I looked around. I guessed most people were already inside. Dad was shifting from foot to foot. “How are you today, Mr. Albert?” Mrs. Dodgeson asked. Her eyes shifted over to him, but kept glancing back at me. Again, I tried not to think about poker.
“Just fine Enola,” he said, then leaning closer to my mother said, “maybe we should get on in, now.” Mom nodded.
“Well, Enola, how about if Mikey helps you in to find a seat?” my father said. The second it happened, her hand clamped down on my forearm.
“I couldn’t possibly impose in such a fashion,” she said.
“Nonsense,” my mother said, “it wouldn’t be any trouble at all, would it Mikey?”
I wished Sarah had come.
“No trouble,” I said. It was mostly because I realized there was no getting out of it. She smiled at me, and began to maneuver herself around so that we were standing side by side.
“Well, it would be nice to come in on the arm of such a handsome young man,” she said. My father walked to the door, my mother just behind. They disappeared before Mrs. Dodgeson and I had gone half that distance. The organ was already warming up, inside.
“My but you’ve grown, dear,” she said.
She didn’t say anything else until I found myself standing stock still as she leaned at least half her weight on my arm, lowing herself down into the pew. Next to her was a younger man, though his hair was just as shock gray. He looked at me, then back at her.
“Enola,” the man said, and I had the impression he’d have tipped his hat to her if he’d worn one.
“This young man is Susannah Kendall’s boy,” she said.
The man looked at me, again. Something was in his eyes, but I have no idea what it was. I just wanted to sit down so this could be over faster. In the back of my mind, I started to wonder what cigarettes tasted like.
“No,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, grinning.
“Well, isn’t that something,” he said, standing. He extended his hand to me. “Bud Gantner,” he said. The way he said it seemed to mean more to him than it did to me. I think I was supposed to know who he was.
I shook his hand, “I’m sorry, I don’t—um—I sort of don’t—,”
The smile on his face fell just a bit. “Well, that’s alright. I—,” he started.
“Robert delivered you, dear. Your older sister, too,” Mrs. Dodgeson said, “You’ll have to pardon me, though, I don’t remember her name. Memory is the first thing to go, you know,” she finished. He looked down at her, then back up at me. His smile was back to full power.
“I’m retired now, though,” he said.
“Didn’t he turn out to be just as handsome as he could be?” she asked.
“Filled out a damn sight more’n we thought you would, that’s for certain,” he said.
“Robert!” she exclaimed, but in a whisper.
He shrugged, “The lord is well aware I cuss, Enola. If he ain’t made peace with it by now, I suspect he never will.” I laughed.
“I hope I wasn’t—um—I hope I wasn’t too much trouble to deliver, Doctor Gantner,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Nah. Hell,” he said, and Mrs. Dodgeson flinched, “you wasn’t no trouble ‘till you came all the way out. No. Susannah had some trouble with your little sister, bless her heart, but you and Katy weren’t anything but baseball.”
“Baseball?” I asked.
“Yeah. I just had to play catch, was all. Most babies are like that,” he said, “just have to find a comfortable place to sit and wait for ’em to make up their minds. Lord, though, your sister Sarah,” he said, and shook his head, “we had the devil’s own time getting her out. It was like she was busy watching her favorite TV show and didn’t want to leave until she found out who dunnit.” He grinned. I did, too.
“Robert!” Mrs. Dodgeson whisper-yelled again. Still grinning, he looked down at her, then back up at me.
“Listen, why don’t you come over to Sully’s tomorrow night? We all kind of gather over there to blow off some steam post-turkey, you could say.”
“I’d like that,” I replied, and actually meant it.
“Honestly, Robert,” she said, shaking her head, then looking up at me, “a bunch of heathens, that’s what they act like. Drinking, cussing, playing cards—,” she said, and I could tell she was going to go on, but just then I heard a door shut. I felt the pressure on my ears go up. I looked over to find a nervous man standing behind a tall podium. Someone had closed the front doors, too. He was shuffling through his notes.
“I guess I better get back to mom and dad,” I whispered.
“Don’t forget, now,” he said.
“I won’t, Dr. Gantner.”
“Bud,” he said. I nodded and walked over to where my parents were sitting. When I sat down, my father leaned across my mother as if he was going to say something to me, but the man behind the podium began to speak.
“Brothers and sisters,” he said. His voice was quiet and smooth. “The devil is among you every day. Every day, he walks through the center of our towns, our cities, unrecognized. This is why we come to church; we must learn to recognize the devil. We must learn to see him for who he really is,” he said, looking up finally. His eyes were glassy and blue.
At that moment, my ears popped. Someone had opened the front doors. We all turned in our pews. The Sheriff had just walked in the door. They slid closed just as he took his sunglasses off. He put them carefully into his pocket.
“Rev’rund,” he said, nodding. He slid quietly into the last row of pews. We all turned around at different speeds, and I think I was first.
The young man swallowed, and I wondered if the Sheriff made him as nervous as he made me. I remembered the last time I’d been here, they preacher had been an old, old man. I assumed he’d died. A part of me wanted to ask mom, but I knew she’d just say “I’ll tell you later, dear,” and then she’d forget or I would and it wouldn’t matter.
The preacher cleared his throat, “As I was saying, we must learn to recognize him in all of his disguises. Perhaps if we had recognized the devil in time, whoever once was the puzzling set of remains our city has recently recovered,” he said, and I felt that word snap at me like a whip, “might still be a walking, talking soul.” I wanted to turn around and see what the Sheriff did, but I couldn’t. I thought, for some reason, that if I turned around, he’d be looking right at me.
“All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them; the Sermon on the Mount,” he said, and my mom’s eyes closed. “This contains the reverse, of course: Whatever is hurtful to you, do not do to any other person,” the young man said. He waited a moment, and I could see he was on his way to gathering back all of the steam he’d hoped to start out with before the Sheriff had walked in. I began to get the feeling the preacher wasn’t much older than me.
“If more people learned to recognize the devil in all his disguises, then perhaps the killer of this person of our town would have thought twice beforehand,” he said. I saw quite a number of heads nod. I couldn’t help but think that if Sarah were here, she’d say “Duh.” “Unfortunately, even on this day of thanks, there are posters up on the walls of the Post Office. Little boys and girls who won’t get to eat cranberry sauce or come to church, anymore. This saddens me. This saddens me a great deal,” he said. I got the feeling that, in someone older or smarter, what we were hearing would be something powerful. Instead, it was sort of silly, almost. It seemed like something was important, to him, though. I felt like maybe he was building to it, so I stayed tuned in.