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Scottsboro, WV—2010
Naturally, Ron was called upon to preside over Chester Rawlings’ funeral service, held at a small family cemetery on the Rawlings property overlooking a small pond. The grievers numbered several dozen, including numerous members of the Devoted Church of Jesus with Signs Following. It was a simple service, but thanks to Ron’s efforts, one that appeared to bring comfort and solace to all who attended it.
* * * *
Several weeks later, after a regular Sunday service, Chester’s widow approached Ron just as he was heading to the small office behind the church’s makeshift stage. She was carrying a white envelope, which she handed to him.
“This is something that Chester wanted y’all to have,” she said quietly, handing the envelope to Ron and looking at Winona.
“What is it?” asked Winona.
“It’s just some insurance money that Chester left behind. He wanted the church to have it.”
Ron appeared shocked, and for a moment was unable to speak. “I never expected anything like this,” he finally managed to say.
“Well,” said Mrs. Rawlings, “Chester thought you folks had made a big difference in our lives, so he named your church as beneficiary. I guess he done it pretty recent, ’cause I didn’t find out ’til just the other day, when the lawyer told me about it.”
“Well, we’re most grateful, Melinda,” said Winona. “And I promise we’ll put it to good use.”
Mrs. Rawlings adjusted her hat, and gave Ron a light peck on the cheek. “He really liked you,” she said, and then started to walk away. Then, she stopped, looked back at the couple, with a curious expression on her face. “It’s kind of funny, don’t you think, that he got his self killed by one of those snakes?”
Winona nodded.
“Guess God works in mysterious ways,” sighed Melinda, “Just like my mother used to say.”
“I guess so,” said Ron.
Winona just smiled.
* * * *
That evening, back at the trailer, Ron opened the envelope and looked at the insurance check. It was made out to Winona and him for fifteen thousand dollars.
“Can you believe that? Fifteen thousand bucks, right out of the blue.”
Then, he again brought up the subject of moving, only to Winona’s apparent surprise, he had changed his mind.
“I hate to leave these people,” he said, “especially now, after what happened to Chester and all.”
“I’m not so sure, baby,” said Winona. “I think you were right in the first place. Maybe it is time to go.”
“But, I thought you said—”
“I know, Ron. But that was before this happened,” said Winona. “Now, how long do you think it’ll be before word gets out and the authorities start snooping around and pointing fingers at us? I think you’re right. We should go.”
“But, why would they suspect us of anything? There was no mention of the snake in the obituary. Besides, these people need me here. I don’t see any reason at all to leave.”
Whether it was a case of naiveté or just being stupid, Ron’s resistance to Winona’s suggestion was steadfast.
“Look, baby,” said Winona. “There’s another reason to move on.”
“Like what?”
“Like, for instance, there’s no possibility of growth here. These people are tapped out.”
Ron furrowed his brow, and reflected upon the truth. He had to admit that “donations” at the church had started to decline. Perhaps Winona was right. After all, the lease for the little storefront church was due to be renewed in two weeks, so what better time to leave than now.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said softly. “But let’s at least stay until the lease runs out, okay? It’s only two more weeks.”
“Sure,” said Winona. “Besides, I’ve got some loose ends to tie up before we can go. Two weeks should be fine.”
Ron got up from his chair, and walked over to the refrigerator. He opened the door, took out two cans of beer, and popped them open.
“Here,” he said, handing one to Winona, “Here’s to bigger and better things.”
Winona smiled, clinked her can against Ron’s, and replied, “Bigger and better.” She took a hard swallow. “Damn, that’s good.”
“So,” said Ron. “Where do you want to go?”
“Far from here, that’s for sure,” answered Winona. “Maybe Pennsylvania. What would you think about that?”
“That sounds okay to me.”
“Good. We’ll pray on it.”
Grabbing Winona’s hand, Ron yanked her to her feet and pulled her toward the trailer’s tiny bedroom. “Come on,” he said. “I know just the place.”
Once inside, Winona removed her shoes, undid her jeans and kicked them off in one motion, and flopped down on the unmade bed, as beer from the open can shot into the air. She lay on her back with her legs splayed wide apart and her eyes nearly closed.
“Come here, preacher man,” she whispered. “Kneel and pray.”
Ron immediately assumed the position. Before long, the worship service had begun, and to anyone passing by in the night, the cries of “Oh Jesus,” coming from inside the trailer might well have been mistaken for actual prayers.
But, Evil knew better.