DAD CAME OUT from the bedroom through the hall in the hot still summer afternoon using his wood cane, with Mary following behind, her hands held out in case he needed help, and they came on into the living room where the preacher and Lorraine were sitting together on the couch. Lyle had said not to disturb Mr. Lewis if he was sleeping but Mary told him she’d go back to see if he was awake yet. Now Dad moved across to his chair and sat down and put his cane in place on the floor, looking up at Lyle, who rose and stood next to him and touched him on the shoulder and reached down to take his hand. It’s good to see you, he said. How are you doing today?
Getting slower. Going downhill more.
Are you in pain?
No. They got that taken care of.
I won’t trouble you for long. I just came to see how you were feeling.
You don’t trouble me. Sit down a while if you care to.
Lyle turned and sat again beside Lorraine. Mary seated herself in the rocker as Dad glanced out the window at the sprinkler that was throwing rings of water onto the grass between their house and Berta May’s.
What’s the weather doing out there today? he said. Too hot again?
They say it’s going to rain, Lyle said.
It might. It’s turning off dark right now.
The farmers won’t like that, will they, Daddy? Lorraine said.
Not if they’re trying to cut wheat. The guys with corn won’t mind it.
Sounds like a mixed blessing, Lyle said.
Dad looked at him. Yes sir. Lots of things turn out to be blessings that got mixed up.
You’ve seen some in your lifetime here.
I was raised out on the west plains in Kansas.
You’ve seen some changes.
One or two. He looked out the window again. The sprinkler had moved on its cleated wheels. He looked back. This was the only house on this street when we bought it. Isn’t that right, Mary?
It was nothing but prairie and wind and dirt, she said.
The wind still blows, he said. That doesn’t change. You got to have some wind.
It doesn’t have to blow on my account, she said. I’m tired of it.
They never paved our road over. I don’t guess I’ll see that. If they ever do.
What about people you’ve known? Lyle said. Do you think people have changed?
People?
Are we any different now?
I don’t know. He stared at the preacher. We got more comfortable. We’re not as active or physical. We don’t even go out as far as the front porch as much as we used to. We sit around and watch TV. TV is what’s become of people.
My folks always used to sit out in the evenings in the summer, Mary said. I remember that so well.
We did when I was a kid too, Lorraine said. When Frank and I were still little, before junior high. Do you remember?
Frank’s your brother, I understand, Lyle said. May I ask about him? I hear his name mentioned.
No one said anything. After a while Dad said, You can ask about him but it won’t make no difference. He left here a long time ago. Two days after he finished high school, he took off.
That’s pretty young to leave home, Lyle said.
He only come back twice, Dad said.
But he’ll come back now, won’t he.
Back here?
Yes.
Why would he?
To see you. He’ll want to say good-bye.
He won’t come back for that, Dad said.
Honey, he might yet, Mary said. Oh I want to think he will.
He doesn’t know I’m dying. He won’t be coming back.
Haven’t you told him? Lyle said.
We don’t know where he is.
But would you like to see him?
I’m not waiting on Frank so I can die. If that’s what you’re getting at.
Most people want to see all their family before they go.
I got my family right here.
No, this is not all of us, Mary said. Don’t say we’re all here.
As far as I’m concerned we’re all here, he said.
No, we’re not, Daddy, said Lorraine.
He looked hard around the room, at each face, then pushed himself up from the chair and bent over and picked up his cane and stood still to get his balance. Lorraine came across the room and put her arm around him, holding him, and kissed him on the cheek.
Don’t leave, Daddy. Stay and talk to us. It’s all right. Don’t go, please.
He looked at her face so close to his and looked away and closed his eyes and stood for a long time and finally sat down. She took the cane and set it on the floor, bending over him, kissing him again, putting her cheek against his old age-spotted gray face, and sat down once more beside Lyle. There was silence for a while.
Daddy, why don’t you tell Reverend Lyle about some of the preachers we’ve had, Lorraine said. Like that one you always talk about.
Which one is that?
The one that the woman saw Jesus standing on his head.
He looked at her, then at Lyle. All right, you asked about changes, have people changed, you said. They have in church. Church used to be a long serious affair. None of this bell ringing and people’s dogs getting blessed down at the altar and kids dancing around during the service.
Sounds like a good time for a nap, Lyle said.
I had me some good ones on Sunday mornings. That’s a fact. Anyway, on one of those long hot Sunday mornings there was this woman that was visiting town. Who was it she was seeing, Mary?
The Thompsons, Mary said.
That’s right.… But you tell it. I won’t remember it right.
Yes, you will.
No. Go ahead. Why don’t you.
She was visiting the Thompsons, Mary said, and while the preacher was giving his sermon this woman, she was only a little thing, didn’t weigh as much as a cat, all of a sudden she jumps up from the pew and starts wailing and crying. The preacher, it was Reverend Cooper then, wasn’t it, interrupts his sermon and this tiny little woman cries, Glory! It’s the Lord Jesus! Praise God Almighty!
Reverend Cooper says, Yes, ma’am. Can I help you?
He’s right there over your head! Dressed all in white and walking in the air!
She shoves her way out of the pew and comes running down to the front of the sanctuary and starts shouting how she’s changed this very hour. On account of what she’s witnessed. Oh heavenly days! Hallelujah! Then it’s like she faints out or has a spell, she kind of sinks down in front of the altar and Marla Thompson rushes down and lifts her up and hauls the poor thing back to her pew.
What did the preacher do all this time? Lyle said.
Oh, he’s watching her like the rest of us and then he just goes on with his sermon from where he left off. And afterward we sing the last hymn and he gives out the benediction.
It woke us up at least, Dad said. I couldn’t sleep through that. But there was another one too. You remember, Mary. Reverend John Dupree.
You’re not going to tell about him.
What was that about? Lyle said.
He was a preacher here too. About twenty years back.
What happened?
Well, him and his wife, she was a lot younger, they had a boy about eight. They were having some kind of trouble and got separated from one another. She went off somewhere and left him.
She just went back to Denver, Mary said.
She went back to Denver and that put Reverend Dupree here alone with the boy. It was a god-awful mess. Dupree, he wasn’t any good at church anymore, wasn’t much good at anything at all, couldn’t concentrate on practical matters, and the boy was moping around town getting himself into trouble. Then the Sunday comes, and during the time for announcements he says, I got an announcement myself. My bride is coming home! She’s coming back to me this week. People in the church just applauded. The women, mostly.
There were men clapping too, Mary said.
Clapping at the news. I never heard such a thing in church before in my life.
Did she come back as he said she would?
Yes sir, she come back. All in good time. And shows up in church sitting with the boy and singing hymns. She seemed more or less all right, didn’t she, Mary.
Not really.
No?
No.
Well, she seemed all right to me, a man, but Mary’s correct, she must not of been completely all right because two Sundays later the preacher’s boy is sitting in the pew by himself again and we find out the woman has left Dupree and is living across town with Don Leppke, the young fellow that manages the radio station.
I guess people in Holt didn’t care much for that.
No, people didn’t care for it at all. The station lost some advertising.
What became of her?
Her and Don went off to Denver. We’d hear her on the radio broadcasting from Denver now and then. She seemed to have a talent for it.
That happened after I left home, Lorraine said.
Yes. I think it did.
It had grown darker outside the house and suddenly there was a flash of lightning and it began to rain. The wind came up. Thunder rolled across the sky and there was more lightning flashing. In the living room they watched it out the side window. The rain came down hard at a slant.
Let’s go outside and enjoy it, Lorraine said. Come on, Daddy.
They helped him move out to the front porch and stood watching the rain falling on the grass and out in the graveled street. There were already puddles in the low places and the silver poplar trees were dark, streaming with water. Lorraine held her hand out to the rain and patted her face and then cupped both hands and caught the overflow from the gutters and held her hands up to Dad’s face. He stood leaning on his cane, his face dripping. They watched him, he looked straight out across the lawn past the wrought iron fence, past the wet street to the lot beyond, thinking about something.
Doesn’t it smell good, Mary said.
Yeah, he said softly. His eyes were wet, but they couldn’t say if that was from tears or rainwater.