she studied Justine. Justine knew then that Lula must have been the only one who hadn’t seen what was happening until now.
“Has the devil had his way with you, Justine?” Brother Eldon said. He looked like a mean old eagle.
Justine put her hand to her belly, and Lula reached out and called, “My sweet baby.” Justine took a step away from Lula. She didn’t have to go to her dad’s. She could just go.
“It’s not right having a Sunday school teacher with an unwed pregnant daughter,” Brother Eldon said. “What does that say to the congregation and other churches?” His face grew red as he spoke. “I don’t think it speaks well of us to have a pregnant girl in the church at all.”
“Brother Eldon.” Uncle Thorpe put his thumb on his temple and began to pinch his forehead. He took a deep breath. “The deacons are excused.”
“We’ve discussed this,” Brother Eldon said.
“Give us some time, Brother,” Uncle Thorpe said. “Mama, we’ll be okay. You can go on, too.”
Granny stood her ground until the last deacon was out the door. Then she leaned down and kissed Lula’s head before she squeezed Justine’s hand. “I’ll be outside, u-we-tsi,” she said to Uncle Thorpe. Her voice was sharp and left no room for discussion.
Lula didn’t seem to register Granny closing the door. She began to smooth her skirt, oddly focused on the folds of the fabric.
“Do you know who the father is, Justine?” Uncle Thorpe asked.
Justine didn’t answer, didn’t have time to feel angry or embarrassed at the insinuation. She was watching Lula, who had begun to rock her shoulders from side to side and hum.
This church was all she had. People respected her testimony, her voice, the songs she wrote, the murals she’d painted in the nursery. She could elaborate on any Bible verse as well as a deacon, maybe as well as Uncle Thorpe. People admired her resilience, which to Justine seemed the funny thing about faith. The bigger your obstacle, the greater your heavenly blessing. Lula would be truly blessed.
The night Lula learned Justine’s father was not dead in an accident, just gone, neighbors found her at 3:00 a.m. wandering around in her nightgown. She couldn’t talk for days afterward, never quite got her pieces put back together right. She’d married him right out of Chilocco, and the church considered him Lula’s husband in God’s eyes until he died, no matter how many other women he married or how far he roamed. Her house—when she had a house—used to be full of girls and a husband. One by one, they had left.
Justine had fought her at every turn. It might as well have been written. Justine wasn’t her sisters, wasn’t wired to go along with things for the sake of comfort. In that way, she was as religious as Lula. When she stopped fighting her mother long enough, Justine understood her. And now, because of Justine, Lula might lose the church too.
“It’s okay, Mama,” she said. She moved to Lula and put her arm around her. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Who’s the baby’s father?” Uncle Thorpe asked again.
Justine ignored him. She put her hands around Lula’s cheeks and pulled her face to hers. “I’ll get my GED and get a job. I’ll get two. We’ll be fine, Mama.”
“How?”
“I don’t have an answer for that, Mama. But there is a baby in here. It’s true. I’ve felt it moving.” Justine smiled, but her tears were starting up too. “This baby is coming, Mama. It doesn’t matter what the deacons say. I’ve been praying, and God knows what he needs to know. That’s all I’m going to say, except I’m sorry for the trouble it’s causing you.”
She couldn’t have told herself why she wouldn’t say his name. Maybe she still thought this was all her fault for sneaking out and for every little bad thing God had tallied over the course of her life. She hadn’t asked for what happened, but if there was one thing she’d taken from the nights she’d spent in the pews of Beulah Springs Holiness Church, it was that the Lord worked in mysterious ways. Regardless, the deacons might pressure her to marry him. After all, it was she who had opened her window that night and run down the hill to his waiting car. They might do an okay job of pressuring him too. And then she’d be married to a son of a bitch who made her sick to her stomach, a man who’d already shown her he was stronger than she was. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
Things would be simpler if she kept the focus on this baby. Maybe that was as far as her young mind could stretch, as much as it could handle. As far as she was concerned at that moment, the father didn’t exist, nor did that night. She was simply a girl, or had been, and now there was a baby, immaculate as could be.
Uncle Thorpe poured olive oil into his hands, put them over each of their heads, and prayed over them. Justine didn’t mind for once that her hair would be oily. She let her mind settle into Uncle Thorpe’s words. She figured she needed all the help she could get. When he finished, Uncle Thorpe wiped his eyes and hugged them.
“Maybe you two should spend the evening sorting things out at home. I’ll bring Mama home. You can take John Joseph’s car.”
Justine was gathering Lula’s purse when Lula hugged it back into her belly.
“We won’t go,” she said.
“Won’t go where?” Uncle Thorpe asked.
“We won’t go home. The Lord’s house is home, where we need to be.”
“I thought you would want to sort things out, Sister Lu.”
“Justine is having a baby. It is sorted.” She stood and picked up her Bible from his desk. “I won’t have us thrown out of here like trash by Brother Eldon.”
“He’s worried about factions in the church, Sister. You know how he gets.”
“I know how he talked to my daughter like trash, and I won’t have it. From anyone.” She turned to Justine. “It’s going to be alright, Justine. You’re right about that. God holds us in his hands even when we feel the farthest from him. We can do whatever we have to do. If you want to go back to the service, let’s go. Only God can make our way. If you want to go home, I think that will be fine. God will be with us where we are.”
“Let’s just go, Mama. I don’t want to cause any more mess.”
“Your decision.”
When they walked into the hallway, Granny was sitting in a chair she’d pulled up from one of the classrooms. Lula leaned down and yelled into her ear.
“We’re leaving, Mama. You can stay if you want.”
Granny shook her head, and Justine helped her stand. Uncle Thorpe walked the three of them to the door and said, “I’ll go get John Joseph’s keys.”
“I think he left them in his car,” Justine said, maybe a little too quickly.
Uncle Thorpe studied her for a moment, then squeezed her shoulder and said, “I’ll be praying for you.”
When the three of them got to the other side of the church, John Joseph was still leaning by the window. Now he was listening to the traveling preacher’s
