The List (58 page)

“What was wrong with him?”

“I never understood the specifics of his problem, but after he committed his life to the Lord, God set him free and gave him a sound mind. The practical effect on his quality of life has been huge. It made me wonder what he could have been in life if he had received help earlier.”

A man no one saw as valuable enough to reach out to. Renny nodded. He silently examined several other frames, reading the testimonies of changed lives, seeing the difference of a transformed countenance.

Stepping back from the wall, he asked, “A. L.?”

“What?”

“Could you put my picture on this wall?”

A. L. smiled. “I think you qualify. Let me get my camera while you're still wearing your burglary clothes.”

The Jeep was at the lot. The employee on duty didn't know why the vehicle had been towed in and let Renny renew the rental.

Renny had forgotten how hungry he was. Sarah Jenkins had fixed a lunch of seafood quiche, salad, and baked apples with cinnamon for dessert. Everything was on the table when Renny came out of the shower wearing clean clothes.

“I thought you cut a good figure in those jailhouse whites,” A. L. said. “They made you look taller.”

“You'd look like a huge cloud on a summer day, A. L.,” Sarah said.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Renny said. “I can see how desperately he needs you to keep him humble.”

While they ate, Renny told Sarah about Jo.

“I'll be praying for her,” Sarah said.

After Renny finished his last bite of baked apple, Sarah asked, “Where are you going from here?”

“I'm driving to Charleston to see Agnes Flowers and catch a flight to Michigan as soon as possible. With no job, I don't have to be in Charlotte anytime soon.”

“If you need a place to stay when you come to Georgetown, you're welcome here,” she said.

“That's true,” A. L. echoed.

A. L. and Renny walked out together.

“Call me late this afternoon,” A. L. said. “Hopefully, I'll know what the Feds are going to do with the information we provided.”

“OK.” Renny paused. “You know I don't have the words.”

The big man put his hand on Renny's shoulder. “You're welcome. It was my privilege.”

Renny stopped at a pay phone and called Mrs. Stokes with the news. She had finally contacted Carol Edwards.

“Jo has been fighting an infection so they put her in more restrictive isolation. Even her mother can't go near her.”

“What did you tell them about me?”

“Just that you were delayed at the coast and would be in touch as soon as possible.”

“OK. I'm on my way to Charleston to see Mama A and then fly to Michigan.”

“I want to pay for your ticket, Renny.”

Mama A wanted to pay for his lawyer; Mrs. Stokes wanted to buy his plane ticket. Did these women know anything other than giving? He started to say no, but said, “I'll let you know how much it is. Thanks for everything you've been doing. The lawyer told me you and Mama A were like Aaron and Hur in the Bible.”

“He did? Remember everything about these days, Renny. Not just the struggles, but also the lessons and victories.”

“I'm so worried about Jo. Is she going to be OK?”

“The Lord hasn't shown me, but I believe we'll make it to the next step in the fight.”

A different Renny walked up Mama A's sidewalk.

“Come in, come in.” She shooed him in with her usual greeting. “A. L. told me the Lord is advancing on all fronts. Have a seat, and I'll get you something cool to drink.”

She left to get his drink and Renny could hear her singing in the kitchen. She had a new air conditioner that was humming the bass notes.

When she returned, she handed him a glass of lemonade. “The Lord's had me singin' a song of victory most of the afternoon.”

“The victory's not won yet. Jo's still sick, I don't have a job, and I have a felony conviction on my record for three years.”

“That doesn't keep the Lord's army from singin' the victory. It was when Jehoshaphat praised the Lord before the battle that the enemy was defeated. Praise is a mighty weapon.”

Renny smiled wryly. “I think I need some praising lessons. I have to come to Georgetown during my probation. Maybe I can come down and go to church with you.”

“I'd love that,” she said, patting him on the arm. “You know, my people were praising in the slave cabins long before their circumstances changed. They praised by faith and so must you.”

Renny pointed to his white face. “I'm not sure I have what it takes to praise the Lord.”

“Nonsense. It's not the color of your skin—it's the attitude of your heart. Let's give it a try right here and now.” She gave out a melodic, singsong hum and waited for Renny to follow. Renny didn't budge. “You're right, you need lessons,” she said. “Close your eyes and let me take you where it started.”

Renny relaxed in his chair and closed his eyes.

“Here's how they used to do it. Everyone would be in the cabins after a day's work, and the stars would begin peekin' out overhead. The bosses were in the big houses, and there was no one to tell them to be quiet. No roar of cars or trucks, no blare of TVs or radios disturbed the sounds of the night. A cricket or two might be a-chirpin' and then someone would let out a hum—umuh. The sound would be picked up and passed around the little cluster of cabins—umuh, umuh, umuh. Then a black poet who never held a pencil or wrote a word would say, ‘Jesus.' And the sound of his name would be on everyone's lips. ‘Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.'

“On they would go, adding words until they were singin' stories of the great deeds of the God who delivers his people. The pitch rising and falling, the tempo speedin' up and slowin' down, the sounds around the circle from young and old. And you know what? They were free in their spirits long before they were free in their flesh.”

Renny smiled and said, “Umuh.”

“OK. Umuh,” Mama A hummed in a singsong melody.

“Umuh,” Renny responded.

“Praise you.”

“Praise you.”

“Praise you, Lord.”

“Praise you, Lord.”

“Praise your mighty name.”

“Praise your mighty name.”

On she led him in antiphonal response until Renny's head was nodding in rhythm, his voice following hers across the hills of spiritual Zion. Barnacles that Renny didn't know existed fell off his spirit, and by the time she said, “Amen and amen,” he shouted, “Amen!”

Mama A raised her hands and slapped her knees. “End of lesson one. You did great.”

“It was easy opening up with you. I'm not too sure about a group of people.”

“Give it time. Drink your lemonade.”

Renny took a long swallow. “Thanks for all you've done. I couldn't have made it without you, Mrs. Stokes, and A. L. I know you've been praying.”

“It's been a privilege.”

“That's what A. L. said.”

“It's the truth. What're you goin' to do now?”

“I need to get a ticket to Michigan. I'd like to stay with you until it's time to go to the airport.”

“Sure.”

Renny made a reservation on a red-eye to Detroit with an early morning connection to Lansing.

“Why don't you try to get some rest in the spare bedroom before you leave?”

“Good idea. Let me call A. L.'s office first.”

When A. L. picked up, Renny said, “Any word from Barnwell?”

“Not a peep. It's almost quitting time. Maybe they didn't pull it together yet.”

“OK. Mama A's been giving me praising lessons.”

“Umuh,” A. L. responded.

“Don't get me started. I'm going to Michigan late tonight.”

“Good. We'll talk soon.”

“Bye.”

Mama A went out on the back porch, and Renny lay down on the bed in the spare bedroom and quickly fell into a deep sleep. In a dream, he saw Mama A's husband, Clarence, standing at the airport ticket counter. He had Renny's plane ticket in his hand, and when Renny asked for it, Clarence smiled and tore it in two. Renny started to get mad, but the gentle smile on the old man's face stopped his anger in its tracks. Renny started to walk past him toward the departure gate, but his feet wouldn't move. Clarence smiled again, stuck his hand in his pocket, and pulled out another ticket. He handed it to Renny, who read the word
Georgetown
on it. Puzzled, he started to say, “You can't fly to Georgetown from Charleston” when the dream ended.

Renny woke up, each detail of the dream clearly etched in his waking memory. It was getting dark, and Mama A was still rocking on the back porch when he came out.

“I had a disturbing dream,” he said.

“Sit down and tell me about it.”

When he finished, he asked, “Am I supposed to go back to Georgetown? Why?”

Mama A stopped rocking. “I believe the dream is from the Lord. He knew you were determined to go to Michigan and needed something strong to change your mind. Something is not yet finished in Georgetown, and I believe you know it in your spirit.”