Drizzled with Death(21)

Celadon looked at risk of her soul as well. From the way she yanked at the hymnal in front of her and snapped it open to the correct page, you’d think it had done her a personal affront. My best guess was that the children in her Sunday school class had been worked up about all the loose animals. It was either that or she had finally managed to miss her husband, Clarke. Usually, she’s just as happy for him to be away on business, like he had been for the past three weeks, as she is for him to be home. But eventually she feels the lack of him and her mood takes a turn for the worse. She leaned toward me, squashing Spring and Hunter’s heads together in the process, completely oblivious to their discomfort.

“The kids were a bunch of little heathens this morning. Preaching the word to those outside the fold is one thing, but acting as a babysitter for parents who wouldn’t know a sin if you baked it in a biscuit and fed it to them for breakfast is another matter entirely. All they want to do is gossip about Alanza and talk about a loose circus act or some such a thing.” Celadon shook her head.

“Maybe the offering baskets will see the benefit of it,” I said, trying to find a bright side to remove the crazy eyes from my sister’s face. The last time I saw her with that look, she had threatened to drive our mother to the state mental hospital and leave her on the doorstep. She wasn’t old enough at the time to drive anything other than the lawn tractor, but the threat was still plenty motivating. Mom immediately stopped using Celadon’s dolls to hold séances.

“Don’t count on it. I expect with the way those kids were acting, we’ll be lucky if the adults don’t take it as an opportunity to filch a few bucks to buy lottery tickets on their way home.” I waited for a second to see if God was going to strike her dead. When he didn’t, I tried another tack.

“Did you at least get in a lesson that took advantage of the situation and helped bring light into the darkness of their little lives?” Celadon was always sending money to charity groups that helped little children in other countries to hear our version of what God should be. I thought that might be the way to get through to her.

“I thought it was going to, but I was wrong. I gave the Noah story as the lesson.”

“Good plan. Current events make it relevant.”

“You’d think so but the whole thing got reduced to a birds and the bees lesson instead of a lesson in God’s mercy.”

“Birds and the bees?”

“Some little freckled thing with curly hair made a point to tell everyone, in vivid detail, just exactly why Noah needed two of every animal. He even acted out the part of a horse with a volunteer from the class.”

“Yikes. What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do. I peeled him off her and outshouted him by talking about snack time.”

“Did you tell his parents?” I turned over in my mind just exactly what that conversation would sound like. Celadon is forthright but a bit prudish. I wasn’t sure she’d be able to convey the exact nature of the incident beyond mistake. She really ought to have had Mom there to help her. Although come to think of it, our mother might have paired up all the kids and had them pantomiming a pagan ceremony more suited to adults. She never was good at boundaries or judging age appropriateness.

“I did my best to explain what had happened, and instead of taking his rotten son to task, the father just clapped him on the back and said, ‘Go get ’em, tiger.’”

“He did not.”

“He did indeed. His mother didn’t even have the good grace to blush. It makes me wish one of the animals running around town was inclined to swallow human families down whole. They’d be top on my list.” Celadon leaned away from me, and a look of relief flooded over both her children’s faces. I edged a bit farther away to give them a little room if she got going again. Fortunately, Pastor Gifford took the pulpit and led us in a prayer. Even at her angriest, Celadon wouldn’t talk over anyone praying. It was almost like a safe spot to run for while playing a childhood game of tag. Anytime Celadon was about to pitch a fit, the rest of us knew we could drop to our knees, hands steepled together, and remain that way until she gave up and went away. I’m still not sure she has caught on. I’ve even shared the secret with Hunter. He’s a great kid, I love to spoil him, and I know he’ll never tattle on me to his mother because then the trick would no longer work and he’s a bright boy.

I didn’t talk while others were praying either, but I wasn’t above peeking around a bit. There is something so conspiratorial and even uncomfortable about catching the eye of another transgressor while you are doing it, though. And you are always surprised by who it will be. The church elders, the pastor’s wife, the guest missionary speaker, or even your own grandmother. I never quite know what to do when I meet someone else’s eye. I tend to dart my gaze away and then glance back apologetically, but I wish I had the guts to wink. I usually don’t, though. Maybe I will when I am an old lady. I’ve got a mental checklist of things to do when I’m an old lady and that’s definitely on it. When I catch a kid’s eye, I already wink or even start a small game of peekaboo. By the time I’m an old lady, most everyone will seem like a kid to me, and I think the situation will resolve itself.