Shaking the Sugar Tree Part 26

Before ma.s.s, the new priest, Father Ginderbach, came down the aisle and greeted Noah specifically. I hadn't heard this priest yet. Mama liked him, which could only mean I would hate him. But he surprised me by turning to Noah and signing, perfectly: Welcome, N-o-a-h. We are happy you came.

"Hah!" Noah grunted with happiness. He turned to see if I had seen this. I smiled an encouragement.

Thank you, he signed back. I love Jesus! I love Jesus! he added, using the special sign for "Jesus." he added, using the special sign for "Jesus."

And he loves you, the priest replied. the priest replied.

You know sign language?

Yes. My sister is deaf.

I don't have a sister.

You have many brothers and sisters in the church, N-o-a-h. G.o.d bless you!

"Did you know he could sign?" I asked.

"I had no idea," Mama said.

"He said his sister is deaf."

"He's from Memphis, I think. They just sent him down here a few months ago. I didn't know he had a sister."

"He seems nice," I admitted.

"Coming from you, that's high praise."

"After Father George, Saddam Hussein would seem nice."

"Be nice, Wiley. For once. Please!"

"He was a p.r.i.c.k," I whispered.

"Don't curse in church. Must you provoke me?"

"It's so easy. Maybe you should lighten up a bit."

She clamped her lips shut, ending the conversation.

Father Ginderbach did something else that was rather unexpected. When it came time for his sermon, he departed from the Gospel text for that day and offered his thoughts on Jesus's admonition: Let the little children come unto me. Let the little children come unto me.

He singled out Noah as being the childlike creature that Christ wants us all to be. He even signed during his sermon to explain special things directly to Noah that were not in his sermon.

It was rather extraordinary and I was justifiably flabbergasted. After years of being treated like a shameful pariah by Father George, Father Ginderbach had actually gone out of his way to welcome Noah to his church and to include him in his sermon, treating him as if he were indeed a beloved child of G.o.d, and just as important as all the other children in the pews that day.

I couldn't hardly believe it.

Noah smiled proudly. He never had a problem being the center of attention.

"Jesus made it clear that his kingdom is made of 'such as these,' the little ones, and that they shall see the face of G.o.d. We must never do anything to hinder the 'such as these,' not when they are so important to the kingdom," the priest said.

After the sermon, we got more looks, but these were different. These were looks of curiosity, even acceptance, even happiness that we were there. Even Mama sat up a little straighter.

For the first time in a long, long time I felt a connection with the church of my childhood. I actually felt, for a while at least, that Noah and I might have a place in that church.

I followed him in the line for Communion.

Ginderbach gave me a curious look when he handed me the host. Since I spend so much time around deaf people, I am much more tuned-in than most to the slightest look, or glance, or suggestion of expression. As no doubt was he. His eyes clearly said he knew exactly who I was-and that I was all right in his book. It reminded me of the look I sometimes got from gay priests who knew exactly what I'd been through, and who knew there was a way through it that didn't involve losing yourself or your faith in a genuinely loving G.o.d.

The meet and greet outside after ma.s.s saw a large number of people actually bothering to stop and greet Noah like he was a human being.

"What's wrong with these people?" I whispered to Mama.

"Maybe you should go to church more often," she suggested.

39) Striking a blow

BILL, Sh.e.l.lY, and the kids came to Mama's house for dinner, which Yankees like Jackson call lunch. Josh and Eli took Noah in hand and played Frisbee. Sh.e.l.ly and her daughter Mary, whose bosom was expanding rather rapidly, helped Mama put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the food. and the kids came to Mama's house for dinner, which Yankees like Jackson call lunch. Josh and Eli took Noah in hand and played Frisbee. Sh.e.l.ly and her daughter Mary, whose bosom was expanding rather rapidly, helped Mama put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the food.

Bill stood on the porch, dipping and spitting and drinking from the cooler in the bed of his truck while trying to make conversation as Papaw watched, smiling his secret smile.

"So you work at the hospital?" Bill said.

"I'm a pediatric nurse," Jackson said.

"And he admits it," Papaw offered.

"You're not from around here," Bill observed, hearing Jackson's Yankee accent.

"I'm from Boston."

"And he admits that, too," Papaw said incredulously.

"Long way from Boston, ain't it?" Bill asked suspiciously.

"What do you do, Bill?" Jackson asked.

"I work at Lane," he said, as if this was explanation enough. For most people in these parts, it was.

"Good deal," Jackson said when nothing else was forthcoming.

"Y'all went camping?" Bill asked. "Catch any fish?"

"Don't we always?" I said.

"There's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d catfish in that river that I've been trying to catch since I was fourteen," Bill informed us. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h takes your hook and leaves you holding your b.a.l.l.s. If I ever catch that b.a.s.t.a.r.d, I'll be holding his b.a.l.l.s and he won't be happy about it."

Jackson laughed, then abruptly stopped, unsure whether this was a joke or... well, he wasn't sure what it was.

"So you and my brother are...." Bill said, the wad of chew in his cheek bulging.

"We're dating," Jackson said.

"Is that what you call it?"

"What do you call it?"

"I can think of a few things," Bill allowed.

Jackson was silent. Again he wasn't sure what was meant; wasn't sure how to respond.

"They're queer for each other," Papaw said, just to make certain it was understood.

"Thank you, Papaw," I said, giving him a dirty look.

Mary came to fetch us for lunch. She wore a pretty dress and had a ribbon in her hair, which was long and fell down her back.

"Memaw said stop drinking and get your b.u.t.ts in the house," she announced. "Are you dipping, Dad? Jeez! I thought Mama told you to stop."

"Ain't like I ever listen to your Mama, is it? Go tell the boys to come inside."

"Hi," she said, looking frankly at Jackson. "Your Uncle Wiley's... friend friend?"

"Yes," Jackson said.

"Memaw says you talk like a d.a.m.ned Yankee-" she observed.

"Mary, watch your mouth and go fetch the boys," Bill said, cutting her off.

"I heard you the first time, Daddy!"

"Well, do it then, d.a.m.n it!" he snapped.

She went to the edge of the porch, screamed out, "Eli! Jos.h.!.+ Time to eat!"

She turned back to us, smiling sweetly.

"h.e.l.l of a set of lungs on that one," Papaw said.

"Bye," she said, twirling around and heading back inside.

"She's pretty," Jackson said.

"She's a pretty pain in my a.s.s," Bill said.

Bill spit out his chew and we followed him inside.

We arranged ourselves around the table, Jackson and myself with Noah between us on one side, Bill and Sh.e.l.ly on the other with Mary in the middle, Papaw at the foot of the table, Mama at the head, the boys squeezing themselves in where they could.

"Let's pray," Mama said.

"You and you G.o.dd.a.m.n prayers," Papaw said.

"Hush, Daddy," Mama said.

We held hands and said grace.

"How do you like Tupelo, Jackson?" Sh.e.l.ly asked, trying to make conversation as we pa.s.sed around a roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, black-eyed peas, fried okra, and rolls.

"I like it," Jackson said. "Please call me Jack. It's small, though."

"Tupelo is small?" Mary said, her eyes going wide.

"Compared to Boston," he added.

"Oh," she said.

"Mary, let your elders talk," Sh.e.l.ly said.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mama said y'all were skinny-dipping," Bill said, abruptly changing gears.

"What's wrong with that?" Papaw asked.

"Billy, not at the table," Mama said.

"I want to speak my piece about it," Bill said.

Sh.e.l.ly rolled her eyes in resignation.

"Don't get him started," Mama said.

"I'll get him started," Bill said, looking at me.

I offered my bring-it-on smile.

"I don't care about your lifestyle choices, lifestyle choices, Wiley, but don't involve your son in it," Bill said. "Don't you think it's kind of inappropriate, y'all exposing yourselves like that in front of a child?" Wiley, but don't involve your son in it," Bill said. "Don't you think it's kind of inappropriate, y'all exposing yourselves like that in front of a child?"

"Why does every single conversation in this family have to be about my p.e.n.i.s?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

Jackson snorted.