Suncatchers (47 page)

Perry lifted the lid of the washer and peered inside. The clothes were pressed damply against the sides of the tub. What was Eldeen going to do now? The sink was full of the other load of wet clothes—the dirty ones they had used to soak up the spill. He couldn't offer the use of Beth's washing machine, for it hadn't worked in almost a year. Beth had told him she wasn't going to have it fixed until she moved back home. For that reason Perry had become a regular customer of the Springtime-Fresh Drycleaners down near Hardee's. Once every two weeks he took in a big bag of dirty clothes and got them back clean and folded a few days later.

Eldeen came back into the kitchen wearing a pair of tube socks under her bathrobe and carrying a Planter's peanut can. “My, my, the floor's almost dry already,” she said cheerfully. “Having the doors open sure helps air things out. Glad it's still mild outdoors.” She sat down at the table and emptied the can. “Oh, looka there!” she said, beaming up at Perry. “There's plenty here in my change can to take all the clothes to the Wash-a-teria if I have to, but first I'm going to call Mr. Harold Garland. He fixes things like washing machines, and maybe he can come look at ours. It might be just a loose bolt or something, who can tell?”

Perry doubted that a loose bolt was the problem, but he didn't say anything. Soon Eldeen had Mr. Garland on the telephone, speaking slowly and loudly as if talking to a foreigner over a high wind.

“This here's Eldeen Rafferty, 16 Blossom Circle in Montroyal. You remember me, don't you, Mr. Garland? You came over once and fixed our stove that had quit heating up right, remember? That was two years ago this coming Christmas, right when my daughter Jewel was in the middle of baking a Christmas cake. You fixed our stove up like a charm, and it's been working fine ever since, although that cake sure was a flop. But now we've had us a calamity this morning with our washing machine, and I'd be obliged if you could come and see if you can fix it for us.” She paused, and her thick eyebrows drew together. “Oh, well, now that's too bad, but it's understandable with all the stoves and refrigerators and washing machines there's got to be here in Derby. But that'll be just fine, just whenever you can come by. I'll have to go to the Wash-a-teria today, I reckon, since my grandson needs his gym clothes done up for tomorrow.” After she had hung up, she said to Perry, “It was sure a shame about that cake—it was in the shape of a Christmas tree, and Jewel had even tinted the batter green with food coloring. It called for six egg whites, too. I remember that!” When she stopped talking, Perry had of course offered to take her to the Wash-a-teria.

Perry slid several printed pages from a large yellow envelope and laid them out on the little table. It had been harder than he had expected to get going in the
CAST
section of his book. There was so much to say—first, all the general facts about median income of the church members, political affiliation, variety of occupations, size of families, and so forth, all of which he had collected from anonymous survey forms Brother Hawthorne had allowed him to make available after church one Sunday morning. He was also working on a chapter of character cameos to develop some of the people as individuals. For this chapter he had already interviewed two church members—Harvey Gill and Curtis Chewning—to find out more about their backgrounds, and he still had three more to go: Eldeen, Vonda Snyder, and Trisha Finch. He wanted a variety of ages and occupations represented, along with a mix of longtime Christians and newer converts. Perry read the opening sentence in the first
CAST
chapter:
“The members of Gospel Lighthouse view themselves collectively as a city set on a hill and individually as the lights of that city.”

Eldeen went back outside to rinse the washcloth again, then returned it to the washing machine and sat down two chairs away from Perry with a small paperback book titled
Invigorating Your Vocabulary
in her hands. As he continued slowly through his draft, making corrections and jotting notes to himself in the margins, Perry could hear Eldeen chortling with satisfaction as she read her book. From time to time she'd sound out a word and say something like “Mel-lif-lu-ous. ‘The actress spoke in a soft,
mellifluous
voice.' Now that's a good word—I'll have to remember that one!”

Perry was on his second page when a black woman and five preschoolers entered the Wash-a-teria. Eldeen looked up with interest. The children were so close to the same age that Perry couldn't see how they could all belong to the same family. Eldeen must have wondered the same thing, for she asked, “Are these fine-looking little youngsters
quintuplets
?”

The woman shook her head. “Naw, I baby-sit 'em.” She pointed to the chairs against the window. “Sit down there,” she said to the children, who, to Perry's surprise, obeyed, although two of the boys shoved each other trying to lay claim to the same chair. “Y'all stop that, Leroy,” the woman said tersely, and they did. All five children finally got themselves arranged in their chairs and sat studying Perry gravely, their little legs dangling far from the floor. Perry felt like pointing to Eldeen and telling them, “Stare at
her
. She's a lot more interesting than I am.”

The woman dug down into her laundry basket and removed five big picture books, which she distributed to the children. “Y'all read while I put the clothes in,” she said, and all five children opened their books. Perry knew this activity was destined to be short-term. Images filled his mind of shrieking children chasing each other around the Wash-a-teria, crawling under the chairs, and smearing his pant legs with chocolate.

“Aren't little Negro children the cutest things?” Eldeen said to Perry in a loud whisper. He glanced again at the silent row of children and nodded. One of them, he noticed, wore an oversized sweatshirt with Michael Jordan's picture on it. It looked brand-new. Perry wondered if the boy's mother had gotten it on sale now that Jordan had announced his retirement. One of the little girls had her hair meticulously groomed into neat cornrows with bright coral beads somehow woven in.

The woman was busy sorting through the laundry basket, tossing clothes into two washing machines and softly singing something mournful in a deep, rich contralto. At least it sounded mournful. Perry couldn't catch the words. Watching her, he couldn't help wondering what sorrows she had known. “Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward.” He almost spoke the words aloud, for he had been rereading the book of Job recently and couldn't get this verse out of his mind. And wasn't it true? Everybody had his own share of trouble.

The woman was tall and athletically built, probably close to Perry's own age. It was funny how you could tell even from so simple a task as sorting laundry whether a person possessed natural grace of movement and physical coordination. Perry didn't think he would want to challenge this woman in any sport. He could imagine her annihilating him in a game of badminton.

Eldeen was still admiring the children, a look of restrained eagerness on her face. From time to time she looked back at the book she was holding, but never for long. Her eyes always returned to the row of wide-eyed children staring at the pictures in their books and swinging their little legs.

Suddenly one little boy pointed to a picture and broke out into gales of laughter. “That crazy old dog's turnin' a flip!” he said. The other children clamored to see, two of them getting down out of their chairs.

The woman came over and took the book away without saying a word. At first Perry thought she was punishing the children for their enthusiasm, and he wished he were brave enough to speak up in their behalf. But when she pulled up a chair, sat down in front of them, and opened the book, he saw that she meant to read the story to them. Eldeen got up and moved over to sit beside the children.

Perry stopped trying to read over his manuscript and listened to the story of Barkley, a dog whose curiosity led him to snoop around inside an old tree trunk. After each page the woman read, she held the book up and showed the children the pictures. The turning of the flip had resulted from the dog's getting attacked by the bees inside the tree trunk. The children giggled uncontrollably when the last page showed Barkley with his snout and posterior bandaged.

Eldeen clapped her hands and laughed. “I reckon that's a different way of saying ‘Curiosity killed the cat,'” she said, leaning forward to address the children. “Only this time it was a dog named Barkley, not a cat, and thank goodness he didn't get hisself killed, only hurt! Wasn't that a nice story?” The children looked at her, openmouthed, and nodded.

“Read some more, Shekinah!” the little girl with cornrows said.

“Read this one, Shekinah!” begged the boy in the Michael Jordan shirt, handing his book to the woman.

“Is that your name—Shekinah?” Eldeen asked the woman, who simply nodded and opened the other book to the first page.

“How
fascinating
!” Eldeen continued. “Were you named after somebody in particular?”

“Naw,” the woman said. “My mama heard it from a preacher.”

“Well, now, I was wondering about that. I was sure you must know what your own name meant, but I was wondering how you came to get it.”

“Read it, Shekinah,” said the little boy named Leroy, pointing to the book in her lap.

“This preacher used to always talk about the Shekinah Glory,” the woman said, “so that's what my mama named me—Shekinah Glory.” The woman studied Eldeen's face closely as if ready to turn defensive if she needed to.

Eldeen gasped and grinned at the woman. “What a reminder you've got of the divine, holy presence of God!” she said. “A name like that—now
that
must be a blessing! And do you believe in Jesus, Shekinah?” Usually it took Eldeen longer than this to work up to her favorite subject, but Perry had to admit that the woman's name did provide the perfect bridge.

“Yes, I do,” the woman answered briefly, her eyes locked with Eldeen's.

“Read, Shekinah!” demanded the boy in the sweatshirt.

“You mind your manners, Claxton!” she said. To Eldeen she added, “Some of these babies I keep needs lots of teachin'.”

“Do you go to church anywhere regular?” Eldeen asked. “I'd sure be pleased to have you visit the Church of the Open Door if you don't—and all these sweet little children, too.”

Perry was surprised, for he suddenly realized he'd never once seen a black family at the Church of the Open Door. Why? he wondered.

“I go to the Temple of Philadelphia over on Summit Street,” Shekinah said.

“And I know
right
where that is!” declared Eldeen. “We went right past there one time when they had part of Fredericks Road blocked off for repairs, and I said to Jewel—that's my daughter—‘That sure looks like a thriving church!' There were cars just parked all over the place and folks just pouring in through the front door. I expected to see that little building start puffing out like it was going to explode!”

“We sure could use us some more space,” Shekinah said.

“That's wonderful to hear!” Eldeen said. Then she threw her head back and started laughing. “I just thought of something! I just now thought of it!”

Shekinah and the children looked at her expectantly.

“Philadelphia—that's one of them churches John writes about in the book of Revelation, you know.” Eldeen licked her lips excitedly. “Right after the part where it says ‘He that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth,' the Spirit of God says to the church of Philadelphia, ‘I know your works, how you haven't denied my name, and behold, I have set before you an
open door
.'” Shekinah looked at Eldeen, puzzled.

“See,
I
go to the Church of the Open Door,” Eldeen continued, “and
you
go to the church named after the one God promised to open the door for! Why, I feel like you and me's got a real bond already, Shekinah, and we just now met each other. Isn't that the way it is with Christians, though? We're all brothers and sisters through the shed blood of Jesus!”

Shekinah cocked her head and studied Eldeen as if weighing her in the balance of everything she knew about white people. After a moment she smiled at her. “That's the truth,” she said. “That sure is the truth.” Then she looked down at the book in her lap and started reading aloud: “‘Tommy Toad and his friend Cleo Cricket were sipping a cup of apple tea under a big mushroom.'”

An hour later, as Perry carried Eldeen's laundry baskets into her kitchen, she was still exclaiming over Shekinah and her five small charges. “And that little Leviticus—he was Shekinah's own little boy, I found out, and wasn't he the cutest thing with those round eyes just a'starin' so . . .” She glanced at her vocabulary study book as she groped for a word. “So . . .
somber
. And little Jordinia with her . . .
vivacious
little elf-face. Oh, and
Ontario
—now isn't that a different kind of name for a little girl? She sure was something, though, the way she just hung on every word in them books. Bright? Don't you know it! I bet she'll be at the head of her class when she starts school!”

“Well, I guess that's everything,” Perry said, setting the box of detergent on the table. The clock on the kitchen wall said ten-thirty, he noticed. He could get in a couple of hours of work before lunch.

“That sure does beat all how I could come up missing one red slipper-sock,” Eldeen mused as she removed a stack of folded towels from the top of one basket. “I
know
I put it in the washing machine this morning before we had that big flood, but now it's come up short—it wasn't anywhere to be found when I went to fold everything back at the Wash-a-teria. That is just a
mystery
the way things get lost in the wash! You'd think it chews 'em up and swallows 'em.”