Close to the Broken Hearted (23 page)

Reverend Starks pushed his lips together into a thin line, looking away in thought for a second or two. “Dewey, Jesus is sayin' that to be a warrior one must be brave, and if you are not brave enough to face your own fears, you do not deserve his love. And if you discover a way to live without his love, you shall lose all that is dear to you. It is only by being brave enough to give up everything you have that you will really find what's important, and it will all come through the love of the Lord Jesus.” Reverend Starks turned his head and stared straight into my eyes. “This is the true strength of the warrior, Abe. The true test of the sword. Although, always remember the true test of a warrior is not
raising
that sword—it's knowing that even though you have the power to take a life, you also have the power to spare it; and there's always more power in mercy than in dealin' out death.” The reverend's eyes drifted back to Dewey. “Is that clearer now?”

Dewey didn't answer right away, so I took advantage of the silent spot and jumped in. “I think so,” I said. “My great-great-great-great-great-granddaddy was brave like that. He risked everythin' he had in order to free them slaves. I bet he didn't like shootin' those people at that plantation, but he probably reckoned he had to in order to get them people free. I'd hope that if I were in his shoes, I might do the same.”

A smile came to Reverend Starks's face. “Abe,” he said, “I reckon you just might have the heart of a warrior.”

L
eah didn't like the expression on Eli Brown's face when he opened his door to find her on the porch. “I thought I made it clear that I was to be left alone,” he told her in a commanding yet still somehow brittle voice.

“That ain't yours to command, I'm afraid,” Leah said. “I'm here on police business.”

“I ain't got no business with no police.”

“That again ain't your call to make.”

A young man dressed in a button-down white shirt tucked into a pair of dress pants came into the room behind Eli. “Is it the police again?” he asked.

“Never you mind, Leland,” Eli said. “I'll take care of this.”

“No,” the boy—Leland (who couldn't have been much older than twenty)—said. “Let me.” He came up beside Eli and told Leah, “My grandfather is old. Can't you see he's been through enough? Why do you people insist on botherin' him? He's done his time. Far as I know, that makes him a free man. Surely you have better things to do than bother old men who are repentin' their deeds 'fore the Lord.”

Leah nearly laughed. Judging by the way the boy was dressed, which was much different from how Chris had described finding him that day he came out, she thought her guess that he was involved was probably on target. “First off,” she said, her voice growing loud and stern, “you make your granddaddy sound like some decrepit ancient hermit. He ain't much a day over sixty. Secondly, I have reason to believe he might be involved in some illegal activity that requires my attention. In fact, the only reason I'm
telling
you this instead of telling you to go out and play is because I think you may be involved, too.” She shifted her gaze to Eli. “Now we have a choice. We can do this here, or we can do it at the station. Personally, I'd prefer the station. I'm more prepared to back up everythin' I have to tell you with documentation down there. But I don't think we'll need those documents, on account of I don't think you'll be tellin' me I'm wrong.”

Eli looked her up and down as though trying to decide how seriously he should take her. “What's this 'bout?”

“The Carson Cattle Ranch.”

“And what of it?”

“And it's connection to Argo Atkinson.” Her eyes locked on Leland. His own eyes suddenly widened.

Eli looked around the yard, as if checking the weather. It had grown windy and a few clouds had gathered overhead since Leah left the station. “All right,” he said. “You may as well come in. I don't relish a trip to your police station.” His voice no longer held the commanding tone of the preacher part of him it had a few minutes ago.

“Fair enough,” Leah said, and followed him inside.

Ahead of her she heard the boy whisper to Eli, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It was gonna come out sooner or later,” Eli replied to him. “It's just happenin' a bit sooner than we expected.”

Eli led them to a little room just past the door where a settee stood along with a chair and an oval coffee table. None of the furniture matched in color. The settee was a dark green, the chair was made of oak, and the table pine. The floor of the room was rough-hewn knotty pine. A small, shiny cross hung on one wall. The rest of the walls were bare.

Pulling her notepad from her pocket, Leah took a chair as Eli and his grandson took a seat beside each other on the settee. They had to move a couple of blankets out of the way to do so; this was obviously where the boy had been sleeping.

“Before we start,” Leah said to the grandson. “Your name's Leland? Leland . . . Brown?”

He just nodded.

“You have to say ‘yes' or ‘no,' son,” Leah said.

“Yes,” he said angrily.

“And you live in Alabaster?”

His face snapped to Eli's. “How . . . ?” He looked back to Leah. “How did you know that?”

Eli's hand came down on Leland's knee. “Because I told her,” he said. “Now relax. You're actin' guilty. You haven't
done
anythin'.”

“Why are you here, Leland?” Leah asked.

Eli interrupted. “I thought you wanted to question
me
.”

“I'll get round to you, don't you worry 'bout that.” Her gaze fell back on Leland. “Why are you here?”

Leland glanced across to Eli and back to Leah. “Just . . . vistin' my grandpa. Haven't seen him in so long.” He grinned, but Leah could tell it was a fake smile even if she'd been standin' five acres away. This kid may have been the worst liar in the history of scam artists.

“That all? Nothin' else?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Eli,” Leah said. “Who is Argo Atkinson?”

“My father-in-law.”

“And are you aware that his name is on the title of the Carson Cattle Ranch property?”

“Yes.” The boy kept looking from Leah to Eli and back to Leah like he was watching a tennis game.

“Can I ask why you hadn't told me this before?”

“Lots of reasons,” Eli said. “The main one bein' I don't see how it's any of your damn business. Another bein' that I was never asked.”

“I came here and inquired specifically 'bout Sylvie Carson.”

“And I told you the truth, that I ain't been near her property or her. Nor do I have any plans to be. That has got nothing to do with land purchased by my father-in-law. In fact, the land really isn't my business at all. It's his. Perhaps he's the one you should be questionin'.”

Leah wrote down everything they said. Taking statements was something she'd had lots of practice at. And interviewing Argo Atkinson was something she had already planned on doing. Only, Eli came first because she had a sneaking suspicion that Argo hadn't bought the land for himself.

“Do you know what Mr. Atkinson plans to do with the ranch?”

There was a brief hesitation, during which Leland looked to Eli expectantly for an answer. Finally, Eli broke the silence. “I think,” he said slowly, “that he plans on developing on it.”

“What sort of development?”

“A religious educational institution.”

“Grandpa . . . ,” Leland whispered, loud enough for Leah to hear.

Again Eli's hand came down on his grandson's knee. Eli turned to the boy and said, “It can't be kept a secret, Leland. Once the tractors start diggin', folks are gonna know what's goin' on. Better to get this out in the open now. It ain't like we're doin' anythin' wrong.”

“So,” Leah said, “Argo bought this land for you, on account of you was in prison?”

“Argo made an
investment,
” Eli said. “Do you have any idea how much he's already gained on that property since buyin' it? It turned out to be a very shrewd investment.”

Leah knew exactly how much he'd already gained. She even had the paperwork to back it up. She looked to the kid. “I have a hunch, Leland,” she said.

He just stared back, like a goldfish in one of them round glass bowls.

“Call it a gut feelin',” she said, “but it's definitely there.”

“What's that?” he asked.

“That you's lyin' to me.”

He shook his head. “No I ain't.”

“I think you are. I think your granddaddy might be tellin' mostly the truth, but I think you lied to me earlier.”

“No, ma'am, I did not.” She could see his back coming up while simultaneously fear rose in his eyes.

“I think you are down here to help your grandpa Eli start workin' on his institution. In fact, I bet if I ran a check on you, I'd discover that you're either in college or just graduated with some sort of degree in business management.”

She saw him swallow. She definitely wasn't far from the mark.

“Did you know I can arrest you for lying to a police officer?”

“Give the kid a break,” Eli said. “He's not used to havin' questions fired at him. He's only twenty-two, damn it.”

Twenty-two? Damn, he looked young for his age. “I'll tell you what,” Leah said. “I'll give you another chance, Leland. Tell me again: Why are you down here?”

He looked at Eli. Eli nodded slightly.

When Leland spoke again, his voice was shaky. “I'm here to help find investors for Grandpa Eli's institution and help reorganize his congregation. We need to get his church back up and runnin' 'fore anythin' else can proceed. Then we need money.”

“Surely the property has enough equity to move ahead with your project?”

Eli answered that one. “My father-in-law don't wanna risk his investment any more than he has to. He didn't buy the property
for
me. It will remain his, at least until he dies. If we have to mortgage the property for some of the funding then I suppose that's a route we'll have to take. But he won't mortgage more than half of it. He's already made that clear. And building this facility is gonna cost more than that.”

“We're eager to move ahead as quick as possible,” Leland said. “Now that Grandpa Eli's back home.”

“Hmm,” Leah said. “I see a few complications in your plans.”

“What's that?” Leland asked.

“I reckon that even though the sale went through eight years ago, there's still a chance Sylvie Carson might be able to have it overturned given the state she was in at the time of the sale and the matters surroundin' it. We need to follow that up with the courts. This is especially true with the new evidence I'll be presentin' on account of I'm reopenin' the case files for the deaths of Tom Carson and his wife. Something 'bout it all don't sit right with me. I'm startin' to think Tom Carson's hangin' wasn't suicide at all. I've been thinkin' maybe more people than just James Richard Cobbler were possibly responsible for Tom's wife's death.”

“This could stall the project,” Eli said, his voice rising. “You could hold up the question of land title for the property in the courts for years.”

Leah shrugged.

“Listen,” Eli said, trying to remain calm. “We've done nothin' wrong. We waited 'til the property was available then bought it at auction. We was lucky enough to get it at a low price. There ain't no funny business happenin' in anythin' we're doin' despite what you may reckon. It's all fair an' square.”

“I don't reckon it either way, Mr. Brown. Like I said, those deaths just don't sit well with me. And I want Sylvie to have a chance at gettin' a piece of any inheritance she might have comin' to her if she deserves one. That's all. There ain't no ‘funny business happenin' in anythin'
I'm
doin' either. It's all fair an' square.” She did say that last bit a mite sarcastically, she had to admit, but she wasn't prepared for the reaction that followed.

Leland lowered his eyes at her and, in a menacing voice no longer filled with any sort of shakiness, said, “You'd better stay out of our way, or I reckon I wouldn't want to be in those shoes of yours.” Eli's hand once again fell onto Leland's knee. This time with an obvious squeeze.

“Is that a threat, Leland?” Leah asked.

“Take it any way you want to.”

“You don't want me to take it as a threat. Trust me.”

“You accuse us of all sorts of things, and then tell me what I can and cannot do? In my granddaddy's house, no less. I reckon you should leave now.” Leah started wondering if the whole “shaken up from talking to the policewoman” thing was an act. This young man didn't seem to really be too shaken up at all. He appeared completely in command. And a little scary.

One thing was for certain, though: They'd gone for her bluff. That made her happy.

“Yes, it's 'bout that time,” she said, standing and tucking her notebook away. “Oh, just one last thing. If I catch either of you anywhere
near
Sylvie Carson, I won't be askin' no more questions. I'll be shootin' first. And I'm a better shot than even you are, Preacher Eli.” As soon as she said that, even Leah thought she'd overstepped the boundary of good taste.

“Get out!” Eli Brown roared.

“I
don't know 'bout this, Abe,” my mother said as she pulled off Church Street and into the Full Gospel parking lot. She was watching all the black folks driving in and getting out of their cars. A whole bunch of them was walking up to the church's door where Reverend Starks was greeting each one of them.

“What don't you know?” I asked. “We was invited.”

“We don't really . . . fit in.”

“I thought you said there ain't no difference between black and white, especially in the eyes of the Lord.”

She sighed. “I did say that, didn't I?” Pulling the car to a stop, she threw it into P
ARK
. “Okay, I guess we're really doin' this.”

I was sitting in the backseat with Miss Sylvie and the baby. The baby had been crying something awful when we picked her up. That crying continued through the first half of the drive. Then I suppose the car ride put her to sleep because she wasn't crying anymore. I was glad about that. Crying babies weren't something I much liked listening to.

“Seriously, Mom?” Carry asked from the front seat. Neither my mother nor my sister had taken off their seat belts yet. Me and Miss Sylvie had. My mother and Carry just kept watching the people funneling to the front door of the church. There wasn't a single white folk in the bunch. I thought it was exciting. “This is ridiculous,” Carry said to my mother. “It's bad enough you make me go to
normal
church.”

My mother shot Carry a look. “Just for that, I'm glad we're here. You need to learn more tolerance, both for religion and for differences in people. Now, I promised Abe we'd come here and try it one time, and so here we are. We was invited. It ain't like we're showin' up unexpected.” Then, hesitantly, as though she weren't quite sure I actually told her the truth about being invited, she asked me, “Is it, Abe?”

“It most certainly is not,” I said.

“How do you feel about it, Miss Sylvie?” my mother asked.

“It's fine,” Miss Sylvie said. Her voice was soft and quiet, as though she didn't really care what we did. I don't think she really wanted to be here or anywhere. I wondered if Miss Sylvie ever got excited about anything.

“Okay,” my mother said, taking a deep breath. “Let's go.” She finally undid her seat belt.

The church's open front door where Reverend Starks was standing was at the top of three large concrete steps that were cracked. There was a hand railing running up the side of the stairs, but it was busted near the top and so it didn't look very safe.

I tried not to look at everyone else as we approached the door, but I couldn't help but get the feeling that people were looking at us. I was happy when Reverend Starks spotted us and a wide grin immediately spread across his face. “Abe!” he said, after finishing up welcoming the couple entering in front of us. “I see you decided to take me up on my offer! What a great surprise!”

He squatted down and shook my hand. When he stood back up again, his knees popped. He shook his head. “Indications of gettin' old,” he said, turning his attention to my mother.

The morning sunlight reflected off his eyeglasses and he pushed them up on his nose. “Ms. Teal,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. “It's been a long time. How have you been?” His voice was low and soothing and full of what sounded to me like genuine concern.

“Good . . .”

He smiled. “You've done such an amazing job raising two wonderful children.” Still holding my mother's hand, his gaze swept to Carry. “Caroline, right? I haven't seen you since you were about a foot or two shorter than you are now.” He laughed. “You're still as pretty as I remember.”

Carry blushed and said thank you.

Reverend Starks let go of my mother's hand and turned his attention to Miss Sylvie. “And you must be Miss Sylvie,” he said. I couldn't believe he remembered her name just from the discussion me and him had the other day. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” He lowered his voice while talking to Miss Sylvie, obviously in an effort not to wake the baby she had on her shoulder. He shook her hand.

“Pleasure,” Miss Sylvie said. “I'm Sylvie Carson.”

“It's a
genuine
pleasure, Miss Sylvie Carson.” The reverend looked the baby over. “And who do we have here?” he asked in a whisper. “Someone who obviously enjoys a good nap, I see. We have somethin' in common.” He smiled at Miss Sylvie. I saw the light reflect off the gold of his capped tooth.

Miss Sylvie looked awkwardly to my mother. “Um,” she stammered, “she's my daughter. She . . . she doesn't have a name yet.”

Reverend Starks's smile never flinched. “I see. Well, the Lord loves all babies, whether they be called by names or be nameless.”

Relief flooded across Miss Sylvie's face and, for the first time since we'd picked her up, she actually smiled. It wasn't that big, but at least it was a smile.

“I'm so sorry to hear you're suffering through some hard times right now,” the reverend told her. “Just keep your faith in the Lord Jesus. Remember that God is light and in Him there can be no darkness.”

Miss Sylvie seemed a bit taken aback, but she just nodded. “Th . . . thank you,” she said shakily. She probably wondered how Reverend Starks knew so much about her.

“Would it be all right if I ask my congregation to offer a special prayer for you today?” Reverend Starks asked her.

Once again Miss Sylvie looked to my mother, who didn't seem to have any response for her. “I guess so.” Miss Sylvie's voice still quivered.

That big smile once again spread across Reverend Starks's face. “That's fine, then. Welcome to my church.” He held out his arm in a gesture for us to enter.

It had been a long while since I'd been in the Full Gospel, and I'd forgotten how it looked. Inside, the church wasn't a lot different from Clover Creek. From the outside, I could have sworn it was a smaller building, but now that I was inside it actually felt larger. Or maybe it was just that the pews were closer together and there were more of them. Like Clover Creek, everything was made of wood (probably pine), although the wood here at Full Gospel didn't shine the way it did at Clover Creek. There were holes where knots had fallen out and gouges in some of the boards.

We were about three quarters from the front where the pulpit stood, which was as close as we could get. I wondered if the church would fill up completely. If so, that would be a lot of people, probably more than the congregation we usually had at Clover Creek. Considerably more.

The walls left and right of the pulpit were angled and each had a large stained-glass window set in the top. There were four other stained-glass windows along the main side walls. On the angled wall right of the pulpit stood a choir of twenty-six people. I counted them twice, so I knew. They formed three rows, each row standing on a higher bench. The back row stood above the rest. I think they were all teenagers. Mostly, they were girls, but six of them were boys. A white cross hung above them, just below the stained-glass window.

We didn't have a choir at Clover Creek. We did a lot of singing, but just by ourselves.

I knew services always ran longer here at Full Gospel than at Clover Creek on account of all the extra singing they did. They were really big on singing and the singing was the part I was most excited about.

The light shining through that window above the choir cast down on the pulpit, lighting it in an array of reds and yellows. It gave it an unearthly glow. Behind the pulpit was another cross, bigger than the one by the choir and very similar to the one that hung behind Reverend Matthew. Only this cross wasn't nearly as big as the one at Clover Creek.

Spaced along the main side walls every few feet were candles that weren't lit. I guessed they were used for special occasions. The sunlight coming through the stained glass was the only light inside the church, making everything feel as though I was in a dream.

Miss Sylvie shuffled in first, the baby still on her left shoulder, asleep. I went in next, followed by my mother and then Carry, who I could still hear complaining under her breath.

My mother kept shushing her.

The pews weren't padded like the ones at Clover Creek, they were just wooden, but they weren't that uncomfortable. They were old and the row we sat on wasn't attached to the floor very well. It rocked back and forth a bit as we took our seats.

About fifteen or twenty minutes later, Reverend Starks closed the front door and the light from the colored glass in the windows suddenly really made everything magical. I looked back over my shoulder, amazed to find every pew full. There were even some people standing behind the last one. I didn't know exactly how many people had shown up for church today, but it was a lot more than we ever got at Clover Creek.

And every single one of them except us was black.

Reverend Starks walked slowly up the center aisle and stepped up to his pulpit.

“First,” he said, in his low voice that now grew as he used it to preach. “I would like you all to welcome some guests today. Y'all may have seen them as you came in. They are sittin' there.” He pointed us out. “They are the Teals, Ms. Leah Teal, from the Alvin Police Department; her son, Abe Teal; her daughter, Caroline Teal; and their friend Miss Sylvie Carson.”

All around us people began to clap. In front of me, people looked over their shoulders and smiled. A woman wearing a pink lacy hat gave me a little wave. I felt a mite embarrassed, but I did feel welcomed just the same.

“Now, Miss Sylvie is goin' through some tough times right now, so I promised her we'd all give a little prayer for her. So before I get started with our regular service, I'd like to do just that.”

And he went right into his prayer for Miss Sylvie, asking the Lord Jesus to please help her find her way. He called her one of His flock and said she had lost her way and needed guidance and a road map. I was pretty amazed he was able to give such a detailed prayer about Miss Sylvie based on what little I'd said about her. He even made mention of the baby, who I hadn't even talked about and he'd only just met outside for the first time.

The fact that he had even remembered her name had been a miracle in my eyes. Then I remembered him quoting those Bible passages to me and Dewey off the top of his head. He was really something.

As he spoke each line, everyone in the congregation (who were sitting holding hands with their heads bowed and their eyes closed) repeated the line. When he was finished, he said, “Amen.” And everyone followed with one loud “Amen” in unison.

Miss Sylvie looked as though she had no idea what to make of everything or how she was supposed to react. The baby continued sleeping. To me, that was yet another miracle.

After that, Reverend Starks started the service with three songs from the hymnal. The choir led the way, bellowing out the words so loud and fine it sent a shiver through me. Everyone sang along, including me. At least I tried to, following with the hymnbook I found in the back of the pew in front of me. After the three hymns, Reverend Starks went into a pretty standard sermon, much like Reverend Matthew would give at Clover Creek First Baptist. Like I usually did, I tried to keep up but couldn't quite understand everything he was saying. Normally, it didn't bother me so much, but today I was trying extra hard to stay on top of things. I really wanted to know what Reverend Starks was talking about.

He went on for probably thirty minutes until finally coming to what sounded like the conclusion. Usually the conclusion was when you got the real important stuff.

“I would like you to recall Psalm Thirty-four, versus sixteen through nineteen,” he said. “ ‘The face of the Lord is against them that do evil, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth. The righteous cry, and the Lord heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.' ” Reverend Stark shifted his hands on the pulpit as he read the next verse. I couldn't see it, but I assumed he had an open Bible in front of him. I didn't think he could possibly have
all
this Bible stuff memorized. “ ‘The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit. And many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.' ”

He looked up and scanned the congregation in silence. I got the feeling this was the end of his sermon and, as I said, usually the end was pretty important so I really wanted to figure this part out.

I didn't rightly know if I understood completely what he had said, but it sounded to me like Lord Jesus was going to protect everyone who was good from evil and that even good people had problems and cried and stuff. I whispered to my mother if that was what he meant by what he said.

She shushed me.

“I'm only tryin' to understand church,” I said quietly. “You should be happy.” I never really took that much of an interest in church usually. I mean, I always listened to what Reverend Matthew said at Clover Creek First Baptist, but I didn't much understand what he went on about most of the time and didn't bother following up like this. Today I felt like I should really try to clarify things. I'm not sure why, but for some reason, today church felt kind of special. Maybe just because we were at Full Gospel. Maybe I didn't want to let Reverend Starks down by not being able to figure out what he was preaching about.

My mother whispered back, “He's sayin' God is close to the broken hearted.”

Miss Sylvie sat there with the baby on her shoulder. If ever anyone looked broken hearted, she certainly did. I suddenly felt a whole lot better for her. I wondered if Reverend Starks had written this sermon special just for Miss Sylvie, but then I remembered he didn't know for sure that we were coming today or not.

There actually was more to the sermon after that, but the rest didn't last too long. Unlike at Clover Creek, the sermon ended early so that a lot of the time could be spent doing more singing, which really did turn out to be the best part. This was different singing from the hymns we sang at the beginning of the service. It was much more powerful. It seemed to hit me right in the heart.