A Peach of a Pair (20 page)

I knew Miss Lurleen was going to die from the start, and somehow taking care of her in her quaint old home back in Camden made that easier to handle. Now when she died she would be in a strange place, surrounded by strange people, with the exception of me and Miss Emily. We needed a miracle.

“Nettie?”

But what if we couldn’t get her near the preacher? What if we did and they pulled her onto that stage and didn’t let us anywhere near her? What if she died without Miss Emily or me holding her hand? The thought made my heart beat out of control. Hadn’t we set out on this journey for healing? Had Miss Lurleen really agreed to the trip to appease her sister? Or was she just tired of waiting to die?

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Whatever happens, I’m here for you,” Remmy said.

T
hey were just thirty-five miles out from Palestine, according to the last sign. Emily should have been relieved. Jubilant. But after having fussed until she’d gotten her way so that Lurleen could get herself healed, it seemed the closer they got to the city, the more vexed Emily became.

Last night, she hadn’t been able to get comfortable at all, and she’d laid the blame squarely on Monroe, Louisiana. The place was definitely nothing to write home about, and while everyone and their brother raved about these
mo
tels that were springing up all over creation, the Magnolia Motel left much to be desired. The diner food was greasy and didn’t sit well at all, although Sister looked as happy as an opossum in a corncrib with her meal. Lurleen had garnered the sympathy of the cook when he heard she couldn’t have
salt, and he’d smothered her fried liver in slimy grilled onions with an extra layer of grease to make up for her dietary restriction.

The motel bed was fairly decent, but Emily still tossed all night. While she usually had Teddy to blame for her insomnia, last night was her own doing. What if this preacher really was a hoax? What if Emily had used up the little bit of time Lurleen had left on some kind of snipe hunt? What if Remmy was right and Lurleen was going to die in Palestine or some other podunk town between here and Camden?

Papa had died happy, fishing on the bank of the Wateree River. But Mama had died a little every day, watching Teddy destroy himself until there was nothing left of her. Convinced he’d killed her too, and in some ways he had, Teddy disappeared. When it was clear there wasn’t enough money in the world to find him, Emily hoped he was dead too. At least he wouldn’t live in torment anymore, not like Emily did wondering if he was alive. If his life would have been different if she hadn’t been brimming with petty jealousy so long ago. If Emily had just done the right thing.

Seven years after the accident, when Lurleen finally broke her silence, she never said a word about Teddy. He was another unmentionable casualty in the wake of Emily’s green monster. At first Emily was relieved Lurleen didn’t speak to her; she couldn’t bear to hear the scathing rant she could feel on the other side of her sister’s tongue. Later, she yearned to hear Lurleen say their brother’s name; even if she was hateful, at least it would have been the beginning of a conversation that needed to happen. But it never took place.

The bus pulled into Palestine. There were no throngs of people milling about like Emily was sure there would be. That was a good
sign; maybe the preacher had already healed everyone and he’d be able to get to Lurleen right away. Not that she had the time to waste, no, but it had always peeved the old girl to sit and wait. And if Emily got Lurleen healed, maybe Emily could finally get herself redeemed.

The Texas sky was cloudless and went on forever. She’d expected everything to be bigger in Texas and was surprised at the scrawny trees, compared to the mile-high pines and big, showy oaks back home. The town looked no different than any of the others they’d passed through; Emily didn’t quite know what she was expecting. Certainly more than this.

While Nettie and Lurleen waited on the luggage, Emily spied what looked like a lovely hotel, towering over the other buildings. Hopefully, they’d have a room available and they wouldn’t be relegated to some awful new motel on the outskirts of town. Glancing at her watch, it was just after three. They’d have plenty of time to freshen up, maybe take a nap before the tent meeting. Even though Emily was as spry as a new sparrow, it wouldn’t be wise to walk to the hotel carrying her heavy bag, and that certainly would put Lurleen in the grave.

She hailed a cab. A colored boy who couldn’t have been much older than twelve, thirteen at the most, greeted Emily then asked to help with their bags. She nodded, and he barked at his much younger friend to get the others and follow him to the waiting cab, while Lurleen plodded slowly toward the car with Nettie on her arm.

“Y’all going to the Redlands Hotel?” the older boy asked Emily as he handed the bags to the driver.

The boy looked rather unkempt but was mannerly. It was a wonder he could walk in the pair of brogans he wore with the tops cut out, his long toes hanging over the fronts of his shoes. The other
child was barefooted, just as raggedy, but looking to the older one every five seconds or so to make sure he was doing everything right.

“Yes. We are, and then we’re going to see the Reverend Jimmy Coe,” Emily said.

The boys exchanged looks but waited until the cabbie finished putting the bags in the trunk of the cab and Emily gave them each a quarter. “He ain’t round here no more, ma’am,” the younger boy said the second Emily greased their palms.

“Hush up.” The older one shoved the quarter in his pocket and elbowed his friend in the ribs.

“He’s
not
around
here
anymore
,” Emily corrected. “And of course he is. We saw for ourselves in
LIFE
magazine.”

“No ma’am,” the younger boy said before he was punched again. “
Ow.
Thurnell. Stop it. She gave us a whole quarter; she ought to know that man killed that boy and the policeman put him in jail.”

“What’s that?” Lurleen said, completely winded from walking from the bus to the cab.

“Nothing,” Emily cut the boy off.

This couldn’t be. Panic zinged around her body like something feral, desperate to escape. She plastered on a smile and told herself the boy was just being stupid or cruel. Of course the healer was in Palestine. Where else would he be? And if it wasn’t a joke, he was just flat wrong. Had to be.

Didn’t Jesus heal that paralyzed man in Palestine? No, that was Capernaum. Those biblical names are so easy to confuse, but Jesus was holding his own sort of tent meetings, wasn’t he? Not that this reverend was Jesus or anything, but he had to have some kind of pull with God to heal all those people the article had mentioned. But wasn’t it sin that had paralyzed that man in the Bible? Emily knew a thing
or two about that. There had to be healing and redemption here in Palestine. There just had to be.

The cab took them to the hotel. Hardly anyone was in the lobby. Emily’s heart sank when the clerk said he had plenty of rooms. Why wasn’t this place bursting at the seams with the infirmed, the healed spreading the good news? Even Jesus knew healing the sick was his best advertisement. And hadn’t the article said as many as ten thousand gathered nightly to hear Coe? The town wasn’t that large; folks would have to stay somewhere.

“Two rooms,” Emily said. She was sure if the boy was right, Lurleen and Nettie would never speak with her again much less want to sleep in the same room with her.

L
urleen’s body had fooled her into thinking she was better, but she felt each infirmity today and then some. Her legs were swollen and were killing her, and she hadn’t even had the first speck of salt. She could hardly catch her breath just walking the few steps up and down the aisle of the bus, and there were times her chest ached. Not like it did for Mama or Papa or Teddy or John. Muscle and sinew stretched tight across bones screamed at her to stop this foolishness. Go home. To Camden. To heaven. And if Emily and Nettie weren’t standing right there, Lurleen would have screamed right back.
Take me, Jesus. Take me now.

Long before this crazy jaunt, Lurleen was ready to die. She’d had
her baggage packed for most of her life, having chosen the secrets she would take with her like she would have chosen pieces for her trousseau if John hadn’t died.

He’d known her thirty-seven days when he’d proposed that morning by the carriage house. To say he’d swept her off her feet was an understatement. Lurleen. The gun-toting librarian who’d always been immune to romance? But she was so in love with him, she would have done anything for him, with him.

She’d said yes and didn’t want to take the ring off, but John didn’t want Mama to feel slighted and said he’d ask her for Lurleen’s hand good and proper when she got home from work that night. Lurleen had just put the ring in his hunting jacket when he pinned her against the wall with his body, his mouth, his hands touching her in ways that no one ever had or ever would again.

John had said, after they went hunting, he’d go home and wash up before coming to supper to talk with Mama. Of course she would give her blessing. Teddy would be over the moon to have John for a brother. However, Emily in all her jealous glory was a different tale.

When she’d caught John kissing her, Lurleen had wanted to wipe that awful look off of her face. Show her the ring. Yes, to rub her nose in it, but also to show her Lurleen and John were forever so she could stop throwing herself at him. But, as it turned out, forever wasn’t nearly as long as Lurleen thought it would be.

Lately, she’d been praying for what Remmy promised was certain death. She had no desire to be healed and only gave in to Emily’s crazy whim just to shut her up. In her weakened state, Lurleen never thought she’d make it to see the Mississippi River, much less Palestine. And she hoped Remmy was right and the healer really was a
hoax so that she could die with her baggage intact, because she didn’t think she could keep what happened to Teddy a secret much longer.

At first she didn’t tell Emily for spite; her constant pining for Brother was Emily’s punishment for ending John’s life, wrecking Lurleen’s. Mama’s. Teddy’s. But telling Emily now would only destroy her, and what good would that do?

Nettie helped Lurleen to the registration desk where Emily was talking to the attendant, probably flirting. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he said to Emily.

“Are they all booked up?” Lurleen said, gasping for breath.

“Oh, no ma’am. Got plenty of rooms. I was just telling your friend here Reverend Coe was arrested.”

“Arrested?” Nettie repeated.

Emily’s chin was on her chest, her eyes closed. She shook her head violently, her voice growing louder with every word. “
No. No. No.
My sister came here to be healed. Where is Coe now?”

“The county jail, ma’am. Right after that article came out in
LIFE
magazine, the crowds got way worse. You couldn’t get anywhere near the place, but more and more people came to be healed. A couple of weeks ago, a star football player come clean across the state to go to the tent meeting. He was just a high school boy, was gonna play for Texas come September, but he broke his leg working on his daddy’s farm.

“The preacher pulled him out of the audience and asked him did he want to be healed. Of course, with him going to college soon, he said yes. Preacher took the cast off right then and there and commanded the boy to stand and walk. When he did, the leg crumbled and part of the bone went clean through his artery,” he stated,
looking through a stack of newspapers on the counter. “Turned out, the preacher had ringers in the audience, brought the wrong boy onto the stage. He bled out right there in front of everybody. I’ve got the article somewhere around here; show you the picture if you want.”

“I’m so sorry for the boy, but no, thank you,” Lurleen said. She picked the room keys up and handed Nettie hers. “Get some rest, Nettie. Emily and I will do the same and we’ll all have a late dinner.”

“Lurleen.” Emily raised her eyes and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I thought—”

“There’s no need to be sorry, Emily; this has been a lovely trip. We’ll rest up for a few days and then take the long way home to Camden.” Lurleen smiled. “I’d like to finally see that ocean you’ve bragged about for years.”

I
can’t say where hope resides or even why it does. I knew the moment I saw the article on the faith healer that he was a fraud, and should have argued with Remmy against this trip. Not that it would have made a difference with Miss Emily wielding guilt and coercion like a double-edged sword. Yet I’d grown to love Miss Lurleen. I’d wanted her to be healed and had hoped that I was wrong about the reverend.

With the exception of sympathy for the young boy who’d died, Miss Lurleen seemed completely unaffected by the news when the desk clerk said the reverend had been jailed. I suppose she’d expected as much. But Miss Emily had believed with her whole heart, or had
hoped with all her heart, because hope was all she had left. And now she didn’t even have that.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked as the bellman deposited the sisters’ bags on the luggage stands. Miss Emily didn’t answer, just sat down on the bed, still in total disbelief.

“No, dear. It’s been a very long trip. Get some rest. We’ll see you around eight?” Miss Lurleen asked.

“Yes. Of course.” I closed the door and entered my room. It would be after four back home, too early to call Remmy. He’d still be working, and Miss Lurleen was right; we could all use a good rest.

I slept hard but not for long. When I woke up around six thirty, I was groggy and even more tired than when I’d closed my eyes. I thought about rolling over until it was time for dinner, but it was more likely that I’d sleep straight through to morning. I got up, drew a bath, and soaked the traveling dust off. I’d piled my hair on top of my head before I got into the tub and left it like that. I slipped into a white pair of pedal pushers and a blue top. Miss Emily would probably frown on my casual dinner attire, but we’d come over a thousand miles, by bus no less, and from here on out, I was dead set on being comfortable.

I took the stairs down to the lobby and asked for the nearest phone booth. The attendant pointed to the bar. The Happy Hour crowd was in full swing, but when I closed the door on the booth, it shut out most of the noise.

When Remmy picked up on the first ring, I felt every muscle of my earsplitting grin as he accepted the charges. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey, Nettie. Y’all still in one piece?”

“We’re staying at the Redlands Hotel; it’s very nice here in
Palestine, which I learned very quickly is pronounced Pali
steen
. They get really touchy here if you use the biblical pronunciation.”

“Well, if they want folks to say it that way, they ought to spell it different,” he said. No laughing, no lazy drawl.