“I’m a church folk and I’m wanting to do something new.” Jocie leaned back against the composing table and made a face. “Something different. Anything different.”
“Fact is, it could be enough different has already hit Mt. Pleasant, what with your daddy being the preacher and you the preacher’s daughter and Tabitha and little Stevie and me joining up with them to make things interesting.”
“Everybody’s happy you and Tabitha are coming to church now, and I haven’t heard anybody talking about Stephen Lee.”
“They’re afraid Lovella might hear them. She’d be quoting them something out of the Bible about flapping tongues causing problems. She wouldn’t stand for anybody talking bad about little Stevie.”
“None of us would. It’s not his fault his father wasn’t ready to settle down and be a daddy.” Jocie’s hands curled into fists. She knew what it was like to have a parent who didn’t care if you were born or not. She wouldn’t let Stephen Lee be mistreated. “And what difference does it make that his father was black? He’s cuter than the average baby. Tabitha says out in California people don’t pay as much attention to color.”
“Hollyhill’s a long way from California,” Wes said.
“You can say that again.” Jocie looked at him and held up her hand. “But please don’t.”
“Make up your mind. You either want me to say it again or you don’t.”
“Say what again?” Jocie’s dad asked as he came in the pressroom.
“That Hollyhill is a long way from California.” Wes grinned over at Jocie.
“And I hope it stays that way.” Jocie’s father handed Wes his editorial. “Sounds like the press is running okay.”
“Betsy Lou is doing just fine.” Wes stood up and patted the press. “We were just giving her a little break. Sounds like things were running a little rougher up front in the editor’s office.”
Jocie’s father looked embarrassed. “I guess you could say that, but everything’s under control now.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want you breaking no legs and having to get a cast before Sunday. You have to step out into the water too to dunk me.”
“Don’t worry. That’s happening this Sunday for sure, God willing and the creek doesn’t rise. And it might be good if the creek did rise. Make things easier. You haven’t changed your mind about going to the river, have you? It’s supposed to be pretty cold Sunday. We can probably still arrange to use the baptistery at First Baptist.”
“You don’t think the ice on the river will be too thick to break, do you?” Wes asked.
Jocie’s father laughed. “I don’t think there will be any ice. Just lots of very cold water.”
“Then we’ll go to the river,” Wes said. “That’s how it was done in the Bible.”
W
es looked at the group of people on the bank of the river and was amazed. He’d been pretty amazed every Sunday since he’d asked the good people at Mt. Pleasant to accept him into their family of believers. They hadn’t done so grudgingly just because it wouldn’t be Christian to deny anybody entrance into the kingdom of God. Instead, they had invited him right into their hearts, even if a goodly portion of them did think he might really be from Jupiter or, failing that, had surely escaped from some insane asylum before he found his way to Hollyhill. When Wes told David how surprised he was to be so welcomed by the church, David laughed and said every family, even a church family, needed a weird old uncle or two.
Wes didn’t have any problem fitting the bill on that one. He encouraged his weirdness, even celebrated it. He thought maybe the Lord did too. After all, the Bible had plenty of weird characters. Take old Elijah going up in a whirlwind to jump into that chariot of fire and move on up to heaven. Or John the Baptist eating locusts. Nothing normal or regular about that. Fact was, the more Wes came to really know the folks at Mt. Pleasant Church, the more he was noticing that plenty of them had a few weird quirks of their own.
And now twenty-five or thirty faithful souls had followed him out to the river to stand in the brisk early December air and watch their weird old uncle get baptized. Wes felt a little guilty for turning down the warm confines of First Baptist Church in Hollyhill when he saw how Tabitha was trying to keep little Stevie’s arms inside the quilt she had wrapped around him, and how Lovella was having to hold on to her hat to keep it from flying into the river. But it was too late to change his mind now. They were at the river. It was almost time to wade into the chilly waters.
The deacons and their families had shown up in force. Their Christian duty, Wes supposed. The McDermotts, the Jacksons, even the Martins—although Ogden Martin’s face was frozen in its usual scowl.
Sometimes Wes wanted to sidle up next to the deacon and say, “Smile, brother. Rejoice and be glad in the Lord.” It might not be written exactly like that in the Bible, but close enough. A man should be happy at church. But Wes bit his lip and kept quiet. David and Ogden Martin had prayed down some peace between them, and Wes wasn’t about to do anything to spoil that for David.
And of course Sally McMurtry was there with the Hearndon children clustered around her. She had hold of the little girl twin while Noah had a vise grip on the boy. Little Cassidy was standing close against Sally same as always since the day she’d claimed Sally for her grandmother. Alex Hearndon stepped up behind Sally to use his big body to shield her and his babies from the wind. Sally’s face was a white smiling circle in among all those dark-skinned faces.
It was funny how the Lord gave people family if a person let him. Like the Lord had gifted Wes with Jo. Wes looked over at her. She’d normally have hold of one of the babies, either little Elise Hearndon or Murray McDermott, but today she was right down by the river with nothing on her mind but seeing Wes go under the water. She had her camera in hand ready to catch the moment. He was hoping she wasn’t thinking the
Banner
needed to run that shot.
Jo was turning into a pretty thing. She didn’t know it. Might never know it, but she had a glow about her that made face shape and eye color inconsequential. Wes had seen that glow the very first time he’d laid eyes on her when she wasn’t but three years old. His heart, shriveled up by years of grief, had come back to life in the warmth of that glow. She’d become his family. And she’d never given up on making him part of her family of God.
She had to have asked him to go to church with her fifty million times over the years, but he always had an excuse. Too cold, too hot. Too tired, too lazy. Too mean, too crazy. Too scared. He hadn’t ever told her that last one, but it was the truest one. He’d been too scared to turn his face toward the Lord. He’d been afraid he would have to see things about himself he didn’t want to see. Remember things he didn’t want to remember.
As if he could ever forget Rosa and Lydia nodding off to sleep in the car, trusting him to keep them safe. Some things a man couldn’t live with. Some things a man had to run away from. It was easier to keep his eyes turned away and to become someone else. Someone from Jupiter with no past, no hope of a future.
But through all the excuses, Jo had kept loving him. The Lord had kept loving him. Had made him run out of gas and money in Hollyhill. Had made a little child take his hand and offer him unconditional love. Had dropped a tree on his leg so he’d have to pick up that Gideon Bible in the hospital room to keep from going bonkers.
And let him
return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our
God, for he will abundantly pardon.
Wes had found a lot about forgiveness scattered through the book of Isaiah. Through the whole Bible. Amazing grace. How sweet the sound.
Myra Hearndon had sung that song in the morning service. She had such a beautiful voice that sometimes the rest of the church just stopped singing and listened to her. That’s how it had been that morning. She’d sung the way the rest of them would surely be able to sing once they reached the golden shores of heaven.
Now she was leading the little group of shivering Christians in “Shall We Gather at the River.” No country church could have a baptism without singing that song. Especially not when they were gathering at the river, even if the song did deal more with crossing over the Jordan River than getting dunked for Jesus. But then again baptism symbolized death. Death to the old life and being raised up a new man.
Wes wasn’t all that sure he was going to be a new man, but he’d felt the need to walk the aisle and turn over his life to the Lord. So now he’d just follow along with whatever the Lord laid out there for him. The Lord said be baptized. So that was what he was doing, even though he’d already parted the waters of baptism when he was a boy. His mother had taken great joy in seeing her youngest baptized. She’d already been sick then, and it had seemed the least he could do for a dying mother.
It had worked well enough in his other life, but it hadn’t been something he took with him when he went on the road after Rosa and Lydia died. So it was only right that this new person he’d become start fresh with the Lord. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe his old life wouldn’t come back to haunt him.
Myra was winding down the song, and beside Wes, David opened his Bible. The wind ruffled the pages as David tried to hold open his place with hands shaking in the cold. Wes looked at the gray-green river behind them. No ice out on the flowing water, but he could see the frosty beginnings of ice clinging to the frozen mud on the bank. They were both going to freeze. No doubt about it. Maybe the Lord would be kind enough to protect them from catching pneumonia.
After the services, if his teeth weren’t frozen shut, he’d have to tell Jo to say a no-pneumonia prayer. The girl sometimes seemed to have a direct line up to heaven what with the way her dog prayer and sister prayer and Wes-getting-enough-use-of-his-leg-again-to-climb-on-his-motorcycle prayer had all been answered, just to mention a few. Who knew? She’d never said so, but she’d probably had a “save Wes” prayer.
Up on the road above the river, a car door slammed and Zell came hustling down the hill. “Wait! Wait!” she shouted down at them. “Don’t start without me.”
Zell showing up was a real surprise. She’d told Wes in no uncertain terms that a person had to be crazy to be baptized in the river any time, much less in the middle of winter when that person could go up to her church in town and have it done right, in comfort, with proper white robes on and everything. Plus she’d make sure the church didn’t charge anything for heating up their water. She’d stood uneasily just inside the pressroom door to make the offer.
“That’s kind and all of you,” Wes told her. “But I’ve got my heart set on doing it like in the Bible. The way Jesus did. In the river.”
“But that was then. If the Lord was here now and getting baptized, he’d have the good sense to come to First Baptist,” she said. When David came in the back door of the pressroom, she pulled him into the conversation. “Isn’t that right, David?”
“Could be, Zella,” David said. “One thing for sure, he’ll be there for the baptism no matter where we have it. And it doesn’t really matter where as much as what it means to the person being baptized. If your heart’s right, any place is good.”
“Even if your heart is in the right place, your feet won’t be,” Zell said with a little huff. “You’ll probably both catch your death of pneumonia or who knows what in that dirty river water. Just don’t expect any sympathy from me if you do and don’t be crying about hiring somebody else to do your work. There’s no money for that.”
“Noah would come help us out again,” David said.
“Did you turn off your ears before you heard the part about no money?” Zell looked like she might like to box David’s ears to be sure he was paying attention. “Besides, Jocelyn says Noah’s playing on the basketball team. He won’t have time to work here till March.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to ask the Lord to keep us healthy,” David said.
“He did give us brains to use, you know,” Zell said before slamming the pressroom door and going back to her desk.
So Zell had been the last person Wes expected to see on the riverbank this morning. But the fact was that lately Zell had been acting even more peculiar than usual. One day she’d almost jump out of her skin if he so much as looked her way and the next day she’d be asking after his health as though she really wanted to know. She’d been too much for Wes to figure out.
Then again Zell was Zell. She sometimes came up with her own plans for people, the way she had getting David to notice Leigh Jacobson. While that had turned out pretty good, Wes didn’t want Zell making any plans about him. Especially not the romantic kind.
Seeing Zell running down the bank in her dress shoes with the tails flapping on her Sunday-go-to-meeting coat with the mink collar and not paying one bit of attention to the muddy spots struck a chill through Wes even before he stepped out into the river. Something was going on besides just a friend come to wish him well. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what.
Leigh went to meet her and ushered her over to stand in the front with Jocie and Lovella. With the family.
Wes turned his mind away from Zell’s ulterior motives and back to why he was standing on the riverbank in the first place. David was reading from Acts. “Then they that gladly received his word were baptized.”
David handed Matt McDermott his Bible and stepped into the water. He gasped but kept walking. Wes followed him. The cold water squished up over his shoe tops, but Wes didn’t pay it much mind. Once he’d made up his mind what the Lord wanted him to do, he wasn’t about to let a little cold water stop him.
David’s lips were blue as he lifted his hand and said, “I baptize you, Wesley Green, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
Wes took hold of David’s arm and let him lower him into the cold water, but he didn’t feel the first chill. The Lord was warming him through and through, and while he was under the water, he saw Rosa. She was smiling at him the way she had the day they got married.
W
hen David brought Wes up out of the cold river water, the people on the bank began clapping their hands as if they’d just seen somebody score the go-ahead bucket at a Hollyhill High basketball game. They didn’t make much noise since nearly all of them were wearing gloves, but it was still a joyous sound. David couldn’t remember ever being as proud of a congregation of believers as he was at that moment. Even Ogden Martin was almost smiling.