any of them! she declared silently. No one can shame me but myself.
Bending down behind the piano, the preacher pulled out a big three-bushel basket and held it up before the crowd.
"Looky-here what we got, brothers and sisters," he said with obvious pride.
The large basket was filled to the brim, and the sweat popped out on the preacher's forehead with the strain of lifting it. Peeking out the top was a great, big, sweet-smelling smoked ham.
"Look what the good ladies have come up with for you, Brother Yo," the preacher said. "Here's a baker's dozen of jars of the finest fruits and vegetables our ladies can put by."
He held up a couple of jars to show the congregation.
The members clapped with enthusiasm.
"And here's a twenty-pound sack of flour. And soap—. heaven knows we can all use our share of that," the preacher continued with a big smile and a playful poke at Yo's ribs.
"Looks to be some fine yard goods in here, girls." He addressed this comment to the giggling twins, who were now hiding their pretty pink faces.
"And there's a couple of hams and a slab of bacon to get you through till spring comes down."
"Amen!" Yo said gratefully, thanking the congregation as the preacher handed him the basket.
"Brother Yo," the reverend began. "David said that the Lord upholdeth all that fall and raiseth up all those that be bowed down."
Yohan smiled broadly at first the pastor and then the congregation.
"I suspect," the preacher continued, "that there is none in our community, none in our church, so bowed down as you and your little girls."
Murmurs of agreement were churchwide.
"This late in the winter, Brother Yo, the ladies thought you-all'd be low on vittles. David tells us that the Lord givest them in due season. So this ham and the rest is yours."
Resounding "amens" and even a couple of "hallelujahs" were heard as the Crabb family stood in the front of the church publicly and subserviently accepting the charity of the congregation.
Esme struggled to keep her eyes unfocused, gazing sightlessly over the heads of the people so willingly doing their Christian duty.
Unerringly, however, her glance was drawn from its secret refuge to a pair of blue eyes on the left side, second pew.
Cleavis Rhy was looking straight at her. What she saw in his face was understanding.
----
Chapter 5
"I declare it feels like spring to me!" Reverend Tewksbury announced conversationally.
"Trees are beginning to bud," Cleav admitted. "I hope a late frost isn't going to disappoint us all."
The women quietly added their own agreement to the thought.
The afternoon sun warmed the wide hardwood porch that so gracefully adorned the big white house. These five well-fed, well-clothed citizens of Vader, Tennessee, sat idly on the day of rest passing the time in pleasant conversation.
Reverend Tewksbury was a short, round little man, nearly as wide as he was tall. His sparse hair was a mix of bright carrot and glistening silver. He had an easy smite and sparkling green eyes that could be warm as June or freeze a body in place when he got wound up on hellfire and damnation.
"I truly enjoyed your sermon today. Pastor," Eula Rhy said as she rocked contentedly in her cane-seat chair.
"Indeed, the reverend was in his best form," Mrs. Tewksbury agreed. Although Mrs. Tewksbury nearly matched her husband in height, she retained a youthful figure. Her round face was flat as a pie plate, her nose only a minor protrusion. She was not at all a handsome woman, but she carried herself with dignity and assurance. The small, frequently blunt woman was never hesitant to proclaim herself as the power behind the man.
"When Reverend Tewksbury gets wound up, it pure stirs the heart," Eula Rhy declared.
Cleav nodded absently but refrained from comment. Seated on the slatted porch swing, he languidly stretched his long legs before him. There was something intrinsically placid about a quiet Sunday afternoon spent quietly at your sweetheart's side.
Bending down behind the piano, the preacher pulled out a big three-bushel basket and held it up before the crowd.
"Looky-here what we got, brothers and sisters," he said with obvious pride.
The large basket was filled to the brim, and the sweat popped out on the preacher's forehead with the strain of lifting it. Peeking out the top was a great, big, sweet-smelling smoked ham.
"Look what the good ladies have come up with for you, Brother Yo," the preacher said. "Here's a baker's dozen of jars of the finest fruits and vegetables our ladies can put by."
He held up a couple of jars to show the congregation.
The members clapped with enthusiasm.
"And here's a twenty-pound sack of flour. And soap—. heaven knows we can all use our share of that," the preacher continued with a big smile and a playful poke at Yo's ribs.
"Looks to be some fine yard goods in here, girls." He addressed this comment to the giggling twins, who were now hiding their pretty pink faces.
"And there's a couple of hams and a slab of bacon to get you through till spring comes down."
"Amen!" Yo said gratefully, thanking the congregation as the preacher handed him the basket.
"Brother Yo," the reverend began. "David said that the Lord upholdeth all that fall and raiseth up all those that be bowed down."
Yohan smiled broadly at first the pastor and then the congregation.
"I suspect," the preacher continued, "that there is none in our community, none in our church, so bowed down as you and your little girls."
Murmurs of agreement were churchwide.
"This late in the winter, Brother Yo, the ladies thought you-all'd be low on vittles. David tells us that the Lord givest them in due season. So this ham and the rest is yours."
Resounding "amens" and even a couple of "hallelujahs" were heard as the Crabb family stood in the front of the church publicly and subserviently accepting the charity of the congregation.
Esme struggled to keep her eyes unfocused, gazing sightlessly over the heads of the people so willingly doing their Christian duty.
Unerringly, however, her glance was drawn from its secret refuge to a pair of blue eyes on the left side, second pew.
Cleavis Rhy was looking straight at her. What she saw in his face was understanding.
----
Chapter 5
"I declare it feels like spring to me!" Reverend Tewksbury announced conversationally.
"Trees are beginning to bud," Cleav admitted. "I hope a late frost isn't going to disappoint us all."
The women quietly added their own agreement to the thought.
The afternoon sun warmed the wide hardwood porch that so gracefully adorned the big white house. These five well-fed, well-clothed citizens of Vader, Tennessee, sat idly on the day of rest passing the time in pleasant conversation.
Reverend Tewksbury was a short, round little man, nearly as wide as he was tall. His sparse hair was a mix of bright carrot and glistening silver. He had an easy smite and sparkling green eyes that could be warm as June or freeze a body in place when he got wound up on hellfire and damnation.
"I truly enjoyed your sermon today. Pastor," Eula Rhy said as she rocked contentedly in her cane-seat chair.
"Indeed, the reverend was in his best form," Mrs. Tewksbury agreed. Although Mrs. Tewksbury nearly matched her husband in height, she retained a youthful figure. Her round face was flat as a pie plate, her nose only a minor protrusion. She was not at all a handsome woman, but she carried herself with dignity and assurance. The small, frequently blunt woman was never hesitant to proclaim herself as the power behind the man.
"When Reverend Tewksbury gets wound up, it pure stirs the heart," Eula Rhy declared.
Cleav nodded absently but refrained from comment. Seated on the slatted porch swing, he languidly stretched his long legs before him. There was something intrinsically placid about a quiet Sunday afternoon spent quietly at your sweetheart's side.
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