Under the Cypress Moon (36 page)

"You remember my friend, T.L., don't ya, Del?  He's Shylah's brother, and I don't think he takes kindly to men puttin' their hands al
l over his sister.  Do ya, T.?"  Mark could not contain his laughter at the thought that not only did Delbert Johnson seem like he would be easy to fight but that he was now outnumbered.

"Nope," T.L. responded, "don't take kindly 'tall.  Like my friend said, step away before you're the one gettin' hurt, Del."

"Hey," Del balked, "I don't fight niggers!  Ya'all don't fight fair."

"You know, since you're just a dumb hillbilly who don't know better and since you're obviously drunk, I'll let that go," T.L. offered with a shrug.  "But if you keep it up, I'll paint this floor red with your blood.
  And you're lucky you're Tim's cousin, and we're at his house."

Delbert, seeing that T.L. matched him in height and size and seemed very serious about his words, quickly marched off into the next room, far away from his woul
d-be attackers.

"You two should get out of here before it gets worse," T.L. promptly suggested to his sister and his friend.

"I think so," Mark agreed, taking Shylah by the hand and stepping toward the front door.  It was only the reasons stated by T.L., that Delbert Ray Johnson was a cousin of Tim Bedoe and that all involved were at Tim's house during Tim's wake that Mark held back.  Otherwise, he would not have been as easily forgiving as T.L.  Mark had no idea if the situation might still escalate into a fight between Del and T.L., but he and Shylah would not remain to find out for sure.

As they walked out together, Shylah tried again and again to convince Mark that she did not welcome or enjoy the encounter inside the house.  "Baby, I swear I had nothin' to do with it!  I would never do that to you, but even if I was that kinda girl, it would not be with a man like that!  I swear it was him puttin' his hands on me!  I tried to fight him, but I couldn't!  Please believe me, Baby!  I'll take a lie detector test, if you want!  Please say somethin'!"

By this time, the couple was well into the yard, cutting across toward the long drive that led to the road, near which, Mark had parked his truck.  Without saying a word, Mark turned to Shylah and wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her in, kissing her so passionately that it took all of her breath away.  "How's that," Mark asked.  "Does that answer anything?  I trust you, Baby, even though it did look bad when I walked in.  I love you!"

Shylah, still taken aback and a bit breathless, pondered her entire mind for any words of response.  Slowly coming around and steadying her wobbly body, Shylah choked out, "I... I love you, too!  Glad you believe me.  I would never hurt you like that!  You're the father of my child!  I don't wanna ever screw any of this up!  I got somethin' most women never get to have, and I don't ever wanna lose that!"

"I know, Baby," Mark reassured her.  "Speaking of which, we gotta figure some time to tell your parents."

"You prepared to marry me then?  You know my dad is gonna expect it."

"If you think I'm not, you don't know me!  You know I love you, and you're all I could ever want," Mark adamantly added to his already prevalent assurances as he pulled Shylah in once more for a monstrous, almost jaw-snapping kiss.

As they walked toward Mark's truck, Shylah grabbed Mark's hand and rubbed it between both of her own.  "I should've kicked that guy in the balls.  I wish I had now.  I bet he would've dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes!"

"I bet he would've, Baby.  I bet he would've."

Chapter 17

With the guarantee of not having to be home for Thomas, Mark and Shylah took the opportunity to use the rest of the night to finally have time out of the house together.  Neither had eaten anything at the wake, and they had not stayed long.  The night was still young enough for them to enjoy a quiet dinner and each other's company.

After a romantic dinner, a long drive, and long and passionate love making, both fell quickly to sleep, basking in the glory of each other's presence, Shylah on Mark's chest, Mark's right arm outstretched over the side of the bed.  The next morning would be one of great hustle and bustle, but the night was still theirs.  When they awoke, unclothed, uncovered, and uninhibited in the brightness of the wonderful morning sun, they came back to a world that offered such promise and hope for their love and their ensuing start of a family.

Ten o'clock would come too soon, both thought.  Though they wanted to show their support and love to the Bedoes, neither of them really wanted to have to climb out of bed.  They welcomed and cherished the moment at hand but not the responsibilities now required.  Patty, if following orders, should be taking good care of Thomas for the time being, they knew, but two hours to get ready, get to the packed funeral home, and find good seats was not enough time, especially with the wonders of love presenting themselves at every turn.

"Well, Baby," Shylah turned to say at a few minute past eight, "we'd better get up and get around before it's too late.  I'll go make us some coffee, but first, give me a kiss, Sexy."

"mmmm," Mark muttered as Shylah's lips began to pull away from his, "Morning, Beautiful!  We have to do that again!"

With another kiss and another, Shylah finally pulled herself to the side of the bed and mustered her strength to take a step, though Mark followed after her, grabbing and groping at her and offering gentle and loving remarks.  After two cups of coffee each, a quick breakfast, and a shower that involved the lovers forcing themselves to resist all temptations, Mark sat in quiet solitude, smoking cigarette after cigarette on the front porch swing as Shylah readied herself, applying makeup and fixing her hair to her satisfaction.  Mark knew that Shylah would require substantial time alone to do this.  All that he hoped was that Shylah would not make the two of them late. 

When they arrived inside of the funeral home, Mark was relieved to find that the Kings, dressed in all of their Sunday finest, had saved seats for he and Shylah. 
"T., Mrs. King, Mr. King," Mark cordially addressed his neighbors with a nod and a smile.

"Mark," Darius quickly and politely returned.  "Glad ya'all made it.  I guess Shylah is why you're late."

"You know your daughter, Sir.  She thinks she has to look better'n everybody else and takes her sweet time with it, but you gotta admit, she sure is a ray of sunshine.  It's not like she needs all of that mess, though, beautiful as
she
is."

Shylah lovingly nudged Mark as she heard these words.  She almost felt insulted by the first words Mark uttered, but the way that he finished his remarks filled Shylah with absolute joy and some embarrassment.  "Morning, Mama, Daddy, Bro."

"Mornin', Sis," T.L. smilingly responded.

"You ready for all this," Mark asked his friend, saddened by the thought of the occasion.

"Much as I can be, Man.  I don't really wanna say goodbye to Tim, but we gotta do what we gotta do.  No choice."

"Yep.  Sad but true, my friend.  I guess we'd better shut up.  It looks like the minister is gettin' ready to begin," Mark added, lowering his head for a moment of silent reflection and prayer.

The minister was a rather tall and rather stocky man with salt and pepper feathered hair.  Though he was dressed in what everyone knew must be his best suit, he had all of the appearance of a regular country preacher.  There was nothing about the man that seemed at all out of place for the moment.  "Good morning, everyone," the man addressed, signaling for the music to come to a  halt.  "We are here to honor a man beloved by all, a great man, Tim Bedoe.  I knew Tim since he was a little boy.  His dad and I were good friends for many years, and I considered Tim my friend as well.  I look around me and see that Tim had many friends, friends of all ages, colors, and of both the sexes.  He was a man truly loved and cherished.  I hope that we call will always keep Tim in our hearts the way that he did so many of us.  He was a great example of Christian love and charity.  I see his lovely wife, Mary Jane sittin' right there in the front, accompanied by her young'ns, particularly, little Henry there.  Henry was named after his daddy, Timothy Henry Bedoe, who was named after his daddy, my friend, Henry Bedoe, 'Big Hank.'" 

"Did you know Tim's middle name was Hank," Mark inquisitively remarked to his friend. 

"No.  I had no idea.  I heard people call him Hanky Panky but thought it had to do with somethin' he said."

"Excuse me, Gentlemen," the minister loudly evoked, looking directly at Mark and T.L.  "Am I interrupting you?"

"Sorry, Reverend," Mark sheepishly replied, followed by the exact same words from his friend.

"Now, to continue.  I would like to offer up a prayer on behalf of Tim
, and soon after, we will hear from Tim's boss and friend, Mark Crady."  This announcement by the minister shocked Mark, as he had no idea of it until that point.  No one had told him of it.  "Dear Lord, we commend the soul of Timothy Bedoe to You.  Tim was a good man, and I know that you have taken him into your Almighty Bosom.  Tim will forever hold a place among your angels, a place that he rightfully deserves, as he filled this world with so much love, always remembering the commandment to love his neighbor.  Tim was a man that everyone could count on, someone anybody could call friend.  He was friend to many, husband to his wife, Mary, and father to his many wonderful children.  We ask that You please take care of our Tim the way that he took care of all of us.  We ask that You let him know how loved he will always be and how fondly we will all remember him.  Please, Lord, be ever mindful of the sacrifices and good deeds of the man and give him the rest that he has earned.  Please bring comfort to his wife and to their little ones.  In Jesus' name, Amen."

A resounding "Amen" filled the entirety of the building, as if it were a great chorus of the concordance of Heavenly angels.

Mark made his way up to the podium, nervous as could be, unsure of what he might say, as he had not prepared himself for this task.  "Well, everybody, I'm Mark Crady. I was Tim's boss for a while at the steel plant, but more than that, I was his friend.  I'm not a man of a lot of words, so please bear with me.  Tim Bedoe was a great guy.  I knew him for probably almost my whole life.  He'd come to most of my football games when I was in high school, came to my high school graduation, to my high school and college graduation parties, and even to some of my family functions.  Tim was like an uncle to me.  He was a dependable man, a kind man, a giving man.  He never had any unkind words, unless he was jokin' around, but everybody knew when he was jokin'. I remember how he'd always try to get everybody at work to read their Bible.  We'd see him in the break room or on the floor, and he'd always ask us, 'You read your Bible today?'  Like the good reverend said, you could count on Tim for anything, and he really was what you could call a Christian.  If anybody's ever earned that name, it was Tim Bedoe.  You couldn't ask for a better friend or a better example.  Tim would give the shirt off his back to anybody in need, and that is no exaggeration.  There was nobody he wouldn't help, nobody he'd ever turn down for a favor.  Tim had no enemies, just friends, lots of 'em!  I wish there was more I could say and more I could do.  I feel really bad, though.  I hate to have to say it, but I know most of you know it.  Tim died at the plant because of faulty equipment.  The most that I can do to make up for the accident is to help Mary Jane and her kids in any and every way they need.  It won't bring Tim back.  It won't make up for anything, but it's all there is.  I know Tim would do the same for anybody else if he was here sayin' these things for another man.  That was the kind of guy he was.  Tim," Mark added, staring up at the ceiling as if to look through it and into the inner reaches of Heaven, "Buddy, I'll do whatever it takes.  You rest now.  You earned it.  I just hope you save me a place when the day comes."

As Mark walked away, Mary Jane, as well as several of her children and dozens of the women in the audience wept, sobbed really, so hard that their eyes let loose floods that covered the whole of their clothing.  Mark sat back down between Shylah and her brother, solemn and worried that his words may have meant little and that he may not be able to do all that he should to make up for the accident at the plant. 

When the services were over, and people began to usher outside to await the loading of the casket into the hearse, Mark was nudged from behind by the minister, catching him so off guard that he spun, almost seeming to dance as he turned.  "Mark?"

"Yes, Sir, Reverend."

"Call me Pastor Dan.  You probably don't remember, but you used to come to my church when you was a boy.   Do you remember?"

"Vaguely, Sir.  I couldn't have been very old when I stopped goin'."

"I remember you.  I remember you well.  You and your family attended regularly for a long time, and then, all of a sudden, you started goin' to that other church.  I just didn't know if you remembered me too good."  The minister extended his tremendous, meaty, somewhat sweaty hand.   Mark happily accepted the offer, but he could feel the wetness between himself and the minister, making him quite uneasy and eager to be released so that he could wipe it all away.

"I do kinda remember, Sir," Mark assured the man.  "I'm sorry I was talkin' while you gave Tim's eulogy. No offense meant, Sir.  I was only remarking to my friend that I didn't know Tim's middle name was Hank. That was all.  I didn't mean to interrupt you, Sir, and I didn't think anbody'd really hear me."