A Perilous Proposal (39 page)

“When I met dem Dawsons,” Jeremiah said, “wiff everythin' Micah Duff wuz sayin' ter me, dat's when a first bit ob light began ter dawn on me dat anger wuz sumthin' dat destroyed people inside. Dat place wuz plumb full er hate, Mayme. But dat didn't stop me from
lashin' out an' still blamin' my papa when I saw him. But den when I met you an' Miz Katie, if anyone had da right ter feel anger, I reckon, it's you an' Miss Katie. Yet dis place here is as filled wiff love as dat Dawson place wuz ob hate. Dat's when I started thinkin' 'bout some ob what Micah Duff tol' me. He wuz a good man too, maybe jes' like my papa. He did nuthin' but good ter me. He saved my life twice. But finally I got angry at him too, an' jes' lef' him wiffout a word. Da same thing I got angry at my daddy fo doin', but dat he never did, I really did ter Micah Duff. All my blamin' other people . . . I shud hab been lookin' at myself! I jes' lef' Micah. How cud I do dat ter such a kind man? What kind er person wud do such a thing! Dat's when I began ter think dat no matter what happens, nobody has ter let anger get a root inside ter grow an' fester like I saw it had done in me. Dat Dawson girl wuz so full er hate. But nuthin' so bad had happened ter her as ter you an' Miz Katie. She let herself git full er hate. It wuz her own fault, jes' like my anger wuz my fault. I didn't hab ter get angry, but I did. I cud hardly stand ter look at myself an' see dat I wuz jes' like dat Dawson girl. I wuz full ob anger too. Mine wuz jes' more hidden so folks didn't see it. But it was dere. I convinced myself dat if Papa hadn't lef' us, Mama'd still be alive. But dat wuz jes' 'cause I cudn't look at myself. I wuz jes' tryin' ter hide from my own guilt. Da anger and da blame—it's been dere all along, cuz I let it be dere. Ain't nobody's doin' but my own.”

He stopped and looked up into my eyes, almost like a little child
.

“What shud I do, Mayme?” he asked. “What kin I do ter git rid ob da terrible guilt?”

“Have you talked to your papa?” I said
.

“Some, but not 'bout dis.”

“Don't you think you ought to tell him?”

“I reckon so. Dat'll be hard.”

“There's no other way for it to be clean between you,” I said
.

“I reckon you's right. If it's what I got ter do, den it's what I got ter do. I reckon it's time I started doin' what's right. Micah Duff wud say dat's what it takes ter be a man.”

F
ATHER AND
S
ON

54

J
EREMIAH WAS SPENT
. T
HE TALK AND HIS CONFESSION
and the tears had all drained him.

But Mayme was right. He knew he needed to talk to his father. The forgiveness he needed could only come between father and son. With the flood of emotions already flowing so freely, it seemed this was the day for it. He needed to allow himself at last to accept his father's love completely.

Mayme left Jeremiah sitting where he was, and went looking for Henry. She found him in the barn.

“I think you need to talk to Jeremiah,” she said.

Henry looked straight into her eyes with question.

“Is he ready?” he asked hopefully.

“You knew?” she asked.

“How cud I not see dat he wuz mighty troubled inside,” nodded Henry. “I seen da gnawin' away in his soul all dis time. I knew he wuz strugglin' wiff blaming me fo sum kin' er trouble inside him. But my seein' it wudn't do him no good. He had ter see it fo hisself.”

“I think he does now,” Mayme said. “I think he's ready to tell you about it.”

Henry nodded again and left the barn.

He saw Jeremiah seated out away from the house. Softly he approached.

“Mayme tells me you an' her's been talkin' 'bout sum hard things,” he said.

Jeremiah glanced up and half smiled. It was a sad and weary smile, but almost a peaceful one, as if the hardest battle of the war had already been fought. There was no trace of hostility in his expression as there might once have been at Henry's words.

“Did she tell you everythin'?” he asked.

“She said dere wuz sum things I needed ter hear from yo own mouf.”

Jeremiah nodded. “Dat soun's like Mayme, all right,” he said.

Henry sat down. “You want ter tell me 'bout it?”

Jeremiah nodded again. “I reckon I finally do.”

They sat for five or ten minutes. For Jeremiah to tell Mayme what he had done was one thing. But to confess his guilt to his own father took all the more courage. He didn't find it easy to begin.

Once he did, the story and his confession flowed out in a torrent of relief. At last he was unburdened from his dreadful secret. Henry's tears were even more plentiful than Jeremiah's. There is no pain so deep as that of a loving father's suffering on behalf of his son. If Jeremiah had been worried that his father would condemn him after his admission, nothing could have been further from the truth. Henry's weeping sorrow was all for Jeremiah. His tender words of compassion wrapped the son in a cloak of forgiveness. And at last Jeremiah was ready to let that cloak embrace him.

“I's so sorry, Papa,” said Jeremiah. “I let myself think wrong things 'bout you. I shud er known dey wuzn't true. I know I wuz wrong. You wuz a good man an' Mama always said you wuz a good father ter me . . . I's so sorry! When I said before, right when I came, dat I didn't want you ter call
me yo son, dat wuz da cruelest thing a son cud say ter his own father. Dat wuz so wrong er me. I's so sorry, Papa! I'm proud fo you ter call me yo son now. An' I's proud ter
be
yo son.”

Henry's heart filled with quiet gratitude. His prayers, not for himself but for his son, had been answered!

“We's all dun things we's ashamed ob,” he said, blinking back the tears in his eyes. “I blamed myself fo talkin' too much an' angerin' Mr. Clarkson. We kin both say it wuz our fault. An' dat ain't ter say dere ain't sum truf in dat. But now we gots ter look ahead. We dun what we dun. So we ax da Lord's forgiveness, den we look ahead. Den we forgive ourselves an' each other too, an' keep lookin' ahead.”

Jeremiah nodded. It would take a long time for the full reality of what had just happened to sink all the way inside him and do its complete work. But the change had begun. Forgiveness had begun to live in him.

Then he remembered.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny object, held it a moment, then handed it to Henry.

The sight of the carved wooden horse, worn smooth and shiny from years in his son's pocket, brought a new flood of tears to Henry's eyes. The sight was full of the memory of the wife of his youth.

“She tol' me ter fin' you an' gib you dis,” said Jeremiah. “I don' know why I didn't gib you dis afore . . . jes' didn't seem like da right time, I reckon. But here it is now. An' she had sumfin she wanted me ter say. As angry as I got at you in my mind, I cudn't ever forgit her words.”

Henry waited. His heart was too full of too many things to speak.

“She said ter tell you dat you wuz da bes' man she'd ever known, and dat she loved you and never stopped lovin' you, dat she never loved anudder man in her life an' dat you wuz the best man da Lord cud hab given her.”

Henry broke down and wept freely at his dear wife's words.

He stood. Jeremiah also rose to his feet and faced him. Father and son embraced.

The sunlight of the father's forgiveness had sent away the darkness of the son's enmity. The grain of Jeremiah Patterson's character was at last ready to grow straight and true. A great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

His anger gone, he was at last free to
live
.

A W
OMAN'S
H
ONOR

55

T
he sense of danger didn't go away
.

Everyone for miles knew about the two cross burnings. And everyone knew why they had happened
.

Whenever any of us went to town now, there were some people who were nice and others who refused even to look at us. Some people who might have wanted to be friendly seemed afraid to act too nice toward my papa and Mr. Ward, as if someone might see them and then they would be in danger themselves. Mr. Thurston had stepped in to help Jeremiah against Deke Steeves. That had angered certain men and now he was in danger too. People didn't want that same thing happening to them
.

By now Deke Steeves was older than when Jeremiah had first come, and so was Weed Jenkins. His voice had finally changed and he had put a little meat on his bones. Both boys were mean as sin. Everyone in town was afraid of them. If they took it into their heads that they didn't like someone, broken windows and all kinds of mischief might result. Deke Steeves was not the kind of person you wanted as your enemy
.

And everyone knew that Sheriff Jenkins wouldn't do
anything about it because Weed was his own son
.

Finally the undercurrent of hostility and anger on both sides boiled over
.

It was probably a mistake, but one day Katie and I both went into town with my papa. We hadn't been in so long, because of what people were saying about us. But on this day we wanted to go with him. Papa had business with Mr. Taylor at the bank. Katie and I both had a couple errands we wanted to take care of
.

“Everything will be fine,” said Papa. “We'll just go into town, take care of our business, say hello to Henry and Jeremiah, and be gone before anyone even knows we're there.”

So we got dressed up and headed for Greens Crossing
.

It was September. I had just turned nineteen a couple weeks before. It had been a cold summer and the weather had delayed the cotton harvest. We were planning to start in a few days without any idea that calamity was about to break in on our lives
.

Papa parked the wagon on the street near the general store. He walked off in the direction of the bank. Katie headed into the store, and I went up to the livery hoping to see Jeremiah for a few minutes. But he wasn't there. Henry said he'd been at Mr. Watson's all day
.

I left and walked back along the boardwalk toward the store to rejoin Katie. I had gone about halfway when from across the street I saw a group of white boys who hadn't been there a few minutes earlier. I didn't know where they'd come from, but they were there now. And they were watching me
.

I quickened my step. But the worst thing you can do in a situation like that is show you're afraid. The minute you try to run from a dog, it takes off running straight at you. The boys had seen me glance in their
direction and start walking faster. It was all the bait they needed. Immediately they came out into the street toward me, walking diagonally to cut me off before I could get back to Mrs. Hammond's. I didn't know who they were, but they were some of the same boys who had bothered Jeremiah before
.