Walk Home Together

                                      Wilcox County, Alabama 1936

“Good mornin Mr. David!” I say. “Nice day idn’it?” And then I giggle to myself. Every day I take the shortcut through the cemetery on my way to school, and every day I say the same thing to the life size statue of a man that marks the grave of “Lieutenant David L. Milton, C.S.A. Beloved Son”.

I’m not scared of cemeteries and graves and ghosts. Especially not now, because I just turned thirteen, practically a grown up lady. Mama says I’m about done with school, she needs me at home since Daddy died and I need to be working. I’d much rather clean houses or learn how to sew than chop cotton or something hard like that even if it does pay more. Mama says I’m like a  little bitty piece of costume jewelry. Pretty, but ain’t worth much. Then we just laugh and laugh. I am small for my age, it’s true. 

Since Daddy died we don’t laugh as much as we used to. Besides me and Mama, there’s six more mouths to feed. I’m the oldest. We make do, though. Got some chickens and goats and a vegetable patch. We rent our house out on the Camden Road from Mr. Welsh and he says not to worry about the money for now. Says he and Mama can work something out. Even so, I don’t much care for Mr. Welsh. He’s got a great big belly and he’s so sweaty and baldheaded he practically shines. 

Anyway, I’m late. I walk through the cemetery and go on down the road and get to school on time.

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This morning I’m walking fast because it’s windy and the red powdery road dust is flying up into my eyes and somehow my mouth, even though I’m keeping it closed tight. Even so, I still stop by Mr. David’s statue. 

“Good morning Mr. David!” I say wiping the dust from around my mouth with my thumb. “Nice day, idn’it?” 

“Oh I don’t know about that. Looks like rain to me.” he answers back. 

I’m just teasing. It wasn’t him. It’s a tall skinny man, stepping out from behind the big horseapple tree by the cemetery gate. Bout scares the mess outta me, though. For a minute I do think the ghost of Lieutenant David L. Milton C.S.A. has rose up from the grave. I am fixing to run like hell. He ain’t my Beloved Son. 

But like I said, it wasn’t any ghost. It is just a man, although I haven’t ever seen him before. And not a regular looking man, either. He is wearing a three piece suit with shined up shoes and he is the blondest person I’ve ever seen in my life. I mean, all Mama and Daddy’s babies are towheads, but I have never seen a grown man with hair so blond it is practically white. And he ain’t that old, either.  Still a grown up but way younger than Mama. 

I realize he’s waiting for me to speak. All I can manage in the face of this fancy suit and halo of hair with my heart pounding out of my chest with (I think?) fear is:

“Who the hell are you?” 

“I’m the new preacher,” he says, laughing at my dumb embarrassed face, nodding his head in the direction of Fellowship Baptist across the road. 

“Sorry about the ‘hell’,” I say. 

“Me too,” he says, grinning. His teeth are straight and as white as his hair, with a tiny little gap between the front ones. Then, “I’m just pulling your leg. I’ve heard worse from people who ought to know better.” 

I look at my feet. He is just too much to look at and I feel strange. 

“I’m late for school,” I say, backing away. Somehow I don’t want to turn my back on him. Either out of respect or fear or this heartbeat buzzing feeling across my neck and shoulders, I’m not quite sure. 

The heartbeat buzzing feeling, which is new to me but not at all unpleasant, lasts all day and all night. 

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This morning as I’m walking towards the cemetery I’m not sure if I want him to be there or not. I think I do. And there he is, across the road, coming down the steps of Fellowship Baptist. 

So it’s true, I think, that he is the new preacher. Not that I knew much about the old one. Mama and Daddy never took us to church. Daddy didn’t believe in it, said it was just a bunch of dressed up hypocrites. And like most things, Mama went along with whatever Daddy said. She was always too busy with a crying baby to even notice if it was Sunday or not. 

“Well there’s the little angel,” he says. 

I feel my cheeks flush. “Hey,” I say, for lack of anything better.

“You and your family comin’ on Sunday? My first sermon here. About the Garden of Eden. Gonna be a good one,” he says. Did he just wink at me? Surely not. Still, the heartbeat buzzing is so loud I can’t hardly hear myself think. 

“No…sir. It’s just Mama and me and the little ones and we don’t really go to church…much.” I add that last part so he won’t know what heathens we are. 

He grins at this, oddly enough, showing those even white teeth and his eyes crinkle up at the corners. “Well, but you’re saved, right?” he asks. 

I’m not entirely sure what he means. I’ve heard folks say that word before, but I never paid much attention. I thought it had something to do with some money and “passin that collection plate”, another thing Daddy couldn’t stand. I figure I better not lie to a preacher. “Um. Nossir…I don’t guess I am,” I stammer. 

“Oh little angel, we gonna have to fix that. Come to church on Sunday. See what you think,” he says. 

“I’ll try, ” I say, knowing full well I’ll iron my best dress, the Liberty print with the tiny yellow flowers, and sit where he can see me. I want him to be pleased with me so I suppose I want to be “saved” too, whatever that means. 

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It’s Sunday morning and here I am, sitting halfway back, on the aisle. I recognize just a few faces, but then again I live out a ways and don’t come to town much except for school. A few people greet me, but most of the folks are gossiping about the new preacher. I hear little scraps of it. 

“I heard he’s from Montgomery, but his grandmother is from Greenville.” 

“No no he’s from Mobile and kin to the Walters.” 

“Sure is a good lookin thing, though. Never seen hair that color on a grown man before.” And so on. 

They sing a song or two, I don’t know the words but they seem familiar anyway. After that, he steps up to the little stand and starts to speak.

I can’t tell you what all he’s talking about, not really. Adam and Eve and a garden and a magic tree, maybe? But I know I don’t want him to ever stop. The heartbeat buzzing starts at my head and spreads all the way down to my toes and out through my fingers. When he looks at me I hardly breathe. When he’s done we sing again and then someone hands me a brass plate with money in it. I guess I’m supposed to take some, so I do. Just a little, so everybody else gets some too. When it’s over, I leave quick but walk slowly back home, heartbeat buzzing. 

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It’s Monday and I’m headed to school. As I round the bend in the road I can’t decide if I want him to be there or not. But sure enough, there he is, standing by that tree again, drinking a Cocola. Is he waiting for me?

“So how bout it, little angel?” he asks, as I walk closer to him. “What did you think about my sermon?” 

I blush right away. “Um…it was…good. Real good,” I manage to say. 

He laughs at that. “You mean I worked on that sermon all week to impress you enough to get saved and all it was is ‘good?” 

I’m speechless. He wanted to impress me? Me? I can’t even look at him so I stare at the Cocola bottle he’s holding. 

“Oh you want a sip?” he asks, handing me the bottle. I don’t know what else to do so I take a little swallow and hand it back. He drains the rest of the bottle and throws it into the woods on the other side of the fence. 

“So did you decide?” he asks. 

“Decide what?” I blink, stupid. 

“If you want to be saved, of course! You really ought to, you know. It’s how you get guaranteed a spot in Heaven.” he says. He doesn’t seem shocked that I don’t know this. But shouldn’t I know this?  I never thought of Heaven much at all, other than I guessed Daddy must have gone there. He wasn’t a mean daddy, just drank a little. Wouldn’t seem right if he went to the Other Place. But I say yes, I sure do want a guaranteed place in Heaven. 

So we start meeting almost every day after school to work on me getting saved. 

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The heartbeat buzzing stays with me all the time now. Almost three months but I’m not quite saved yet. “An Angel in Training” he calls me. Sometimes when I’m getting saved he reads the Bible to me. “The Good Book” he calls it. Some things make a little bit of sense, especially the way he explains them to me. Like the Ten Commandments. Seems like a good set of rules. And the loving your neighbor as yourself part. We don’t have any neighbors out on the Camden Road, but I think I get the meaning. Sometimes we just talk. About places we want to see in the world one day. About animals that look funny like raccoons and armadillos. About what food we like. About what is underneath what looks like miles of kudzu back behind the church. I say you could hide a train car under it and no one would guess it was there. 

Sometimes we work on “laying on of hands”. And eventually we stop using our hands for the most part. I don’t mind. 

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Of course I knew it was going to happen. You don’t grow up on a farm in a two room house without figuring out how new little chickens or goats or babies are made. And when you have babies, you get married to the one you made them with. I will be the preacher’s wife and and we will live in town. Heaven itself couldn’t be any better than that. Even though I must be getting close to being all the way saved now. 

I can barely stand it I want to tell him so bad but I wait until I know for sure and even then I wait a little longer than that. 

“How old are you, girl?” he asks. I’m afraid because he seems angry.  

“Thirteen, ” I choke out. “I’m a little small for my age.” 

“Damn right you are,” he says quietly, as he turns away from me, almost so I can’t hear him. “Who all have told? Your mama?” he asks.

“No! Nobody.” I say. Not yet, anyway. 

He closes his eyes and breathes out of his nose for a long time. I sit still as I can and wait. Finally, he opens his eyes and smiles at me with those straight white teeth and even though his eyes don’t crinkle at the edges like usual, I know he is happy now. 

“I think its high time we finish up getting you saved, little angel.” he says. 

We go outside and back behind the church. He leads me over to a wooden box that almost looks like a big horse trough but with a ladder propped up next to it. I never noticed it before, since its right up next to where all that kudzu starts growing down the hill and into the gully. Again I think it looks scary and beautiful, like it swallows up everything underneath it, covering it with waxy green leaves forever. 

“I’m going to baptize you,” he says. “We talked about it, remember?” He points to the ladder he must want me to climb. 

As I look over I see that the water is murky and stagnant, with frog eggs and slimy leaves floating in it. I don’t want to go in, but he seems happy with me right now so I do.    

He climbs in after me, and stands facing me. He puts his hands on my shoulders and before I know it he’s kicked my legs out from under me and I’m under the water. I know this is what baptizing is, but I thought he’d say a prayer or warn me or something. But I’m not worried. 

Except that after a few seconds I need to breathe. Surely he’s going to let me up now?  But he’s holding me down hard. I start to kick because I am scared now and I need to breathe, but I know that this is it, I’m about to be really saved. I’m going to be guaranteed a spot in heaven so being scared for a minute is worth it. He’s strong and will hold me down and make sure I don’t mess it up. 

After a while I feel so peaceful, so light. Warm and soft and free. Not in my body at all, really. Finally. I am saved. 

Somehow I don’t want to turn my back on him. Either out of respect or fear or this heartbeat buzzing feeling across my neck and shoulders, I’m not quite sure.