Reckless: Shades of a Vampire (13 page)

“Good evening, Emma,” he says.

“Good evening.”

“Well, let’s go see what the serpent has to say tonight.”

David reaches for Emma’s right hand, wrapping his around hers as a hold. They walk to the car, hand in hand, but she isn’t clutching his back. Instead, hers hangs in a ball with his wrapped around it.

“You should like it, my touch,” David says. “I have prayed and it is right.”

“I should,” Emma thinks to herself.

At the car, she moves her hand away, and steps toward the back seats. He opens the front passenger’s side door.

“Sit in the front, Emma,” he says.

“Are you sure?” Emma says.

“It’s okay. I insist,” he says.

Riding to the church, she pays careful attention to how David drives the car. Easing his foot on the gas to accelerate. Easing his foot on the brake to slow, and stop. Steering with hands at 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock on the wheel.

I can do that, she thinks. Gas, break, and turn the wheel.

Inside the church, she and David sit on the front row with her mother, just as they did at the morning service. Her father’s sermon is on the serpent, explaining why God calls the people to take them in hand, and to speak in tongues when they have them in hand – notes from the similar sermon he gave to David at lunch earlier in the day.

From the pulpit, Emma’s father quotes from Corinthians.

“
For one who speaks in a tongue speaks not to men but to God; for no one understands him, but he utters mysteries in the Spirit. On the other hand, the one who prophesies speaks to people for their up building and encouragement and consolation.

"The one who speaks in a tongue builds up himself, but the one who prophesies builds up the church. Now I want you all to speak in tongues, but even more to prophesy. The one who prophesies is greater than the one who speaks in tongues, unless someone interprets, so that the church may be built up…
”

When Emma’s father calls for the Deacons to retrieve the snakes at the end of the service, her mother leaves the sanctuary. She, however, waits with David on the front row as the choir sings verses of “Kingdom is Coming” without music.

“Amen!” David cries as, upon the final refrain, with hands up in the air, and eyes fixed upon the stained glass window behind the pulpit.

“Amen!” he shouts. “The kingdom is coming!”

As the last voices quiet from song, four Deacons enter from a side door even with the pulpit with Alabama timber rattlesnakes in hand. They grip them in the midsection, and the snakes’ heads dart about, anticipating, it appears, the mounting energy.

“Praise be to God!” shouted Emma’s father. “The serpent, dear people, is with us. Praise be to God!”

“Are you going to do it?” Emma turns and asks David, in a whisper.

“If God calls me, I will,” he says. “Are you?”

“No,” Emma says.

From the back of the church, a middle-aged man, Luther Massingale, is walking at a hurried pace toward Jeremiah, to meet the snakes at the altar at the precise second they arrive with the Deacons. Emma’s father, takes a snake from the first Deacon to arrive at his side with a snake and cries out.

“He who holds the power holds the snake.”

“Shall I repeat?” Jeremiah says, raising his voice. “He who holds the power holds the snake.”

Luther takes the rattler, twisting in his hand. Luther starts to dance, moving his feet to a slow clog fast gaining momentum as sweat drops from his the back of his head to moisten his dark shirt collar. He clogs across the hardwood surface, and starts speaking in tongues.

“En zabba but, gradadish,” Luther says, his face contorting. “Enemise, zalbut, zeeenzabell. Inamut, zalsabatut. Zalsabatut. Zalsabatut.”

David leaps from his seat toward Luther’s energy. He walks to a Deacon holding a snake.

“With God as my witness,” David says, pointing and looking upward, to the sanctuary ceiling. “I want to take arms with the serpent.”

“Do you hear me Lord? I want to take arms with the serpent!”

David extends his right hand to the deacon, who places a four-foot, agitated timber rattler into the hand.

“Praise be to God!” Jeremiah shouts, raising both hands to toward the ceiling.

David closes his eyes, clutches the snake, steps back from the Deacon. He starts to dance and loosen his tongue as if he was under the heavy influence of a substance.

David’s shoes clap the floor, and sweat rolls from his brow and soaks his shirt, under the arms and down his back. A rhythmic rattle from the snake joins David’s words, spewing out like water sent gushing from a fire hose.

“Nabbadish!” he cries out. “Nabbadish. Shealamot. Shealamot! Onamaya mae, eeelsa milo mito wa.”

The snake writhes in David’s hands. David looks into the serpent’s eyes while both are gyrating. He falls to his knees, and holds out his hand for someone to take the snake.

Emma’s father gets it from David, who collapses on the floor, wailing.

“Ooohhh,” David cries.

“Bless you, David,” Emma's father says.

David cries out.

“Oh Holy Father forgive me! I have forsaken you. Shamed you. I have not embraced the serpent. Forgive me.”

“David. David. You are forgiven,” Emma’s father says. “The Holy spirit forgives you. Now, you are one with the serpent. Now, you can lead for the Lord.”

“Yes,” she has said.

“Good,” he has said. “God has called you to be my wife.”

“If you say so,” Emma has said.

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, David and Emma are having ginger cookies in the parlor. David is frustrated Emma doesn’t say more to him beyond responding to his questions.

“Emma, we’ve been courting now for some time,” he says. “Might you want to ask me about my profession? Might you want to ask me about my family? Might you want to ask me anything besides how I drive my car and if I have read anything besides the Bible?”

“Yes,” Emma says. “Yes. I have a question.

“Might you take me to town? Might you take me to Ider? I’ve never been without my parents. Seems if I’m going to be a woman, if I’m going to be a wife, I should learn how to go to the market and buy something.

“You want to go to the market on Saturday evening?” David says.

“Yes, that’s what I want to do. You told me to ask you something. I did. Will you take me to Ider to the market? Please, David?”

“It’s a quarter past five,” Emma. “The market closes at six in the evening. We don’t really have time.”

“I don’t really need much. I guess I don’t need anything at all but to get out of the house and go.”

“Will your father approve?”

“He will if you say so. He will if you take me. And that’s what I want to do. I will buy some red and green die to make holiday cookies tomorrow. And I will see how it is done. For when I need to know how.”

“I don’t spec you will be going to the market by yourself very often,” David says.

“Oh?” Emma says.

“No.”

“Well, I may have to. And I’m not going alone this time either. But I want some die. And, I want to get the practice. That’s what I want to do. Go to the market. Are you taking me or not?”

“Fine,” David says.

“I’ll get my jacket,” Emma says. “You go tell me father.”

They meet back at the front door.

“What did he say?” Emma asks. “He said okay. Then he said that I’ll need some money because you don’t have any.”

“I’ve never had a dollar,” Emma says. “Father said I don’t need money.”

“He’s right. You don’t need money.”

“I do if I want some die.”

“I’ll buy that,” David says. “Just as I will buy what we need in the future.”

They walk to the car. David opens the passenger door, walks to the other side, gets in, starts the car, and drives to the market with Emma watching his every move along the way. At twenty minutes before six, they pull into the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly market in Ider.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll run in and get it for you,” David says.

“No,” says Emma. “No! I must go in. It’s not the die I want. I want out of the house. I want to see something. Somebody. Anything. Anybody. I want out, don’t you understand?”

“Very well. You are making me nervous. I don’t know what you are running from, but, very well. Go on.”

Emma bounds from the car before David gets his door open. His sighs. She walks to the driver side, signaling for him to roll down his window.

He does.

“I need some money, remember?”

“Yes,” says David, who pulls out his wallet and retrieves a $5 bill he hands to Emma. She takes it, walks to the market and through its automatic doors which open wide upon her approach.

Emma looks in awe at the isles before her. She looks to the right at a stack of pumpkins selling for $5 each.

“Local Grown,” the sign says.

She looks to the left to a bulletin board. It’s covered with flyers – mostly the same one.

“MISSING,” it says.

There’s a picture of Josh, and a picture of his truck stashed on the Denton farm.

“REWARD for any information related to the whereabouts of this man,” it says.

David catches up with her.

She doesn’t see him coming, but he grabs her arm from behind.

“Let’s find the isle for food coloring. They will be closing soon.

“There,” he says. “It’s over there. Bakery items. Isle eight.”

They walk past isles five, and six, and Emma looks down each one with a broad smile. So many things, she thinks, wishing she had money, and time, to buy it all. Passing isle seven, stocked with beans and canned foods, Emma sees young girls who look familiar. She stops. A deep male voice from around the corner calls for the girls, who scurry away in response, heading toward another isle.

Emma backs up, to isle six, for a look.

“Ahh!” she blurts, before covering her mouth.

“What is it, Emma?” David asks, from eight feet away.

“Michael!” she says, covering her mouth again.

“What?”

“It’s Michael.”

David catches up with Emma and stands at her side.

“Michael? Michael? That one? That heathen boy who comes from the hippie family who went to Ider High?”

Michael, talking with his sisters on the other end of the isle, hears the discussion without disseminating the words and looks up. He sees Emma, and David.

He focuses on Emma.

She and Michael exchange a long gaze.

Emma takes steps down the aisle toward Michael, who is standing still, with arms on his sister’s shoulders.

David follows in Emma’s steps, and reaches out to her from behind, grabbing her dress just beneath her shoulders.

“Emma,” David asks. “Do you know him? Do you know this heathen Michael? Surely you aren’t going to talk to him, are you?”

Emma brushes away David’s hand.

“No,” she says.

But Emma keeps walking forward, with David following close behind, until she’s standing directly before Michael and his sisters.

“Michael. Where did you go, Michael?” Emma cries out, pressing her opened hands against her cheeks with her fingers just beneath her eyes. “Where did you go?”

Emma’s neck is flushed, and her words are tinged with tears.

“I … I left early for school,” Michael said. “I … I thought that was best. I’ve just come home for Thanksgiving.”

He pauses, and looks at Emma.

“Emma,” Michael says, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. “You look beautiful. My goodness. You look beautiful.”

Michael reaches his hand to the right side of Emma’s neck, touching it.

“What happened here?”

“Michael!” Emma says, punching her right fist into his chest. “Why did you leave me? Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me? Michael?”

Michael grabs Emma’s hands, pulling her arms down to her side.

David clears his throat, and introduces himself.

“I’m David,” he says, extending a hand to Michael. “Emma is going to be my wife.”

Emma drops her eyes to the floor.

“I’m Michael,” he says, slowly extending his hand for a shake. "Wow."

“I know,” says David, who softly squeezes Michael’s hand.

“Your wife? Emma, you are getting married?”

Emma looks at her feet.

“Yes,” she says, gathering her composure. “My father says it is God’s will. We will be married in the spring.”

“The spring. I see,” Michael says. “Well, I wish you the best.”

Emma reaches for David’s hand, clasps it, and pulls him to leave.

“We must go,” she says, pulling David toward the front door.

“What about the food coloring?” David says.

“I don’t need it,” Emma says. “We just want to get out of here.”

And they walk away.

Driving back to the parsonage, Emma is breathing heavily in the passenger seat, and her hands are covering her face.

“Emma,” David says. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“No.”

“Emma,” David repeats, “is there something you need to tell me?”

“No.”

“Well, I believe there is something you must tell me. What was that about? You know Michael, the heathen?”

Silence.

“Emma, do you know Michael the heathen?”

Silence.

“Answer me!” he says, grabbing her thigh and pinching it hard as the car swerves from his action enough to make her grab the dash.

“No,” Emma says. “I mean yes. Well, not really. We just met once. That’s all. We just talked.”

“You met him once? Where? I understood from your father had never spent time with a boy. He assured me of your purity, Emma. Otherwise, we would not be here.