him: first, the sheriff’s nonchalant denial that a murder had been committed and then, the statement by Hendon about his power to control an election. John was becoming suspicious of Hendon’s ethics, purpose, and source of power.
As he approached the house, John saw his mother hurrying out to meet him waving a piece of paper clasped tightly in her hand. John quickly dismounted and tied the horse. Never had he seen such pleasure on her face. Tears of joy streamed down her wrinkled and weathered cheeks. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around him, half crying and laughing with joy.
“What in the world’s happened to you?” John muttered.
“I’ve finally heard from him; he’s alive.”
John took her hands in his and asked, “Who’s alive?”
“Thomas is alive. He’s somewhere out in Texas.”
By that time, Lott had come out of the house to join them. “Y’all best come on in, yore Mama’s not dressed for the cold.”
Inside, John read the brief letter. Thomas hoped that all was well with the family and as for himself, he was making it all right. It was the most exciting news the family had received in years. Never had John seen such peace on his father’s face, knowing that he now had two sons alive.
In the weeks that followed, Hendon scheduled John to be at every social function. Although women could not vote, Suzanne went with John and gave him her full support.
Spring soon returned to the hill country with its usual array of flowers and budding trees. The buggy bounced and rattled as its driver carefully reined the horse down the rough road trying to stay out of the deep ruts made during the wet winter months. At mid-morning, the sun was shining brilliantly through the limbs of the trees that lined the roadway, sending flickers of light racing across their path. Even with the coming of spring, there was still a touch of chill in the air.
Suzanne snuggled closer to John and pretended to brush some lint from his trouser leg as she said, “It’s mighty nice of you to escort me to church this morning. You know Easter Sunday has always been a special time.”
John again noticed how beautiful Suzanne had become. She wore a heavy dark red ankle-length coat with a black hand-woven scarf wrapped around her neck. Her jet black hair, glistening in the morning light, was pulled back on each side and fell loosely down her back. With her brown eyes and dark complexion, she looked every bit the Creole of her mother’s people.
“We’ll see folks here that we don’t see for the rest of the year. I guess one service a year takes care of their religious needs. Frankie’ll be there, won’t he?”
Easing away from him, Suzanne answered, “That’s an ugly thing to say about your friend and my brother. Since when have you been in charge of the judgment seat. You know some of those men will be casting votes come election time and you might need their support.”
John worked the horse down the road and when the animal balked at a deep washout, he took out his whip and with a sharp crack, sent the horse bolting forward, almost tipping the buggy over. Once through the eroded area, he replied, “I’m telling you the truth as I see it, and, that is, that some of those folks only come once a year and that’s a fact.”
Realizing that what John said was true, Suzanne said, “I guess you’re right, but I don’t think it’s fair for you to place Frankie with them.”
John glanced over at her. “I don’t see why not. All you have to do is ask the preacher. He knows who’s there at every meeting.”
“John, you know Frankie’s a busy man and with his investment in the railroad, he’s hardly ever home any more. And what about you? I don’t think you darken the doors too much either, do you?”
John didn’t answer. Thinking back, there was a time when he didn’t miss a service and even if he had wanted to, his parents gave him no choice. When he had been in the field all week from daylight to dark and the monthly service finally came around, it was a pleasure to clean up and spend the day worshiping and being with friends.
Thinking back, John could still see her as she awaited his arrival, always standing on the top step next to where the preacher was welcoming his congregation. As soon as he cleared the bend in the road, her hand would be up waving with that little white handkerchief she always carried. He could still feel the warmth of her body and the smell of her perfume as they sat together in his parents’ family pew.
When Becca looked at me, I felt like I was standing there defenseless. She looked straight into my heart. She knew me better than I knew myself, John thought.
Suzanne suddenly eased closer to him and once again placed her hand on his leg. Trying to change the subject, she exclaimed, “You sure are handsome when you dress in your Sunday best.”
John reached over and placed his hand on hers causing her to gasp. Even though she felt that he cared for her, he did not often show her the emotional love that she yearned for. They had kissed on several occasions and had become intimate once while swimming in the creek, but she wanted more.
John looked down at the suit he was wearing. What Suzanne didn’t know was that John had never owned a suit of clothes at all and the one that he was wearing belonged to his brother.
Suzanne slid her hand from John’s leg as they approached the church and straightened her coat as the buggy pulled into the churchyard. Throngs of people were making their way up the steps and into the hallway of the white frame building. Once inside, meeting friends on the way, they finally reached the aisle where John’s parents were sitting. To John’s surprise, Tim had settled himself on the family pew next to Sister and James. Tim glanced up at John. “Surprised to see an ole sinner like me here today?”
John shook his head in fun and winking at Suzanne whispered, “Not at all, Tim Johnson. Easter Sunday comes once a year. I just hope the preacher has a sermon that’ll get yore attention.”
Tim replied, “I’ll be just fine long as he lays off the subject of adultery.”
Pinching him as hard as she could, Sister mumbled, “Tim Johnson, you’d better watch your mouth or I might just pinch you so that you don’t have to worry ‘bout no adultery.”
After a service of familiar hymns and a sermon on the resurrection of Jesus, the preacher closed his talk a little earlier than usual and to the surprise of the congregation, instead of giving an invitation, stepped down from the pulpit. As if contemplating the right words to speak, he took his hand and stroked his long mustache and finally said, “I know it is Easter Sunday and the Lord knows I have told His story to the best of my ability, but I have something more I want to talk to you about.”
Surprised, people began to look around at each other wondering why he had ended his service in such an unusual way.
He continued, “I can see in your faces that you think I’ve probably lost my wits, but I’ve got something on my mind that I think the Lord won’t mind me sharing with you. You all know what a perilous time we’ve all been through and every once in a while we get a glimpse of sunlight, better still, a magnificent rainbow after a storm.”
He paused a moment and looked over to where John was sitting. “The other day when I was in Decatur, I heard that one of our own might be interested in throwing his hat into the political
