The Good Book

Sunday afternoons we sit on the porch and watch nature.  In the spring we watch baby rabbits hop around timidly, looking for tall grass or a shrub to hide under.  By Fall we'll find rabbits scarce.  The foxes will show up sooner or later, or the coyotes.  The little rabbits are easy prey for them.  Still, every Spring we see the little ones hopping about, proof positive that rabbits will probably never dwindle to extinction.

Mama usually sits on the porch swing with knitting on her lap.  She hums the hymn we sang at church earlier, just in fits and starts between short bits of commentary she offers on the latest church gossip.  Today she said, "Next week is Homecoming Dinner.  I wonder what I should make."  She went back to humming a few lines of "Just As I Am," then added, "I hope Betty Crowe don't bring that warm potato salad again.  I always end up gettin' a spoonful of that before I realize what I've gotten ahold of."

"Bible says ta eat at home."  Granny said.   Granny Jo is sort of  like the Holy Bible; you don't think about her much, but she's still always making you feel guilty about something.  She sits and rocks, back and forth, back and forth, seemingly in her own little world, but you can rest assured she hears every word that's said around here.  She wears her soft, thin gray hair in a tight little bun at the back of her neck.  The stretched out bobby pins sometimes show, though in the past she took care to assure they remained well-hidden among the waves of thick chestnut locks that once cascaded over her shoulders.  I know because a picture of her at about 23 sits on the mantle next to a picture of grandpa in his Navy uniform.  Grandpa died before I my birth, so I only know him through the stories Granny Jo and Daddy sometimes tell.  Lately, Granny Jo only speaks here and there.  She rarely even notices when Daddy starts telling one of her favorite stories about Grandpa.  Her feet just barely reaching the painted blue porch floor, she uses just her tiptoes to push off.  Her brown house slippers show signs of wear, just where her toes inside them make contact with the floor.  Mama said last Sunday it looked like Granny was going to need new slippers soon.

"She'll have em worn out again in a week." Daddy teased.

Nobody answered Granny Jo's remark.  It hung in the air for what seemed like a long time when Daddy spoke up to answer Mama.

"Well I think you aughtta make a coconut cake." Daddy said.  "Nobody ever makes coconut cake anymore."  Once in a while on Sunday he sits with his guitar, picking out little tunes as he stares off into space.  On this particular Sunday he sat motionless, his eyes darting back and forth across the field in front of him.  Once in a while he'd gaze up at the end of the driveway, like he was expecting company or something.

"Bible says if a man don't work, he aught not ta eat." Granny Jo stopped long enough to say before pointing her toes at the floor again, starting back into the slow, steady rhythm she prefers. 

Mama sighed, put down her knitting and looked down at me playing on the floor of the porch with my dolls.  I could feel her watching me.  I looked up at her and smiled and she smiled back.  "Child, you are outgrowin' all your Sunday dresses.  Look how short that dress is on her, Chuck.  We need to go shoppin' this week."

"Yeah," Daddy answered, not even glancing in my direction.

"Can I get a purple dress for Homecoming Sunday?" I asked Mama eagerly.

"Well sure you can!" She answered, "If we can find one."

"What if it costs too much?"  I asked, always aware of our humble means, I never wanted to ask for things that were out of my family's reach.

"I think we can manage one purple dress, darlin'. Don't you think we can, Chuck?"

"Of course we can, well I'll just rob a bank if I have to,." Daddy teased, still not averting his gaze.

"Thou shalt not steal!" We heard from Granny's side of the porch.  She spoke up with such force that we all finally looked in her direction.  Without rocking, she turned her head towards me and pointed her long finger, " And Bible says not to adorn yourself in costly array."

I looked at Mama to see if Granny was right.  Mama just looked back down at her lap and shook her head as she picked her knitting back up again.

After several minutes of silence passed.  The warm air of summer blew across the porch now and then, but as the sun made its way across the sky, the big water oak in the side yard fell out of its path, and the porch swing was soon invaded by its warmth.  With the sun shining on her back,  Mama sighed real loud and said to no one,  "Well the Bible also says that women aught ta dress modestly and she can't go around with her fanny shinin' in them dresses that are too little."

Granny Jo kept rocking.

"Yep." Said Daddy.

"It's gettin' hot out here." Said Mama. 

I kept playing with my dolls, imagining myself in my new purple dress with lace and frills.  As Granny Jo rocked I could feel the floor boards of the porch ripple beneath me.

Mama got up all of a sudden and threw her knitting work into a basket.  "I think I'll go get the dishes washed up." She announced.

"Alright." Said Daddy.

Mama went inside, letting the screen door slam behind her.  We listened as her Sunday shoes clip-clapped down the hall.  After her footsteps faded Granny looked over at Daddy and said kind of quiet, "Bible says ye aught not work on Sunday."

"She's just goin' to wash up the dishes, Ma." Daddy said back, not even looking up.

Granny stopped rocking for a few seconds, as she glanced in Daddy's direction, then she resumed her rhythm and the porch boards began their rippling again.

One person can change the mood of a lazy Sunday afternoon as quick as the summer sky can whip up a thunderstorm.  Feeling the tension build between everyone, I decided to go walk around in the yard barefooted.  It was May, after all, and the bare soles of my feet  had yet to feel the warm tickle of new spring grass or the still cool patches of dirt where the bare spots of our yard sat beckoning me to make mud pies.  I took off my Sunday shoes, tucked my lacy socks inside them and set them by the front door.  I felt the cool wood floor boards beneath my feet for a minute, still dipping in rhythm to Granny's rocking chair,  before I took off down the steps.

"Don't get your dress dirty, now." Daddy warned.  "You gotta wear that back to church tonight."

"Okay, I'll be careful." I promised.  Then I ran around the side of the house to see if the new kittens had opened their eyes yet.  Mama said I couldn't touch them until they did.

They were under the side of the house where, from my bedroom window, I could watch the mama cat come and go as she fed them.  I could hear them mewing sometimes during the night and I wondered if they might be cold out there all alone.  I'd pray for those kittens, "Lord, please don't let that black dog get the kittens tonight.  Please keep em warm and safe."  I guess I checked on them every day as much to see if the Lord was answering my prayers as anything.  They were tiny still, curled up on top of one another with the mama cat beside them, keeping watch.  I wanted to hold one so bad, but I just sat there on the ground watching them root around for their mama.

Eventually the damp ground began seeping through my clothes.  I  jumped up and felt the back of my dress.  It was a little wet.  I decided I'd go back to the porch and play dolls, hoping daddy wouldn't notice the red-clay stain on my rear end.

When I walked back up onto the porch Daddy asked me how the kittens were doing.  "They're still too little to hold." I told him, disappointed.

"They'll be weaned soon enough." He assured me.  Then you can play with them all you want, but don't you get your heart set on keepin' all them things."

"I won't," I said.  But I already knew if I begged hard enough he'd give in and let me  keep them all.

"Run get me my Bible." He commanded, finally  breaking his gaze from the treeline in front of him.

I tried to slip past him to the door so he couldn't see the back of my dress.

"Don't let that slam." He ordered as I successfully made it around him, hiding my mud-stained dress and opened the screen door.  "Your mama might be takin' a nap."

"She's washin' dishes." I reminded him.

"Well don't let it slam."

I felt relieved that I  made it inside without him seeing my dress.  I found his Bible on the table by his chair.  It felt heavy in my hands.  The edges of the pages were shiny silver when  when you closed it tight. I turned it over and looked at the cover, "Holy Bible," it read in gold lettering at the top, and then my daddy's name in smaller letters at the bottom, "Charles McKormick."  I carried the large book back outside to him and laid it on his lap.

"Here you go, Daddy." I said cheerily.

"Thank you sweet pea."  He patted me on the head and smiled.  Without even thinking I turned on my heel and went to pick up my dolls again.

"What's that on the back of your dress?" He asked me.

"Whatcha mean?"

"Is that mud on the back of your dress?  Was you on the ground watchin' them dang kittens again?"

"Yes sir." I said, my eyes downcast.

"Better go see if your mama can get that stain out.  You need to find a clean dress for church tonight."

"Can't I just put on some play clothes for now?" I pleaded with him.

"No.  You ain't wearin' no britches on Sunday!" He said emphatically.

"Okay. I'll go find another dress." I said.  I opened the screen door again, forgetting to let it close slowly.  "Snap!" it said behind me.  I felt sort of angry.  A child can never begin to understand the disparate rules of religion or society, especially as they relate to females.  I never understood why my cousins who were boys, could wear whatever they wanted to on Sunday afternoons, while I stayed trapped inside a dress, unable to climb or play or even get a little red clay on my butt.

"Girl, don't you be slammin' doors now!" Daddy hollered behind me as I hurried to the kitchen to find mama.

 Granny picked up on the tone in Daddy's voice.

"Bible says spare the rod, spoil the child." Said Granny Jo. "You aught not be afraid to put a switch to that girl." She added as I ran to Mama as fast as I could.

I found her in the kitchen whipping up a banana pudding for after church later.  "Don't tell your granny I'm cookin'." She whispered with a grin.

"I won't!" I whispered back.

"I got my dress dirty." I told her.  She spun me around so she could see the red-clay stain.

"Well we should have put play clothes on you after church anyway."

"But Daddy said I can't wear britches on Sunday."

"What Daddy don't know won't hurt him." She said, shaking her head.  "Go put on some britches and go out the back door and play. And don't let your Granny see you."

I spent the rest of that afternoon wandering around outside.  I waded in the creek, climbed a tree, went up into the loft of the barn in my bare feet and sat there with my legs dangling over the edge for a while.  I checked on the kittens two more times, but they still had their eyes closed tight.  "Lord, please make em open their eyes tomorrow." I prayed.

As the sun crossed over the peak of our house and the grass under my dirty feet grew cooler, I heard Mama calling me back in to get ready for Sunday evening service.  Daddy and Granny were still sitting on the porch when I came sneaking in the back door.

"Heavens to Betsy!" Mama exclaimed.  "What in the world have you been doin' all day?  How does a girl get so dirty?"

"I don't know, Mama." I said."I just play is all."

"Go get in the tub." She said in a low voice.  "Before your daddy comes in here and catches you in them britches."

I took off.  I ran myself a bath and got in.  I washed my feet and my belly and arms, then got out to dry off.  Mama came in with my clean dress just as I was reaching for the towel.

"I think you forgot to wash something." She teased,  as she picked up a washcloth and roughly scrubbed my face clean.

Freshly dressed in my rescued Sunday dress and shiny shoes again, I grabbed my little white Bible and headed out the front door with Mama.

"Time for church." I announced.

Daddy was asleep with his Bible lying open on his lap.  Granny Jo was rocking a little slower.

"Where'd the day go?" Daddy asked as he stretched and closed the Good Book.  "Guess we better get going. We don't want to be late for prayer meetin'. "

"Bible says forsake not the assemblin' of yourselves together." Said Granny Jo, looking proud of herself for remembering that one.

Granny Jo hadn't been to church in so long I didn't remember ever seeing her on a pew, but every Sunday my folks invited her anyway.

"You goin' with us tonight?" Mama asked.

"No." Said Granny Jo.  "I reckon I'll just stay here.  Bible says women aught to be keepers at home."

"Alright then, " mama said rolling her eyes.  "Don't sit out here after dark.  You'll catch cold."

"Yep." Said Granny.

We drove off to church, Granny still rocking on the porch, the sunset falling low behind us in the rear view mirror.  Mama hummed a little bit of "Just as I am," before she said, "I wonder if Martha Coggins is gonna be wearing that skirt around her hips again tonight.  I wish she'd pull that thing up to her waist where it belongs."

"Yep." Said Daddy, rolling down his window.

In the back seat, I stared at my white Bible on my lap as the wind from Daddy's open window blew my hair into my face.  I wondered if someday I might know as much about what the Bible says as Granny Jo.  I decided that even if I did, I'd keep it to myself.

Mama hummed a few more bars.  Daddy reached over and patted her knee.

"Lord sure gave me a good wife." He said.  "Not many find a woman like you that honors and obeys her husband."'

Mama glanced at him and gave a faint grin, as Daddy reached over and took her hand. 

"Lord sure is good." Daddy said.

"Yep." Said Mama, expressionless, as she gazed out the windshield at the road ahead.