Garnie shook his head back and forth like a dog coming up from under water. His jowls shook. Then he said, I am no child of hers.
I am a child of God, Garnie went on to say loudly, and I said Oh, and my heart sank for I knew then that the fat silly little Garnie I had loved was already dead and gone too.
Ruthie walked the hall smoking cigarettes, her long white legs flashing, and then it was time for the First Crusade, which Geneva did not attend.
But I went with Oakley to the First Crusade and it was neither better nor worse than I expected. I would rate Little Garnie Rowe about average as a preacher, and I’d bet furthermore that a lot of his fame has come from those that travel with him, such as Little Mary Magdalene in her pink dress, and this other young man that calls himself John Three Sixteen with a real deep singing voice, what Geneva calls a basement voice. But my own mind wandered the way it has done for years in church, and when it came time for the invitational, I enjoyed seeing everyone come forward and was not a bit surprised to see Dreama re-dedicating her life again. She cut her eyes at me but would not speak. She was wearing this hat, you should of seen her!
So Oakley and me drove home in the truck with the boys asleep in the back and Maudy asleep between us, her head laying in my lap.
Well, what did you think? I asked Oakley after a while, and when he didn’t say a thing I leaned over in his face and asked him again.
Oakley sighed such a deep sigh that he seemed to draw it in from the night air all around us, from the very mountain. Ivy, I wish you believed, he said. We jolted on through the soft spring night with three of our children asleep in the truck and one dead, up under the apple trees.
I didn’t say a word.
But when Garnie showed up on Sugar Fork the next Saturday, I was in a mood to listen even if he was a pig and a fool, and my own little brother to boot. First I heard a car door slam, down there by the creek, and bye and bye here came Garnie in a suit that made him look from a distance like a little black box, panting up the hill.
I was hanging out clothes, with the clothespins in my mouth. The boys had gone over on Deskins Fork with Oakley, where they were building Mrs. Clinton Jones a garage, and Maudy and Martha had gone off for a ride with Rufus Cook. So I was all alone there on the hillside, hanging out my clothes in the windy April day.
There was not a soul around to save me from being saved.
I remember I looked straight up at the patchy fast-moving blue spring sky with the clouds sailing past like kites, and I thought, May be. May be it is finally time. And I thought again of how it was that moment in the kitchen, when I felt like church, and how good that felt. Revel’s crazy song came back to me too—I know I’ve been a sinner
and wicked all my days
But when I’m old and feeble,
I’ll think upon my ways.
I knew I had been a sinner all right, and although I have been a fool from time to time too, I am not a fool altogether, not so much of a fool that I expect a burning bush, I mean. I knew God could come in stealth and darkness and work in mysterious ways. So it hit me, there on the hillside, This could be it, after all these years. It could be God speaking out through your fat little brother Garnie, and why not? Stranger things have happened. But because I am so contrary, Silvaney, another part of me said, Well, if this is the vessel God has picked to carry his message, then it is a mighty damn poor one! Garnie stood on the big flat rock fanning himself with a funeral fan which I guess he’d brung up there from church, and sweating, all red in the face. Even his scalp was red, under the fuzz of his hair. I kept on hanging up clothes which was hard as the wind kept trying to jerk them away from me. I was not going to say a thing. I was going to make him work for it. Oh Silvaney, I am contrary!
But Garnie didn’t say anything either, except Hidy sister, and I said, Hidy. Then he sat down on the rock and started flipping through this little white Bible that he carried in his breast pocket.
So finally I couldn’t stand it and I said, How many have you saved this week, Garnie? for his Crusade had been going for a week. It had another week to go.
We have brought 19 souls to God, sister. Garnie said. Since Garnie got to be a preacher, he calls himself we.
I started adding up in my head. So that makes all together . . .
Seven hundred and forty-two, praise God! Garnie cried out in a loud voice. He keeps a running total. Then he took out a snow white handkerchief and mopped his face.
Which brings me to my message here today, he said in a quieter tone, but still sounding like a preacher.
Garnie, why can’t you talk like yourself anymore? I said. For try as I might, it was only in little bits and pieces that I could see my brother in him at all.
Because I am not that Garnie any more, Garnie said, getting all worked up. I have been born again into the love of God and the bounty of his Kingdom. I have been washed in the blood of the Lamb, he hollered.
I was losing my will to be saved, and I knew it. I could tell I was closing my mind.
And that is why I have come up this holler today sister, Garnie said, for it has come to my ears that you have sinned and not repented, that my own sister is going to hell in a handbasket without remorse.
I didn’t answer, still hanging up clothes.
Well! What have you got to say for yourself? Garnie said, almost hollered. He reminded me of that fat little feist-dog that Geneva used to save scraps for, down in Majestic. Ivy? What do you say? It was like he was jumping for scraps, and all red in the face.
Finally I took the clothespins out of my mouth and said, Well, I bet you’ve been talking to Dreama Fox.
It don’t matter! Garnie yelled. It don’t matter where the word comes from, as long as it comes!
But you, he said, hopping off the rock and coming closer, you are a whore and an abomination, and make no mistake about it! What you have done, oh what you have done . . . Garnie was getting so worked up now that spit made little bubbles at the corners of his mouth. I wished they would come back, Oakley and the boys or Maudy and Martha or anybody, I knew that moment I’d had when I might be saved had gone by as fast as one of those swiftmoving clouds, and I dreaded what might come next. I wished somebody, anybody else would come to save me. For I was all alone on the hillside with Garnie, who stepped up closer.
I took a deep breath.
I’m glad to hear you saved so many souls, I said. And how much money did you take in?
Ivy you always were too smart which is the flaw in your tragic nature, Garnie sputtered.
I bent down to my basket to get some more shirts. I don’t know what you are talking about, I said.
I will tell you Ivy right now, Garnie said. Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh. For God shall bring every work into judgement, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil. That is the word of God in Ecclesiastes 12:14, Garnie said.
Amen. I was getting mad. I flapped out Oakley’s jeans and hung them up.
Whoa now. Hold up honey! Garnie said. You had best not be so fast here. Well do I recall you as a girl and how you held yourself above your sisters and above us all, and see now where it has brought you, Ivy. It has brought you low, it has brought you down into the fiery pit of hell and into damnation, for as God has said in Proverbs 16:5, Every one that is proud in heart is an abomination to the Lord. Though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished.
I kept hanging up clothes, but I was getting scared. Garnie was nothing but a fat little feist-dog in a black wool suit and I knew it, yet what he said rung a bell in me someplace for I have been proud Silvaney, in my body and my mind, I am proud still, and if this is sin then I must claim it as my own. I thought of you Silvaney, and how you could not learn, and of Ethel who went without, and of Beulah that day at Diamond when she cried and told me I am the one that had everything, and then threw it all away. The wind picked up and the bed sheets flapped around my head.
Whoa! Garnie shrieked l
ike the wind, it seemed that his voice was the voice of the wind. Listen here Ivy, now listen here! and I knew that he was going to read out of his little Bible although I could no longer see him, nor could I breathe, caught up in the flapping sheet. For a whore is a deep ditch, and a strange woman is a narrow pit, Garnie went on, These things doth the Lord hate, a proud look, a lying tongue, an heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief. And further, Ivy, further—Proverbs 6:27, Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned? Whoso commiteth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding. He that doeth it destroyeth his own soul.
What about the woman? I said through the blowing sheet. For that is all about a man.
In the mouth of the foolish is a rod of pride, Garnie said, you poor sinner woman you. Every wise woman buildeth her house, but the foolish plucketh it down with her own hands.
Listen then Ivy, said Garnie, for this is the story of a woman like you, a woman who thought she could take her fill of love until the morning, and our God has said of her in Proverbs 7:25, he has said it out loud and clear, Let not thine heart decline to her ways, go not astray in her paths. For she cast down many wounded, yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chamber of death. The chamber of death Ivy, where you dwell now and will dwell forever along with that sweet baby LuIda down in the cold damp earth with her flesh rotting off of her bones while you pull down your pants for any—
But right then, three things happened at the same time.
The first thing was that my heart gave the awfullest leap, jumping up in my throat and pitching me forward just as the sheet flapped up in the wind causing me to stumble and fall to the wet ground, and in that moment when I fell forward on my face in the dirt, in that very moment I had a full good look at Garnie who was unbuckling his belt with a furious face and drooling spit and panting out loud like a dog. I reckon he was fixing to whip me with his belt, but I don’t know for sure because all of a sudden there in the middle of it all was Oakley who was the last thing I saw before I pitched forward.
Goddamn you! Oakley said, goddamn you, and Garnie grunted like a pig every time Oakley hit him. Then Oakley was helping me up and blood was running down my front from where I had bit my lip, but in spite of that I grinned to see Garnie stumble off down the hill like a fat little drunk, with mud on the back of his pants. He looked like a funny man in the movies. I was still holding Maudy’s little yellow dress which I had been hanging up. It had got all muddy when I fell.
Well Ivy, Oakley said. Oakley had one arm around my waist and held my elbow with the other one, very formal, as if we were going to promenade. This sure is some family I have married into, Oakley said.
We walked to the house like that, real slow and stately, and stopped at the back steps. My hair had tumbled down of course and kept blowing into my eyes. Oakley touched my hair, my bleeding lip. I looked back at the wash flapping on the line in the wind and it seemed to me like it was dancing, like all of my family and me was out there dancing to beat the band.
So I remain
Your loving, proud, and hellbent sister,
IVY.
P.S. I have forgot to say that when Garnie left town with his Crusade, Ruthie stayed! For it turned out that Garnie beats her up, and makes her do bad things. She told Geneva all about it, and Geneva said Hellfire honey, it is no use putting up with that! Now she is making desserts for Geneva which she is real good at. One boy, Corey, stayed behind with his mother, but the other boy and Mary Magdalene went on with Garnie and John Three Sixteen and the rest of them. Garnie got ugly at the last, but Geneva stood up to him and threatened to call the sheriff who is one of her old sweeties. And Ruthie told Geneva that Garnie has not really done it for seven years! He can’t do it, Ruthie says.
I found Garnie’s little white Bible, that he lost in the fight, and I am studying it. It is pretty good. You know how I have always loved a story. I will write more later.
July 10, 1944.
Dear Joli,
I am writing to tell you about Martha’s little wedding which we held here, at the house, a week ago. Of course this is not regular but since Oakley and his whole family just about keep the church in business, and since they have got a new preacher down there more broadminded than old Mr. Dent was, it could be done as Martha wished. You know Martha has never before expressed a preference for one thing over another in her whole life, so I said, Let her have her way for Gods sake! And we did. What Martha wanted was not surprising to me, as she has not been out of this house hardly ever in her whole life since we came back here, except lately when she has took to riding with Rufus in his truck. And Rufus is just crazy about her, Joli! It would make you cry to see it. For he dotes on Martha in every particular. He has built her a house down there on Home Creek which is exactly like this one right down to the blue rag rug, so she will feel at home there.
Martha smiles whenever Rufus comes in the room, and follows him everywhere with her eyes. As for Rufus, he grins like a fool. Rufus Cook is the homeliest boy that was ever to walk the face of the earth, I might of mentioned that. He has got a big hook nose like his daddy, and no chin to speak of, and the biggest adams apple you ever saw. It wobbles all the time, and gives him a real high voice. But Martha thinks he hung the moon.
It is a funny thing to me, Joli. For I have figured out that the change in Martha must of occurred when I went off, that time four years ago, me leaving meant that Martha had to jump right in with me gone, she had to do. And she has kept on doing ever since, much more than you would of thought! I do not mean that she can read a book of course nor anything like that, but she can come and go and drive a car and do a lot better than you would of dreamed, five years ago. It is like a miracle to me.
And also it makes me wonder—if you treat somebody as simple, does it make them simple? For that is how we treated Martha for so long.
And if you love somebody, as Rufus loves her, does that bring them out?
Anyway, Martha’s little wedding was short and sweet and Rufus did not do a thing but wear a clean white shirt tucked in his jeans with his carpenters rule strung to his belt as always. Mister Blue, that is the new preacher, made it quick. Oakley’s folks do not like Mister Blue because he said from the pulpit that he does not think that Catholics are going to hell for the worship of idols, not necessarily. Mister Blue is one of these new kind of preachers that has gone to school for it, not just got the call. Anyway, all he did was get Rufus and Martha to repeat the vows.
Maudy was so excited she liked to have died, you would of thought it was her getting married instead of Martha! Geneva had bought Maudy a sailor dress and we pulled her hair back with a big bow, she looked so cute, she looked like Shirley Temple in a movie, or somebody about to bust loose in a dance. You know she is 8 now, it don’t seem possible. LuIda would of been 9.
And Martha is going to have a baby, so it all goes on, I reckon.
And speaking of young love, what are you going to do about yourn? Taylor Cunningham the Third I mean. He sounds like a King to me. Ha ha, just joking. I don’t know what you mean, a good catch. I think you have been away from here too long, Joli. I think you ought to come back and let Geneva feed you some lemon chess pie and let me talk some sense into your pretty head. I guess I sound like old Granny Rowe, before long I will look like her too. Your daddy and me are getting old, Joli, it hit me yesterday as we were standing up there with Martha and Rufus and I thought how we stood up ourselves to marry, all those years ago. I looked over at him and I could tell he was thinking the same thing or damn near similar. He squeezed my hand. Your daddy breathes heavy now, you can hear him all over the house, I guess it is all those years in the mine. But he is such a good looking man, I think. He is better looking now than ever.
Anyway Joli, I hope you will think twice before you haul in this good catch of yourn. You better think if you could keep your job on the newspaper too, after the war I mean, or if you would
have to just be Mrs. Taylor Cunningham the Third. It might be a full time job!
But here now.
I’ve saved the best for last.
Because Violet showed up, yes Violet Gayheart, Martha’s mama, after all these years! I could not believe it and neither could anyone else. I would not of known her either. For Violet is all business and tough as nails, these days. You know she lost Rush in the mine. Now she has lost R.T. in the war, a year before it even started, on a Navy ship. But this has not slowed her down any, only made her more determined. For Violet Gayheart is a famous woman now, and looks it. She holds herself real tall and dresses up, nice seersucker suit, big black hat, and her face—which was always haunted, some way—has turned into a face you can not forget, for her eyes burn now with what she believes. It is like a part of who she was—the fun Violet I knew back in the Diamond days—has been burned clean out of her. She is a different woman now. I feel like she sees more than I do, and more than I want to see. This is true in fact as well, for she got into an argument right before she left with old Delphi Rolette and his boy Gus over the little truck mine that they are running now on some land they own down by the river. Of course they are not union! There is only five of them working it, and hauling it out in a truck. This is true all over the county which has never been big for the union as there is no real big mines here, not like over in Harlan for instance, or at Diamond. Not since Consolidated Coal pulled out. There is tipples falling down all over these hills.
Listen here, Violet said to Gus. You have got your rights too. You deserve better.
I deserve the right to make a living if I can do it, said Gus Rolette in no uncertain terms. Come on Daddy, and he pulled old Delphi away who did not understand what all the fuss was about or who this dressed up woman was that talked so fast and sounded so definite.