I turned back to Sister Morrisohn. “Peachie and I never promised each other anything.”
“Deception, deception,” she sang in a voice that tinkled. “You can’t fool me. It must have really hurt you.” She reached up and touched the side of my face near my mouth. “Poor boy, love is often cruel.”
I considered Sister Morrisohn’s own mouth, the way the bottom lip poked out when she pronounced a word with an open vowel sound: “you,” “poor,” “boy.”
The devil was causing me to focus on the pink on that pulsating bottom lip and urging the physical manifestations of lust to take place within me. I reminded myself that I was strong in the Lord. The Lord reminded me that I was still in control of my feet.
“Sister Morrisohn, I’ve got to go,” I said hurriedly.
I left her and walked straight to my car. In a blur of confusion and emotion, I sped down familiar streets made unfamiliar by my anger at my shameful weakness. Fearing what I might do to myself, I pulled over to the side of the road, clasped my hands, and bowed my head before the steering wheel.
Lord, I prayed, give me a sign. Show me what to do.
My vision cleared. I looked up and saw that I had parked beside a canal. A large turtle rested in the grass on the shoulder of the water. I got out of my car. I picked up a long branch that still had some leaves on it and prodded the turtle until it retreated into its shell. I put down the branch and pondered the large animal safe inside its shell and at length concluded that if this were, in fact, a sign, then I certainly had no idea what it meant.
At about 6 p.m., when I figured the reception had ended, I drove back to church to help Brother Al and Brother Suggs clean up.
I would work for the Lord. I would be strong. Praise Ye the Lord!
I was the last one to leave the church that night. And when I left, not a scrap of dirt remained behind.
The next day was Sunday, and I fasted.
That night, I received a call. It was Peachie, but she was crying so much that it took me a few minutes to figure out what exactly she was saying: “I made a mistake and now everyone hates me.”
“No one hates you, Peachie. And you know God loves you. His greatest gift is that He forgives us our sins.”
“It’s not that, Elwyn. It’s just that everyone thinks I deceived you.”
I sat up in my bed. “What?”
“Your grandmother makes it sound like I—”
“My grandmother?” Of course. The truth is like a two-edged sword.
It cuts going and coming.
“Sister Morrisohn too, and that whole Missionary Society. They make it sound as though I—”
“Sister Morrisohn?”
“Yes, she wouldn’t even talk to me at my own wedding.”
Peachie deteriorated into sobs and it was awhile before I could understand her again.
“Sister Morrisohn is the one who pressured Pastor to kick me off the choir.”
“But you’re pregnant,” I said. “What did you expect?”
Peachie shouted, “It has nothing to do with my pregnancy! There’ve been pregnant girls up there before and you know it. You said yourself God has forgiven me. They wouldn’t even let me have a regular wedding. That ugly blue dress! The real problem is I offended their pet. You.”
“Me?”
“With all the witnessing and stuff you’re doing at school, you make the Church of Our Blessed Redeemer Who Walked Upon the Waters look good. All of those new converts. And me, your perfect mate, big and pregnant for another man.”
“That’s not how it is.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
I felt a great sadness for Peachie and her plight, but in many ways this turn of events served her right. These were the wages of her sin, the fact that she had wronged me notwithstanding. I could not tell her this, so I tried to change the subject.
“Where’s Barry?”
“He’s right here. He told me to call. He’s afraid they won’t ordain him if I don’t apologize to you.”
“Peachie, this is ridiculous. You don’t owe me any apologies.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, Peachie.”
“I’m sorry, Elwyn. I am so very, very sorry,” she said. “I hope that satisfies you, you arrogant knucklehead.”
“Oh, Peachie, don’t be that way.”
The second day after Peachie married Barry was a Monday, but I did not drive directly home from school.
I stopped by Mr. Byrd’s office. I was a conqueror come to claim new lands for the Lord.
With an exasperated expression on his face, Mr. Byrd looked up from his cluttered desk. “What now, young evangelist?”
“I feel I’m being persecuted for my religious beliefs.”
“How so?”
“Security broke up my prayer meeting today.”
“Good,” he said. “I sent them.” He put his pen down and came around the desk. “The cafeteria, I believe, is a place for eating. Many of the students complain that your activities upset their stomachs so much that they can’t eat their meals.”
“I don’t believe you. What students have complained, sir?”
“Don’t press me, boy.”
I had him where I wanted him. I opened my book bag and pulled out five sheets of paper. “I have a petition here signed by over a hundred students and staff who feel that we should be allowed to form a Jesus Club at this school—”
He snatched the papers from my grasp. “I don’t see my signature,” he said. He tore the petition in half two times and dropped it in the wastepaper basket.
“I have a photocopy.”
“Who cares? The real issue is not your prayer meeting but your grades. This is a school, not a church!” Mr. Byrd roared.
We stood toe-to-toe now, and he proved to be about an inch shorter than I (and I was no giant), but I was suddenly afraid of him. I shrank at the sound of his angry growl.
“I know Christians, but you’re not one, Elwyn. You’re weak. And you use your religion to shield your weakness. You can’t make it on the football team, so you lure the best players away to your Bible studies.”
“I’m not an athlete. They come freely.”
“You can’t get a girl, so you preach about adultery and fornication.”
“Fornication is ruining our women.”
“Not my woman. And I got a woman.” He pointed to the photograph behind his desk. “A big, happy, sexy woman. Look at her smile.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“You should try passing your classes instead of passing out Bibles.”
“I can pass if I want to. I’m an honors student.”
“You were an honors student.”
“I’m smart.”
“Smart enough for Bible College at any rate. What SAT scores does Bible College require?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I was on the verge