A Far Piece to Canaan (38 page)

We had just crossed the Ohio River when it started to rain. Man, did it come down, and we didn't have a top. Then it turned cold and Fred and me curled up together on the floor behind the seats with our teeth chattering. The further we drove the colder it got, then the windshield wipers went out and Jack had to drive with his head out the side. The lights were almost gone too, because something was wrong with the generator, so it was two in the morning when we pulled into Lexington. We stayed at Jack's folks' house for the night which was real nice.

The next morning, Dad picked us up. Alfred was coughing and said he had a cold.

That night, Fred come to the house. Dad answered the knock, and I heard him say, “What's wrong, Fred?” and I was there in a flash.

It was still raining and Fred was standing at the kitchen door dripping. You could see he was scared. “Pa's sick. He's coughin' like a fool, Mr. Zilski, and he's terrible hot.”

Dad thought for a moment, then said, “He needs a doctor!”

“He said he don't,” Fred said. “He didn't want me t' come here and I promised, but I'm afraid he's gonna die. I think Pa's gonna die,” and he was snuffling tears.

Meanwhile, Dad was thinking. “Samuel, stay here with Fred. I'll be right back,” and he went into the bedroom. In a couple minutes, he come back and said for Fred and me to get in the car. Fred didn't move and kind of made circles with his bare foot.

“We've got t' take care of him, Fred,” said Dad. “Come on, let's go.”

Fred shook his head. “We can't. He'll know I told you. I promised.”

“I understand,” said Dad. “I'll square you with him. Come on, let's go!”

When we saw Alfred, he was lying on the bed and talking to the wall. Dad spoke to him, but he just kept on talking about the ball game. At the first mention of a doctor, though, Alfred set up and said he didn't want no goddamn doctor and if he saw one he was gonna die. When Dad tried to talk to him he started babbling again, so Dad picked him up and put him in the car, then the four of us and Mamie drove to Doc Culbert's. When we got there, the doctor asked if he was going to get paid this time because Alfred's family hadn't paid any of their other bills.

“You'll get your goddamn money,” said Dad, his eyes flashing. The doctor whirled around toward him. They stood like that for a few seconds with Alfred shouting stuff that didn't make any sense. Finally, the doctor began checking Alfred over. When he finished, he told us that Alfred had to go to the hospital, that he was pretty sick.

He must of been awful sick, because that evening, he died.

A
lfred's funeral was two days later. Things were supposed to start at ten and Dad and I drove over. We were both wearing our dark brown winter suits and dark ties which was a bad idea because the morning was already hot.

By the time we got there the Mulligans' yard was full of people. Cars and trucks, from pickups to Bert Raney's two-and-a-half-ton International were strung out on both sides of the Dry Branch Road. The cattle racks had been taken off Bert's International and it was backed up to the porch step with the driver's door open. Standing in front of the door was Mamie wearing a black dress with her arms around Thelma Jean, who had her face pressed up against her, crying. Annie Lee was standing on the porch in her new red dress and next to her was WK leaning up against the wall fooling with his car keys. Annie Lee's eyes stared straight ahead. I saw Lonnie and LD beside their dads and we all nodded. I kept looking for Fred but I couldn't see him anywhere.

Nothing happened for what felt like forever, then the preacher walked out of the house followed by Fred's uncle Charlie and three other men with the casket, which they put on the truck bed. The casket was beautiful. Charlie had worked all night shining it up with linseed oil.

The Mulligans had decided to bury Alfred on a bluff above the Miller place that Alfred had said was his favorite spot. Mr. Miller and a bunch of the men said they'd get a big rock and put it there for a headstone. Mr. Miller said that his family would keep the grave mowed.

Dad and me were walking toward our car when I looked back and noticed that all the Mulligans were in the yard except Fred. I guess they noticed it too, because Pers went in the house. Couple minutes later he come out and walked up to the flatbed and said something to Charlie and he jumped down and went into the house.

By this time everybody was at their car and you could hear engines fire up. Pretty soon, Charlie come out, and he walked up to the cab on Mamie's side and she and Charlie both went in and stayed for what seemed a long time. I guess it seemed a long time to a lot of people because they cut their engines. Finally, Mamie and Charlie both come out of the house shaking their heads. All of a sudden, Annie Lee got out of WK's Chevy and half walked, half run into the house. Couple minutes later she come out with Fred, who crawled up on the flatbed.

The International's engine started and there was a roar of motors everywhere. As the truck moved a path began to clear and in a few minutes we were all strung out and heading toward the Little Bend.

We drove to where Cuyper Creek ran close to the road, then we had to cross the creek to get to the grave spot. The truck would get stuck if we tried to drive across which meant everybody had to wade the stream, which was easy since it was real low.

“Okay,” Pers said in a quiet voice, “which of y'all are pallbearers?”

Six people including Dad moved alongside the flatbed. One of them was Bess Clark.

Bess glanced down at the creek and then gazed out through the cornfield on the other side, which was turning yellow and had sharp stiff blades, then looked back at Pers, who was leaning with one elbow against the flatbed. “Pers, why don't we just bury Alfred on this side? Hit's gonna be a awful tussle gettin' him across, and hit's a long ways t' that bluff.”

“No you ain't, neither!” Annie Lee screamed, standing with her hand on the coffin. “You ain't a-burying Pa where he don't wanta be. He's a-goin' t' that bluff!”

Bess nodded, then hopped up on the truck and grabbed one edge of the casket. “Let's get started,” he grunted, then Dad and the other men grabbed hold of the bottom of the casket and put it on their shoulders and started wading.

The heat was worse now and the corn leaves cut everybody's hands and faces as we walked down the rows with the morning glories grabbing at our feet. Some of the pallbearers stumbled and cussed about the heat and the goddamn vines. Brother Taylor, the preacher, said for everybody to mind their tempers and show a little more respect, which they did.

At the bluff the men took turns digging. It was easy except for the heat because the dirt was sandy. Pretty soon, the grave was dug and the men dusted themselves off and stood back as Brother Taylor began preaching.

“Brothers and sisters, we gathered here t' say goodbye t' our good friend and father and husband, Alfred Mulligan. We all knowed him and his family for years and we all know he was good people. He's got a son t' carry on his name and he's a good one too,” and he looked at Fred. Fred just stood there. Tears were running down his face and every now and then you could see him squeeze.

I felt awful and could see that Lonnie and even LD did too but they were just like me, they didn't know what to do. We knew better than to walk up and touch Fred because he would hunch our hands off. The only thing it seemed a body could do was stand beside him. I guess it come to all three of us at the same time because we started moving over to where Fred was almost like we planned it.

The women just stood around in their dark dresses like they were made out of oak, every now and then mopping their wrists or faces with white handkerchiefs because they were sweating hard while the sun, which never let up, melted them. They were all there except Mom and Lisa Shackelford and they had gone over the night before to pay their respects and make food. Everybody understood that somebody else from their families would go to the funeral.

The little breeze that had been blowing when we started down the corn rows stopped all of a sudden and there was dead quiet except for the preacher's voice. Not a cricket or grasshopper or bird made any noise. If you moved your foot, everybody heard the crunch in the red-hot sand so didn't anybody move.

“. . . come here out of Madison County almost twenty-five year ago. He was young then, young and strong as a bull, and he wudn't scared of nothin'. I remember hit well because we met and was young men together. We had a lot of good times. I remember that revival we was at when I declared for Christ. I started preaching after that and Alfred kept on workin' out for people and one day he met Mamie and it wudn't no time 'til he said he wanted t' get married and would I do th' job. Well, sir, I felt privileged and th' next week, I married them.”

While Brother Taylor was talking, the flaming hot air was getting sticky wet from the steam that rose up from the river, which was just a little way off. People moved their heads around trying to pick up some air but it didn't work. No breeze at all. Just heat. The men were wearing ties and you could see the sweat trickle down to their collars and seep through into the front of their shirts which were sopping so you could see chest hair matted down underneath. It just kept getting hotter and hotter until the sun was one great ball of terrible fire. Brother Taylor went on and on in his big black suit which was soaked through with sweat and I knew he had to be dying inside it but it was Alfred's send-off and he was going to get what was coming to him. Folks kept shifting from side to side and every now and then one of the men would make a move toward his tie then stop because somehow Brother Taylor would be looking right at him. Most anybody got away with was Bess Clark running his finger around the inside of his collar. The ladies were fanning harder now, their hair sweating and sagging, and you could see straps through their wet clothes and hear a few gasping for air.

And still Brother Taylor went on and on. “Old Alfred wudn't much of a churchgoer, and I have t' admit that ain't good, but he done a lot of things t' make up for hit. I remember back during that hard winter a few year ago he gave half his salt pork t' some folks that wudn't as well off as he was. And th' Lord looks kindly on them kind of doin's. He says so right here in this book,” and he raised his Bible. “It says here a man's got t' have charity and if he don't have charity he ain't nothin'. That's what hit says here in this book. This book a God!” he yelled, and raised the Bible over his head.

Just then, thunder rumbled down the river and was the first sound except for Brother Taylor in quite a while and people kind of looked scared.

“And I am the resurrection and the light!” and the little thunder rolled again and the sky was getting darker through the haze in the Northwest. “And he that believeth in me though he were dead, yet shall he live . . .”

The heat seemed to close in and crush us. I almost couldn't touch my clothes they were so hot and the ground was burning my feet through my shoes and the sweat trickling into my eyes made everybody a blur, especially Brother Taylor, who was growing taller and straighter and stronger and louder and moving his arms slow upward, with his face all dark and hard and lips drawn back, his white teeth flashing as he spoke, and he kept going on and on and it kept getting hotter and hotter and the storm kept coming.

“Comes th' day of judgment th' graves are gonna open up. That's what the Lord tells us and he didn't say maybe they was, he said they was goin' to.” The rumbles in the thunderhead grew a little louder and I could see the first jagged flashes of lightning and I knew the earth was waiting for the storm to cool and save it.

“And the seas . . . the seas will deliver up th' dead and God Almighty is gonna judge them, and he's gonna put th' sheep on his right hand and th' goats on his left and woe, woe to th' sinner 'cause they are gonna be condemned to everlastin' fire and damnation . . .” and both his arms was over his head now as he stood over the casket, his eyes glowing, his long, bony fingers sticking out like steel rods from his skinny wrists.

The lightning flashes were brighter now and beginning to be a little more jagged and longer and coming more often and Jennie Dee Wallace said a little soft amen that quivered some and then several of the ladies took it up, “Amen, amen,” and Brother Taylor went on.

“And we know th' evil, the Lord tells us th' evil, tells us about Satan and his power, power of darkness . . .” and LD's daddy yelled, “Yes, Brother. Satan's always there temptin' th' righteous!” and the thunder rolled deeper and longer and people's eyes were wide and all the women were saying, “Amen” and some of the men too and Brother Taylor, who had put his arms down, shot them out stiff over his head and said:

“Lord, let righteousness come,” and a cool breeze blew in, the first air that stirred in a long time, and the women felt it and said, “Oh Lordy Jesus, thank you, thank you,” and the breeze picked up getting stronger and stronger, the thunderhead closing fast with the wind moving dust devils, swirling dirt into us, and some of the women went down on their knees, then the dust devils blew up and around Brother Taylor who was growing and talking upward and you knew who he was talking to and I was scared and I looked over at Dad and he was white and watching me. “And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die,” and a terrible crack of thunder come after a lightning bolt split the sky, and you could smell rain. “Amen . . . amen.”

“And now my friends follow me in the Twenty-third Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want . . . He maketh me . . .” and the biggest dust devil I ever seen come boiling through, scouring sand into our faces and mouths. “. . . lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me . . .” and lightning flitted five or six times quick on all sides of us with thunder crashes at the same time. “. . . still waters . . .” and the wind come, come hard like it was blowed out of the mouth of God flapping the edge of the coffin where it wudn't tacked down good and Brother Taylor was a hunnert foot tall with his arms stretched commanding the storm. “… He restoreth . . .” and one of the women shrieked, “Oh Lord have mercy” that mixed into the thunder and flashes. “… in th' path of righteousness, for his . . .” BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! And the lightning was leaping and spitting and twisting and the clouds boiling, wild, wild, wild. “… Yea, though I walk through th' valley of th' shadow of death, I will fear . . .” CRASH, BOOM and the coffin lid began flapping and banging and Bess reached out to push it down but it wouldn't go so he started hammering the nail with his fist. Then the rain come, come in sheets and CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! and lightning split a tree above the river and fire flew everywhere and Bess leaped back wild-eyed and all the trees was crazy waving and Brother Taylor standing straight as an arrow with the wind and rain sweeping his black hair and his black coat fluttering out behind him. “… thy rod and thy staff, they comf . . .” and there was a terrible crash as three lightning bolts shot toward each other just over our heads, “Amen, amen, oh Lordy! Oh Lordy.” “… cup runneth over. Surely goodness and . . .” CRASH, CRASH! “… all th' days of my life . . .”and the coffin lid started flapping harder and harder and Bess leaped up on top of it shouting, “Lower hit down . . . George . . . Pers . . . Morse . . . hep me lower hit down,” and Mamie was wild-eyed on her knees, then flopped straight out on her face. “Hep us, Ed . . .” and they slid it down in the hole and started putting dirt in which was mud now, some shoveling, some pushing with their hands and feet. “… Ashes t' ashes and dust t' dust . . . th' Lord, giveth and th' Lord taketh . . .” CRASH! “… be th' name of th' Lord!”