Riverstone - Chapter 2

           I was sitting in my usual spot four weeks ago waiting for the new pastor to get here. Everyone was excited. It showed, because there was such a big crowd that day. Riverstone normally doesn’t have this many people except on Christmas, Easter, and I guess a wedding or funeral, which I never get invited to. 

 

          Roseanne Scott sat on the far left, very unusual, as jittery as she ever did. The week before, while I was at the water fountain, I heard her ask someone if they thought Brother Ron was going to be a hit, or bomb out within a year like many pastor’s did. I don’t think she really cares one way or the other, I think she just likes the excitement. Then she said, ‘yep, in sixty-eight years I think I have paid my dues for a lifetime membership here at Riverstone. I’ve seen them come and I have seen them go, and Ron Anderson won’t be the last.’

 

          Then Mrs. Scott waved at her very best friend, Emmy Davidson, as she entered the far front corner and rounded a rickety white rail and sat down at her upright Baldwin piano. Emmy was dressed out in an all white dress with black polka-dots. Sort of looked like her piano keys to me. Emmy…Oh, by the way, I would never call these adults by their first names face to face. My momma might not ever come to church, but she taught me to never disrespect an adult by calling them be their first name. Well, Emmy sat up straight and proper, and placed her music down ‘neat and proper’. Mrs. Rogers, the lady that plays the organ, never plays the early songs. She waits until the service starts and people sing to start playing her organ. She doesn’t do much else here. Plays the organ and goes home. Emmy started with ‘Amazing Grace’ and then a few more I didn’t know. 

 

          Margie, Roseanne Scott’s sister-in-law…well, I told you about her, she came in the front right after Emmy came in and she came straight to me and hugged me and slipped two suckers into my pocket. “Save these for later. One for you and one for your mom, but…if her’s gets eaten before you get home, I won’t be too upset.” She smiled at me and then wandered around talking to a whole lot of people, hugging them all. 

 

          Then Inez walked in. She never did just walk in. She made an entrance. She came in the left hand side door, went two feet, and let the swinging wooden door close behind her. Then she looked to the left, then to the right, and then slowly walked to her usual second-row seat. Like always, nobody had had the guts to sit in her seat. It was cold and lonely like it is every Sunday. She reached up with her bony little fingers and straightened out that ugly hat. It looked like a dead beaten-up chicken. Nobody but Inez wore a hat. Not anybody in town. Not even the few ladies I think are older than her. She is old, too. I’ve heard people call her a ‘charter member” of Riverstone, whatever that means. They only call old people that.          

 

          The door suddenly opened behind the organ and I expected it to be Mrs. Rogers to play the organ. In walked a pretty lady and two small children and sat on the very first row on the far left. That must be the preacher’s family. “Cool,” I thought. They have a boy about my age. I wonder if this new pastor will think his kid is too good to play with ‘trailer trash’? I don’t know why, but the lady happened to look back at me and gave me a big smile. She looked like she meant it.

 

I heard something just to my right and looked just as Alice Holman tapped her husband Hubert on the shoulder and handed him her best white handkerchief. “Wipe off those filthy hands, dear. I can almost smell those cows from here. Why didn’t you clean up before we left?” Hubert looked over at her funny. “It’s not my fault the milker broke down three cows before the ‘Mexican’ finished milking. I had to fix it. I’m sorry. I knew you didn’t want to be late, so… well…they are dirty. Sorry.” 

 

          When her husband seemed to be finished, she quickly grabbed her handkerchief and stuffed it back in the very bottom of her purse that was painted like a Holstein milk cow. Everything the Holmans owned had something to do with dairy cows. Even their Ford truck’s license plate says, ‘HAVE MILK’. 

 

          I saw Alice sort of look my way for a moment or two. I got a funny feeling for a second. I didn’t look up, but I thought she was staring at me. 

 

          “Hubert,” she said. He had already gone to sleep. “Look, they said the new pastor’s wife was pretty,” she said as she pointed across the room. “Almost too pretty.” When Hubert was still looking at the new pastor’s wife a minute later, she gave his large belly a painful pinch. “She’s not that pretty, Hubert!” She suddenly looked around, wondering who had heard her, realizing she has spoken way too loud. Obviously several had. I had. 

 

 

          I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked around. Chad and Winnie are sitting behind me. They are alone, so I guess Jimmy is in the nursery today. 

 

          “Hi, Randy,” they said together. Chad then asked about my mom. I lied and said she was fine. I knew he didn’t believe me. He knows she’s a drunk. I look down at my hands and they turn around and start to talk to Brad Winston who is sitting behind them. I listened for a minute. 

 

          “Hey Brad, I didn’t know Wendy was your niece. I had her in my British Lit. class the first summer semester. I knew she wasn’t from here, so I made no connection. She’s a bright young girl, a…well…a little different…but I guess you already knew that.” He stopped talking but I knew he hadn’t turned around yet. I shifted slightly so I could see both men. “I’m sorry Brad. I…I should have kept my mouth shut.”     Brad waved him off. “ah…she’s my sister’s step-child, really. Sort of not family.” I saw Brad shrug his shoulders as if it didn’t bother him. I think it did though. I know why. I saw Brad and his whole big family eating together at Dairy Queen and I remembered a Wendy. She is kinda’ weird. Wore all black and had chains. She even had most of her head shaved and one of them ‘spiky’ Mohawk kind of things. 

 

          Emmy never plays more than three songs before the pastor stands up and gives announcements and gets things going. I noticed that she started her fifth song and looked a little nervous. When she finished, she had to move some paper around because I think she wasn’t planning on this many songs. 

 

          All of a sudden, Inez booms out. “Did this new pastor quit before he even got started? We surely won’t beat the Methodists to lunch today!” All the kids around started giggling, even some of the big folks. I looked over at the preacher’s wife and she looked down. I thought she was going to cry. 

 

The music guy, Raymond Wilcocks, finally came to the podium and without any announcements started the church singing. Pastor Anderson was still not here. At least I didn’t think so. I had never seen him. But looking around, I didn’t see anybody that was new to town. We were singing the second song, “What have I to dread, what have I to fear…” When all at once I heard almost the whole church gasp at once. I looked to my right and everyone seemed to be looking my way to the left of the church. 

 

I heard, “Oh my,” “What in the world,” and a few, “Well, I never.” Some ladies had their hands over their mouths while others looked down. Most of the men were still staring to the left. Many of them grinning real big. A few got jabbed in the belly by their wives. I looked over and saw a man and lady walking up the left-middle aisle. The man was big and bald and had a great big smile. He also had tattoos on just about every bit of skin except his scalp. All over his huge arms and his neck. It looked like even on his right ear. He was wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt with Dr Pepper on the back. The lady with him was tall and very pretty. She had on a black skirt and a glittery red shirt, blouse,… whatever ladies call their clothes. I guess it really wasn’t either. It started about five inches above her belt and didn’t go very far. It had little straps on top. I guess that is what all the ladies were gawking about. She didn’t look as happy as he did. 

 

He looked like he was about forty or forty-five years old. She was maybe my mom’s age. About thirty. I couldn’t tell if they were husband and wife, father and daughter, or what. They kind of stopped half-way up the aisle and looked around for a bit. I kind of flinched when I realized they continued forward and were headed straight for Inez. “No, guy! Don’t. If you know what is good for you, don’t sit by ‘old crab face’”, is what I wanted to yell out to the nice looking man. But that is where they headed. 

 

They stopped to the left of Inez and just stood there. I think he was waiting for her to turn his way. Finally, he tapped her on the shoulder and asked, “May we please, ma’am?” he pointed to the empty seats next to her. Inez looked up at the man and then noticed the lady and then spoke loud enough for anyone in the building to hear. 

 

“No one ever sits up there, fella. Have at it.” Inez then slapped the pew in front of her and turned away from them. The man and lady went ahead and sat on the very front row, right in front of her. I’m not sure who said it, but I then heard a lady behind me say, “Honey, I swear. I pray that the lord would save that lady, or take her on out of this world. She’s such a …” I didn’t hear the rest. She was talking about Inez.

 

I felt sorry for the man and lady, so when I heard the next few comments close to me, I didn’t look around like I usually do to see who said things. “I bet this is the first time for either of them to ever darken a church doorway.” “He looks sort of like that guy over in Marsdale who killed his two children.” And the last thing I heard before the new pastor walked in was, “…well, whatever you call her honey, she looks like a tramp.”

 

Then the whole building went quiet as I heard the front left door behind the organ open and in walked a skinny, tall man with a very nice face. He walked in and kissed his wife, right on the lips, and then walked straight to the chair Mr. Wilcocks usually sits in, but he was still leading the singing. As soon as the song ended, Mr. Wilcocks turned toward his usual chair, shook the hand of the new pastor, smiled, and then sat down in the other chair. That’s when the whole church gasped when Inez spoke up again. 

 

“The other chair, preacher. That one belongs to Raymond. Yours is over there on the right.” 

 

“Shush, Inez,” Alice said, almost as loud as Inez. 

 

I don’t remember a whole lot about Ron’s sermon. To be honest, if you quizzed me every Sunday night what the morning sermon was, I probably couldn’t tell. I guess I listen too much what is going on around me instead of the sermon. I probably should listen more. One thing I did hear a few weeks ago made me really mad. I skipped coming that next week because I was so mad, but then I thought about it and I started thinking that if I didn’t come back, the old man would be right and he would win. And I can’t stand losing, so I came back. What the old man said was, “I don’t think God can do anything to help those nasty ‘bus kids’. They are hopeless.” When I did come back, I made sure I tried to sit as close to him as possible. It drives him crazy. 

 

Well, just after Alice ‘shushed’ Inez, Ron stood up and quietly prayed before he started preaching. As soon as he said ‘amen’, Ron looked straight ahead and looked at the tattooed man in front of Inez and nodded and said, “Hi, Jake. I’m so glad you were able to make it today.” He went right into his sermon and there was little talking around me that day. Like on most Sundays, nobody came down during what they call the ‘invitation’. Mr. Wilcocks started one more song and we were dismissed. ‘Old man Jackson’ always takes a long time doing something in the church office, counting money I think, that I have about twenty minutes to just stand by the door on the inside right before people say goodbye to whoever preached, and just listen to all the gossip.

 

“Did you see that ‘floozie’ sitting on the front row with that ‘Hell’s Angel’ guy?” was the first comment I heard. Also, “she was wearing less than I did on my honeymoon.” One of the deacons, I really never can remember his name, it’s German or Austrian or something, said, “You better believe he’ll hear from me this week. Greeting some biker hippie right there from the pulpit. I’ve never seen that in Riverstone before. And if I ever have anything to say about it…” He didn’t finish his statement. 

 

Then ‘old man Jackson’ walked up and I usually try to beat him out and stand close to his truck so he won’t be mad at me for making him wait. The other two or three ‘bus kids’ always have to be found and that makes him mad, so I just go quickly and quietly. But when Pastor Ron heard ‘old man Jackson’s’ name, he said, “Oh great. You are in charge of the bus ministry, right?” 

 

Jackson’s chest kind of popped out and said, “Well, yes. But I have only one little kid, today.”

 

Ron asked, “If you’re not too busy, a few people have already mentioned going over to the Dairy Queen and everybody getting aquainted. I was wanting to treat your bus kids, but so what if it’s only one, bring him on anyway.”

 

“Well, pastor, this little boy kind of lives…his home is at…”

 

“What ever it is doesn’t matter, Mr. Jackson. If he lives a little too far out and you need to get somewhere this afternoon, I’ll make sure he gets home fine. My treat for both of you, OK?”

 

 

‘Old man Jackson’, really didn’t want to go, I could tell. I was one of the burdens in life that he had to bear and he said he guessed he would pick us kids up till he died, but he really didn’t like any of us I don’t think.