explained, because there were no tables or chairs, but only blankets, sheets, and canvas;
one large picnic under the guise of churchgoing.
Lou had offered to stay home with her mother so Louisa could go, but the woman
wouldn't hear of it. "I read me my Bible, I pray to my Lord, but I ain't needing to be
sitting and singing with folks to prove my faith."
"Why should I go then?" Lou had asked.
“ 'Cause after church is supper, and that food ain't to be beat, girl," Louisa answered with
a smile.
Oz had on his suit, and Lou wore her Chop bag dress and thick brown stockings held up
by rubber bands, while Eugene wore the hat Lou had given him and a clean shirt. There
were a few other Negroes there, including one petite young woman with remarkable eyes
and beautifully smooth skin with whom Eugene spent considerable time talking. Cotton
explained that there were so few Negroes up this way, they didn't have a separate church.
"And I'm right glad of that," he said. "Not usually that way down south, and in the towns
the prejudice is surely there."
"We saw the 'Whites Only' sign in Dickens," said Lou.
"I'm sure you did," said Cotton. "But mountains are different. I'm not saying everybody
up here is a saint, because they're surely not, but life is hard and folks just trying to get
by. Doesn't leave much time to dwell on things they shouldn't dwell on in the first place."
He pointed to the first row and said, "George Davis and a few others excepted, that is."
Lou looked on in shock at George Davis sitting in the front pew. He had on a suit of clean
clothes, his hair was combed, and he had shaved. Lou had to grudgingly admit that he
looked respectable. None of his family was with him, though. His head was bowed in
prayer. Before the service started, Lou asked Cotton about this spectacle.
He said, "George Davis almost always comes to services, but he never stays for the meal.
And he never brings his family because that's just the way he is. I would hope he comes
and prays because he feels he has much to atone for. But I think he's just hedging his
bets. A calculating man, he is."
Lou looked at Davis there praying like God was in his heart and home, while his family
remained behind in rags and fear and would have starved except for the kindness of
Louisa Cardinal. She could only shake her head. Then she said to Cotton, "Whatever you
do, don't stand next to that man."
Cotton looked at her, puzzled. "Why not?"
"Lightning bolts," she answered.
For too many hours they listened to the circuit minister, their rumps worn sore by hard
oak benches, their noses tickled by the scents of lye soap, lilac water, and grittier smells
from those who had not bothered to wash before coming. Oz nodded off twice, and Lou
had to kick him each time to rouse him. Cotton offered up a special prayer for Amanda,
which Lou and Oz very much appreciated. However, it seemed they were all doomed to
hell according to this fleshy Baptist minister. Jesus had given his life for them, and a
sorry lot they were, he said, himself included. Not good for much other than sinning and
similar lax ways. Then the holy man really got going and reduced every human being in
the place to near tears, or to at least the shakes, at their extreme uselessness and at the
guilt dwelling in their awful sinned-out souls. And then he passed the collection plate and
asked very politely for the cold hard cash of all the fine folks there today, their awful sin
and extreme uselessness notwithstanding.
After services they all headed outside. "My father's a pastor in Massachusetts," said
Cotton, as they walked down the church steps. "And he's also right partial to the fire and
brimstone method of religion. One of his heroes was Cotton Mather, which is where I got
my rather curious name. And I know that my father was greatly upset when I did not
follow him on to the pulpit, but such is life. I had no great calling from the Lord, and
didn't want to do the ministry any disservice just to please my father. Now, I'm no expert
on the subject, yet a body does get weary of being dragged through the holy briar patch
only to have his pocket regularly picked by a pious hand." Cotton smiled as he surveyed
the folks gathering around the food. "But I guess it's a fair price to pay to sample some of
these good vittles."
The food indeed was some of the best Lou and Oz had ever had: baked chicken, sugarcured Virginia ham, collard greens and bacon, fluffy grits heaped with churned butter,
fried crackling bread, vegetable casseroles, many-kind beans, and warm fruit pies—all no
doubt created with the most sacred and closely guarded of family recipes. The children
ate until they could eat no more, and then lay under a tree to rest.