light complexion. He wore a buttoned work shirt with his name over the pocket and steel-toed shoes, and I guessed he worked on cars by the grease on his hands.
“Why are you getting into our business this close to the wedding?” Earl said, holding his head back like a snake ready to strike.
I reached out a hand but he just looked at it. The memory of the picnic came back to me and my nose throbbed with phantom pain.
“Why don’t we go inside and talk?” my father said. “Earl, my wife made some apple pie for dessert. Would you—?”
“I ain’t hungry. And if you’ll excuse us, Pastor, I think this is something the two of us need to work out.”
My father glanced at me as if asking permission to leave.
“Earl’s right.”
My father walked away and closed the screen door quietly behind him. I moved toward Earl’s truck, leaning against the bed, noticing the shotgun mounted on the inside of the cab window. A squirrel tail hung limp from the radio antenna.
“First of all, I didn’t come back to make trouble.”
“Your intentions don’t matter. You’re making trouble. That’s the point.”
“There’s history between Jesse and me.”
“And that history is over,” Earl said. “The page is turned. She don’t want nothing to do with you. She told me that. You think I didn’t ask her?”
I cocked my head.
“Everybody knowed you was sweet on Jesse. The way you and Dickie hung around her.” Earl looked down. He didn’t seem as menacing. “She told me she had feelings when you two was kids. She felt sorry for you.”
“She felt sorry for me?”
“You was fat and had big ears and didn’t have no friends. And you were a preacher’s son. So you had two strikes. And you were a Pirates fan.”
“That was the third strike.”
“That was a wild pitch,” Earl said, grinning. It wasn’t a bad dig, I had to admit.
“You was nice to her,” Earl continued. “You was one of the only people who showed kindness. I thank you for that. I know she appreciated your family.”
“I was a lot nicer than you,” I said, my voice edgy.
He pawed at the gravel with one foot. “I won’t argue with that. I ain’t proud of a lot of things I said and did. To her and others. I’ve turned over a new leaf, though.”
“That’s a big leaf to lift by yourself.”
“I didn’t lift it on my own.” Earl looked up at me. “I love that girl. I love everything about her. And I want to give her a different life than the one she’s had. She never got dealt a full hand and the cards she did have were twos and threes. Nobody should go through what she did.”
“You’ve got no argument from me there.”
“But you coming back, when her future is right there in front of her, when we’ve got all these plans—that ain’t fair. Not for her. Not for me.”
“How did you two get over your . . . differences? There was history between you, and none of it was good.”
“That ain’t none of your business. But I’ll tell you anyway. And you should know that your daddy is the one who brought us together.”
That revelation sent my stomach churning. “And how did that happen?”
“I always thought church was something you did, like paying union dues. My daddy treated it the same as Blackwood—a country club you joined for all the privileges. After he died, Blackwood stepped up and helped us out. He became like my own daddy. So I followed his lead. Somewhere along the line, I took a hard look in the mirror. I saw the man I’d become.”
If this had been a play, I would have easily been able to deliver the next line. In a dramatic production, you feed off the emotion of the other actors, take their intensity and volley it. You use the onstage chemistry, love or hate or indifference. I felt something genuine coming from Earl, but before I could respond with something snappy, he continued.
“Your daddy was preaching one Sunday about forgiveness. About coming to God all dressed and cleaned up when down inside things are dirty. He asked if there was anything hanging over us with somebody else. I was sitting there looking at the words in red and I remembered her. Her face just jumped right out at me. And I thought, Poodle dog and apple butter—what is this? I couldn’t get Jesse out of my head. The names I’d called her. How ugly I had been. And to that colored boy, too.”
I studied Earl’s face, watching for some slip in the performance. That he still referred to Dickie as “that colored boy” let me know that his racism hadn’t been washed in the blood.
“After what happened to her,” Earl continued, “you know the church helped her out. And Blackwood didn’t like it. So I went along with him and Gentry. There was ugly things said. Matt, I didn’t go back to her to do anything but apologize. And I didn’t really do it for her. I was doing it for me. To get the bad feelings out, you understand. So I went to the store . . . She was putting out meat in the case and there was blood all over her white apron.” He paused at the memory. “I said, ‘Jesse, I’m real sorry for the things I’ve said. Names I called you.’ I just let it fly right there in the store. At first she turned away. She can be stubborn and bullheaded—you know that. But when I told her it was the Lord who convicted me, she turned around. I said, ‘The Lord has done a work in my heart. And I’m trying to make amends for things I’ve done.’ I told her she was at the top of the list of people I knew I’d hurt.”
I glanced at the house and saw my mother at the window. She turned and the curtain fluttered.
“Are you sure you don’t want some pie?” I said.
He shook his head and crossed his arms.
“What did Jesse say to you?”
The memory made Earl smile. “She told me to stick my amends where the sun don’t shine. Jesse don’t hold back. But when I didn’t cuss at her or yell, I think she saw I meant it. And finally she said she’d consider forgiving me. That’s what started the whole thing. We sat together in church. One thing led to another.”
It was clear there had been a change in Earl, and it struck me that all my conversations with Jesse growing up hadn’t yielded fruit, but this apology from an old enemy had. And it felt like I was looking from the outside in again on more than one level.
“You ever talk to Dickie?” I said. “You ever tell him you’re sorry?”
“I ain’t got to everybody I’ve hurt. And the truth is, the tally ain’t all in yet. There’s a long line waiting.”
His story sounded convincing. Poignant, even. Part of me wanted to get in my car and head north. But there was something still there, a paper cut in my heart that kept rubbing the wrong way and opening at vulnerable moments.
“I saw Jesse this morning. Did she tell you?”
His back went rigid and he set his jaw. “I ain’t talked with her today.”
“I got there early and waited in the parking lot. I wanted to hear it from her. If marrying you is what she wants, I’ll leave and never come back.”
“You told her that?”
“I didn’t get the chance.”
“Then I’ll answer you. She’s choosing me. And the only thing you’re doing is stirring up memories.” He shook his head like he had bitten down on a hot pepper. “Let sleeping dogs lie, Matt. Because if you don’t, them dogs will bite. And they bite hard.”
I searched for something to say, something that felt genuine. “Jesse made me a promise. And you know she keeps her word. I think it was her way of breaking the family curse and being different than her father.”
Earl curled his bottom lip under his overbite and blew air in a sigh. He stared at a spot on the hill like he was searching for a site for a deer stand. “She promised you something this morning?”
“No, it was a long time ago.”
“Then forget it.”
When I didn’t respond, he took a step closer. “Look, I know what kind of family I’m from. I don’t want to wind up like my daddy or Blackwood. I’m trying to turn things around.”
When he didn’t say anything more, I leaned in. “About the basketball at the picnic. Was that on purpose?”
“I didn’t mean to bloody your schnoz, if that’s what you mean. But that’s another thing I’m sorry about.”
“Then it’s good I came back. You can get that off your tally.”
Earl took a breath and lowered his voice. “I don’t wish you ill, Matt. But there’s something you ought to know. Not everybody around here has seen the light. Blackwood is spending a lot on the wedding ceremony.”
“He hated Jesse. He hated her family. Why would he be for this?”
“He thinks he can finally buy her property and get her out of the hollow.”
“Did he put you up to this? To get her land?”
He clenched his teeth. “I told you—I love that girl. I don’t want nobody hurting her. And people won’t be happy if you mess things up.”
“So I’m not invited to the wedding?”
He ignored the question, which was meant to be ignored.
“If Jesse can convince me this is what she wants, I won’t stand in your way. I might throw rice a little harder at you. But there’s still something not right and I don’t know what it is.”
He bit his cheek and narrowed his gaze. “I’m going to tell you something nobody knows. I’m telling you because I believe you care about her. I really believe that. And I think you’ll keep this between us.”
The look on his face concerned me, and the tumblers in my mind spun. Was Jesse addicted to something? Did she have a life-threatening illness?
“Jesse’s pregnant,” Earl said.
The basketball to the nose was nothing. This was a sledgehammer to my heart. I felt pale, like the blood had gushed from some wound.
Earl put a hand on my shoulder. “Now you know why it’s important to leave. Do it for her. Just go on and get out of here.”
He went to the other side of the truck and got in and drove away.