“Yes, that’s what I told you the day of your deposition at the law office.”
“Which was your day to speak to me. Now, it’s my turn.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you know about the threefold cord?”
“From Ecclesiastes?”
Sister Dabney nodded. “A threefold cord is not quickly broken. Do you believe that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a powerful verse about marriage. A man, a woman, and Jesus come together in beautiful unity.” Sister Dabney paused.
Now I knew where she was heading. I liked Zach a lot but wasn’t sure if we should get married. Vince, or perhaps a man I’d not yet met, lingered in the realm of possibility for a life mate. That was my darkness. God could certainly use an intermediary like Sister Dabney to reveal his will, but on an issue like marriage, I wanted to receive revelation directly. I steeled myself to hear what was about to be spoken.
“The verse has other meanings,” she continued. “God is joining you with two other women to accomplish his purposes. Together, the three of you will be much stronger than you would be individually. You will create a threefold cord that will not be quickly broken. Does this make sense to you?”
I nodded weakly. Sister Dabney closed her eyes for a few seconds and rocked before opening them to continue.
“The life of faith requires risk. Without risk there is little chance of reward. Do not allow yourself to be caged in a place that seems safe. You have the heart of a lioness. A female lion knows how to take care of cubs. That’s all for now.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant by the lioness and her cubs, but the rest of the message left no room for interpretation.
“If what you’re saying is true, I’m in trouble,” I began.
“If it’s true!” Sister Dabney’s voice burst forth in preaching volume. “Do you think I speak lightly?”
“No, ma’am,” I managed.
She pointed her finger at me. “Beware of going your own way! God wants to lead you. Will you follow?”
J
ESSIE SAT IN THE BED OF THE PICKUP TRUCK WITH HER SCARRED
and dirty legs dangling over the end of the tailgate. The men had moved the truck several times since finding her. At each stop, they scattered into the pine thicket with chain saws and cut smaller trees that were sapping nutrients from the clay soil.
Having eaten real food and drunk fresh water, Jessie was content. The men left her alone while they worked, and she could have run away. But she saw no reason to strike off on her own through the woods. By now the railroad tracks were far away, and she would quickly get lost in the woods, especially since she didn’t know the way to go in the first place. The men hadn’t shown any interest in the leather pouch stuck in the front of her jeans.
The sound of the chain saws in the distance resembled a thousand angry bees. When Jessie and her stepmother lived in a mobile home near Valdosta, there had been a hornet’s nest in a tree in the backyard. Jessie enjoyed watching the fierce insects come and go from their gray paper house.
One day a man came by to buy bootleg whiskey from the man living with Jessie’s stepmother. After taking a few gulps of white lightning, the man got a shotgun from his truck and fired a shell that ripped a gaping hole in the nest. The hornets swarmed out in an angry army and swooped to the ground. Jessie was stung twice in the right leg as she ran back to the mobile home. The man who shot the nest and her stepmother’s boyfriend weren’t as fast on their feet. They were stung a bunch of times. Before the sun set, the men’s eyes were swollen shut. They looked funny, but Jessie was afraid to laugh at them.
Watching the friendly interaction of the men on the crew made Jessie wish she could speak Spanish. None of the jokes or teasing seemed directed at her. The men treated her with casual kindness. Every time the man in charge returned to the truck he offered her water to drink. Another man gave her half an apple to eat.
The sun began to sink in the sky. The men returned to the truck and stowed the equipment in a metal storage box. The boss man offered to let Jessie sit in the cab, but she shook her head and pointed to the back of the truck. She climbed in and sat next to the man who’d given her the beans and wieners. The truck bounced as it went faster over the dirt roads. One particular jolt sent those sitting in the truck bed airborne for a split second. The men laughed like kids on a ride at the fair. The dirt road ended, and the truck turned left onto a two-lane asphalt road. The man next to Jessie closed his eyes, and in a few minutes his head bobbed against his chest. A man across from him pointed and smiled. Jessie closed her eyes, too, but only to savor the rush of the wind against her cheeks.
Miles passed. Jessie thought about her stepmother, who would be more afraid about Jessie’s disappearance than worried. Three times in the past year and a half, a black woman from the Department of Family and Children Services had come to the house. Jessie overheard the woman threaten to take Jessie away and place her in foster care. Each time, her stepmother promised to do better. Because Jessie lived in the house, her stepmother received money every month from the government. Jessie wasn’t sure how much she got, but there was often a party when the check arrived.
It was dusk when the truck reached the outskirts of Savannah. Nothing looked familiar to Jessie. The men stopped at a convenience store. Jessie went inside to use the restroom. When she came out, the leader of the men was standing beside the truck.
“Sú casa?” he asked.
Jessie had no idea what he meant. The man made a sign as if sleeping and pointed down the street. Jessie glanced up and saw a street sign that read Oglethorpe Avenue.
“Sí, sí,” she said.
Getting back in the truck, they turned onto Oglethorpe Avenue. When they reached the bus station, Jessie tapped on the window glass. The driver stopped the truck, and she hopped over the edge onto the sidewalk. The boss said something to her in Spanish. She smiled and nodded. The driver started forward, but the boss, with a puzzled look on his face, signaled for him to wait.
Jessie turned and ran away into the gathering dark.
M
RS.
F
AIRMONT HUGGED ME, THEN HELD MY RIGHT HAND IN A
bony grip when it came time for me to leave. Flip circled our feet. Zach took my suitcase to the car. I’d spent two hours in personal agony following my encounter with Sister Dabney but hid it from Mrs. Fairmont.
“Call me when you get back to school,” Mrs. Fairmont said. Peering around my shoulder, she added, “Is he a good driver? I suppose anyone who can ride a motorcycle can drive a car.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And do I have your address so I can send you a Christmas card? I haven’t sent cards in years, but this has been such a special year for me, I want to let my friends know about it.”
“Mrs. Bartlett told me about that. I wrote both my addresses in the book you keep by the phone.”
Zach returned to the foyer. I leaned over and kissed Mrs. Fairmont on the cheek.
“I have to go now. I love you.”
“I love you,” she replied, giving my hand a final squeeze.
I leaned over and patted Flip on the head.
“I love you, too,” I said to the little dog.
I followed Zach out of the house.
“Do you love me?” he asked when we reached the sidewalk.
“What?”
“It seems those words are rolling off your lips fairly easily at the moment. It seems like a good time to ask.”
“Of course I love you,” I answered, glad for a lighter moment. “The Bible commands us to love our enemies, our neighbors, everybody.”
Zach held the door open for me. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
Not sure when or if I should tell Zach what Sister Dabney had said to me, I stalled by asking him questions about his church until we’d cleared the outskirts of Savannah.
“How was your time with the middle schoolers?”
“Not bad. At one point, three of the boys listened to me for at least ninety seconds before they continued poking one another in the ribs.”
After pumping all the information I could from him about the Sunday school class, I asked him about the sermon.
“Enough about my day,” Zach said after giving me a detailed outline of the minister’s message. “Charlie’s a good speaker, but he can’t compare to Sister Dabney when it comes to oratorical fireworks. What did she talk about?”
I took a long time to describe everything that happened, leaving out the part where she ordered me to stay and see her after the service.
“I should go back to the church sometime,” Zach said when I finished.
“Why? I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I don’t doubt Sister Dabney is doing some good. It just comes wrapped in such a bizarre package. I’d like to give some money to the woman who needed rent money.”
“Mail a check to the church with a note attached.”
He nodded. “I’ll do that. Did you have any one-on-one time with Sister Dabney?”
I sighed. “Do I have to answer that question?”
Zach glanced at me. “Absolutely.”
“Why is it impossible for me to have secrets from you?”
My question brought a self-satisfied smile to his face. “It’s covered in the book about men and women. All a man has to do is ask enough questions, shut up, and a woman will reveal her innermost thoughts.”
“You were asking me questions like that before you read the book.”
“And now I’m more dangerous. What did she say to you?”
I’d written it all down as soon as I got back to Mrs. Fairmont’s house. Taking out my notes, I read them to him without looking up to see his reaction. When I finished, I could see from the side that his face was serious, his jaw set.
“What do you think?” I asked, then braced for his reaction.
“What do
you
think?” he responded.
“It’s crystal clear. I’ve made a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t have accepted the job at the firm because I’m supposed to work with Maggie and Julie. What else could it mean?”
Zach shook his head. “Dabney could be referring to two other women, possibly people you haven’t met yet.”
“That’s speculation.”
“Who’s speculating the most?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t want to make you mad. I’m trying to obey God the best I can.”
Zach flipped on the car’s blinker and changed lanes to pass a slowmoving truck.
“Think about it. You’ve already told Mr. Carpenter that you accepted the job. How is that going to look to him if you renege on your commitment? Talk about ethical issues.”
“That’s not fair.”
“But it’s the truth. Christians are supposed to keep their promises.”
“I know it won’t look good. But I haven’t signed any paperwork—”
“That sounds like a lawyer!” Zach exploded.
I lowered my head. “All I can do is tell him I made a mistake and apologize.”
Zach was silent for a moment.
“Did you call your parents and tell them about this yet?” he asked in a calmer tone of voice.
“No.”
Zach pulled his ponytail. “What Sister Dabney told you may not have anything to do with work. It could relate to some type of ministry. Didn’t she say it had to do with God’s purposes?”
“I want my legal work to be part of God’s purposes.”
“Is that what Julie Feldman and Maggie Smith want?”
“No,” I admitted.
“I know you respect Dabney’s insight, but you can’t make a major decision like this based on something she said to you.” His voice got louder again. “God gave you a brain and a Bible. Use them!”
I felt my face turn red.
“And he sends people into our lives to help us find the way,” I said, my voice trembling. “Sister Dabney is one of those people. I just know that I have to seriously consider what she told me even if it’s tough.”
Zach’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“What about me?” he asked.
“You’re also a person God has sent into my life to help me find my way.” I paused as tears came into my eyes. “And I care very much about you and your opinion.”
Zach shot a glance in my direction. I saw his hands relax on the steering wheel.
“It’s no secret that I believe the best place for you to be is at Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter. There are tons of practical reasons and at least a few very important personal ones. I want to see you every day so we can get to know each other better.” He paused. “And Julie won’t be there to harass you.”
I wiped my eyes. “I’m just confused. I thought everything would be clear after coming to Savannah, but in some ways it’s worse than ever.”
“Talk to your parents,” Zach replied. “I know they’ll have a big influence on your decision. But don’t forget about me.”
W
E DIDN’T TALK A LOT MORE ON THE RETURN TRIP.
M
Y COOL,
analytical mind was a jumbled mess. Zach parked in front of my apartment.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said. “I’m sorry you have to turn around and drive back.”
“I was glad to do it. Are you going to talk to your parents about flying out to California with me for the holidays?”
“You still want me to come?”
“Yes. I’m not mad at you. I just disagree with what you’re considering. I have feelings about your decision because I care.”
“And I’m glad you do.”
Zach carried my suitcase to the door. When he put it down I reached to pick it up and our hands touched. The brief contact caused an inner ache. Inside my apartment, I plopped down in a chair then immediately got up so I could pull back the curtain a few inches and watch Zach leave the parking lot. As soon as his car was gone, I returned to the chair and stared across the room as a tornado of emotions swirled around inside me.
A
FTER UNPACKING AND SPENDING SOME TIME PRAYING,
I
CALLED
Daddy and Mama to tell them about my trip.
“What’s wrong?” Mama asked after I’d spoken only a few sentences.
I immediately started to cry. The next few moments became a jerky attempt, interrupted by sobs, at explaining what had happened and what I’d done.
At one point, Daddy interrupted. “Do you want me to come to Athens and bring you home? If you do, I’ll be on the road in fifteen minutes.”