Catch him! someone shouted, and he then felt himself hanging by his heels and they were grabbing and slapping him across his burning back, lifting, and his head came up into a confusion of voices, hearing, Here, let me take him. Let’s get the poor child out of here, seeing Sister Wilhite and another sister was saying Better give him to Sister Mary, holding her broad hand against his stomach, Sister Mary’s home, she’s got kids of her own, and another voice saying, No, she’s too crowded and lives too close to here…. and Then who? Sister Wilhite was saying and long smooth fingers were reaching for him saying, Me, Sister Wilhite, let me have him and Sister Wilhite looking intensely at the young woman, her eyes sparkling, You? and the smooth Elberta peach brown face with curly hair covering her ears saying, Let me, Sister Wilhite, I live far and I got no husband and I know my way through these woods like a rabbit…. And Sister Wilhite turning her head, saying, What you all think? and he tried to open his mouth but she shook him—Hush, Revern’ Bliss—and someone said, She’s right. Give him to Sister Georgia, only get him out of here. And he was leaning forward, hearing Sister Wilhite’s Here, sister, take him, and he began again, I want Daddy Hickman, and Sister Wilhite saying, And you hurry. He was being handed over once more and he said, I want Daddy Hickman, hearing, Hush Revern’ Bliss, honey, in the hot blast of Sister Georgia’s breath against his cheek. You’re going with me ’cause this ain’t no place for you to be—not right now it ain’t. Then she turned and he caught sight of Daddy Hickman climbing down from the platform. Then he recognized the little slant-shouldered sister’s deep voice—Will y’all sisters get out of the woman’s way? she said—and the others were pushing and shoving and Sister Georgia was pushing him against them and the little sister said with her head on Sister Georgia’s shoulder Go with the speed of angels, love. Madame Herod done come, Mister Herod be coming soon; the snake! So take that child and let ’em diga my grave….
And already Sister Georgia was rushing him along with her quick, swinging-from-side-to-side walk, away from the screaming white woman and the angry deaconesses in their ruffled baby caps, going straight through the strangely silent members, stepping over fallen folding chairs, lunch baskets and scattered hymnbooks, past the slanting tent ropes and a smoking flare, into the open. Beginning to run now as though someone was chasing them, on out across the sawdust-covered earth of the clearing, through the big trees into the bushes in the dark. She was saying baby words to him as she ran and he twisted around to see behind them, hearing, “Hold still now, honey,” as he looked back to the moiling within the yellow light of the tent. The woman was screaming again and a team of mules was pitching in their harness rising up and breaking toward the light, then plunging off into the shadow. Then Deacon Wilhite’s voice was leading some of the members to singing and the sound rose up strong, causing the woman’s screams to sound like red sparks shooting through a cloud of thick black smoke. Sister Georgia stumbled sending them jolting forward and he could hear her grunt and her breath coming hard and fast as she balanced herself, causing him to sway back and forth in her arms and his back to burn like fire.
“It’s all right now, Revern’ Bliss,” she said as he began to cry.
“I want Daddy Hickman,” he cried. “I want to go back.”
“Not now, Revern’ Bliss, darling, Right now he’s got his hands full with that awful woman.”
“But I hurt,” he cried. “I hurt bad.”
“Hurt? What’s hurting you, Revern’ Bliss?”
“I hurt all over. They scratched me. Please take me back.”
“But the meeting’s all over for tonight,” she said. “That woman broke it up. Lord help us, but she really wrecked it. I hope the Lord makes her suffer for it too. Doing such an awful thing, and we supposed to act Christian toward them. Knocking over your coffin and everything …”
He thought, I want Teddy and my Bible. Then, remembering the look on the woman’s face when she picked him up, he was silent. It was like a dream. He had been in the coffin, ready to rise up, and all of a sudden there she was, screaming. Now it was like a picture he was looking at in a book or in a dream—even as he watched the tear-sparkling tent falling rapidly away. And in the up-and-down swaying of the sister’s movement he could no longer tell one member from another; he couldn’t even see Daddy Hickman. She was really one of them passed through his mind, then the road was dipping swiftly down a hill in the dark and he was being taken where he could no longer see the peak shape of the tent rising white above the yellow light. Only the sound of singing came to him now and fading.
They were moving through low-branched trees where he could smell the sticky little blossoms which the honeybees and flea-flies loved so well; then the branches grew higher up on the trunks of the trees and the trees were taller and they were dropping down a slope. “Hold tight, Revern’ Bliss,” she said. “We have to cross over somewhere along here.”
“Over water?” he said.
“That’s right.”
“Deep water?”
“Not very. You don’t have to be afraid. Hush now, we be there in a minute.”
“I’m not afraid of any water,” he said.
She was moving carefully and he looked down, hearing the quiet swirl of the stream somewhere ahead before he could see its smoothly glinting flow. And she said, “Hold tight, honey, hold real tight, we got to cross this log,” and was balancing and carrying him rapidly along a narrow tree trunk that lay across the stream, then breathing hard up the steep slope of a hill into the bushes. He could hear twigs snapping and plucking at her dress and raised his arm to keep the limbs from his face as she climbed. She was breathing hard and he could feel her softness sweating through the cloth of his full dress jacket and the heat of her body rising to him. And he could hear himself thinking just as Body would have said, She’s starting to smell kinda funky, and was ashamed. Body said that ladies could smell a good funky and a bad funky but men just smelled like funky bears. But this was a good smell although it wasn’t supposed to be and the sister was good to be carrying him so gently and she was nice and soft. Her pace slowed again now and suddenly they were out of the dusty bushes and he sneezed. They were moving along a sandy road.
“Wheew!” she said. “That was some thicket, Revern’ Bliss, and you went through it like a natural man. You all right now?”
“Yes, mam,” he said. “But I want to go back to Daddy Hickman.”
“Oh, he’ll be coming to get you soon, Revern’ Bliss. He knows where you’ll be. You’re not afraid of me are you?”
“No, mam, but I have to go back and help him.”
“I guess we can rest now,” she said, bending, and he felt the sand give beneath his feet. She was breathing hard. Her white dress made it easier to see in the dark, just as his white suit did. She was younger than Sister Wilhite and the others. And he thought, We are like ghosts on this road.
“Of course you want to help, Revern’,” she said, “and as much as I’d like to have a little boy as smart as you, I know you’re a minister and not meant to be mine or anybody else’s. So don’t worry, Revern’ Bliss, because as soon as Revern’ gets through he’ll be coming after you. That woman needs a good beating for doing this to you….”
She was breathing easier now and looking up and down the dark road.
“She called me a funny name,” he said.
“I could hear her yelling something when she broke in. What’d she call you?”
“Cudworth …”
“Cudworth—Revern’ Bliss, are you sure?”
“I think so,” he said.
“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. Doing what she done it’s a wonder she didn’t call you Lazarus … or Peter Wheatstraw … even Shorty George,” and she laughed. “The old heifer. They always slapping us with some name that don’t have nothing to do with us. The freckle-faced cow! You think you can walk now, Revern’ Bliss? My house is just up the road behind those trees up yonder. See, up there.”
“Yes, mam, I can walk,”
he said. But he couldn’t see her house, only a dark line of bushes and trees. This is a deep black night, he thought. She’s got eyes like a cat.
“Walk over here on the side,” she said. “It’s firmer.”
“She made the members afraid,” he heard himself saying.
“Afraid? Now where’d you get that idea, Revern’ Bliss? As outraged as those sisters was and you talking about them being afraid? Were you afraid?”
“Yes, mam,” he said, “but the sisters were hurting me. They were afraid too. I could smell them….”
“Smell them? Well did I ever!” She stopped, her hands on her hips, looking down into his face. “Revern’ Bliss, what are you talking about? You must be tired and near-half asleep, talking about smelling folks. Give me your hand so I can get you to bed.”
She was annoyed now and he could feel the tug on his shoulder as she pulled him rapidly along. She doesn’t want me to know it, he thought, but they were afraid.
“Revern’ Bliss, you are something,” she said.
They went along a path through the trees; then they were climbing, and suddenly there was the house on a hill in the dark. He could smell orange blossoms as she led him up to it; then they were going across the porch up to a doorway.
“Stand right here a minute while I light the lamp,” she said. Then the room was lighted and she said, “Welcome to my house, Revern’ Bliss,” and he went in. She was fanning herself with a handkerchief and sighing. “Lord, what a hot evening, and it had been going so good too—Revern’ Bliss, would you like a piece of cold watermelon before you go to bed?”
“Yes, mam, thank you, mam,” he said. And he was glad that she wasn’t angry anymore.
“You don’t think it’ll make you have to get up in the night, do you?”
“Oh no, mam. Daddy Hickman lets me have watermelon at night all the time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, mam. He gives me melon and ice cream too. You wouldn’t have any ice cream, would you, mam?”
“No I don’t, Revern’ Bliss, bless your heart. But if you come back on Sunday I’ll make you a whole freezer full and bake you a cake, all for yourself. Would you like that, Revern’ Bliss?”
“Yes, mam, I sure would,” he said. And she bent down and hugged him then and the woman smell came to him sharp and intriguing. Then her face left and she was smiling in the lamplight and beyond her head two tinted pictures of old folks frozen in attitudes of dreamy and remote dignity looked down from where they hung high on the wall in oval frames, seeming to float behind curved glass. They had the feel of the statues of the saints he’d seen in that white church in New Orleans. It was strange. And he could see the reflection of his shadowed face showing above her bending shoulders and against the side of her darkened head. He felt her about to lift him then and suddenly he hugged her. And in the warm surge that flowed over him, he kissed her cheek, then pulled quickly away.
“Why, Revern’ Bliss, that was right sweet of you. I don’t remember ever being kissed by a minister before.” She smiled down at him. “Let’s us go get that melon,” she said.
He felt the warmth of her hand as she led him out through a dark kitchen that sprang into shadow-shrouded light before them, placing the lamp on the blue oilcloth that covered the table, saying, “Come on, Revern’ Bliss.” And they went out into the dark, into the warm blast of the orange-blossom night and across the porch into the dark of the moon. Fireflies flickered before them as they moved across the yard.
“It’s down in the well, Revern’ Bliss; it’s been down there cooling since yesterday.”
She went up and leaned against the post that held the crosspiece, looking down into the wide dark mouth of the well, and he followed to stand beside her, looking at the rope curving up through the big iron pulley that hung above. And she said, “Look down there, Revern’ Bliss; look down at the water before I touch the rope and disturb it. You see those stars down there? You see them floating down there in the water?”
And he boosted himself up the side, balancing on his elbows, as he looked down into the cool darkness. It was a wide well and there were the high stars, mirrored below in the watery sky, and he felt himself carried down and yet up. He seemed to fall down into the sky and to hang there, as though his darkened image floated among the stars. It was frightening and yet peaceful, and close beside him he could hear her breathing.
Then suddenly he heard himself saying, “I am the bright and morning star,” and peered below, hearing her give a low laugh and her voice above him saying serenely, “You are too, at that,” and she was touching his head.
Then her hand left and she touched the rope and he could see the sky toss below, shuddering and breaking and splashing liquidly with a dark silver tossing. And he wanted to please her.
“Look at them now,” he said. “See there, the morning stars are singing together.”
And she said, “Why, I know where that’s from, it’s from the book of Job, my daddy’s favorite book of the Bible. Do you preach Job too, Revern’ Bliss?”
“Yes, mam. I preaches Job and Jeremiah too. Just listen to this: The word of the Lord came unto me, saying, Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations….”
“Amen, Revern’ Bliss …” she said.
“… Ah, Lord, God!” he said, making his voice strong and full, “Behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child,” and it seemed to echo in the well, surprising him.
“Now ain’t that wonderful?” she said. “Revern’ Bliss, do you understand all of that you just said?”
“Not all of it, mam. Even grown preachers don’t understand all of it, and Daddy Hickman says we can only see as through a glass darkly.”
“Ah yes,” she sighed. “There’s a heap of mystery about us people.”
She was pulling the rope now and he could hear the low song of the pulley and the water dripping a little uneven musical scale—a ping pong pitty-pat ping ping pong-pat back into the well, and he said,
“Sure, I preaches Job,” and started to quote more of the scripture but he couldn’t remember how it started. It’s the thirty-eighth chapter, seventh verse, he thought, that’s where it tells about the stars singing together….
“Revern’ Bliss, this melon’s heavy,” she said. “Help me draw it up.”
“Yes, mam,” he said, taking hold of the rope. And as he helped her he remembered some of it and said, “Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me….” He heard the pulley singing a different tune now and as the melon came up the water from the rope was running cool over his hands and his throat remembered some more of the lines and they came out hand over fist as the melon came up from the well:
“Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the
earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.
Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest?
or who hath stretched the line upon it?
Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened?
or who laid the corner stone thereof?
When the morning stars sang together, and all the
sons of God shouted for joy?
Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth,
as if it had issued out of the womb?…”
Then she said, “There!” and he saw the melon come gleaming from the well and she reached out and pulled it over to the side, setting the bucket on the rim. He could hear it dripping a quiet wet little tune far below as she removed it from the bucket.
“It’s a mystery to me how you manage to remember so much, Revern’ Bliss—Lord, but this sure is a heavy one we got us tonight! Come on over here where we can sit down.”
So he followed her over the bare ground and sat on the floor of the porch beside the wet, cold melon, his feet dangling while she went into the kitchen. Behind him he could hear the opening of a drawer and the rattlin
g of knives and forks; then she was back holding a butcher knife, the screen slamming sharply behind her.
She said, “Would you like to cut the melon, Revern’ Bliss?”
“Yes, mam, thank you, mam.”
“I thought you would,” she said. “The men always want to do the cutting. So here it is, let’s see how you do it.”
“Shall I plug it, mam?” he said, taking the knife.
“Plug it? Plug this melon that I know is ripe? Listen to that,” she said, thumping it with her fingers.
“Daddy Hickman always plugs his melons,” he said.
“All right, Revern’ Bliss, if that’s the way it has to be, go ahead. I guess Revern’ has plugged him quite a few.”
And he took the knife and felt the point go in hard and deep to the width of the blade; then again, and again, and again, making a square in the rind. He felt the blade go deep and deep and then deep and deep again. Then he removed the blade, just like Daddy Hickman did and stuck the point in the middle of the square and lifted out the wedge-shaped plug, offering it to her.
“Thank you, Revern’ Bliss,” she said with a smile in her voice, and he could hear the sound of the juice as she tasted it.
“See there, I knew it was ripe,” she said. “You try it.”
It was cold and very sweet and the taste of it made him hurry. He cut two lengthwise pieces then, saying, “There you are, mam,” and watched her lift them out, giving him one and taking the other.
And they sat there in the dark with the orange blossoms heavy around them, eating the cold melon. He tried spitting the seeds at the fireflies, hearing them striking the hard earth around the porch and the fireflies still blinking. Then Sister Georgia stopped eating.