Nazareth's Song (10 page)

All that came to him was a song a Nigra man had taught him, the first song he’d ever learned. He played until the smell of coffee gave him a reason to climb out of bed. He hid the diary under the mattress.

When he stepped out of the room, he found an audience of three had listened to his jazzy tune. He made them swear they’d not tell a soul.

Jeb drove Angel, Willie, and Ida May to school, even though Angel warned that something bad had passed between them when he would not give in to her complaining. He did not want to risk Angel hooking up with Beck and somehow never making her way to the schoolhouse. Boys like Beck talked girls like Angel into things they ought not to do.

Angel did not give a care what anyone thought about Beck, she had said more than once. So to prove it, when she entered the schoolyard she made straight for the youngest Hopper in plain sight of Jeb.

Jeb had thought for sure the Hoppers would keep their youngens home from school, if for no other reason than because everyone knew Asa had started the riot. Asa had gall, and everyone knew that about him. But Jeb figured Beck’s momma must have had her hands too full to fool with getting him back to school.

He watched the two of them until the school bell sounded. Before disappearing into the schoolhouse, Angel gave Jeb a glance that said she didn’t care a bit about what he thought or said.

Before driving back to the church, Jeb stopped downtown for a paper out in front of Honeysack’s Grocery. He stepped inside with the fifty cents he had saved to pay down his bill. “Morning, Will. I owe you some money.” Jeb laid the money on the counter.

Will pushed the coins back across the counter. “Your money’s no good here.”

“Will, I know we’ve run up a bill, what with our regular business and Ida May’s bottles of pop. And do tell the missus that Angel appreciated the bar soaps.”

“Your debt’s settled here at Honeysack’s, Reverend. If you have your grocery list, I’ll get Val to fill it for you, though, and you can pay for it with your spending money.”

“Will, you know our debt can’t be settled yet. Last month we run up a good five dollars at least, plus what we still owed from the month before.”

“Freda and I sat up all night figuring out our sitchyashun. Lot of men been having trouble feeding their kids, but they didn’t stoop to pillaging yesterday like a lot of those old boys did. I know I’d not be able to set back and let my grandchild-ern go hungry. Them men ain’t crooks that nearly burned up Lincoln’s place. Maybe if we’d done something sooner, those men’d not have broke the law. But we—Freda and me—decided the Lord wanted us to forgive those debts of the ones who helped put out the fire. Them and a few others that’ve been needing relief. You know how many families been waiting for Red Cross? I heard of a hundred fifty in our county alone, sitting and waiting with not a crumb in the pantry. But it’s not relief they want to put in their pockets, but money they earned. If these fellers can get a break, maybe they can catch up and get the town back on its feet.”

Jeb stuck out his hand to give Will a handshake, then changed his mind and leaned over the counter to grab Will in a bear hug.

Edward Bluetooth entered with a batch of soaps to sell to Freda. When he saw Jeb he said, “Reverend Jeb, you’re a hero! It’s all over town.”

Jeb patted Will’s arm once more and tried to downplay his part in the fire to Edward. With a grin and a shrug, Edward drifted off to look at some nearby candies while he waited to speak with Will.

“Reverend Jeb, you take what praise is give to you and thank the Lord for lookin’ out for you while he uses you for his own good purpose,” said Will. “No charge, by the way, for the paper.”

“Will, while I’m thinking of it, you got a long ladder I can borrow? I forget it every time I come into town. Reverend Gracie’s asked me to try and repair the bell in the church bell tower. Seems it’s getting a little rusty around the bolts.”

“I don’t have a ladder that tall. Try Ivey Long. He’s the only farmer around with ladders that long.”

“I’ll remember that, Will.” Jeb pulled out his grocery list. “I’ll take care of these few things. No need to call Val away from his radio show, though. I can gather these few things myself.” Jeb glanced at the front page of the
Nazareth Gazette.

Will tapped the newspaper. “On page three, the Ku Klux Klan took out a whole half-page advertisement telling young folk about the dangers of sitting in parked cars. I think all parents ought to read that page to their young people tonight. It’d make this town a better place to live for everyone. Up near White Oake Lake, Maynard run oft three carloads of youngsters just last Saturday night. One boy and girl run oft together, God knows where, although probably into the mountains. They weren’t found until last night, I hear. That girl’s daddy nearly whipped her all the way home, and she had to beg him not to shoot the boyfriend. I know that oldest girl of yours is at that age. Without a momma around to set her straight, you got your hands full. Everybody admires you for taking in those kids like you have.”

“Angel does need a momma. But there doesn’t appear to be one to be had.” Jeb was already feeling guilty pangs about the trip to school. He knew he had no right to tell her how to pick her friends. He wasn’t her real daddy. She’d told him often enough that he ought to stay out of her business. But he couldn’t just sit back, either, and act like Beck Hopper was no big deal. It all just had a bad smell to it and could only lead to ruination.

Maybe if Fern would talk to the girl, she’d be more likely to listen. But he’d seen how Fern looked at him Sunday over the top of her Bible, like she loathed sight of him. If she had heard the talk of him being the town hero, it affected her like Tuesday’s laundry. It would not surprise him at all if she didn’t up and become a Catholic.

He folded the newspaper in half and then sacked up some peanuts to roast after supper. “Mind if I pick up the rest of those things later, Will? I told Floyd Whittington I’d stop by to check on things with some work crew he had in mind for cleanup.”

Will set his sacks behind the counter. “Say, Jeb, while I’m thinking about it, my brother’s boy, my nephew Herschel, he’s gotten into a fix. He’s been big into poultry and such since yay high.” He held his hand waist high. “But what with this Depression and all, he’s been trying to collect on a poultry deal that ain’t paying off. If you know of some farmer in need of about two hundred chicks, he needs to get them off his hands real quick. It’d make a good deal for someone with room to raise some laying hens.”

“I’ll spread the word, Will. You know I’m glad to do anything for a friend.” He shook his hand, waved good-bye to Edward, and headed for the door.

Jeb felt smiles following him all the way out the door.

Several men were gathered out in front of the bank. Jeb took his newspaper and peanuts into the circle of onlookers. Barney Hewlett was there. He had invited some of the out-of-work boys to Floyd Whittington’s meeting to help get the bank windows put back in and then set up a work crew to rebuild Lincoln’s Barbershop. The barber had been at the doctor’s house all morning, one fellow said, with a sick headache.

“You can put me on that list,” said Jeb. “I’ll work the first two days for free.”

Several men agreed as Floyd came over from the Woolworth’s with two buckets of paint and a sack of nails for Barney.

Barney thanked Jeb and the others and then passed out some work details. Jeb was delegated the job of measuring for the new bank windows.

“The talk is,” said Floyd, “that Horace Mills ordered the bank reopened this morning in spite of the food riot and his straw likeness being burned in effigy. So we need to work around customers and such but get them secured before nightfall.”

Jeb and Floyd teamed up to examine the broken window and measured it for the nervous clerk, Finn, who wanted the damage fixed the same day. He and two other male bank clerks had slept inside the bank all night with Deputy Maynard, each man taking watch so that no one entered the bank through the boarded windows, even though Asa and at least half the rioters had been rounded up and thrown into jail.

As they measured, several women employees waited outside on the walk, still timid about going to work. Faith Bottoms and Beulah Winters gabbed with them about Saturday’s lollapalooza of a fire and how lucky they all were that only two businesses got burned. Faith, talking loud enough for the men to overhear, offered the bank girls a deal on permanent waves. She singled out Jeb and gave him the slightest hint of a smile.

“Reverend Nubey, I know you don’t want no beauty shop deals, but you drop by after hours and I’ll give you a private cut.” Two of the girls, along with Beulah, whistled and rooted Faith on with her bold proposal.

Jeb had heard a few of the boys hanging around Lincoln’s on Saturdays call Faith a hot cha-cha hairdresser. “I just had a good trim,” he told her and then acted like he didn’t notice the bank girls’ swooning.

By noon, the men had finished the estimations and set to work hauling the charred lumber from Lincoln’s burned-out building. Jeb joined three of the fellows for peanuts and a Coke and then dropped by Whittington’s to see if the glass had been cut for the bank. He then had to return and deliver the news to Finn that the glass would not be in for another week.

“I’ll tell Mr. Mills myself, then. Say, he just called and told me he’d be out to see you before coming in this afternoon,” Finn told Jeb. “Mrs. Mills wanted him to stay home but he wouldn’t have any of that. No one can threaten Horace Mills, I guess.”

“Don’t say? I’d better get to the church, then.” Jeb handed the list of materials they would need to Floyd. He stopped back in at Honeysack’s, stowed his food in the truck bed, and left for a meeting that left him a mite nervous.

Horace Mills, who had a newspaper tucked under one arm, waited in the shade of the church overhang. His hair and face gleamed like he had come fresh from the bath. The whites of his shirtsleeves extended crisp and perfect, one inch from his jacket sleeves.

“You seen the paper, I guess,” said Jeb.

“Asa Hopper started this whole mess. He’s been threatening the bank for too long.” Mills slapped the newspaper against one palm.

“Floyd’s working on getting the glass for your windows.”

“If you hadn’t stepped in, Reverend Nubey, I’d say the whole town would have been burned to the ground. Hopper’s politics are dangerous. Maynard would do well to keep him locked up for a long time.”

Jeb invited him inside, out of the cool morning air.

“I can’t stay long. I just wanted you to know that heroism is rewarded in Nazareth.”

The title of “hero” left Jeb feeling restless. “Looks like Doris Jolly left a plate of cookies here on the desk. Take a few for yourself and those girls at the bank. They looked hungry.”

Mills pressed an envelope into Jeb’s hand. “This is for the church.” He pressed another envelope into Jeb’s hands. “This one’s for you to use any way you see fit, for your sacrifice and for—” Mills drew in a deep breath and then said, “For any hard feelings I’ve had or conveyed to you. You’re a good man, Nubey. I’m glad to call you our future minister.”

Jeb had never heard anyone speak of him using such noble language. He sounded like Roosevelt himself.

“I’ve been thinking, it’s time we put a real floor in this place and maybe a lock on the door. Put a man or two to work, for one thing. Another thing, if it were to get around that the church had cash laying about, someone might get the idea to help themselves to a little charity.” Mills inspected the sanctuary through the church office door.

“I’ll take the money for the church, but please don’t pay me anything, Mr. Mills. That wouldn’t be right. It’s best you give this to Reverend Gracie. He’s home in bed this morning but I’ll see he gets it.” The envelope was thick. Jeb turned it over and looked at it. “A lot of heroes helped put out that fire yesterday, bigger fellers than me.”

“Gracie would take it if it were meant for him. He understands the value of a gift. But this is strictly for you and your little family of orphans.”

“Not orphans, exactly.”

“You know what I mean.” Horace grinned.

Jeb knew Gracie had accepted donations of free medical attention or extra scoops of beans from the Honeysacks. Reluctantly, he took the money—a wad of bills, it seemed, that would pay the grocery bill for weeks.

“I know I’ve been the only thing between this pulpit and the poorhouse some weeks. Take this as your back pay that’s been coming to you.” Mills kept patting Jeb on the back the whole time he talked, soft but repetitious, like when Jeb led mulish Bell each morning from her stall. “I’d wager that you’re going to be a man of influence in these parts, Reverend. You bring goodwill with you, and people need that these days. Men like Hopper sow bad seed in a town. A man like him could make everyone else think that if they have a bone to pick, they should just haul off and burn down the institutions that keep Nazareth alive. I can’t help this Depression or the ones that didn’t plan for hard times. It’s not good business to turn my back when someone like Asa stops paying his bills. If I did that for him, we’d not have a bank in this town or any other business.”

“Wonder how long they’ll keep Asa locked up?” Jeb slid the money into a desk drawer and locked it.

“At least until the judge comes through. Could be two weeks, but that’s a good lesson for him. It’ll give him time to cool off and think about what he did.”

“His wife and kids might need a visit from a few of the families. I’ll ask around among the women in town.”

“Let it go, Reverend. Best way to rid a house of cockroaches is to lock up all the food. The next thing we need to hear is that the Hoppers have disappeared. That wife of his would do better on her own, in my estimation.”

Jeb did not answer him.

“Salvation Army’s setting up a soup kitchen by Friday, if it makes you feel any better. The Hoppers aren’t too proud to knock out my windows; they can stand in a bread line like everyone else.”

“I’ll see that Mrs. Hopper’s told about the Salvation Army.”

“I know what some think. That I’m the rich man around town. But it isn’t true. Not since 1929. I lost as much as anyone else. But I came from hard stock myself. My brother Freddie and I know suffering just like the rest of these Joes. If I can climb out of bad circumstances, anyone can.” The entire time he spoke, Mills read Jeb’s every move and the tilt of his head. “Don’t feel guilty about taking the money. Church in the Dell hasn’t paid you much, just like it hasn’t paid Gracie much. You put that away somewhere, and it will last you a good long while. That oldest girl, Angel, she’s been wearing the same dress all year to Sunday service. My Amy, she notices those things. Take her down to the Woolworth’s and let Evelene fix her up with something new. Those two littlest ones too, while you’re at it. I’ll see myself out. But you can rest assured, Reverend Nubey, that you took the right stand yesterday. You proved to me and the whole town you know the side of right and wrong. Keep it up and I’ll see you never go without.” He left.