| |
1
As the three of them left the Tavern to make their way home, Amberlin felt proud of their performance and was thrilled how well the last song had been received, though she didn’t understand a few of the comments she’d heard from the crowd before the song. She intended to ask Canyon about them when they got home.
Approaching Canyon's '55 Chevy pickup truck, she noticed five or six men around another pickup truck laughing and joking with each other as they passed around a bottle. She recognized one of the men as Josh Jenkins and remembered that he and Canyon had had words once or twice before. Canyon had explained to her that he and Josh had gone to the same school years ago, though he didn't think Josh had ever graduated.
They were almost to Canyon’s truck when she heard Josh yell out, “Hey Canyon, what’s up with you? You turn into some kinda commie pinko?”
Canyon ignored the comment as he opened the door to the truck and started to help Amberlin into the cab, but before she had a chance to climb in, Josh strolled over to them, wavering from side to side a bit.
“Hey, I’m talking to you, Canyon. Don’t you try and run away.”
Canyon slowly turned to him. "You're feeling no pain tonight, huh Josh. Why don't you boys just get on back to your moonshine, and we'll call it a night?"
“You were in the army, weren’t you?” Josh asked, taking another long pull from the bottle before passing it to one of his comrades behind him. He cocked the ratty looking cowboy hat back on his head. “Tell me, did the commies get to you while you were overseas? Vietnam, wasn’t it?”
Canyon nodded but didn’t say anything. He was about to turn back to help Amberlin when around the back of the truck stormed a red-faced Evelyn.
“How dare you talk like that to a veteran?” Evelyn inserted herself between the two men. She yanked her cap off her head, loosening a cascade of blond hair. She used her index finger to poke Josh in the chest. “Were you ever in the service? Huh, were you?”
Josh stepped back, a confused look growing on his face, unsure what to make of this counter-offensive. "Who the hell are you?"
“Well, were you?” Evelyn asked again, ignoring his question.
“No,” Josh finally answered. “Got flat feet. They wouldn’t take me.”
“Flat feet to go with your fat head,” Evelyn stayed on the offensive. “Then you’ve no right to question Canyon’s loyalty to his country,” she said, her voice growing in volume with every word.
Amberlin had seen this a few times before, had even been the recipient more than once. She knew her mom was about to lose it big time. On previous occasions, Miriam had been available to calm her down and avoid a serious blowup, but Miriam wasn’t here this time. It would have to be up to her to try to ease the mounting tension, but how?
She took her foot off the running board of the truck and eased herself around Canyon who appeared to be unsure what to do himself. Amberlin walked slowly over to her mother who was now standing less than a foot from the larger man, her face stuck forward only a few inches from his.
What am I going to do? Amberlin thought hard for a solution. Any second someone was likely to take a swing at the other person; then all hell would break loose. She took a deep breath and prayed for guidance. Suddenly, she remembered a couple of lines from their closing song:
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace...
She quickly closed the few feet between her and her mom, and before she had time to reconsider her actions, she reached out and hugged her mother with all her might and whispered in her ear, "I love you, Mom." She repeated the words three times. As she did so, she felt a wave of love radiate from her heart like the ripples of water after a pebble is dropped in. She felt the tightness of her mother's muscles slowly relax and her breathing ease.
Evelyn finally replied, “I love you too, sweetie.” She turned to her daughter and returned the hug. As they held each other, Amberlin glanced first to Canyon then to Josh. She was surprised and perplexed to see similar peaceful looks on both men’s faces, when just seconds ago, there had been anger. She was even more shocked to see the identical look on Josh’s companions’ faces.
Finally, Josh spoke up. "The young lady is right. We'll finish this discussion another time. Y'all be careful driving home, ya hear?" And with that, he turned to his friends. "Let's go fellas. We need to find us another bottle. This one's empty." He returned to his truck, tossing the bottle into the truck's bed where it shattered. His friends piled into his vehicle and drove off with tires screeching and shouts about the South rising again.
––––––––
2
MISSY STOVER SAT ALONE in the front pew of the Golden Acres Church sanctuary where she was accustomed to sitting whenever her husband, Reverend Stover, delivered the Sunday message. She held her Bible in her lap gently caressing its leather cover as was her habit whenever she prayed. She could feel the difference in its texture from where she’d slowly worn through the outer layer through the years. She had miscalculated the morning temperature when she’d donned the flowery frock, forgetting that the deacons had decided to keep the sanctuary temperature much colder during the week. Luckily, she kept a wool sweater in her office that she could put on once she was through talking with God.
She sat in silence for another minute organizing her thoughts and getting herself in the right frame of mind. She'd known for the last few days that there was something she needed to ask God and now she was clear what it was. Three years ago, she'd finally persuaded her husband to extend their work beyond Golden Acres with a series of spring and summer revivals, mostly around the Southeast. They'd done well, converting hundreds of lost souls and raising contributions well beyond anything they'd been able to do in Golden Acres. But over this last year, their work for God had grown stale and uninspiring.
Holding the Bible to her chest, she started, "Dear Lord, I come to you as your humble servant, thankful for your Son and your grace. I know I'm just a sinner in your eyes, but I also feel called to perform greater works in your name. The world is so filled with evil and non-believers. The task is great but I know you expect much from your flock, and I am here for your guidance. Please, Lord, direct me to how I can better serve you."
She paused to wipe a tear from her cheek before continuing. “Please instill in my husband, Reverend Stover, your blessings and the passion and backbone so needed in our work. I realize he is weak and has his faults, but you have joined us together so that I might give him the strength he needs to do your work. I will not fail you. Just let me know what you want from me next. I await your sign. In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.”
“Okay, that's done," she whispered. "Now on with the day." She arose, straightened her dress, and with her Bible still pressed against her chest, strode out of the sanctuary and down the hall to her office. She went immediately to the closet and put on the wool sweater even though the spare heater had kept her office temperature several degrees warmer. Walking over to her desk, she set her Bible on it and glanced down to the stack of mail and the newspaper next to the mail. She nonchalantly glanced through the paper as she waited for the chill to pass. She flipped from the front back to the entertainment section where there was already a feature story on the upcoming Academy Awards. Next to it was a second story about the surge of Hollywood divorces, unwanted pregnancies, and extramarital affairs.
What a den of iniquity, she thought. She felt a shiver run through her body that was not connected to how warm or cold she was. She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Thank you, God, for delivering the sign so promptly and clearly. Amen.”
She stared at the paper again. That’s where we’re meant to take our revival this year, straight into the Devil’s den, Missy thought. Of course, persuading Reverend Stover wouldn’t be easy. He was always much more conservative when it came to such matters, but she wasn’t really worried. After all, she had God on her side, and he’d given her plenty of tools to work such miracles.