Benediction (Plainsong #3)(46)

What happened?

He turned toward her. His face was bruised and swollen.

Oh no, she said. Now what?

A couple of men stopped me. One of them slapped me.

Why? What did you do?

It’s because of what I said in church.

How did they know that? Were they from the church?

No. But they didn’t need to be. Everybody would have heard.

You don’t have any idea who they were?

I’ve never seen them before.

What will you do?

I’m going to clean up my face, he said, then I’m coming to bed.

You won’t even inform the police?

No.

But why not?

Because this isn’t about the law. Or police protection.

She looked at his swollen face and the blood on his shirt. I don’t think I’m going to last here much longer, she said. I’m going back to Denver. This is too much.

We can talk about it in the morning.

No. I’m done now. I can see that.

She turned and went back to bed. He looked at himself in the mirror and bent over the sink and began laving cold water onto his cheeks again.

When he got into bed, she was still awake.

Are you all right? she said. Are you badly hurt?

No, not badly.

I never thought our lives would turn out this way, did you?

No, but you can go back to him and be comforted again. Is that your plan?

I don’t have a plan. Except to leave here. And find a job.

What about him?

Who? John Wesley?

Him too. But I meant your friend.

I haven’t seen him in over two years.

You haven’t talked to him?

When would I talk to him?

Anytime. Whenever I’m out of the house.

No. I told you I was finished. There’s nothing more to us.

But you’ll pick up if you go back.

I don’t have any interest in that. I’m too tired. I feel like somebody slapped me too.





29


A LITTLE WHILE before noon on a day earlier in that same week, Lorraine went next door to Berta May’s and then she and Alice came out and drove east on U.S. Highway 34, then south on the gravel to the Johnson house.

When they turned in at the country house and got out of the car, the Johnson women stepped outside and stood together on the back porch waiting for them. The two women had on thin cotton sleeveless dresses and looked cool despite the noontime heat. Come in, Willa called. Come in.

Here we are, Lorraine said.

How’s this sweet girl? Willa said when Alice came up on the porch.

Pretty good, Alice said.

Hello, sweetheart, Alene said.

They hugged her and hugged Lorraine. I brought this too, Lorraine said. She brandished a bottle of wine.

They ate lunch in the yard on the north side of the house under an elm tree. They carried the food out and set it on the old wood picnic table. Somebody needs to paint that, Willa said. Look at it. The table was paint-flaked and dry.

We’ll just cover it up, Lorraine said.

They brought the food out in dishes covered with white dish towels, chicken salad with fruit and country potato salad and dinner rolls. Alice carried out the plates, the old thin delicate ones, hand-painted with blue grapes.

They’re too good for a picnic, Lorraine said.

No. I’m going to use them. What else are they for? My mother gave them to me for my wedding a long time ago. I’m missing two of them.

They brought out glasses and silverware and salt and pepper shakers and a dish of pickle relish and pink cloth napkins and iced tea in a glass pitcher. All was arranged on the table. Alene and Willa sat on one side, taking their time getting seated, Willa particularly, swinging her old bare legs over the wooden seat. Lorraine and Alice sat on the opposite side.

Over them lay the shade of the tree, dappling and swaying when there was a breeze at this noon hour.

Alice watched them, no one spoke nor began to eat yet. Then Willa said, I know we can’t all think alike, but I want to say something that resembles grace.

They looked at her. She shut her eyes behind the thick glasses, and they closed their eyes.

We’re grateful for this summer’s day. We’re grateful for this beautiful food. We want to be thankful that we are here in this particular place on this particular day together. We want to acknowledge these our many blessings. And we’re so thankful for this young girl here with us. May she be filled with joy all her life. And may there be peace in the world.

Then she ceased. They opened their eyes and looked at her. Amen, she said. Let’s eat.

They passed the dishes around. Alene had made the chicken salad with mandarin oranges and olives and slivered almonds, and Lorraine said how good it was and Alene said how good her potato salad was too and she said it was just potato salad but Alene said it wasn’t.

Alice watched them talk, watching each speaker. The chicken salad was served on opened lettuce leaves. She watched what they did. Lorraine cut hers as she ate and Alice did the same.

The women drank some of the chilled wine and made a toast. The tree shade moved, and there were birds calling from the lilac bushes and from the trees below the house.

After a while Alice leaned over to whisper in Lorraine’s ear and Lorraine said, It’s back through the kitchen, I think.

Is she wanting the bathroom? Willa said.